35 - Samantha
Cynthia and I are inher bedroom, just after getting home from shopping. Again. It’s one of my in-between-dialysis days, the week leading to prom. We’re meticulously going over the details making sure we remembered everything because it’s only days away. Our dresses, shoes, accessories, make-up, ordering the boutonnieres for our dates, clothes for after prom and my kit. Phillip and Cynthia want a few items on hand in case I start having problems. Some just-in-case medicine like Pepto Bismol for my stomach and Tylenol for my headaches. Things like that.
“I can’t think of anything else,” I tell her.
“I can’t either. I think you’re right about the bracelet, the wider one looks better.” Cyn is pleased with her ensemble. But she starts looking around for something as though an item has gotten lost.
“What’s wrong?”
“Have you seen my shoe box?” She’s searching all around the room lifting things up and shoving other things to the side. Her room is not as organized as mine.
“Well, it’s got to be here somewhere.” I begin looking around the floor, beside the bed and by the dresser. Then a light bulb goes off in my head. “I’ll check my car, maybe we left them in there.”
“Ok. Thanks, Sam.”
I go downstairs feeling pretty carefree and confident that her shoes are in my car. We had our hands full of bags and schoolbooks on our way in since we went shopping directly after class, so it would make sense that the box hadn’t made its way into the house. I check my back seat and sure enough, her shoe box with stilettos nestled safely inside is on my floorboard.
Since Cyn and I spent the afternoon shopping, Phillip took this opportunity to run a few errands of his own. I’m not sure what had to be done besides ordering a corsage and securing a tuxedo at the rental shop, but whatever. He knew he needed to handle a few things and he had the time to do it.
I come back inside and cut through the kitchen toward the stairs when I see him. Coach is home and he’s rummaging through the refrigerator. How did I not notice his car? I don’t know why, but whenever I’m around him, all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Maybe it’s because I know how he treats Phillip and it makes me uncomfortable.
“Sam.” His voice is not very pleasant to me. I’ve always sensed a distance from him when I was just friends with Cynthia, but now that I date his son and know what all he puts his kids through, I dislike him even more. It stops me in my tracks when he addresses me. My blood cools instantly.
“Yes, Mr. Ward,” I say, half clearing my throat. He closes the refrigerator door and unscrews the top of his beer bottle regarding me cautiously.
He peers over the top of his glasses and occasionally glances down at the newspaper lying open on the counter between us. “Phillip’s not here right now.”
Out of politeness, I try to smile. “I know, Cynthia left her shoes in my car. She’s upstairs.” I hold up the box of shoes in my hands like a peace offering, still uncertain of his expression.
He gives me a short nod then returns his focus to the paper. He takes a sip from his cold bottle and hisses. Must be cold.
“Do you do crossword puzzles, Sam?”
I stop again, after only taking one step toward the stairs. “I’ve tried them a time or two.” I’m not sure what the point of all this is, we don’t make small talk. Ever.
“Four letter word for ‘a scheme for catching a person unaware’.” He taps his pencil on the counter in thought.
“I’m gonna take these up to Cynthia. Excuse me.” I try to walk away but he starts talking again.
“Are those dress shoes?” he asks, ignoring me and looking over his glasses again.
“Yes, for prom this weekend,” I answer respectfully.
“Aah...yes. Prom. A time for young people to dress up and have all sorts of...fun.” He distorts his last word. I can’t make heads or tails of it, but he doesn’t use it in the normal context. It’s more of an expletive than anything. I study him warily just before he blurts something else out. “TRAP!”
“What?” I jump, startled.
He sharply snaps his finger. “Got it. Four letter word for a scheme for catching a person unaware; trap.” He smiles at himself, the corners of his mouth curling to appear sinister, filling in the little squares. Again, I try to move on and again, he addresses me. This is becoming a very uncomfortable game of cat and mouse.
“Hey, speaking of prom, Sam. I er, wanted to speak with you.” He puts the pencil down and removes his glasses.
“Alright.” This too is uncharacteristic. I place Cyn’s shoebox on a nearby stool and notice the nauseous feeling in my stomach.
“You and my daughter...get everything you need?”
“Yes, thanks for asking.” I nod, and again out of politeness I try to smile although something feels off. I wish Phillip were back.
“That’s good. You got your shoes, and your dress?” he asks, and I continue nodding in agreement. It seems harmless at first. Maybe he’s just trying to take an interest or maybe in an odd, out of left field way, he feels the responsibility to ask because I do not have a father of my own. Maybe he’s being polite. Maybe my nervousness is out of line. But I’m not sure. “Flowers?” he continues his checklist.
I decide to humor him, “Yes. All taken care of. Don’t think I forgot anything.”
“You on birth control, Sam?” In my head I hear the high-pitch screech of a needle ripping across a record, the torturous shriek of brakes on a car coming to a fast halt, nails ripping down a chalkboard. This conversation just took a horrible turn. I blink in amazement. Did I really hear him say those words? My suspicion is confirmed. “Well, are you?”
The room is instantly too small for us. I have to get out, but I’m frozen. I can’t believe he just asked me that question. “That’s none of your business.” I make a straight line for the door, but he cuts in front of me.
“I’m just looking out for my son. Don’t go trying anything or getting any ideas about getting pregnant.”
“I would never do that!” My fury explodes alongside my embarrassment. How dare he invade my privacy! Yes, I want Phillip to make love to me. Sometime. I have made that clear with my boyfriend, but we concluded on our own, we should wait. Phillip harbors some serious opinions in this area. If only Coach knew that because of his own past, I was in no need of birth control. If Phillip did decide he wanted to take things further, he’s smart enough to be careful and take all the necessary precautions. Either way, it’s not Coach’s place to be nosing around in our privacy.
“It’s prom. I know how girls are. Phillip has a future already set, and you’re not going to steal it,” Coach gruffs.
My eyes narrow into slits. I’m seriously pissed and hurt. I have to get out of here. That I’m sure of.
“You already stole his future,” I snap back, pointing a finger. That does it. I burst into tears and shove past him. I wanted to call him an asshole, but my upbringing won’t allow it. I stomp out the front door, letting the porch door smack shut, muffling a voice that trails behind me. I’m so upset that I stumble in the yard, falling on my hands and knees. Phillip rushes over to me as he’s just gotten home.
“What’s the matter, baby?”
“I gotta go home.” I try to wipe away the tears, but they keep flowing. It’s the only time I’ve tried pushing him away, swatting at his arms as he tries to console me. And yet I want him to hold me.
“Seriously Samantha, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” His eyes are wide, full of fear for my health. “Are. You. OK?”
He helps me to my feet. I’m humiliated, furious, scared and confused. I had to leave Cynthia without explanation because her dad was clearly out of line. But if I tell Phillip what his dad said to me, how will that go over? How will he react? I won’t lie about it either. I won’t risk my relationship with Phillip to cover for his father.
“Coach gave me a pre-prom interrogation.” My lip quivers. I can see the fear in his eyes turn black, shifting to anger. He now understands that this is not about my health.
“What did he say to you?” Phillip’s tone is dark. His teeth are clenched and the muscles in his jaw and arms are flexing. His face is a new shade of red.
“He wanted to make sure I’m on birth control so I can’t steal your future by getting pregnant.” When I say it out loud, it only makes me feel cheap. I can’t believe I was accused of that!
Phillip’s eyes burst into murderous flames. He grabs my face with both hands and looks me directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry.” I look down but tense. “Look at me. I’ll handle this.” He wraps his arms around me quickly, but briefly. “Go on home, I’ll call you.”
“I’m so sorry,” I cry, trying to apologize.
He raises his hand, “No baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. I love you.” He turns and breaks into a sprint across the lawn. The vein in his neck was pulsing so hard, I thought he would spontaneously combust right before my eyes.
*
Hours later and I stillhaven’t heard from Phillip. I hadn’t heard from Cynthia either and I’m beginning to understand why she’s a nail biter. I spent the evening by myself because Roxy had her card club tonight. Once a month, she and several ladies get together to play cards. They make it into a social gathering, bringing food potluck style. It isn’t until after she’s already home and in bed that my phone finally notifies me of a text.
Phillip: Sorry, you still up?
I type quickly to reply.
Yes, can you come over?
Phillip: On my way.
Minutes later, Phillip scales the wall up to my balcony and is in my room. He appears to be more relaxed. Once in my room, the first thing he does is wrap his arms around me.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am.” He smooths my hair and then caresses my cheek, swaying a little, side to side. “He had absolutely no right to speak to you that way.”
I don’t want to relive the moment. I just take a deep breath and shake my head. “It’s in the past. But what happened after I left? Did I cause a war between you and your dad?” I look up into his eyes. Do I really want to know?
Phillip gazes back down at me. “It got ugly. He won’t be speaking that way anymore...to you at least. Let’s just leave it at that.” He plays with one of my curls, eyes not exactly focused on my hair. “Our plans haven’t changed. We’re still going to prom, that is, if you still want to.”
“Yes, I’d like to go.”
I fidget, shifting my weight back and forth between my legs because they’re hurting.
“Are you ok?”
“Leg cramps. I already soaked in the tub, but they still hurt.” I frown but try to curl the side of my mouth upward instead of down. Muscle cramps are another terrific side effect from dialysis. Like anything else, some days are better than others. As bad as they’re hurting tonight, I’m not sure how well I’ll sleep, if at all.
“How about a massage?” Phillip knows how the sports medicine guys rub the athletes’ legs when their muscles are tight, and he applies that knowledge when helping me with mine.
“That would be nice. I was worried, and I missed you so much tonight. Can we snuggle?”
“Of course.” He scoops me up into his arms and gives me a long overdue kiss. I can smell the faint traces of his cologne and body wash, the essence of Phillip. It’s intoxicating. The best aroma therapy a girl could wish for. “We can do that first if you’d rather,” he whispers. I nod yes and let him kiss me again.