“Your grandfather’s hair was much like yours, that is, when he was young and still had hair,” her mother said. “Remember when you were small and you wished for long floppy hair like the other little girls?” Darlene smiled at the recollection.
“I still do.” Samantha had a vision of her Poppy, with his nicotine-stained fingers and his sparse patches of yellowy-white hair hugging his scalp. Unbidden, but seared into her brain at an early age, she relived the sight of him splayed out on his back in their driveway back home, all but unconscious from intoxication.
So impressionable and innocent she’d been then, that special spring Sunday during a family gathering when Jack had to take Poppy’s car keys from him. He’d gotten himself polluted again with his beloved Captain Morgan dark rum. She’d wondered how some of the adults that day had been able to laugh and joke about his predicament. She hadn’t seen anything to laugh about. Yeah. Right, everyone. Happy fucking Easter.
His alcoholism had been the ugly cross they all had to bear. To get through those difficult years, her long-suffering grandmother had done whatever she could to keep the peace. Like that time during the winter Samantha was six. She had spent the day baking Christmas cookies with Nana, who was taking the last batch out of the oven when her grandfather came stumbling home in the snow, drunk and cursing as he laboured to pull off his boots in the foyer.
“Here, Sammie, hide in here with me,” Nana had whispered, ushering her into the spare bedroom closet before she closed the door, plunging them both into darkness. They stayed there, crouching and not making a sound, until what seemed like hours later, not daring to come out until he’d finally gone to sleep and they could hear his loud snores. Samantha remembered that look of fear in her Nana’s eyes, a fear that her Poppy had put there. She’d hated him for that. When he finally succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver the following year, her grandmother had packed up her things and moved out of her house down the road and in with them, directly after they’d left the cemetery.
“Don’t be so covetous, child,” her mother said, pulling her back to the present. “Some people would kill to have your hair.”
“Well, they wouldn’t have to kill for it. They could have it, with ten thousand welcomes.” Samantha turned around. “What are you looking for?”
“Some Tylenol. I thought it was in here.” Her mother tried another drawer. “Ah, here they are. You tore out of here in a hurry yesterday evening, didn’t you?”
“I wasn’t looking for an argument, Momma. Pardon me for caring. With all the troubles you’ve had and the changes you’ve endured, and your family history—”
“You don’t have to worry. I told you that. And stop trying to psychoanalyze me, please.”
“Fine. Still have work this afternoon?”
Darlene crinkled her nose. “Yup, afraid so. I might be going out after that with some new people I met at the center. Oh, by the way, one of the guys told me at work last night they’re looking for an extra pair of hands at the youth center for the summer.”
“Yeah?”
“One of their student staff left unexpectedly, and he said if you apply right away, you might get the job. You’d be doing crafts and other activities with the kids. It’s only part time and it doesn’t pay much, but it might be something to keep you occupied for the next four weeks.”
Samantha’s face lit up. “It sounds perfect! Where is this center?”
“I’ll show you on the map later, it isn’t far. But you have to wait until Monday to see the program director. Would you be able to do the vacuuming and clean the bathroom sometime before then?”
“Yes, Momma.”
“Thanks. Now I need to take a shower, so get out of here.”
After Darlene left for work and Samantha had finished with her chores, her irritation returned when Veronica waltzed in through the door with Ben in tow. They laughed and teased each other as they burst into the kitchen, seemingly oblivious to her as Ronnie rummaged through the fridge and cupboards for food to fix a snack.
“Don’t mess up the house,” Samantha warned. “I just finished the housework.”
“I didn’t know anyone was home. Are you going anywhere?” Veronica’s question sounded light and casual, but her eyes were boring into her, waiting for an answer.
Samantha fixed her attention on the blue and white Dallas Cowboys jersey that hung so magnificently on Ben’s broad shoulders. A swift pang of envy hit her, followed by a wave of self-pity. She swallowed down her angst. “I guess I’ll get out of the way…”
“Don’t be like that. Ben and I have to work later, and we wanted a chance to be alone, that’s all.”
Ben avoided her scrutiny, hanging his head a little as they disappeared through the hall to the stairs and up to Veronica’s bedroom.
“I don’t think our mother would approve of all this alone time,” Samantha called out but the door clicked shut while she was in mid-sentence. The loud, pulsating strains of an up-tempo Green Day tune reverberated from the room.
***
Charcoal-coloured clouds warned of a downpour while she pulled on her windbreaker. Stepping outside, Samantha vaguely wondered how long before the St. John’s Metrobus to the mall would be cruising by. A schedule was around somewhere but she didn’t want to return inside to find it. Walking toward the bus stop, the first fat drops from a heavy cloudburst splashed on her cheeks. Within seconds it was teeming, bouncing off the pavement, soaking her jacket.
“Hi, Sammie,” a voice called from behind her. “Is your sister working today?”
Samantha turned around to see Veronica’s friends, Gina and Mandy, running toward her through the rain.
That was how she wound up in her sister’s stead, accompanying the older girls for the afternoon. The three decided to take the bus to the mall together, with no particular plan in mind other than to escape the rainstorm and hang out, as teenagers are wont to do. Samantha felt flattered when they asked to come along, pleased to taste a nibble of belonging, to actually be considered worthy of their companionship.
The hours flew by as they chattered on about boys, friends, their families, and the upcoming school year. In fact, it was mostly Gina and Mandy who talked, while Samantha listened and laughed at their jokes and silliness. They shared french fries and orange Crush, and for a lark, stopped to try on swimsuits at Sears. None of them had the money to buy one. The fun continued despite the consternation of a hovering, disapproving saleswoman, who shot them haughty looks while they smothered their laughter and sized up one another outside their dressing rooms. Gina somehow wedged her generous torso into a hideous, polka-dotted number that was nearly two sizes too small for her, and they collapsed, laughing, tears running down their faces before they were ordered to vacate the area for the “paying” customers.
Samantha felt a sweet relief to be having fun and laughing again. It seemed like eons since she had found anything funny. On the bus ride home, Gina suggested that she tag along with them again that evening, this time to a birthday party. Crystal, an acquaintance of theirs, was having it at her house for her boyfriend while her parents were away on vacation.
A nervous shiver shot through her as she considered it. But why not, she asked herself. She knew she was no party animal, but everyone else was busy with their plans, and the thought of her usual scenario of sitting home alone on a Saturday night held little appeal. She hastily agreed before she could chicken out.
***
The rain still pelted down at nine o’clock when they arrived at Crystal’s huge, upscale Victorian-style residence on Circular Road. Samantha had never been inside such an elegant house in her life. It was more of a mansion than a house, and everywhere she looked, there was opulence: high, coffered ceilings, sparkling chandeliers, enormous paintings, gleaming hardwood floors, a baby grand piano, and from what she could tell, a marble fireplace in nearly every room. Samantha was apprehensive about touching anything, but that didn’t seem of any concern for this group of young party-goers. A cr
owd of noisy teenagers had already arrived, spreading themselves over the posh furniture, trying to talk over each other while music throbbed throughout the entire house. In the galley-style kitchen, a handful of them crammed the oversize refrigerator full with beer, wine coolers, and soft drinks. Half a dozen heads turned and looked at her briefly. Samantha heard a familiar voice calling her name.
“Oh, hi, Kalen,” she shouted above the din to the smiling boy walking toward her, noticing for the first time that he wasn’t much taller than she was. She wiped the droplets of rain from her glasses with the sleeve of her shirt.
“As I live and breathe, it’s Sammie!” he shouted back, staring at her. “You’re the last person I expected to see here tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”
The unexpected courtesy made her bashful. “Maybe by and by. Who’s the birthday boy?”
“That would be Andrew over there, the red-haired dude wearing the Beavis and Butthead T-shirt. The brunette draped all over him is his gal pal, Crystal. Think she’s your age. Andrew turned nineteen today, like most of this crowd. We might be a little out of our league here,” Kalen said, not sounding at all bothered. He flashed a conspiratorial grin.
“Crystal’s family doesn’t appear to be hurting for a dollar.”
“They’re old money. I hear her dad inherited a fortune in real estate, and her mother owns a lot of businesses around town.”
“Wow. Must be nice.”
“Hey, everyone, wanna see Andrew’s birthday present?” Crystal announced. “Show ’em, Andy!”
Andrew obliged, pulling his T-shirt up to his neck to bare his hairless white chest. On the upper left side was a fresh-looking tattoo, raised and a little swollen, of a red and black heart, with Crystal etched inside it in a fancy scroll. A chorus of groans, titters and outright laughter filled the room.
“Now you’ve done it, man. You are so committed.”
“Can’t break up with her now, Andy.”
“Is that a real tattoo?”
“Sure looks real. What did you go do that for, man? Stunned arse—”
“Go to hell, Robbie, you’re just jealous, ya loser.”
“Robbie, don’t light that smoke in here,” Crystal said. “That goes for your little marijuana friends too. Mudder will have a goddamn calf if you do. Go on outside for that.”
Samantha looked around the kitchen, searching for Gina and Mandy. She spied them heading for the door with some others, cigarettes propped in their lips. So much for their company. “You smoke, Kalen?” She hoped not. She didn’t want him to leave her stranded by the counter, alone.
“Nah. I tried it a couple of times but it never took,” he admitted, leaning into her to be heard over the Sound Garden tune playing. She caught the yeasty smell of beer on his breath.
“Me neither.” Samantha realized she looked somewhat out of place with nothing in her hand. “Maybe I could try one of those fruity wine coolers.” After Kalen obliged and got her a strawberry one, she took a sip. The refreshing coldness of it felt wonderful as it ran down her dry throat and into her stomach.
“This is delicious,” she murmured to no one in particular. And it might help to quell her usual nervousness. Did this make her a hypocrite where her mother was concerned?
Minutes later, Samantha found herself loosening up. She perused the room, content to people-watch for the moment. “Wow, that is one short skirt,” she said to Kalen, nodding her head toward the tall, leggy blonde dancing alone in the middle of the kitchen. Miss Denim Miniskirt motioned provocatively to a couple of grinning boys to join her.
“Advertising the goods,” Kalen said. “If it’s true what they say about Nadine, she won’t be leaving this party alone.” As if to confirm Kalen’s words, one of the boys grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close in tempo with the slow song. The pair swayed together on the floor for several minutes until the other boy eagerly cut in. With this guy, she did a raunchy dirty-dancing routine that made the circle of onlookers applaud with delight.
“Perhaps she’ll be taking the two of them home,” Samantha said with a giggle. “Speaking of which, I’m sure I saw my first real-live hooker the other night when I thought someone was following me, you know that night I met you in the coffee shop?” Samantha acknowledged that her tongue had loosened and she was talking more. Has to be the cooler.
Kalen ducked his head into the fridge, getting two more drinks for them. He opened the wine drink and pressed it into her hand. “You saw a streetwalker, eh? Yeah, there’s always a few of ’em around downtown.”
“She had the tightest, shortest skirt I’ve ever seen on a woman that age. It was scary. She looked even older than my mother!”
“Oh, I think I know who you saw. She’s always around. White-blonde hair? Not sure she’s a prostitute though. Poor thing’s got mental issues or something like that.”
Samantha sipped on the second cooler dubiously. Within minutes, the room seemed too warm and bright. She adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “I wonder, could we sit down in the living room?”
“You okay?”
Samantha held the cold bottle against her forehead. “I’m fine. Just feeling a little overwhelmed…”
“Come on,” Kalen said, holding her arm and steering her toward the crowded living room, but with its more subdued lighting. Together, they plopped down on the luxurious shag rug in front of the fireplace as no other place was free to sit among the sea of strangers. “Feel better now?” he asked, peering into her face. His long hair fell across his face as he touched her cheek.
Samantha scowled, flinching. “Yes, yes. I’m fine, really. But I don’t think I need any more of this.” She reached toward the glass coffee table, laden with bowls of chips and trays of hors d’oeuvres, placing her drink down just as the back door swung open. A welcome, cool night breeze tinged with the scent of rain whooshed into the kitchen and through the house, but from her vantage point on the living room rug, she couldn’t see who entered. After a moment, Gina and Mandy spilled in, making way for several more guests. She raised her hand and waved to the two girls, but they were distracted, talking and laughing with the couple behind them.
Samantha’s mouth fell open when she saw who the couple were. It was Veronica, and of course, Ben. Terrific. She ground her teeth at the sound of her sister’s high-pitched laughter. Why did they have to show up, just when she’d relaxed enough to enjoy herself?
“Okay, all you lovely townies,” her sister shrilled above the din to the living room crowd as she threw her jacket aside. “Veronica’s here. Now the party can really begin!” In her cropped belly top and tight blue jeans, she danced a little bump and grind routine to the music, while some of the younger boys whistled and applauded.
Ah yes. A bit of competition for Miss Denim Miniskirt.
Ben grinned tightly as he moved away from her and back into the kitchen. “I need a beer,” he muttered, but only Samantha seemed to notice his mood. She thought his eyes looked strange, a little glassy and brighter than usual.
She doesn’t mind making a fool of herself, Samantha thought, annoyed and embarrassed. Some of the other girls looked peeved as well. While the deejay was selecting new CDs for the stereo, she couldn’t avoid overhearing Crystal sneer to a friend, “Who does that bay tramp think she is? Trying to take over my party, is she?”
Bay tramp? Really? As much as Veronica irritated her too, Samantha didn’t think she warranted that descriptive label. Narcissistic show-off, maybe. Her gaze followed Veronica as she disappeared into the kitchen.
“I’m gonna go talk to Ben for a minute,” Kalen said, climbing to his feet. “Plus I want another beer.”
Shrugging, Samantha joined him. She covered her smile as her sister, beer in hand, sang an exaggerated version of Happy Birthday, Marilyn Monroe style, to Andrew sitting at the kitchen table. She had to admit to herself that Veronica nailed it, if only for a laugh. Trying not to let Ben see her watching his handsome face from the sidelines, she thoug
ht he looked none too pleased by her sexy performance. But then, neither did Crystal.
“Hey, Veronica,” yelled another boy. “Will you jump out of my birthday cake next month? In a teeny weeny string bikini? Pretty please?”
Veronica grinned and chugged her beer. Anyone could see she was lapping up their attention.
Samantha watched Ben’s face redden. With a white-knuckled grip, he banged down his beer bottle, sending a spume of froth spilling out over the marble counter top.
“On second thought, skip the bikini,” the boy said. “I certainly wouldn’t mind.” He ogled Veronica’s shapely form before reaching an arm around her waist.
A hush fell over the party as Ben strode over to the boy, grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted him off the floor. “What do you think you’re doing?” he forced out through clenched teeth.
The boy squirmed, trying in vain to break free. “Let go of me, man. God, just havin’ a bit of fun!”
“Here’s some fun for you, you plug.” Ben’s fist pulled back and flew into the boy’s face, sending him sailing across the kitchen, crumpling his slight body into the wall with a thud. China rattled inside the bank of cabinetry.
Samantha looked on in horror, repulsed by the scene. Blood spurted from the boy’s nose onto his white shirt, but he didn’t try to get up. He stared up at his attacker in confused wonderment. Crystal appeared, kneeling by his side with a wad of paper towels.
“What the hell is your problem, Swift?” Crystal snarled. “Look what you did!”
Without a word, Ben turned on his heel and bolted from the house, directly followed by a wide-eyed Veronica.
Fuck, thought Samantha.
“Fuck!” said Kalen, shaking his head. “What did I tell you the other day? He can turn on a dime, can’t he?”
“Have you ever seen him like that before?” Samantha cried, her entire body shaking visibly. Kalen put his arm around her. “Is he on drugs, or is he just super-duper-jealous, or what? Did you see his eyes?”
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