Me And Sam -- Chapter 18

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Synopsis:

Two young teens, life-long friends, discover each other though not in the usual way. A gentle "coming-of-age" tale.

Story:

Chapter 18

A Matter of Trust

Monday morning! The last one of the school year. I jumped out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror over the sink. My raccoon eyes were beginning to fade. I took a long shower and considered the day ahead. What was I going to do about Darla? Part of me hoped that she’d made up with Sarah and that any further thoughts of her would be moot. Another part missed her soft, gentle, and delicate soul. I couldn’t ever remember feeling so indecisive before. Could I sit at the same lunch table with Sarah and Darla? Was I really as Sally had suggested, just an "experiment" for her? The cacophony of conflicting thoughts and emotions echoed inside my brain. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it through the day.

I got dressed and made my way downstairs. Shandy eyed me pleadingly. I let her out and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. The thought of eating anything, left me feeling nauseous. Still, I knew that I must. I decided that a bowl of cheerios would rest easy in my stomach. I sat there eating slowly as I continued to contemplate the upcoming events. Breakfast finished, I made my lunch. As I began assembling my sandwich, I wondered just where I was going to eat it. I hoped I’d be able to hide my sadness from Sam. I couldn’t bear another falling out with him. I smiled remembering that I now thought of Sam as male. Did that make me gay? Somehow, I didn’t think that it did by any stretch of twisted logic.

I let the dog in, made sure that she had fresh water and food and went to make sure that Mom was awake before leaving. Tasks completed, I headed out the door. I arrived at Sam’s on the stroke of 7:30 according to my Timex. Sam appeared within seconds. His demeanor told me that he was in a great mood. I put on my happiest face hoping that he wouldn’t see the sorrow lurking just beneath the surface. "Good morning Joan! It’s a beautiful summer’s day, isn’t it?" he asked rhetorically. I felt no need to remind him that the official start of summer wouldn’t arrive for a few more days. I no longer cared that he referred to me as Joan. He smiled at me, took my hand in his own and we made our way to school.

"So, are you ready for the test?" he asked me laughing.

"Test! What test?" I replied feeling a sudden surge of panic. He laughed again only louder.

"I meant are you ready to get your science test back," he clarified. "How do you think you did?" Was I ever going to be able to admit that I was pretty sure I’d "aced" the test? Would I always have to stroke his ego by letting him think that he was better than me at everything? Wasn’t it enough that he was stronger, faster, and far more coordinated than I could ever hope to be? "Well, come on, tell me! How did you do?" he asked relentlessly.

Everything taken into consideration, I simply replied, "I passed, and you?" I asked him knowing that he wouldn’t have brought it up if he hadn’t thought that he’d aced the exam as well.

He smiled at me and told me he was pretty sure he’d earned a perfect score. I hoped that he had, for his sake. "What else is new?" I asked him. He laughed and punched my arm playfully. The same arm that he had bruised the night before. "Ow, that hurts!" I said without thinking.

"I’m sorry Joan. I didn’t realize you were so delicate." I laughed at that and showed him the bruise that he’d left on my upper arm the night before. He stared at it in total amazement. "Did I do that?" he asked not believing it.

"Yes Sam, you did that last night."

"Oh, I am really sorry Joan," he said and this time he meant it.

"It’s all right Sam, but please no more hitting for awhile?" I said and laughed. My laughter allayed his concerns. I knew that it would.

We arrived at school and I found myself searching the crowd for Darla. I finally spied her off to the side with Sarah. I guessed they’d made up after all, I thought despondently. I kept my game face on, determined that Sam wouldn’t see the turmoil going on inside of me. The entrance bell sounded and we made our way inside. "Thanks for walking with me this morning Sam," I said to him.

"Anytime Joan," he assured me. I thought cynically for a second that what he really meant was anytime he wasn’t totally pissed off at me. Classes officially over, I stuffed my book bag into my locker. This would be a week of baby sitting for the faculty. I figured I’d better bring something to read tomorrow or it was going to be a very long week.

The only time I really felt alive was in shop class. I had a deadline to meet and I worked purposefully on my new project. I could tell that this was going to be an excellent piece. I never realized before what a difference the choice of wood would make. The basic box was assembled and I spent the morning covering the screw heads with the tiny bits of oak doweling. I’d use the belt sander tomorrow to get the surfaces totally smooth. I was proud of my ability to create something out of nothing. I’d spend the week concentrating on the construction and would add the final touches at home. The felt lined drawers, and the hand rubbed finish were all things that didn’t require the use of the school’s equipment.

Finally, it was time for lunch. I’d been dreading this moment more than any other. What was I going to do now? I wouldn’t have sat in Duncan’s seat if it had been available. I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting down across from Darla either. I took my time retrieving my lunch from my locker. Most of the other students were already in the cafeteria. I could hear their buzz as I approached the doors. There was no way in hell that I was going in there on this day. I exited the building as nonchalantly as possible. I made my way to the back door of the building as if I had every right to do so. I sat down at the site of my tears, spent not so long ago. Although Sam and I had reconciled, I never felt more alone in my life. The sadness that had been gnawing at my soul all morning swept me away. I found myself sitting there crying softly once again.

"Would you like some company?" a voice said from behind. I turned around and saw Darla looking down on me in my sorry state. I wanted to lie to her and tell her that no I wouldn’t and would she please just go away.

Realizing that I couldn’t do that, yet finding myself unable to offer a direct invitation, I said, "Suit yourself." I’d never seen her looking so despondent. There were a million things I wanted to say to her but I found myself just holding my breath. She sat there next to me in quiet mode also. She grabbed my left hand and rubbed it between her own. I offered her no resistance, but I yielded no encouragement either. We just sat there feeling the warmth of the sun as it gently caressed us. Finally, without having spoken a word to one another, the bell rang signifying the end of the lunch hour. We made our way up the steps and I held the door open for her as she went inside.

My stomach rumbled a bit as I realized that I’d not touched my lunch. It could wait till the end of the day, I decided at last. Nothing had been resolved with Darla, but I felt in some way that it had. I actually caught myself smiling a few times as the day began to wind down. I took my seat in science class anticipating the return of my exam.

"The results of the exam were worse than I expected," Mr. Benson informed us. If I simply record the results there will be quite a number of you in summer school. When I call your name please come up to my desk and retrieve your papers. There is to be no talking! You will return to your seat and place your test face down on your desk." If I’d heard that speech once, I’d heard it a thousand times.

With all of the tests returned Mr. Benson said, "Ok, now here’s the deal. You can get half credit by correcting your mistakes. Sadly this won’t help all of you. But wait! It’s not as easy as that. No mere guesses will be accepted. You must cite the proper answer on your paper next to the proper choice," he finished. "That is, you will put the page number and the paragraph number next to your answer. If I see that you’ve just put down anything, your current grade will stand." For purposes of clarification he then put an example on the board. "You have until the end of the hour to complete your task. You may begin." I had to admit, old Benson had added a new twist to a speech I’d heard countless times before. All of the other teachers I’d had simply accepted the student’s next best guess. I thought his little addition was a touch of genius. I’d yet to glance at my own score. I turned it over slowly. There was a simple note on top. "Congratulations Mr. Johnson, yours is the only perfect paper in all of my classes." I sat there dumbfounded. I knew in my heart that I owed Darla a deep debt of gratitude. I’d have never accomplished this without her help.

I saw out of the corner of my eye that Darla, upon viewing her own exam, began furiously opening her text. A look of sheer terror covered her face. Surely she couldn’t have done that bad? I sat there wondering whether I should pretend to work on my own perfect paper. I wasn’t a show-off and didn’t want to make the other students feel bad about their own performance. Looking about the room however, I noticed that several other students sat there silently just waiting for the bell to ring. I guessed that they felt no need to achieve perfection. To pass the time, I began reading the test over again. It was a good way to imprint on my brain the lessons that I’d learned. Besides, it helped the time pass more quickly. The period ended and Mr. Benson told any and all interested students to place their tests on his desk.

"I’ll have your final grades for you tomorrow," he announced as we made our way to the exit.

So, mine had been the "only" perfect paper. I guess that meant I’d beaten Sam once again. I smiled with a wry grin glued to my face. I found myself worried about Darla though. Forgetting everything that had transpired earlier, I walked over to her locker and stood behind her. "Darla, are you ok?" I asked with genuine concern. She looked as though she were about to cry.

"I only got an 86% on that stupid exam," she said as the tears began to flow. Thankfully, she hadn’t asked me how I’d done. If she had I’d have given her my standard reply: I passed. And, hell, if scoring 100% on an exam wasn’t passing, what was? I almost laughed feeling a bit giddy, but then I remembered Darla.

"So," I consoled her "that means you only had to correct four of the seven questions you got wrong to get an A," I told her performing the math quickly in my head. "I’m sure you got it done," I said in an attempt to soothe her. The look on her face told me that simply getting an "A" wasn’t good enough.

"Oh Darla, I’m so sorry. Perhaps studying with me hadn’t been such a good idea after all?" I offered. I figured it might ease her mind having me to blame for her performance.

"It’s not your fault, John. The fact of the matter is that I simply hate science in any shape or form." Her words lifted me up. Although I was ready to accept the blame, I’d have felt bad if she’d agreed with me. I wanted to thank her for her help but, I was sure that it’d only make her feel worse.

"Can I walk you home?" I asked. I found myself terrified that she’d accept and that Sam would see us leaving together.

"Are you sure that you want to?" she questioned me.

"Yes Darla, I’m sure." She took my hand and we made our way outside. It had been more than a few minutes since the final bell and I was never more grateful that Sam wasn’t outside waiting for me.

"John?" she said hesitantly. "I’m sorry." Her apology sent my soul into the depths of despair.

"I know," I said to her not really knowing anything at all. I felt guilty just being with her. Perhaps Sam had been right and everything that had gone wrong had been all my fault. I knew that wasn’t the case, but I wasn’t going to examine it all too closely at the moment.

"You made up with Sam, didn’t you?" she asked. I wanted to say to her: what did you expect?

Carefully considering the situation I said, "and you and Sarah?" She sighed audibly as we continued walking.

"I’m so sorry John," she said again at length. I wished more than anything that she’d stop extending her sympathy to me. Her apologies were killing me.

"I take it that’s a yes then?" I asked her. She looked at me as if she had no idea what I was talking about. "I mean about you and Sarah reconciling," I said in an attempt at clarification. "We shared a sunrise together. You proclaimed your love for me. Moments later your arms were wrapped around Sarah in a passionate embrace. I guess nothing makes sense to me anymore," I offered sincerely.

"How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry John?"

"Please don’t ever utter those words to me again," I begged. "Every time you do it’s like you’ve picked a healing scab and decided it would be best to add some salt to the wound." The weird thing is, her apologies were far more painful to me than the actual offense. She looked at me as if she still didn’t understand. My next heartfelt words were genuinely meant to console her not cause her any further pain.

"I’m sorry Darla," I said. The light bulb over her head glowed far too brightly. It soon burned out as comprehension took hold.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

I’d offered my own apology sincerely and really didn’t mean to cause her any pain. She dropped her bag to the ground and grabbed hold of me. She sobbed incessantly on my shoulder. "Darla, it’s all right," I said at last. Her tears continued. I rubbed her back and whispered softly in her ear. "Darla, you will always be my friend." She began to calm down as my words sank in.

"And you were the one that was worried about hurting me," she said and began crying anew. I squeezed her tighter wishing that I had the words to set her free. I was done feeling sorry for myself. My only concern was helping Darla to come to grips with her own sense of well being. I knew in my heart that under different circumstances, she and I could have made each other very happy.

I resolved to stand there holding her for all eternity if that’s what was required. She began to soften in my embrace. "Oh Joan," she whispered, "I’ll always love you." I could tell that those few words signified a turning point for her. Sensing the finality of it all, a wave of sadness overcame me. I found myself drowning in my own tears. Darla was aware of her own words’ effect and did her best to comfort me. I began wailing hysterically. Could I handle this loss? Her presence made me miss her even more. I found myself longing for what might have been. We were just kids after all, I reminded myself. If that was indeed the case, then what would the future bring? I couldn’t ever imagine feeling sadder than I did at this moment.

Why did her rejection make me want her all the more? I guess it was a case of, "you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone." Still, it was obvious that I’d never really had her. Sally’s assessment of the situation seemed correct after all. I found myself wondering whether my own actions had caused her to choose as she did. Could Darla and I simply remain "friends?" My confusion wouldn’t leave me. What I felt for her was something more than friendship and something less than love. In the brief time that I’d known her she’d become a part of my life: a very important part. We stood there hugging and crying for the longest time. The pain of the current situation and the sadness for what would never be filled our thoughts. "I guess we’d better get going," I said to her at last.

"Do you think we could be friends John?" she asked me. I wasn’t sure I could be friends with anyone who was a friend of Sarah’s. Then again, I’m sure she felt the same way about me and Sam.

We walked on in silence. I began considering becoming a member of the Mormon church. Weren’t they the ones with multiple spouses? I began laughing at my own crazy thoughts. Darla asked me what was so funny. I told her and she laughed too. "What makes you think I’d have you for my wife?" she asked facetiously. I began thinking that I was growing up far too quickly. A few short weeks ago I was a kid who’s biggest concerns were baseball box scores and getting to the next level of the latest video game craze. And here I was now, involved in complicated relationships and wearing skirts. Truth be told, I didn’t think that baseball and video games could compare. As tough as it was, I loved my "new" life.

We arrived at her front door finally. She hugged me close and began her swishy kissing routine. "Darla, is your mother home?" I asked her.

"More than likely," she replied.

"Would it be all right if I came in for a minute?" I asked.

"Of course silly," she said removing her key from her purse and opening the front door. Her composure completely restored, she shouted out the words said by millions daily.

"Mom, I’m home!"

"I’m in the kitchen darling," her mother shouted back in return. We walked into the Raspberry kitchen.

"Someone wants to talk to you," she said, and indicated me.

"Aunt Viv," I began "I wanted to thank you for the wonderful time I had over here last weekend. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I will treasure the memories always." Her mother seemed near tears listening to my heart felt sentiments so eloquently expressed.

Though I was dressed in my normal attire, she replied, "You’re more than welcome Joan, it was a pleasure having you."

"Mom, Joan and I are going to go up to my room for a few minutes," Darla informed her and we headed for the stairs. Her mother simply smiled at us as we headed for our destination. I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to handle being in her room again after what I’d witnessed on Saturday.

"What’s this all about Darla?"

"Just come with me Joan," she said as we continued down the hall. We walked into her room. If anything, it was more magnificent than I’d remembered. It’s funny, I’d been in here a number of times but it was like I was seeing it for the first time. "How did you do on the science test?" she asked me. "I noticed as I began working that you simply sat there calmly reading over your test." I stood there unsure how to respond. Could she handle the fact that I’d earned a perfect score? My face turned several shades of red each one darker than the last. "I’m waiting," she said in a tone that required an answer.

I eyed her carefully before responding. "I got 100% on the exam," I told her at last. Her face went through several stages of expression. The first was disbelief, then anger, acceptance, and finally joy. "Oh Joan! That’s wonderful!" she said finally.

I wasn’t sure whether she really meant it at first. Then she came over and hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear, "I’m so proud of you." My own mother couldn’t have said it better, I reasoned. "And you were more worried about that exam than I was," she laughed.

"I just got lucky, I guess."

"Nonsense Joan," she said.

"Darla, I really couldn’t have done it without you. I’m not just saying that. I couldn’t have." She accepted my gift with a few tears and a grateful smile.

"Thank you," she said and hugged me again.

"So, why are we here?" I had to ask finally.

"You left a few things of yours here on Saturday." With that she disappeared into her closet for a few moments. She returned carrying a small gift bag. She held it out to me. I knew if I refused her offering it would break her heart.

I took the bag from her and felt no need to look inside. I already knew what was in there: the bra and panties. "Thanks Darla," I said simply.

"I hope you’ll think of me when you wear them," she said sadly. Such a small delicate bag felt leaden in my grasp. . I began to cry yet again as I unzipped my backpack to store the tiny bag inside. I began to worry that channels were being formed in my cheeks from all the tears that had made their way down my face of late. I laughed aloud at the absurdity of my thoughts. Darla took my laughter to mean that I was happy to have the delicates back. I wasn’t about to dissuade her from her theory.

A touch of pride surged through me as my eyes surveyed her room. Sitting atop her triple dresser was my humble gift to her. She caught me eyeing it and said, "Yes Joan, I really love your gift. Speaking of which, I was wondering if you’d do me a favor?" she asked sincerely. My own look told her that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. "Would you come with me to get my ears pierced?" she asked as she opened the tiny drawer on the bottom left displaying her diamond earrings.

"Just name the time and place and I’m there," I told her. She smiled at my response.

"I’ll let you know tomorrow," she said. "Oh, and by the way, my mother really would like you to make one of these for her." I smiled at her and told her it would be my pleasure.

Her smile exuded sadness. She wrapped her arms around me and held me with impossible strength. I put one arm around her waist and the other around the back of her head. We began dancing to the music that wasn’t there. "I’ll always love you Joan," she said as we continued to sway to the melody that only we could hear.

"Oh Darla!" I exclaimed with a sigh. Could I really let this special person get away? Was I making the biggest mistake of my life by letting her go? Did I really have a choice in the matter? The song that only we could hear stopped at last. I had no further claim on her time. I wanted to scream in agony that this was all wrong. Darla, please don’t let me go. I knew if I didn’t regain control quickly that the men in the white coats would be coming for me.

The only way I could keep myself in tact was by kidding myself that tomorrow was indeed another day. This moment here and now wasn’t the apocalypse. I began to worry about and for myself. With the most tenuous grip on sanity possible I said, "It’s getting late Darla, I’d better get going." For a very brief moment I worried that I’d exposed far too much of my tortured soul. It seemed I was safe, if only for the moment.

"All right Joan. I guess we can’t stay here forever," she said at last. Would that we could, I thought before disengaging myself from her embrace. I grabbed my knapsack, and Darla insisted on holding my hand as we made our way down the stairs. "Girls do this all the time," she informed me.

We arrived back in the foyer and Aunt Viv was waiting for us. "You know Joan, I was really serious about wanting a jewelry box like the one you made for Darla." I smiled at her appreciatively.

"Aunt Viv, thanks for your confidence in my abilities. When I have all the materials priced out, we can discuss it further," I replied in my best business-like tone.

"Just make sure that you do!" she said while smiling at me. Then she walked over to me and wrapped her arms around me. "I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and Darla," she whispered. I was totally taken aback by her comment. She knew! Unable to piece it all together at that time, I bade farewell to the Raspberry family. Darla came over and hugged me and did her cheek kissing routine. I bade them farewell and made my way out the door.

It was almost 5:00 PM when I arrived home. Worried about Shandy, I made my way to the back door and let her in. Next, I checked the weekly menu stuck on the refrigerator with a pussy cat magnet. Mom would be home in just over an hour and was expecting meat loaf and baked potatoes. I knew there was no way in hell that that was going to happen as I considered alternatives with what was at hand. I hoped she’d be happy with burgers and home fries. I cleaned a few potatoes and diced them into small pieces before placing them in the microwave to precook. I then repeated the procedure, but this time with onions. There was no need to precook the onions however, and once diced I began frying them up in a skillet on the stove. The burgers themselves would take only minutes to cook. I began preparing a salad and remembered that as this was a week day, a gin and tonic would be in order for Mom upon arrival.

As I got wrapped up in dinner preparations, I began to think of Sam. There was no way this evening would end without me talking to him face to face. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about Darla. I reasoned that after dinner was finished and everything cleaned up and put away, I’d make my way to the Peters’ household. Mom walked through the door just as I was beginning to shape the burgers. She came into the kitchen and said, "I thought we were having meat loaf tonight?" I laughed confidently and explained how the afternoon had gotten away from me. She took her seat at the table and I brought her gin and tonic. Upon seeing the magic elixir she relaxed. Moments later she was sipping her drink and puffing away contentedly. I didn’t like her smoking, but if it helped calm her down, then so be it.

The smell of the home fries must have helped too. We hadn’t had them in a long, long time. I brought her salad with the bottle of bleu cheese dressing and sat down to eat my own made with the lo-cal italian. My stomach was more than full from the salad I’d just consumed. I began wondering if I’d made too much food. I delivered Mom’s plate with her burger and more than a fair amount of home fries. "I know this evening’s menu called for meat loaf, but this is just too fantastic a dinner for me to offer any further complaints. Of course you know, you’ll have to have peanut butter for lunch tomorrow?" I sighed. "Well, I figured you could have made yourself a sandwich from the leftovers." I really didn’t care about tomorrow’s lunch as we sat there eating our meal. My own caloric intake had dropped by at least half since I’d discovered Joan living inside of me.

I put a tad more ketchup on my plate and continued playing with the bits of burger and fries. "Mom?" I asked her pleadingly. "What happened to Dad? Is he ok? Why hasn’t he called me?" My list of questions was endless. Mom sat there lost deep in thought. I could tell that she hadn’t appreciated my questions.

"Joan," she said at last. "I expect your father will be contacting you sometime soon," she said and was done with the topic. I was both pleased and upset that she couldn’t offer me anything more concrete. I began to realize that whatever happened between me and Dad, our life as a family was over. I fought back the tears.

"Thanks Mom, for being honest with me," was all I managed to say. I so wanted to press further, but a far away look appeared on her face as her eyes glazed over.

In an attempt to bring her back I asked if she’d like some fresh fruit and ice cream for dessert. She smiled at me and said that would be nice. I cut the cantaloupe into quarters and filled the hollows with ice cream. I wasn’t usually big on desserts, but I found the dish comforting. This had indeed been the right thing to do.

"Are you ready to talk about the party yet?"

"Mom, my birthday is still a few weeks away," I informed her.

"Not your party, Joan, but Darla’s." For the briefest of moments I found myself thinking about having an all girls’ slumber party. I began laughing hysterically at the prospect. "You want to tell me what’s so funny?" Mom asked. I told her and her reply really scared me. "What’s so funny about that? Is that what you’d like to do?" she asked.

If Mom kept up this way it wouldn’t be long till I’d be begging my estranged father to take me to visit her on Sunday afternoons.

"Somehow Mom, I don’t think the other girls’ mothers would approve," I replied gently hoping that she would see the light.

"I suppose you’re right," she said her mouth half filled with ice cream. Mom was usually so prim and proper, it really seemed odd to have her respond to me with a mouth full of dessert.

"It’s all right Mom," I told her soothingly "Sam and I will figure out how best to celebrate our birthdays," I said at last. Mentioning Sam’s name in conjunction with my own seemed to calm her down. This obviously wasn’t the time to discuss what had transpired at Darla’s party. I doubted that the right time would ever present itself. That was fine with me. We sat there in silence and continued eating. Everything finished, I began clearing the table and cleaning up. I broke up the remnants of my burger into tiny bits and added them to Shandy’s bowl. "Come on in girl, time to eat!" I called her. She ran to the door excitedly. With her tail wagging furiously, she followed her nose to her waiting dinner.

It was closing in on eight o’clock when I told Mom that I was going over to Sam’s for a bit. "Just remember, it’s a school night," she said as I made my exit. I wasn’t going to risk simply trying to reach him on the phone. I found myself wishing that I’d at least put on some lipstick before heading over there. Ah well, all natural was good too I reasoned as I knocked on the door. Sam answered the door himself. He seemed glad to see me, yet he seemed a bit on edge as well.

"Sam!" I greeted him as though I’d not seen him for years. I went to give him a hug. With his strong arms he held me at bay. "Sam, what’s wrong?" I asked in a pleading tone.

"You walked her home, didn’t you?" he asked me. I considered his statement for some time before replying.

"Are you spying on me now Sam?" I asked with more than a bit of hurt in my voice. We stood there simply staring at one another. I was pretty sure the next move was his and I waited for him to reply. At length, he did.

"No Joan, I’m not, but someone obviously is." Sarah strikes again, I surmised. I figured I’d have to warn Darla about Sarah’s bizarre behavior. Would she believe me? Or would she simply think I was some insane paranoid who’d completely lost control. I was worried for my friend.

"Sam, if we don’t trust one another, we’re never going to get anywhere," I told him sincerely. "To answer the question which obviously doesn’t require an answer, yes Sam, I walked her home. Sam, I’m going to tell you this one time. I don’t want to fight with you anymore. Still, I won’t have my every move under scrutiny or question,." I said. I went on to explain just what had happened that afternoon with Darla.

I would never have told Sam about Darla’s test score. That would have been a betrayal of my friend. I also explained that under the circumstances I could understand why he was upset. "Sam, I trust you implicitly. If you don’t feel the same, then maybe I’d just better go." Tears began forming in his eyes. We still stood there at the opening to his foyer. I went to hug him again. This time he greeted me with open arms. "I love you Sam," I whispered gently. For some reason I wanted to call him "Samantha" just then, but in the end I managed to restrain myself.

"I love you too Joan," he said with certainty.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" I asked.

"The boardwalk?" he asked.

"I was thinking perhaps a walk to the park this evening," I replied. A change of scenery would be a good thing, I reasoned.

"Mom, Joan and I are going for a walk," he announced into the distance. He put his arm around me protectively and we made our way to Forbes Field. It seemed I wasn’t the only one considering an evening in the park. When we arrived, Billy, Jim, and Duncan were intently playing ball.

As I noticed Sam looking at them I said, "We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to?"

"Nonsense," Sam replied. No one was going to make him uncomfortable in his own park. We made our way over to the swings. We started out on a quest to see just who could go higher. I was up to the challenge and before I knew it, my swing arced higher than the horizontal bar that held the set together. My seat began moving back in a herky-jerky fashion and I slowly let gravity take hold. "I won!" Sam proclaimed at last. I wasn’t sure whether or not he had beaten me, but it really made no difference whatsoever. As we began coasting to a slow stop he said, "say it!" I didn’t have to guess about the required response.

"You won Sam," I said. If it made him happy, it was a small price to pay.

We sat there swinging casually for a time talking about everything and anything. It felt fantastic to have Sam with me once again. Finally, I could hear a voice yelling in the distance. It was Billy’s. "Hey guys look! There’s Sam with her new girlfriend. No wait! It’s Joan!" Billy said and with that the three amigos began laughing uproariously.

"Come on Sam, Let’s go!" I begged.

"Do you trust me Joan?" he asked.

"You know I do," I replied.

"Then let’s just sit here and see what happens." It wasn’t long before the three idiots were in our midst. We did our best to ignore them. Finally Billy picked up dried clumps of dirt and began hurling them in my direction. The other two simply laughed at their leader’s antics.

"I owe you something Joan," Billy said at last. I sat there wondering just what the hell he was talking about. "Let’s play some dodge ball," he said threateningly. It all came back to me.

"It wasn’t bad enough that I beat you arm wrestling, eh Billy?" Sam asked. "Now you want your friends here to see Joan kick your ass too?" I wasn’t sure whether Sam was on my side or simply making fun of me. I found myself wishing that we’d simply walked away.

"I’ll risk it," he said at last. I got to my feet and did my best to prepare myself for the inevitable.

"You can’t let him run roughshod over you forever," Sam whispered in my ear.

I knew he was right, but I honestly saw nothing to fight about. To put it simply, I lacked motivation. That all changed as Billy’s fist came lunging for my jaw. Now, he had my attention. I quickly stepped out of the way, grabbed his approaching arm and threw him with all my might. He went flying into the ground with his head bouncing off of one of the idle swings.

"Hey Billy, no harm no foul. Are you all right old friend?" I said in an attempt to placate him. He got up, dusted himself off and came at me again. It seemed he wasn’t about to be beaten by the likes of me. I hated doing it, but I easily dodged his second attempt at punching me. I slid easily to my left and caught him full on the right cheek. My blow sent him crumpling to the ground, clearly defeated. Duncan and Jim looked as though they might jump in. A warning glance from Sam kept them standing where they were.

"Come on Billy," I begged. "Let’s just call it a day" I said and went to help him up. He pushed my hand away. I wasn’t sure if he was more disgusted with me or with himself. I really didn’t care one way or the other.

"Just take your girlfriend and get out of here!" Billy shouted. Sam laughed.

"Billy, I don’t think you understand what just happened here? Joan kicked your ass and kicked it soundly," she couldn’t restrain her laughter. "I think it would be best if you little boys just went home to your mommies. And Billy, you’d better have her take a look at that cut on your cheek. It’s going to leave a nasty bruise." With that the three of them began a casual retreat. I really took no pleasure from what had just transpired. In the end however, a part of me was glad that it had. Most important of all was that Sam had proven his loyalty to me.

"What would you like to do now, champ?" he asked me. The absurdity of his comment sent me into a fit of laughter.

"Sam, you have to promise me something," I said earnestly. He looked at me inquisitively. "You have to promise me that you won’t tell what happened here to anyone," I said and meant it.

He gave me a look that suggested I was a visitor from another planet before saying, "If that’s the way you want it, Joan, consider it done." I thanked him for that and he held me in a firm embrace. "There is one phrase I’ll never stop repeating though," he said as pools of liquid began to form in his eyes. "I love you Joan!"

"Oh Sam! You’ve made me happier than I ever imagined possible." I reached up on tip toe and kissed the one that I loved. Things were beginning to make sense to me and I wasn’t so sure I’d be needing "counseling" after all. Hey, it was my delusion and that’s the way that I felt.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" I asked him. I’d have to stop leaving the house without a watch.

"I’m sorry Joan, but I don’t. I’d guess that we’d better get home though. It started getting dark awhile ago." Sam kissed me one last time and we made our way home. Once again he insisted on walking me to my door before heading back across the street. I was grateful in a way, in another way it just seemed weird.

"Mom, I’m home!" I announced upon entering. She was sitting in front of the television once again. Her glass was half full and the ash tray beside her was over flowing. I decided then and there that I’d have to find more time to spend with Mom. "Are you ok Mom?" I asked her.

"Of course sweetheart," she replied and sat there staring at me.

"Today’s only Monday, but I thought if it was all right with you I’d make that meat loaf tomorrow?" I asked her hoping that would pull her out of her funk.

"Whatever you think is best dear," she replied. This was really not a good sign. I sat there feeling both frustrated and angry. How could I help her? I’d be her loving "daughter" if that would bring her back to me.

Unable to control myself I began sobbing, "Oh Mommy! I’m so worried about you!" She felt my pain, held me close and shushed me. She began playing absentmindedly with my hair.

"You know Joan," she said at last "We really need to get you to the beauty parlor. Your hair is a mess!" I was so worried about her that I’d have agreed to anything at that point. Mothers weren’t supposed to slip away like this, were they?

"Just let me know when Mom and I’m there," I said at last. Remembering Darla’s request that I accompany her to get her ears pierced, I asked her if she could wait till Wednesday to make my appointment.

Everything I’d been through hadn’t been enough. Was there any way I could ever satisfy Mom’s desires? I began to feel a bit angry and resentful. No, I didn’t mind going to the beauty parlor. In fact, I was kind of looking forward to it. What bothered me was that no matter what I did, it would never be enough for her. I was feeling beyond sorry for myself. My mother, my rock, was quickly turning to sand. My mind raced over my options. Sadly, they were few and all of them were less than satisfying. In the end I decided that perhaps Aunt Melissa could help. She was a real aunt to me and not just someone granted an honorary title. I knew that she and Mom had been close before she moved to Australia. I’d have to ask Mom for Aunt Mel’s email address tomorrow. It would be far too expensive to simply pick up the phone and call her. Besides, I had no idea as to the time differences. I reasoned that they were either 12 hours ahead of or behind us. It turned out that I was close.

I took notice of the time. It was only 9:45. I told Mom that I was going to head off to bed. She simply smiled at me and told me, "I love you Joan," before I could escape her presence. I ran up to my room and figured I’d still have time to call Sam. My heart stopped as I rang his number. The phone rang three times while my heart hadn’t beat at all. At last, Sam answered. "What do you want now Joan?" he asked. I was somewhat taken aback for a moment before I remembered that the Peters’ household had caller ID.

"I was just wondering if we were going to walk to school together in the morning?" I said. He told me in no uncertain terms that I’d better be at his house by 7:30 on the dot. I smiled and felt reassured at his certainty as to the order of things. I assured him that I’d be there and he bade me goodnight. No slurping kisses into the phone, I thought sadly as Sam and I said our goodbyes.

Still, I took solace from his strength. I wished that I was as strong as Sam was. No, I’m not talking about physical strength. Just the ability to deal with things as they occurred. In that department, I found myself severely lacking. All in all, having heard his voice made me feel better. I hung up the phone and ran off in search of a magic marker. It was time to mark the teddy bears. I eyed them severely before I made my choice as to which one I’d disfigure in this way. Finally, I decided that Josam must remain unmarked. I put a brief dot on Teddy’s left foot so there’s be no chance of my forgetting who was who. It was just ten o’clock. I didn’t feel sleepy at all. I found myself in my desk chair cleaning my fingernails carefully. The thin pink coat was satisfying but didn’t make enough of a statement, I decided at last.

I cleaned my nails carefully and then applied a base coat to them. I then took the pink and did the same. The color was obvious but not obvious enough. I waited for my nails to dry and added the final coat of pink. My hands looked beyond pretty as I examined them carefully when I’d finished. I loved the way they looked and vowed that I’d keep them that way forever. I could feel the weight of the polish on each individual digit. Somehow, I just knew that this was me. I smiled into the night and got ready for bed. As far as my own life was concerned, things couldn’t have been better. I hugged Josam tightly as I drifted off to sleep. Teddy and Jola both seemed happy for me as well.

Notes:

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Comments

Me and Sam

I haven't commented before today because I've only just found this story. It is certainly intriguing, well written and well-paced. I am looking forward to reading the remaining chapters and will comment again later on.

Meanwhile, do take inspiration from the fact that I comment only on stories that I find really very moving or those that leave me feeling that the author shouldn't have bothered. This is definitely one of the former.

Love and hugs,

Susie

I can't help it.

I can't help it.

Those words becomes poetry at times.
And then I loose myself into this dark dream .

It's the best thing there is.
to travel inside yourself.

Even when times and tales are dark
And it's quite affordable too.

Yoron

I wonder why it is

Some people seem to forget that these characters are 14.

I don't know about you, but at 14 I certainly wasn't mature, and I know I was more than a little self centered. Seems rather harsh when some people, whom I'm assuming are adults, tend to criticize the behavior of the characters as if THEY were adults.

Hell, even in the adults in this story act like children at times.

That's NOT a character flaw, necessarily. It's called being human. We all make mistakes, we all base our judgments on our own individual prejudices. That's why we aren't all carrying harps nor wearing wings.

Good story, keep it up.

Think About It...

116 people have read this chapter prior to my writing this. NONE have left a comment. WTF? is up with that???... why even bother?...

you know, we don't get paid for our work... YOUR comments are all we've got. and?.. they are so few and far between.... makes me wonder "what's the point?"

hope you enjoyed the chapter...

darla...

Darla;

Darla;

I apologize for not commenting on this earlier. I don't comment nearly enough I know, and especially when my synapses get involved with my on writing I don't. I know these comments aren't just about an ego boost; they are the validation of the value of the effort spent on the story.

To the extent I can validate you; be validated. This is a great story. You usually show the story, rather than tell it. (I don't know what that means either -- but I know it when I see it. There's no way I could make it objective.) That is rare and hard to do, I know.

Now, one little question. WHAT the heck is going on here??!! Are all these people nuts? Maybe that happens to people who live in resort towns or something. I know that it has only been a few weeks in the story, and in real life being confused for that long is not unusual. However, reality bites. Can't J/J, or you, grab Sam or Darla or J/J's mother by the lapels (Fictional characters always have lapels as soon as you grab them.), and say "Why did you do that?" I think we need to know a little about the motivation of these people.

I assume you are planing a grand denouement down the line ("I called you all here to the solarium to tell you it was the carnival barker with subliminal messages in the teddy bear.") But knowing a little about what the other characters are thinking would help. (And give us more to discuss.)

Now that I've said all that, please ignore it. It is your story and you are handling it excellently.

Hug,
Jan

You shamed me into it, Darla

Sorry.

I came into this story a bit late. At FM, I wasn't sure if it interested me until I noticed that Karen _J had encouraged to to bring it to BC. Since I've liked her stories, I thought I'd try yours.

This is wonderfully confusing plot, as life often is. Poor John, does anyone love him for what he is, with the possible exception of Sally, and I'm not sure about her?

I am guilty of not always commenting on stories, and as I'm begining to post mine, that isn't right. You have got me as bewildered as John is as to were this is all going, but it's a great ride. I almost wonder if John and Sam aren't half brother and sister, given the strange men in their mother's lives. The "racoon" comment Sam's mom made to John still irks me as thoughtlessly cruel on her part, hasn't she heard how her daughter punched out her long-time friend?

How much longer will John be the nice kid to these people who use him so unthinkingly. That I care about John and the characters shows that this story is believable.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

me and sam

hi there this is a great story but the reason i havent commented yet was, a i just moved and logged back on today and b i usually wait till the last part is out

anyway great story please carry on

hugs

samantha

Me and Sam

I too have really enjoyed this story thus far, but hadn't taken the time to set up an account so I could leave comments. Lazy of me, huh? Anyway, I'm anxiously awaiting the next chapter, so please don't take silence to mean disinterest. This is a great story so far.

Jillian Marie

Never let it be said that I don't enjoy the occasional delusion of grandeur

Never let it be said that I don't enjoy the occasional delusion of grandeur

Major Improvement

Well Done Darla! Your style and tone for the story have changed - for the better! I think you have finally begun to apply a connection with the story in the same manner most of us readers have. You are focusing on the situation and not so much upon the insanity of things or the light humor.

So now we have the mysterious Mr. X who is Sam's real father to pick our brains on as well as trying to figure out why Billy keeps flip flopping back and forth between being a decent friend and a bully to JJ.

I think the reason for the many hits and lack of comments is people may have been awed that your writing has improved Darla. Maybe they thought it would be rude to comment on something that looks good. STILL, they could have written a nice thank you note below for you.

Please Darla, keep this style of change you have applied in this chapter and improve! You are definately getting there! And I Love it!

Sephrena Miller

J/J isn't a ...

Jezzi Stewart's picture

... saint, you know. All the time he was feeling sorry for herself over Darla's "betrayal", he seemed totally clueless that she was going through the same thing with Sarah that she was with Sam.

As I've commented before, all the characters with the possible exception of Sally need therapy.

I AM looking forward to the mom and daughter salon scene; I hope it's detailed. It would be neat if Joan thought they were just going so she could get a trim and mom blindsides her with a total makeover ... as a five year old !! :-) Mom, slidding further and further into the deep end has come up with the idea that Joan needs to experience the little girl childhood John never had.

Great story !!!

"All the world really is a stage, darlings, so strut your stuff, have fun, and give the public a good show!" Miss Jezzi Belle at the end of each show

BE a lady!

confusion...

Hi Darla,

i feel so sorry for not leaving a comment before. I don't want to apologise, but your story is far too good to even take some to sit back and leave a comment. I could not help myself, i just continued reading. Right now, I'm sitting here, trying to find the words to write a comment, but as hard as i try, i cannot find a single word to comment. Darn! Here I am, left in total confusion.

I only can say, it's a really great story.

Saphira G.
--
There is not one thruth only out there.

--
>> There is not one single truth out there. <<