Samantha darling

by Jennifer Davis

  Betty came with me to answer the door when the bell rang, probably because she was afraid that I would fake sick and tell Charlie to go home.

  “Hi,” he said, handing me a small bouquet of wild flowers. “You look really pretty.”

  “Thanks.” I felt incredibly awkward. “You look nice, too,” I told him after receiving an elbow nudge from Betty. He was wearing dark jeans and a maroon shirt, and actually looked much better than nice.

  “I’ll put these in a vase for you, Sam,” Betty said, taking the flowers from my hand.

  I stepped outside with Charlie, where he helped me into his car. He drove us to a cute restaurant off of the island. We sat at a candle lit booth and stared at each other. Charlotte was right, Charlie was hot, and he’d chosen to be with me tonight so the least I could do was make an effort. If only I knew how. Talking to Wes was easy. This felt different. Difficult.

  “I don’t know what to talk about,” I finally said after a very long silence.

  “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

  “I feel like I should. Staring at each other is just getting weird.”

  “I could stare at you all night,” Charlie muttered.

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t respond.

  He grinned, appearing uncomfortable. “What were you like as a kid?”

  “I kept to myself. Especially after it became obvious that my mom wasn’t like everyone else’s. Other kids made fun of her, and me, by extension.”

  “What was wrong with her? You never said in group.”

  “I didn’t say because I don’t like to talk about it.”

  Charlie looked softly at me and was careful as he spoke. “I saw the video.”

  The blood fell from my head to my feet. “How?” I asked, although I knew. The fucking internet.

  “When Dr. Ming approached me about joining the group, I wanted to know why since I’d graduated from group therapy six months earlier. She told me a little about your situation. I did an internet search and that’s how I found out your name, and discovered the video.”

  “So, you knew all about me before joining the group?” I asked, fuming.

  “The video doesn’t tell the whole story.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But the internet is full of information.”

  “I don’t know more than what you’ve shared. There was only one blurb about your mother being hit by the car.”

  “You were so angry with me. Why?”

  “In part, to push you to open up.”

  “You weren’t pushing me to open up. You were pissed at me before I’d uttered a single word to you. You studied me. You assumed shit about me.”

  “And I was wrong. It was easy to make generalizations about you. I shouldn’t have done it, but there was no way I would have joined the group without knowing why Dr. Ming wanted me to return to therapy and reopen all of my shit. I had to know who you were—why helping you was so important to her.” Charlie’s eyes flickered to mine. “I wrongly thought it was because of the money.”

  “Why are you so hung up on Betty having money?”

  “It’s not her particularly. The person who killed my parents was drunk. A fifteen-year-old minor whose family was so rich that he didn’t even get community service for taking two lives. They paid a fine on his behalf and their kid walked away without consequence. I was angry with you because you caused a car crash that could have hurt people, and money got you out of being punished for it.”

  “I’m sorry about your parents and that nothing happened to the person who killed them, but money didn’t get me out of trouble. It kept my dad from being sued. The internet is full of information, but it doesn’t know everything. I wasn’t myself that day at school. I never would have done something like that. I didn’t know Betty had settled with the people involved in the crash—which was super minor, by the way—it was basically a fender-bender—or that the school had pressed charges, because I’d been at The Boothe Center since that day. Betty’s lawyer spoke on my behalf, which I also didn’t know, and I was ordered to complete 60 hours of therapy. I did 54 of them during the three months I was at Boothe, and joined the group Dr. Ming created to finish the final six. I hate what happened—what led to it, but I can’t do anything to change it. All I can do is be grateful that nobody got hurt.”

  “I’m really sorry for making the wrong generalizations about you. You’re a better person than I thought you’d be.”

  I looked around, keeping my eyes from making contact with Charlie’s, until I felt his hand cover mine on top of the table. It was weirdly comforting to me.

  Charlie paid the bill after we ate. I thanked him, and he took my hand as we exited the restaurant. I let him hold it until we reached the car. I let go, and knew he was going to kiss me. My stomach knotted. I wasn’t sure that I wanted him to, or that I was ready. Still, I let him. And he did it all wrong.

  Although he was supposed to have shown me how to wordlessly coax Charlie into kissing me the way I wanted him to that night at Austin’s, Wes and I never got around to covering that part.

  “Slower,” I breathed. He seemed to be trying to set a speed record or something.

  Charlie pulled away. “Okay.” His tone was sharp. “Is there anything else you’d like?”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “It’s late. I think I should get you home.”

  It was nowhere near late. He was just mad. “Whatever,” I complained, got in the car, and turned to look out the window.

  When we got to my house, I thanked Charlie for dinner again, told him I’d see him at group, and got out of the car. He mumbled something back, but I couldn’t understand it. He was probably calling me a bitch, and telling me that he never wanted to see me again.

  Once he’d driven away, I sat down on the curb. I wasn’t ready to go in and tell Betty how I’d screwed things up after she’d been so excited about a possible relationship between Charlie and me. I eased back and looked up at the stars, which made me think of Wes. Of the last time I’d been with him. Kissing him, being held by him, almost becoming a part of him, then getting thrown out on my ass. To try to shut it off, I closed my eyes. And then, I heard his voice.

  “Hey.”

  I focused on Wes standing above me in his usual breathtaking form. His dark hair was curled slightly on the ends, like it always was. His olive green eyes were beautiful and bright, like they always were. His black lashes highlighted the color, like they always did, and his plump lips made me think of kissing, as always. But something was different. I’d always been drawn to Wes, but now, the pull was stronger than ever.

  When I didn’t say anything, he sat down beside me. “I want to apologize to you for the other night. I’m sorry for the things I said. You may have started it, but I’m the one who let it go further than it should have.”

  I sat up. “Well, thanks for that, because you made it sound like I’d sexually assaulted you or something.”

  Laughter sputtered from his mouth. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did! You were so angry. I felt awful and you let me wonder for three whole days if you were ever going to speak to me again.”

  “I was upset with myself for not being more in control. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. The last thing I want is to hurt you.”

  But I was hurt, in a way that he would never understand.

  “Are we okay?”

  “Yeah,” I answered meekly.

  “Always, right?” he asked.

  “Always.”

  “Good. How was your date with Charlie?”

  “How did you know I was with Charlie?”

  “Charlotte told me.”

  “Of course she did,” I groaned.

  “She likes the idea of the two of you together.”

  “I know.”

  “What happened?”

  “He doesn’t follow your philosophy of letting the girl set the pace when kissing. He got mad when I asked him to s
low down, and then he dropped me here. At the curb.”

  “His ego was wounded. He’ll get over it once he has time to process.”

  “I don’t care. I didn’t do anything wrong, but because his feelings were marred, he ditched me instead of talking about it like a normal person. Just like someone else I know.”

  Wes ignored my stab at him and said, “Well, no matter what happened, he should have walked you to your door.”

  “Says the guy who doesn’t date.”

  “I don’t have to date to know the etiquette.” Wes stood and held his hand out for me. “Let me walk you.”

  “I can find my way to the door when I’m ready to go in.”

  “I don’t want to leave you out here alone.”

  “In a gated community full of security and cameras?”

  “Would you just let me walk you, Sam?”

  I hated that I stood up instead of telling him to go home, or to hell, and that I’d go in when I was good and ready.

  Wes took my hand and it felt like there were live wires connecting the two of us. I didn’t pull away. Instead, I savored the moment because I worried there wouldn’t be another like it.

  When we reached the porch, Wes let go of my hand and looked into my eyes. He smiled slightly and it made me feel woozy inside.

  “Wes,” I breathed, wanting to tell him how I felt, but he didn’t let me.

  “I would hurt you,” he whispered, his eyes sweeping across my face. “You would hate me.”

  “I could never hate you.”

  He brushed my cheek. “I could make you. Trust me.”

  “Don’t try.”

  “It might be better for you if I did.”

  “Don’t,” I exhaled, on the verge of crying. We’d been so close. I didn’t want him to pull away. I put my hands on his chest. “You’re important to me, too.”

  “Then just be my friend.” Wes gathered my hands and placed them back at my sides. “Give Charlie a chance to make things right.”

  I knew that arguing with him would be useless, so when he began to walk away from me, I didn’t stop him.

  Feeling worse than before, I went inside and leaned against the door, collecting my thoughts.

  “Sam?” Dad called.

  I locked the door and followed the sound of his voice. Dad and Betty were watching TV in the hearth room, snuggled up on the couch.

  “How was your big date?” Dad asked.

  “It wasn’t a big date. It was just a date, and it was fine.”

  Betty leaned away from my dad to look at me. “Fine? As in not good?”

  “Fine as in fine.” I felt like I’d been dumped twice. “I’m going to bed,” I added, so I wouldn’t have to talk about it anymore.

  “Night,” they said in unison.

  28

  D ad sat me down to tell me he was ready to list our house for sale, and surprisingly asked for my blessing, which I gave. He said he’d arrange for movers to pick up the remaining items in the house, then offered to take me there to get Mom’s ashes. They were on the fireplace mantle. I didn’t ask why he’d left them when he’d brought other things of hers here. I knew he didn’t want to go back there, and declined his offer, telling him that Wes said he’d take me when I was ready.

  I went next door and entered the house through the walkout and knocked on Wes’s bedroom door before opening it, hoping I wouldn’t find him with a girl. He rolled over in bed. His eyes were sleepy, his hair a mess, his upper body uncovered.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” It was almost noon. I hadn’t expected him to still be in bed.

  “It’s okay. What’s up?” He pulled the sheet until it covered his chest.

  “If you’re not busy today, will you take me to see my house in Melton? I’ll give you gas money.”

  Wes laughed. “I don’t want your money, Sam darling. But yes, I’ll take you. Just give me fifteen minutes.”

  “Thanks. I’ll meet you out front.”

  I went home, told Ellen where I was going and left a note for Dad and Betty, who were out doing something, then went to wait for Wes. He exited the front door carrying an energy drink and was dressed casually, in athletic shorts and a t-shirt.

  The drive seemed short even though we hadn’t talked much along the way. It was the first time we’d been so quiet when around one another. It made me wonder if he would share anything else with me—if he would truly remain my friend.

  I became nervous as we reached the stretch of road where my mom died and began wringing my hands.

  “We must be close,” Wes said.

  “Yeah. The second driveway on the left is mine.”

  Wes parked in the gravel in front of the house. I took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

  I stood still, studying the small craftsman style house where I’d lived with my parents before stepping onto the porch and pulling open the screen and unlocking the old wooden door. Being inside was overwhelming. From hearing the door squeak to seeing the Christmas tree that remained year round because the slow flickering lights calmed my mother.

  “It looks smaller than I remember. But everything is still in place. It’s weird. Like it was abandoned because word got out that zombies were coming or something.”

  “Time away will do that,” Wes said.

  It was closing in on five months since I’d been in the house. “Living here after my mom died had been easy for me for some reason. Even traveling that damn road every day was easy. Now, I don’t feel like this house ever belonged to me. It feels like a place I’d once been, but hadn’t lived.”

  Wes laced his fingers with mine and patiently waited for me to make a move. I took him to my room. The twin bed was covered with a floral quilt that I’d had for years. My wicker nightstands were stacked with books. Classics by Jane Austen, Leo Tolstoy, Ernest Hemingway, and Harper Lee. The dresser was bare of items most teenage girls had. There were no photos with friends, no jewelry box, or perfumes. Instead, an electric can opener surrounded by a few tiny figurines was positioned in the middle of the pine top.

  “My mother told me this can opener was a soldier whose toothy blade would protect me from nighttime evils. These figurines are part of the can opener’s army.”

  Gripping my hand tighter, Wes said nothing. So I continued the short tour of our tiny house, peeking inside of my parent’s old room, and what had been Dad’s home office. I pointed out the bathroom and eat-in kitchen as we passed. Our last stop was in front of the living room fireplace. It was covered in red brick with a skinny wooden mantle situated above the firebox. There were two items settled there. A family photo from when I was a baby and the urn that held my mother’s ashes.

  “I don’t know when or where, but I’ve been thinking that I’d like to spread her ashes at sunset. When she was healthy, she was free-spirited. It seems cruel to keep her in that urn.”

  “Why at sunset?”

  “Because the sky is so beautiful at that time.” When he didn’t respond, I asked, “Why?”

  “I guess because, to me, sunsets mark the end of something.”

  “Yeah. The end of a day.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to be taken literally, but if sunsets mark the end, then sunrises mark the beginning. Maybe spreading her ashes at sunrise would help you begin to heal.”

  I looked at Wes, let go of his hand, took the photo and urn into my arms, and softly cried as I walked out of my little house for the last time.

  He locked the door and joined me in the car. “I feel like I overstepped. I’m sorry.”

  “No. What you said makes sense. I just… being here is more overwhelming that I thought it would be. I was so mad at my dad for wanting to sell, but he’s right, this is not our home anymore, and I’ve been holding onto it as if it were. She’s not here, and she’s never going to be again.” I placed my hand on Wes’s, and thanked him for bringing me.

  He smiled and said, “I hope this isn’t insensitive, but I’m starving. Is there anything goo
d to eat around here?”

  I smiled back. “Only the best pizza you’ll ever eat.”

  I groaned when Wes parked in Geno’s lot. “I don’t want to go in. Someone from my high school is here. That’s her pink Volkswagen.”

  “You want to hide? That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “Well, you don’t know how I was treated by that girl and her friends.”

  Wes looked at me. “Fuck her and her friends. We’re going in.”

  His determination made me smile, but my heart beat in my ears like a drum as I followed him into the old brick building. The smell of the place calmed me. When we lived in Melton, Dad brought home a Geno’s sausage and pepperoni pizza every Friday night for as long as I could remember.

  “Have a seat, someone will be right over,” a girl taking payments from behind the counter called to us.

  Wes plucked a menu from a holder attached to the hostess stand, and we settled ourselves into an empty booth.

  “Hey, what can I get you to drink?” my worst nightmare blindly asked, before glimpsing Wes. After getting a good look at him, Tabby instantly stood straighter, poking out her breasts, and smiling like she was being paid. Her voice was smooth. “I’ve never seen you in here before.” She slid her bangs to the side and pulled her blonde ponytail from her back to her chest and ran a curved hand down the long length.

  Wes gave her the kind of smile he knew worked on girls like Tabby. The kind that ended in a playful smirk and heavy eye contact. The kind that held an unspoken promise that he would do naughty things to her if she allowed. Tabby’s chest grew bigger, drawing hopeful breath into her bitchy body just before Wes pulled the rug out of from under her. He reached across the table for my hand. I tensed, afraid of what Tabby would say when she finally saw me. “Sam spoke so highly of this place that I had to see for myself if it’s really that good.”

  Tabby’s posture fell. She slung her ponytail behind her back and glared in my direction. “Psycho Sam, what the hell are you doing here?”

  I shook my hair out of the way and faced my bully. “I’m here to eat, like everyone else.”