"Sam! Sam! Get your butt over here!" Pamela Puckett's voice broke through the otherwise quiet apartment. Sam, who had been lounging on her bed, yanked out white earbuds. She drew up her knees, feeling her bare feet slide across her cool comforter. Sam hesitated for a moment, gazing at her open bedroom door. Something about her mother's voice sounded off…

"I'm coming!" she yelled back, throwing her Pearphone down on her bed as she swung her legs over the edge. As she stood, noises from the kitchen made her stop for a minute. The slamming of cabinets, the clank of bottles, the jangle of keys.

"Sam!"

"Okay, okay, chill out!" Sam huffed as she sped out of her room. Rounding the hallway, she gripped the corner of the wall and swung herself into the kitchen. "What's the –" As Sam's eyes landed on her mother, she froze. Three suitcases were piled haphazardly by the door, along with two bottles of wine and a garbage bag overflowing with packaged food. Pam turned to face her daughter, purse swinging around her body as she pivoted. She pursed her lips as she surveyed her daughter.

"You remember Jack, right?"

Sam swallowed, trying to push down the feeling of dread that was rising into her throat.

"Jack. Your ex. From, like, a year ago? The one who stole my money and used it to buy beer?" Pam nodded, looking down at two identical silver keys in her hand.

"Look, Sam. I'll be back soon, okay? He has this apartment now, in Vegas. He says he's a changed man, and from the picture he sent me," she paused to wolf whistle with a grin on her face. "Man. He really is."

The tears that began prickling at Sam's eyes soon dissipated into a flash of anger.

"You're leaving? Again? For how long?" Sam stared at her mother, refusing to break her gaze.

She was hoping she wouldn't have to go through this again. The first time her mother left, she was five, and she stayed with her grandmother three cities over. She asked for her mother once before her grandma picked her up and put her in front of the TV with a piece of chocolate cake and a pat on the head. She didn't ask for her mom again, but she was back in five days anyway.

The another time her mother left, she was twelve, and had almost forgotten about the first time. This time, since her grandmother had died three years prior, her mother hired a babysitter. She was a nice high school girl with bad acne who sat on the phone all evening. Her mother was back in three days, gripping her daughter by the shoulders and proclaiming: "Never trust a man who says he's in love but won't even tell you his last name."

The most recent, and what Sam hoped was the last, time her mother left, Sam was almost fifteen. Pamela had her bags packed by the morning, and was carrying a sheer white dress that almost reached her knees.

"Momma's gonna get married!" Pamela announced, smiling. Sam twisted up her face in concentration. She couldn't remember this guy's name, try as she might. Anyways, she doubted it would last. This must be the 16th time her mother had been engaged. Sam smiled anyways, although it didn't meet her eyes, and waved.

"Okay mom. Have fun." Hopefully her mom didn't hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

She chose to stay at Carly's house for over a week, enjoying the late-night movies and homemade food, but came back to her own room to sleep. When her mother came back, she almost guiltily wished she had stayed away longer.

Back in the present, Sam's mom set her jaw, although there was an undertone of shame echoing deep in her eyes.

"I don't know. Look, just stay at Carly's. God knows you live there half the time anyways. I already took your key."

Sam's mouth fell open, and her hands that were previously hanging in loose shock curled into fists by her side.

"You're not even letting me stay in the house?"

Pam laughed. "And come back to find it trashed by your new little delinquent friends from juvie? Yeah, right."

Sam locked eyes with her mother for a few seconds, looking at the finality set in them. She tossed up her hands and tried for her best bratty voice.

"Fine! Fine, whatever! How long do I have to pack?"

Sam's mom leaned against a counter, reaching into her pocked to bring out her phone.

"Ten minutes. I have to catch my flight."

Sam nodded once and turned on the balls of her feet, half running towards her room. Her heart was racing, fast strong beats that she could feel in her head. She grabbed her checkered backpack that had been slumped in a corner and proceeded to turn it upside down, dumping the contents on the floor. What little school supplies that had been stored there hit her floor, along with a few fat cake wrappers and crumbs.

Sam straightened up, blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she surveyed her room. Okay, she thought. Clothes first. Exhaling shakily, she pulled open her closet door and began stuffing clothes in at random, not paying any mind to what she put in there. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and checked the time. 7 minutes left. She licked her lips, which had become dry, along with her mouth. She hated this.

She scanned her room again, her eyes landing on her laptop resting on a worn wooden desk. She snatched it and pushed it in with the clothes, mentally cursing herself for not putting it in first. It was tough to shove it past all the clothes. She checked her phone again. 4 minutes. She tapped her foot on the floor, desperately trying to remember what she forgot.
"Money," she whispered, reaching into her sock drawer to pull out $20, made up mostly of crumped $5 and $1 bills.

"Saaam! Sam! I'm leaving!"

Sam swung her bag over her shoulder and raced out of her room, slamming the door shut as she left. When she reached the hallway where her mother was waiting, she stopped. Breathing slightly heavy, Sam stopped, holding her gaze steady at her mom's stomach. Pam seemingly was at a loss for words, and Sam refused to speak or meet her eyes.

"I'll be back soon."

"Ye-p" Sam responded, popping her lips on the 'P' as she studied her mom's shoes. They were old sneakers, faded and cracked in many places.

"Don't get arrested," Pam warned, her mouth turning slightly upward as she drew her daughter in for a hug. Sam looked up, slightly taken aback, and then hugged her mom back.

"I mean, no promises." As she watched her mother lock and deadbolt their door before stepping into the elevator, a twinge of something else poked through her anger. The elevator dinged, and the doors closed, sending her mom downstairs.

She supposed everyone had a vice. For her, it was ending up in handcuffs. For her mother, it was men. Sam only wished her mother's weakness didn't mean her leaving.

Sam wondered if her mother ever had that same thought about her.