It took that long before I calmed myself down. When I returned home, the evening's darkness had started to creep in.
My mother waited for me at the dining room table. She had a large glass of wine before her and every room was lit up around us. Her fingers kept tapping the table in a nervous manner—or, as I got a better look at Analise—in an irritated manner.
I didn't even wait for her to say anything. I dropped to a chair at the table and waited.
My headache had come back.
"I am taking the boys out for dinner on Sunday after church. If you are able to refrain from physical violence, I'd like for you to join us."
Her tone felt like whiplash against me.
I jerked away, but readied myself again. She couldn't hurt me unless I allowed her. "Why do you want me there?"
She gave a dramatic long-drawn out sigh and whirled the wine around inside the glass. "Because you are my daughter. Mason and Logan are going to be my stepsons, your stepbrothers. You don't think I think about this? I'm concerned for you, Samantha. I really am."
"Really?" My tone was dry, I couldn't keep it out.
She winced against it, but swallowed it down. Then she forced out her bright sunshiney fake act. "How are things at school? Have you seen David at all?"
"Once."
"Oh." She seemed to pull away from me, though she didn't move in her chair. Then she threw the rest of her wine down the back of her throat. "That's good that you still have him in your life. Have you ever considered going to public schooling? Mason and Logan seem to do very well there."
I rolled my eyes. They would've been fine anywhere they went.
"So you want me at this dinner thing?"
"You are my daughter."
"And you can refrain from slapping me?"
She winced, but I knew the movement cost her. A slight curse slipped from her lips and she tried to hide it.
"Mother?"
"What?" She lifted glazed eyes to me. "I think the dinner will be great. I could cook something, maybe? No, that didn't end well the last time. You're right. Dinner out is the best idea. I'm so happy you think so."
Yeah. Me too.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Becky called me bright and early the next morning. "Bad news bears, Sam."
I rolled over and sat up with a yawn. "It's seven in the morning. On a Saturday morning."
"I know. I just got home."
"So you decided to call and say good morning? You suck."
"No." Her voice was bright and chirpy. "I'm still drunk so it's probably not sinking in yet, but I can't go to the game tonight."
I groaned. There went my one friend to sit with.
"There was a party on the beach by Lydia's house and I'm getting back. Mom caught me this morning so I'm grounded now."
"You went to Lydia's party?" I should've asked, 'Lydia had a party? And you went to it?'
"Oh no. The party was by her house, I think some other girl threw it, but I dunno. Anyways, we had to wait till Adam was sober enough to drive. I kept drinking all night. Lydia's actually kinda funny."
"You were with Lydia? You two were pissing on each other."
She giggled. "Not literally, but she explained a few things to me and I feel for her…sort of…not really. Oh well. So I'm not going to the game tonight so that means you don't have to go either. I know I was the only reason you were going anyway."
I picked at some lint on my bedcover. "I might've gone to cheer for Adam too…"
"Aw." Her voice melted. "That's so sweet. I'll make sure to tell him. It'll mean a lot to him. He doesn't think you care about him at all."
"Are you kidding me?" I grumbled into the phone. "You're the one that likes him."
"Yeah, but he doesn't like me."
"You're a bit not right in the head, Becky."
"I know!" she chirped again, followed by a giggle. "He held my hand to the car."
"Were you falling down drunk?"
"That and the sand was really tricky to walk through."
"I'm sure it was." I laid back down on the bed and closed my eyes. Something was telling me this phone call wasn't going to let me go back to sleep anytime soon.
"So, what'd you do last night?"
I grinned into the phone. "Well, I didn't get drunk and hold hands with my crush all night long."
She giggled again. "I wish it was all night long. Maybe I could get drunk more? You think he'd do that every time?"
"No."
"Yeah, you're right." She sighed. "It'd be nice, though. I wish I could hold his hand all the time."
"Why don't you just ask him out?"
"Because he doesn't like me. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"Whatever." I gripped the phone tighter. "I think there's something there. Maybe he'd have to man up and make a decision already."
Silence.
I sighed.
There was more silence on the phone.
Then I asked, "Did I say something wrong?"
Her voice was timid. "It's not that easy for some of us."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Sometimes all we have is our imagination."
I frowned and cursed under my breath. "Your imagination? Your fairytale that's holding you back?"
She sucked in her breath.
I bit back another curse. I'd forgotten Becky was one of those girls. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" She sounded like she had started to cry.
I cursed myself and hit my forehead with my hand. "For not being sensitive."
"It's okay," she hiccupped.
"No, I really am sorry."
"I know." She hiccupped again. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."
I gritted my teeth, but said nothing. The problem was that I did mean it; I meant every word of it and more.
"So, since we're not going to the game, my mom said you could come over tonight. You want to come over here? I think we'll do dinner and movies."
"Um." How could I lie myself out of this one? "My mom said something about dinner too."
"She did?"
My mother waited for me at the dining room table. She had a large glass of wine before her and every room was lit up around us. Her fingers kept tapping the table in a nervous manner—or, as I got a better look at Analise—in an irritated manner.
I didn't even wait for her to say anything. I dropped to a chair at the table and waited.
My headache had come back.
"I am taking the boys out for dinner on Sunday after church. If you are able to refrain from physical violence, I'd like for you to join us."
Her tone felt like whiplash against me.
I jerked away, but readied myself again. She couldn't hurt me unless I allowed her. "Why do you want me there?"
She gave a dramatic long-drawn out sigh and whirled the wine around inside the glass. "Because you are my daughter. Mason and Logan are going to be my stepsons, your stepbrothers. You don't think I think about this? I'm concerned for you, Samantha. I really am."
"Really?" My tone was dry, I couldn't keep it out.
She winced against it, but swallowed it down. Then she forced out her bright sunshiney fake act. "How are things at school? Have you seen David at all?"
"Once."
"Oh." She seemed to pull away from me, though she didn't move in her chair. Then she threw the rest of her wine down the back of her throat. "That's good that you still have him in your life. Have you ever considered going to public schooling? Mason and Logan seem to do very well there."
I rolled my eyes. They would've been fine anywhere they went.
"So you want me at this dinner thing?"
"You are my daughter."
"And you can refrain from slapping me?"
She winced, but I knew the movement cost her. A slight curse slipped from her lips and she tried to hide it.
"Mother?"
"What?" She lifted glazed eyes to me. "I think the dinner will be great. I could cook something, maybe? No, that didn't end well the last time. You're right. Dinner out is the best idea. I'm so happy you think so."
Yeah. Me too.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Becky called me bright and early the next morning. "Bad news bears, Sam."
I rolled over and sat up with a yawn. "It's seven in the morning. On a Saturday morning."
"I know. I just got home."
"So you decided to call and say good morning? You suck."
"No." Her voice was bright and chirpy. "I'm still drunk so it's probably not sinking in yet, but I can't go to the game tonight."
I groaned. There went my one friend to sit with.
"There was a party on the beach by Lydia's house and I'm getting back. Mom caught me this morning so I'm grounded now."
"You went to Lydia's party?" I should've asked, 'Lydia had a party? And you went to it?'
"Oh no. The party was by her house, I think some other girl threw it, but I dunno. Anyways, we had to wait till Adam was sober enough to drive. I kept drinking all night. Lydia's actually kinda funny."
"You were with Lydia? You two were pissing on each other."
She giggled. "Not literally, but she explained a few things to me and I feel for her…sort of…not really. Oh well. So I'm not going to the game tonight so that means you don't have to go either. I know I was the only reason you were going anyway."
I picked at some lint on my bedcover. "I might've gone to cheer for Adam too…"
"Aw." Her voice melted. "That's so sweet. I'll make sure to tell him. It'll mean a lot to him. He doesn't think you care about him at all."
"Are you kidding me?" I grumbled into the phone. "You're the one that likes him."
"Yeah, but he doesn't like me."
"You're a bit not right in the head, Becky."
"I know!" she chirped again, followed by a giggle. "He held my hand to the car."
"Were you falling down drunk?"
"That and the sand was really tricky to walk through."
"I'm sure it was." I laid back down on the bed and closed my eyes. Something was telling me this phone call wasn't going to let me go back to sleep anytime soon.
"So, what'd you do last night?"
I grinned into the phone. "Well, I didn't get drunk and hold hands with my crush all night long."
She giggled again. "I wish it was all night long. Maybe I could get drunk more? You think he'd do that every time?"
"No."
"Yeah, you're right." She sighed. "It'd be nice, though. I wish I could hold his hand all the time."
"Why don't you just ask him out?"
"Because he doesn't like me. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"Whatever." I gripped the phone tighter. "I think there's something there. Maybe he'd have to man up and make a decision already."
Silence.
I sighed.
There was more silence on the phone.
Then I asked, "Did I say something wrong?"
Her voice was timid. "It's not that easy for some of us."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Sometimes all we have is our imagination."
I frowned and cursed under my breath. "Your imagination? Your fairytale that's holding you back?"
She sucked in her breath.
I bit back another curse. I'd forgotten Becky was one of those girls. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" She sounded like she had started to cry.
I cursed myself and hit my forehead with my hand. "For not being sensitive."
"It's okay," she hiccupped.
"No, I really am sorry."
"I know." She hiccupped again. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."
I gritted my teeth, but said nothing. The problem was that I did mean it; I meant every word of it and more.
"So, since we're not going to the game, my mom said you could come over tonight. You want to come over here? I think we'll do dinner and movies."
"Um." How could I lie myself out of this one? "My mom said something about dinner too."
"She did?"
