Samantha darling

by Jennifer Davis

  “The school pressed charges?” I was outraged.

  “Yes, and you’re lucky that all you got was mandatory counseling.”

  “You’re right, Dad. I’m so lucky that I had no idea there were charges, lawyers, or settling shit going on behind my back.”

  “I know you’re upset, but I was only trying to help.” Betty said. “We planned to tell you—”

  “You can curb that we business.” I pointed at Dad. “He should have told me what was happening. He and I were the only ones who needed to handle the situation.” I went outside and slammed the door behind me. Dad followed.

  “I think you should apologize to Betty. She’s been very generous in spite of your behavior and doesn’t deserve to be treated unfairly.”

  “I don’t deserve it either, Dad. Keeping that court crap from me wasn’t fair. Allowing your wife to go flashing her money on my behalf wasn’t fair.”

  “It was on my behalf, not yours.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to defend myself in court. Maybe if I’d been allowed to do that I could have kept you from having to pay.”

  “I’m not sure there was another defense for your behavior.”

  My eyes opened wide, in shock. “Betty’s lawyer told the judge that I’m nuts, didn’t he?”

  “Sam, you’re not nuts.”

  “I know I’m not nuts. That’s why I’m so offended. How did her lawyer negotiate for me anyway? I’m eighteen, and gave no one permission to speak for me.”

  “The court gave me permission because you were hospitalized.”

  “Mom never would have done something like that to me.”

  “Your mother didn’t know where she was most of the time, Sam.” Dad’s tone was stern.

  I sucked in an uneasy breath as if I’d been punched hard in the gut.

  Dad shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

  “You shouldn’t have had your wife to stand in my mother’s place that morning before school. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for that.”

  From his expression, I could tell that the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

  “I think we should shelve this conversation,” I said lowly, my voice quivering.

  I walked away from him and found myself in the Cohen’s backyard. Wes was standing in the doorway of their walkout, wearing swim trunks, and looking down at his phone screen.

  “Hello, Samantha darling. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for Charlotte,” I said, intentionally dodging eye contact.

  “You’re flushed. What happened?”

  “Is she here or not?”

  “I thought after the moment we shared watching Brian and Ava going at it that you’d come looking for me.”

  “I’m here to see Charlotte.” My tone was stern.

  The corner of Wes’s mouth curled up. “You’re a shitty liar, Samantha darling.”

  “Go ass hunting elsewhere, Wes. Leave my friend alone.” Charlotte reached past him through the open door, grabbed my hand, and pulled me inside of the house with her, taking me upstairs to her room.

  “I’m not great at the whole girl code thing, but I want to warn you about something before you get involved with my brother.”

  “Why would you think I’m going to get involved with Wes?”

  “Because you look at him like his body is a fence you’re desperate to climb.”

  “I do not!” My cheeks instantly reddened.

  “Relax.” Charlotte smiled, almost laughing. “He looks at you the same way. Problem is, he’s a slut, and I’m guessing that you’re not.”

  I was nowhere close to being a slut. But I wasn’t surprised to hear that Wes was one. There was no way a guy that attractive didn’t get laid as much as he wanted to.

  After hanging out for a while I went home. It had been easy to pretend nothing was wrong since Charlotte had done most of the talking. She was going on a date with one of Austin’s friends in hopes that it would make him jealous. I asked about Daniel. She’d frowned and explained that he was an old high school boyfriend she’d rarely seen since then, and that the only reason she’d kissed him was to piss off Becca. “She’s the bitchiest bitch I’ve ever met,” she said, then dropped the subject.

  At home, no one was around, so I went downstairs to the closet containing my mother’s things, turned on the light, and stared at the boxes with her name scrawled across them, wondering how a life could be so easily condensed to fit inside of a few layers of cardboard.

  9

  I called Dr. Ming to get the details for my new group since I had to go to keep from being arrested for defying a court order and all. She said the group would meet in town at a local doctor’s office for my convenience, and although I appreciated not having to return to The Boothe Center, convenience was the last thing I felt regarding any of this shit.

  Ellen put a strong cup of coffee into a thermos and packed a few French toast sticks for me to eat on the way. She was definitely my favorite part of living at Betty’s house.

  “I know this isn’t ideal, but try to get something out of it,” Dad said as I was exiting the car.

  “One down, five to go,” I said, my voice full of positivity.

  I entered the four story building, took the elevator to the second floor, and easily found the correct room. A tall, thin man stood in the center holding a stack of files in his hands. He wore an argyle sweater vest over his button-down shirt, khaki slacks, and loafers. He was pale, balding, and appeared too fragile to deal with other people’s problems. He held out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Dr. Pierce.”

  “Samantha Roberts.”

  “Sit anywhere you’d like.”

  There were six empty seats fashioned into a wonky circle, meaning that my new group had five members. I sat down in a chair facing the door and took a long drink of my coffee. Because I’d complained about the people in my groups at Boothe, Dr. Ming said she had handpicked the members of this one in hopes that I would find them more relatable and helpful. But it didn’t matter who was in the group—Sigmund Freud could rise from the dead and walk through the door and I still wouldn’t tell my story.

  At ten o’clock on the dot, three others entered the room. Dr. Pierce introduced himself to them, then sat down beside me.

  “Welcome everyone. First, I’d like for each of you to state your name and why you’re here, and then I’ll go over the rules. Let’s start with you, Samantha.”

  “Sam. Court ordered.”

  “What’d you do?” A guy leering in the doorway asked.

  “Something I shouldn’t have. Obviously.”

  He walked in, sat in the chair across from mine, and stared at me.

  “You can gawk at me all you want. I’m not telling you.”

  “Maybe not today, but you will.”

  “What I did is none of your business.”

  “While in this room, it is my business.”

  “Outside of this room, nothing is repeated. That’s rule number one,” Dr. Pierce said firmly.

  “You’re a rich kid. No matter what you did, I’m sure you weren’t punished for it.”

  “You have no idea what happened to me, and I’m not a rich kid.”

  “You live on the island, don’t you?”

  “You don’t?”

  “I’d never fucking live here.”

  “Charlie. Language,” Dr. Pierce scolded.

  “I can’t say fuck?”

  “If you don’t follow directions, I’ll have to put you out.”

  “That sounds enticing.” Charlie glared at me while chanting the forbidden word. It made the hair on the back of neck stand on end.

  “Out!” Dr. Pierce demanded.

  Charlie saluted before leaving the room.

  “What’s his deal?” I asked.

  “He’ll discuss it when he’s ready. I wanted to finish the introductions before reciting the rules, but I guess I’ll insert them as we go. Rule number two is to be respec
tful to each other in and outside of this group. Now, let’s keep going.” Dr. Pierce nodded to the kid a couple chairs down from me.

  “My name is Mark. I don’t want to say why I’m here.”

  The only other girl raised her hand, but didn’t wait to be called on. “Claire. I’m here because I’m a kleptomaniac. I love to steal small things, like, lip gloss and lighters. I have thousands of trinkets in boxes under my bed.”

  Claire looked like an honor student, mousy and innocent. She wore an outfit that could pass for a private school uniform and had a headband with a large fake flower on the side stuck in her tawny hair.

  “You’re a thief?” I asked, skeptical. “You don’t look the type to cheat on a test, much less to take something that doesn’t belong to you.”

  Claire winked. “Exactly.”

  “Okay, next,” Dr. Pierce said, aiming his ink pen at the second boy in the room.

  “Uh, I’m Morris.” Morris couldn’t stop wringing his hands. He was pale, wearing baggy clothes, and seemed to have had too much caffeine as he spoke very fast. “I’m addicted to video games.”

  I laughed out loud.

  “What’s funny?” Dr. Pierce asked.

  “I’m sure you’ve read my file and know my story.”

  “Yes.”

  “So how do a klepto and a video game addict relate to my issue?”

  “Everyone here relates to you because they’ve also lost a parent.”

  “Why didn’t they say so?”

  “Likely for the same reason you didn’t.”

  He had me there. I shrugged and slid down in my chair.

  “Would anyone like to share more about themselves?” Dr. Pierce asked.

  Morris raised his hand. “I broke my high score on Zelda this morning.”

  “That’s great, but is there something you’d like to share about losing your mom?”

  “She’s not lost, she’s dead. I can’t do anything about that. But I can try to beat my new high score when I get home,” Morris said, then began aggressively biting his fingernails.

  “Claire, Sam, Mark. Would any of you like to share?” Dr. Pierce asked.

  None of us said a word.

  “Alright. I am Doctor Phillip Pierce. I grew up in…”

  I blacked out while the doc talked about his boring life and education, and began thinking of Wes—of the last time I’d seen him.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked out Charlie.” Dr. Peirce waved a hand in front of my face. “At least he had your attention.”

  “Kicking his pompous ass out was the right thing,” I confirmed.

  “That brings me to rule number three: no offensive language.”

  “How is ass offensive? I may as well be quiet if I can’t speak my mind.”

  “Maybe you could try speaking your mind without using curse words.”

  “I like curse words. Saying them makes me feel better.”

  “They’re just words, Dr. Pierce,” Claire said. “Adults get so bent out of shape over the dumbest shit.”

  Dr. Pierce glanced at Mark and Morris. “Do you mind cursing? Claire obviously doesn’t.”

  “Hell no!” Morris said loudly. “I love bad words. They’re my favorite, actually.”

  Mark shrugged, indifferent.

  “Fine. Sam, you have the floor.”

  “I don’t have anything to say.”

  “Anyone else?”

  With no takers, Dr. Pierce sat at a desk beside the circle of chairs and opened a file folder.

  During the final ten minutes, Mark, Claire, Morris, and I stared into space, sighed, and squirmed in our seats. The moment the clock struck eleven, I was the first one out the door. Dr. Pierce’s voice followed me into the hallway. “See you next week.”

  I went outside to wait for my dad, who wasn’t there yet, but I’d anticipated him being a few minutes late. He always was.

  “Did you learn anything about yourself in there?” Charlie was leaned against one of the large brick columns in front of the building, giving me a condescending look.

  “Did you?” I asked spitefully.

  “I wasn’t allowed to stay, remember?”

  “Whose fault was that?”

  Charlie’s dirty-blond hair was parted half an inch off center. One side was tucked behind his ear. The other side hung loosely while the ends rested in lazy ringlets at the collar of his shirt. His facial features were perfectly symmetrical—the thing that science says people find most attractive about others. He had about three days’ worth of stubble on his face and although his deep brown eyes were focused on mine, he didn’t answer me.

  “Not rich, huh?” he said when Dad and Betty drove up in her Mercedes SUV.

  I pointed to Betty and said, “Her shit ain’t mine.”

  “See you next Thursday, Sam!” Charlie called after I’d opened the car door. I turned around. He was waving and sporting a giant, plastic smile on his face.

  Asshole.

  “Did you make a friend?” Dad asked.

  I slammed the car door shut. “I made an opponent.”

  10

  I was eleven the first time my mother was hospitalized. I’d come home from school and found our house a wreck. Furniture overturned, glass broken, clothes everywhere. Mom was hiding behind the couch, rocking and talking to herself. She wouldn’t respond to me. It was as if I wasn’t even in the room.

  I called Dad, but was so scared that I could hardly speak, which made him frantic. He’d first thought someone had broken into our house and told me to go outside and hide.

  After the police and the ambulance were gone, Dad told me that Mom had been taken to the hospital to get checked out, assuring me that she was fine. But days later, she hadn’t come home, and although he didn’t want to, I begged and cried until he took me to see her.

  Back then, I didn’t know the difference between a medical hospital and a psychiatric one, but put the pieces together when I was twelve, and she was hospitalized for the second time.

  11

  I t was near dark when Charlotte showed up at my door. I’d been sprawled out in what I’d learned was called the hearth room watching a cooking show marathon on the food channel.

  “You look puffy. Were you asleep?” she asked, her eyes poring over my face.

  “I was watching TV.”

  “A bunch of us are going to the club for dinner. I want you to come, but you have to put on a dress,” she paused, “and brush your hair.”

  My lip curled up in disgust. “I don’t want to wear a dress.”

  “It’ll be fun,” Charlotte said. “Besides, what the hell else are you doing tonight?”

  “Other than looking puffy?”

  She snickered. “Yes.”

  “I threw away the prairie dress. It was the only one I had.”

  “I’ll lend you one.”

  “We’re not the same size.”

  “I have something that will fit you. Just come.”

  I reluctantly agreed, found Dad, and told him my plans. He was happy that I was going out. Neither of us had mentioned our last argument, and I was fine with that. I didn’t need an apology for every little thing. Besides, he was right about my mother, and I’d done something way out of character that day at school. He was scared and I couldn’t blame him for accepting Betty’s help, but I could be angry that he hadn’t told me what was happening. I mean, I had handled much worse in my life.

  I brushed my hair, put on ballet flats, and went to Charlotte’s. She lent me a cute coral dress that miraculously fit. While I was celebrating getting the thing on, she killed my buzz. “The freshman fifteen. Even I wasn’t immune,” she sighed.

  In the UTV, Charlotte handed me her phone. “I need your number.”

  “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I’ve just never had one.”

  She stared at me, mouth agape.

  “What?”

  “I’ve n
ever met anyone who doesn’t have a cell phone. I’m trying to decide if you’re an alien.”

  “Not an alien.”

  “Well, at least I know that Wes isn’t sending you dick pics.”

  “Gross.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said, starting the UTV’s engine.

  At the club, Charlotte led me up the wide stone stairs, through the heavily lacquered mahogany doors where we were promptly greeted and shown to our table, which was almost full.

  “Sam, you know Austin and Wes, and have witnessed the amazing dance skills of our dear friend, Max.”

  Max held up a glass of beer as if toasting to himself.

  “That’s Leslie,” she said of the girl beside Max. “And Adrienne.” She pointed to the girl next to Wes. “And this is Nate.” Charlotte nudged me toward the empty seat beside him. He said hello, I imagined just to be nice, because that was the end of our conversation.

  The second my butt hit the chair, I heard, “Good evening, what can I get you to drink?”

  I held my breath for a moment because I recognized the voice. Charlie.

  Charlie was our waiter.

  “Cherry Coke,” Charlotte answered.

  Charlie shifted to look at me. “And for you?” Although there was no way he hadn’t recognized me, he pretended not to know me.

  “Water, please,” I said.

  “Sparkling or flat?”

  “Um…” I had no idea. “Just water,” I answered abruptly.

  “Flat then,” Charlie said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll have those drinks right out.”

  I noticed Wes’s eyes on me, staring so hard that it made me feel self-conscious, and he wasn’t letting up. To get a break from it, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Rounding the corner, I ran right into Charlie.

  “Excuse me,” he said bitterly and kept going.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked, following him.

  “I’m working. Leave me alone.”

  “Samantha darling, I get the sense that you know our waiter in a way that the rest of us don’t,” Wes said as I watched Charlie walk away.

  “Did you follow me?”