“I know you can take care of yourself, but maybe sometimes I wish, just once, you'd let me take care of you,” he said.
At first, her face looked perplexed as she scrunched her eyebrows and her open mouth was interchanged with an honest frown. He held his breath.
“All right Otto, would you buy me a drink tonight after the game?” said Sam.
Otto stopped. This wasn't a trick. He could see it in her face.
“That sounds like a great idea,” Layla said from the doorway.
Sam and Otto turned in surprise. There stood Layla arms crossed with a very smug look on her face. Randy stood next to her, wide-eyed. Layla elbowed him and he almost tipped over.
“Oh right, I forgot we had a meeting,” Otto said to Randy.
Otto turned to Sam.
"For sure on that drink," he said before he and Randy hurried away to the safe haven of the locker rooms.
Layla rushed to Sam.
"That was interesting," said Layla. Sam shook her head and laughed at her friend's deadpan delivery.
“I’ll make us some coffee. I’m fine, but if you have some time, I want to talk. I'm not even quite sure what just happened,” said Sam.
"Finally!" Layla said as she rushed to the kitchenette ready to hear her friend dish about her new love life.
* * *
“You’ve got it bad. I know you told me you have it bad, but now I see it myself without a doubt,” said Layla over a steaming mug of coffee.
Sam put her hands up in the air, exasperated.
“I hate this. I feel so out of control, and I hate it,” she said.
Layla put her hand on Sam’s back.
“You know, this is kind of a first world problem,” Layla said dryly.
Sam chuckled.
“Is it? I’m realizing I designed my first world life so I’d never have to feel like this. I was going to be self-sufficient and independent and pretty emotionless because emotions are stressful. Now I’m sitting here with my emotions, and someone else’s emotions for that matter, in my hands,” said Sam. Her words escaped in a loud whisper. Sam couldn’t bear to have anyone hear her lose it, especially at work, yet there was no way she could wait until after school to tell Layla how she felt. Sam had to get it out now.
“This is one of the reason’s I love art. I love it for so many reasons but one reason is I can feel so much, and no one else is involved. It’s just me and something someone’s made. It might connect me to a universal truth, but at the end of the experience I’m by myself. I’m in my body, no one else is really involved. There’s something about that I like,” said Sam.
Layla lifted her hand off Sam’s back. Sam looked up and watched her friend scratch her chin in thought.
“I hate to say it Sam, but I think you’re growing up,” said Layla.
Sam shot Layla a look.
"I am a grown-up. I've been one since I left home," said Sam.
“Hear me out. You’re getting pushed out of your comfort zone in a positive way. It’s great! It might not be easy, but it’s great. The best sides of you have been coming out when you’re around Otto. It’s lovely. Maybe he’s showing you the true version of yourself,” said Layla.
Sam frowned and took a gulp of her coffee.
“Layla, of all people you should know no person should find their true self through a romantic partner. Let alone someone they’ve been sleeping with for a few weeks,” said Sam.
Layla shrugged.
“Sure that’s what was told to us in our women’s studies classes at college, and you know most of the things we were taught in those classes saved our lives, but give yourself a break. You’re allowed to let a man who turns you on bring out the best in you. If you were losing yourself, or compromising too much I’d let you know. That’s what I’m here for,” said Layla. She patted Sam on the knee.
Sam looked into her coffee mug. Layla spoke the truth. You could always hear it in Layla’s voice when she spoke the truth. Her best friend had always been brave enough to speak it, even when it went against her own opinions. It was one of the many reasons why Sam loved her.
“Being with Otto has been fun,” said Sam.
Layla nodded.
“Funnily enough, I’m starting to learn that’s the point of all this love stuff. You've helped me see that,” said Layla.
Sam grinned. She was happy her confusion hadn’t been for nothing.
“Thanks,” said Sam.
“No problem,” said Layla. With that, she stood and walked off with her coffee to teach her afternoon classes.
* * *
After Layla left Sam sat alone at her desk. She felt at a loss, as if she was free falling through time and space. Yes, she’d just successfully taught a class full of high school students. She’d actually taught them content they'd enjoyed. It'd been easier to teach information she found fascinating too.
Rather than bask in the glory of her triumph, her mind kept traveling back to Otto's words. She’d been embarrassed, and mad, when he came dashing to her rescue. Sure, based in past events there was a damn good chance she would’ve needed help with the students. It was that disastrous event that had reconnected her and Otto only a few months ago.
She wasn’t sure what scared her more, the fact she could fight with Otto and it didn’t feel world ending, or that when she allowed Otto to be there for her it felt like being carried off on a cloud of content and pleasure. The idea pained and panicked her. Layla was right, letting someone be there for Sam was so out of her comfort zone. She had no idea how to go forward.
Her cell phone began to buzz on her desk. Sam looked down at it. She didn’t recognize the entire phone number, but she did recognize the area code. She let out a small gasp before composing herself and reaching for the phone.
* * *
“Maine?” said Otto. The words rushed out of his mouth before he had time to compose himself.
Sam nodded. She felt pleased and depressed all at the same time about his outburst.
The look of sadness in his eyes caught her off guard. She scurried to salve the blow.
“Three days. That’s all. It’s for an interview for a professorship. I’ll be back to work on Monday,” she said.
Otto looked down at his desk.
“You know it’s not about you being able to be back at work by Monday,” he said.
Sam paused. She stood to leave. She’d rather say nothing than say how she felt, start a fight, and begin to cry in front of him. At the same time, she knew she needed to be truthful.
“Otto, when I came back to Grover all I wanted was to get this phone call. I couldn’t wait to get out of here. Now you’ve made me question everything I thought I wanted in life,” she said. It was hard to look him in the eye. She heard Otto take a deep breath.
“Sam. I want you to have everything you want. I want you to be happy. I’m happy if you’re happy,” said Otto.
Sam stopped in the doorway. She took a moment to stay still. She let her body tell her how she was feeling, and what she needed to do.
"I'm not even sure what's going to make me happy anymore. I need to go and figure this out," she said.
Sam walked out of the office and away from Otto. She needed to go for a walk. Her brain felt fuzzy. She wanted things to flow; everything was finally coming together. She had an interview and things looked promising. This was exactly what she wanted. Instead she only felt stunted and lost in a maze of many dead ends. She craved for things to just make sense and just work out. She had urges of what she wanted, but she couldn’t articulate it. The trees outside would understand. They’d never asked anything of her before.
* * *
That night Sam and Otto were quiet in his apartment. They sipped wine. They held each other close and didn’t say anything. The idea of watching TV or having a lively debate about something felt wrong. The idea of too much of anything made Sam’s stomach wrench.
Otto reached over and took the empty wine glass out of her hands. Sam looked
around to realize she’d squished herself into the corner of his couch. She must’ve looked pretty pensive clutching her wine glass.
Otto returned and leaned over her. He put his arms around her and covered her mouth with his. Sam tilted her head back. She accepted his warmth and his strength. How strange it was. This was meant to be a transition phase to her new life, a life that could quite possibly start for her the day after tomorrow.
The problem was Otto.
Sam relaxed into the kiss, her body melding to Otto’s. Her brain wondered when she’d begun to let his kisses seep into her bones the way they did. This was dangerous territory. Sam knew her bones would ache with longing if she left, and it was never a good idea to go into a new exciting adventure with brittle bones.
Otto slipped his hands under her shirt and covered her breasts with his hands. Sam took in a sharp breath, and her body calmly told her brain to forget the desperate details.
Or I will get upset. Sam’s body was in no mood for Sam’s nitpicky brain.
Otto’s hands moved from under Sam’s shirt to the seat of her leggings. He lifted her up. Sam wrapped her legs around him. She laughed in surprise as she continued to kiss him. Slowly he moved his mouth away from hers. She let out a small moan.
“I was thinking we could move this to the bedroom,” he said in a husky whisper.
Sam simply nodded, and he carried her to the bed.
* * *
“You can’t go,” said Layla.
Holly sat next to Layla. Her legs crossed, arms crossed, sitting on the very edge of the couch. Something about her struck Sam as brittle. It made Sam’s bones hurt all over again.
Sam let out a long breath of air.
“This is it guys. This is what I’ve worked so hard for. You know, for like the past eleven years of my life,” she said.
No one looked very impressed. Finally, Layla let out a huff to match Sam’s stubbornness.
“We know. We visited you while you were in grad school. Heck, I lived with you during undergrad, and here’s the first time in your life you haven’t been a wreck,” said Layla. She stared hard at Sam.
Sam stopped at Layla’s fighting words.
Holly cleared her throat to break through the tension.
“You were happy in the summers when you worked in the gallery. It was glamorous and fun. I loved visiting you when you worked there. It was so exciting,” said Holly.
Sam gave her a steely nod.
Sure those summers had been awesome. The gallery had been a special place. Not as high strung as most, and she’d been grateful for such a nurturing experience. It’d been a place where they’d take on a less than polished graduate student versus a glossy power hungry girl with a bachelor’s in art history, most usually a trust fund of some sort, and a penchant for vicious backstabbing.
“That was a special case. It was a summer job. It was just something to do in the meantime when I was just getting started,” Sam said.
“Was coming back to Grover something you were doing in the meantime? You haven’t been this happy in years,” said Layla. She rested her hand on Bob’s head.
“I don’t love being a secretary,” Sam said. Her voice was strained.
“You don’t have to be a secretary, but you know what we're saying. We just want you to be happy,” said Layla.
Holly nodded.
Sam crossed her arms and stood her ground.
"I've worked so hard for this," she said.
Layla's eyes began to water up. Sam was horrified. She knew her friend felt her pain. All that hard work. All those years of doing what she thought she was supposed to do.
"I know. I get it," said Layla.
Sam nodded. She began to well up too. She knew Layla got it. She'd been there to watch Layla go through similar experiences over the years.
Holly's eyes grew red as well. She shook her head.
“Well, okay maybe it's for selfish reasons too. You can’t leave Grover now. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you when Ethan left, and now I don't want you to leave,” she said.
Sam couldn’t say anything in response for a moment. She only nodded in understanding. She started to move to hug Holly.
Rosalind’s car drove up to the front of the house. Her engine idling. She waved toward the front door, and the young women all waved back.
“I will be back guys. I just have to go do this. I just have to go give it a try,” said Sam.
Layla and Holly looked at each other.
“We know,” said Holly.
They hugged their good-byes, Bob got a final snuggle, and Sam left her friends on the couch as she walked toward her mother's car to go to the airport.
8
Sam didn’t recognize the person in the mirror. None of the outfits she’d brought seemed to make sense anymore for the person she’d become. It was strange. When she’d bought the outfits after graduation in anticipation for job interviews the clothes had seemed perfect. She’d even felt the flutter of excitement over the garments. Now the suit was too severe. The black pencil skirt with pinstripes and practical heels was depressing.
She turned around in front of the mirror. This is what professors wore to prospective job interviews. She could become more eccentric once she had the job secured. At least her butt looked good in the pencil skirt.
* * *
“Well Dr. Henry, we’re very excited to hear your presentation,” said a jovial looking older man with a gravelly voice. Professor Simon Ashley was the dean of the art history department at Kipley College. Sam had spent the plane ride reviewing all of his journal articles, and skimming his most current book when she hadn’t been going over her own presentation.
Sam took a step toward the podium. She looked out to the panel of professors and the few students who’d decided to show up. They were waiting. Sam had been waiting for this moment too.
Presenting her dissertation to a hiring panel was supposed to be an amazing. In Sam's daydreams the presentation had even been a transformative experience for everyone involved. It was supposed to feel the way teaching the high school seniors had felt the other day.
Sam paused. Her moment had already happened, and she hadn’t even realized it. She shook her head in surprise. She really didn’t want to start thinking about everything else she’d left in Grover that was right for her. Not right now.
“Dr. Henry, are you all right?” said Dean Ashley.
Sam nodded.
“Fine, just fine,” said Sam. She looked out to the small crowd again. She took a breath. It was time to live in the moment even if the moment didn’t feel exactly as she’d planned. The pressure was off, maybe she'd even have a little fun with it for once. She began to speak about her work.
The presentation went off without a hitch. There was really no need to draw in the panel of professors in the way Sam had drawn in the students just the week before. The panel was already interested by her research, her speculations, and her conclusions. This is why they’d picked her to come speak.
Sam knew they would be. She’d spent years preparing for this moment. A moment she dedicated her mind and body to while she lived it. Yet when it was over she simply felt as if she’d had a haze raised from her conscious. She’d practiced so much. It had been exhausting.
She had thought hard work was supposed to be that way. Difficult, hard, and not fun. Sure it was supposed to be challenging, but maybe you did it because it turned you on at the same time. This had been an experience she'd never forget, but her life wasn't here. As much as she respected it, she didn’t belong in the ivory tower of academia.
Based on the reserved applause and the sideway glances the professors gave each other, Sam knew she’d nailed it.
Dean Ashley rose.
“Samantha— may I call you Samantha? Would you like to join us for our weekly staff lunch? We tend to discuss more day to day matters during these meetings. Hopefully it will give you a feel of what our daily lives are like at Kipley,” he said.
> “Of course, please call me Samantha, and yes, I’d love to join you all for lunch,” she said.
No one called Sam by her full name except her mother, and people calling her name in waiting rooms. She had no idea why she said she was fine with it.
Despite the formality, she knew she was really in. Lunch was going to really be a final, informal interview, and they loved her already. Oddly, this all had been easier than she’d planned. Besides being exhausted from the overwhelming situation, it was all running smoothly. It was nothing like a typical day in Grover where anything and everything would happen with plans thrown to the wayside.
During lunch, Sam found herself enveloped in the same haze that had clouded her during her presentation. The staff area of the cafeteria had a floor of colorful tiles and stained glass windows letting in rose colored light. Sam picked at her salad and chastised herself for not enjoying the grand design of the cafeteria. The cafeteria! The whole campus was the definition of lovely, and all she could think about was Grover.
Be in the moment.
“Samantha what’s your opinion?” said a voice.
Sam looked around the table. Every set of eyes were on her, expectant of an opinion about what some artist was thinking about a hundred years ago.
Their eyes were hungry and excited, bright and encouraging, sharp and skeptical. Sam had a flashback of witnessing such lunches as a student herself. The professors then had always looked so fascinating, riveting, and sophisticated.
She had worked so hard to be like them. She’d planned for her whole life to look like their lives, and in an instant the paint of the façade washed away. She’d been playing dress-up this entire time, because being a college professor at a liberal arts college was respectful. It was tangible. She had watched others achieve it. It was real. It had taken a long time to achieve, which had given her time to not examine her true feelings about what she wanted to do with her life.
Today she’d proven to herself she could run with them. She also now knew she wasn’t one of them. It was now in this moment that she knew without a doubt this life would never be for her.
Be My Friday Night Page 13