Chapter Thirteen
Matty had returned from his pony ride on the verge of an excitement-induced meltdown, so Brian and Jules decided to call it a night, and they’d all said their goodbyes and gone their separate ways.
It was still early by the time Sam got home.
He stepped inside to find the house quiet.
His parents must have gone out, leaving him with the place to himself, which was an unexpected blessing.
Instead of opting to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the evening, Sam headed to the garage.
He’d spent years refusing to think about high school, only to return to Oakdale and find himself constantly reliving it.
Connor’s admission at the country house that morning was a reminder of how the effects of those years were still playing out in real time—not just for Connor but for Sam as well.
There was a reason Sam had spent so long avoiding this place, and he felt a sudden need to confront it.
In the garage, he located the clear-plastic storage tub with his name inscribed on both sides in black Sharpie and lugged it upstairs to his bedroom.
Inside were the last remnants of his old life that hadn’t been tossed or donated.
He opened the tub on the floor and rummaged through the collection of notebooks, Polaroids, and participation certificates to find his senior yearbook buried at the bottom.
He wasn’t sure why he’d kept it. The book was a scathing reminder of that hellish year, that stupid play, yet here it was, perfectly preserved.
He laid the yearbook flat on the floor and opened the cover to the first page.
He’d gotten the part of Romeo in a modern retelling of the famous Shakespearian play.
The Luhrmann film had come out at least a decade earlier, but the concept was still doggedly making the rounds at schools across the country.
The role was a dream come true for Sam, who’d spent years volunteering behind the scenes as part of the school’s stage crew.
Janet Huckley, who played Juliet, hadn’t seemed to mind their chaste on-stage kiss at the very end, and everything had gone fine right until closing night.
That was when Blake Plimmerton, the Oakdale Panthers’ running back, convinced Janet—who was his girlfriend at the time—to let him change into her costume and hide inside the tomb for the final scene.
When Sam pushed aside the polystyrene lid to reveal a sleeping Juliet, Blake jumped out in drag to hoots from the audience.
Then Blake grabbed Sam and made a big show of planting a loud, wet kiss on his mouth.
Sam still remembered how strong Blake’s grip had been, the way his fingers dug into the flesh of Sam’s arm.
Too afraid to pull away, Sam had simply stood there, frozen with humiliation.
“Payback for sucking my girlfriend’s face,” Blake jeered as the auditorium roiled with laughter. “Look how happy he is! I just made the little fairy’s year.”
It had been the most memorable incident of senior year, and even worse than the jokes or the relentless taunting was how everyone acted like it was what Sam had always wanted. As if he were the lucky recipient of some fucked-up prize, just waiting around for some jock to manhandle him.
Sam flipped to the back of the yearbook and stopped when he came to his headshot, smiling in the face of it all, quoting George Eliot.
He didn’t recognize himself—this kid who shared his name.
Even now, he didn’t know how he’d made it through the rest of that year.
Probably the same way he’d made it through all the shit that had happened since—by burying it deep inside.
Sam clapped the book closed and lay on his back on the carpet, staring at the ceiling.
He thought of what Brian had said at trivia the other night, about everyone growing up and moving on.
That was bullshit. No matter what he did or who he became, Sam bet every single person he’d gone to school with would remember him for that event alone.
Then he recalled the mayor’s flippant remark when he’d dropped off the awards nomination.
Connor knew what that was like. He’d spent years with his head down, doing right by his father and the business, yet as far as Greenfield was concerned, he was the same listless punk.
And unlike Sam, Connor had never had the chance to shake free of his past. Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to up and disappear?
Sam sat up and returned to the storage tub to hunt down the yearbook from junior year.
He opened it to the back and scanned the columns of photos before he found Connor Finnegan—hair dyed an inky black, bangs so long they almost covered his eyes.
Among the sea of smiling faces, his was the only one pulled into a scowl.
They must have made him take out his piercings, because he was unadorned, a stripped-back version of himself.
He’d dropped out at the end of that year.
Sam had heard the rumors that Finnis had been arrested, sent away to boarding school, involved in some drunken car accident.
But people reported having seen him around town, so Sam hadn’t been sure what to believe.
Of course, now he knew what had really happened.
In some ways, Connor was still paying for his mistakes.
Sam stared at Connor’s headshot and tried to ignore the mix of feelings the image evoked.
How different it was from the photo they’d taken together only an hour before.
He hadn’t expected that the janky photo booth would capture the warmth of Connor’s expression—something Sam felt when the man looked at him but wasn’t sure if it was all in his head.
It was getting harder to deny how much he enjoyed being around Connor.
That his desire to spend time with him and help him succeed verged on more than just friendship.
In his last session with Louise—thinking he might be cursed to remain alone forever—Sam had asked her if it was best to go cold turkey with relationships. His therapist had smiled in her knowing way.
“Don’t feel you have to hold yourself back from connection.
Sex and love are healthy, positive things—when managed with respect to both people’s needs,” she said.
“You need to be aware of your tendency to put yourself second. Take the opportunities, as they come, to set boundaries and follow through.”
But Sam had lost faith in his ability to make good decisions. He knew from experience that when it came to other people, he couldn’t trust his feelings.
He heard the front door slam and the rise of animated voices.
He gathered up the books and returned them to the storage tub before venturing downstairs.
He could hear his mother talking excitedly from the kitchen and the murmur of his father’s muted agreement.
When Sam walked into the kitchen, he saw his sister sitting at the dining table, a glass of red wine perched between her manicured fingers.
On the counter were two pizza boxes his parents must have picked up for the long-awaited family reunion.
“Samuel!” Georgia trilled, standing and stepping over to give him a cursory kiss on the cheek. It was as hollow as the rest of their relationship. Four years older, his sister treated him like a child caught underfoot.
“I didn’t know you were coming out.” Sam took in her black jumpsuit and expensive leather mules. As always, her hair and makeup were perfect, with nothing to indicate she’d spent two hours on a plane.
“She wanted to surprise you!” His mother beamed. “See how you were doing.”
“Apparently, we’re all making a fuss, so I came to join the party.
” She took a sip of wine, not bothering to hide the roll of her eyes.
“I mean, come on, Mom. Sam has a hard time, and now you’re ferrying him around, catering to his every whim?
Everyone gets depressed these days. It’s like a rite of passage. ”
Sam said nothing. He walked to the cupboard and took down a stack of plates then opened one of the pizza boxes and helped himself to a slice. Taking a seat at the counter, he took a bite of pizza and swallowed without tasting.
“That junk won’t help either, if you ask me,” Georgia remarked.
“I didn’t,” Sam muttered through a mouthful of pepperoni.
“Georgia, it’s not just a hard time. The doctor’s been involved. He was very concerned for Sam’s well-being,” his mom protested.
“Well, your coddling isn’t going to fix anything.
He needs to go back to work and get on with his life like the rest of us.
Is he paying rent? Tell me he’s at least contributing.
We see it all the time at the firm—adult children who end up back with their parents and never leave.
It’s sad. I don’t want that for our family. ”
“Sam’s working, Georgie,” his dad assured her. “He’s contributing.”
Georgia’s eyebrow twitched. “Wait, Oakdale has a brand agency now?”
Sam gripped the edge of the counter. She’d always been able to do this—hit him right where it hurt.
“He’s been helping in the office at Finnegan’s Electrical,” his mother said. The secret pride Sam had taken in his work evaporated as he heard his mother’s words with his sister’s ears.
“In the office? What, answering phones?”
Sam threw down the slice of pizza and stood to face Georgia. “So you showed up and did your concerned-big-sister bit. Now you can fuck off.”
“Sam,” his father reprimanded. “Don’t speak to your sister like that.”
Georgia narrowed her eyes at Sam. “Careful, Dad, we wouldn’t want poor Sam to have another breakdown.”