Guest: Thank you very much for the warm welcome. I know this story is a bit slower to get to the point, perhaps, but I'm so glad you'll be sticking around. If you feel inclined to review again, let me know it's you! :)
Jump4Life! Massively thrilled to see you. All my love. Thanks for being my buddy all these years. WhatAreFears, we're going live on ao3 as soon as I publish this and set up the story over there. I loved talking today. DressageQueen, thank you so much for your continued friendship and support! It was a total thrill to see you favorite this story!
Warnings: Mild cursing.
Could this be magic, my dear?
My heart's all aglow
Could this be magic?
If this is magic
Then magic is mine
Magic is Mine, The Dubs
Sam's knees pressed tightly against one another as she sat in her wheelchair so they wouldn't knock together. She knew her feet were shaking in nervous tensity, but she hoped her shoes hid the trembling she could not control. Sam cast her gaze upward, and let her eyes drift over the words gilded into the wood over the door of the gothically inspired building. Orange Grove College for Women.
She did not know why she was so nervous. Orange Grove had always been on her list, but Merchand near Baltimore was her first choice, largely because she had never seen the Eastern Seaboard. They had a great journalism program. They were very cutting edge, and didn't place too many major requirements on students.
She had long ago weighed things and decided that She was a strong applicant. And yet, something about finally standing in this place as her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother had once done shook her deeply. She had never allowed herself to really think about being a student here, and now that she was walking towards the famed Tower, she felt something like destiny in the air.
The campus was small, and in this century shared resources with another larger liberal arts college nearby. She had heard all her life about Orange Grove, and had gotten cards in the mail from the Alumni association for her birthday and Christmas every year. Somehow, that knowledge of this place only made her want to look at it more closely after decades of dismissing the familiar as uninteresting. She couldn't shake the feeling that something big, whether she agreed with it or not in her conscious mind, was happening at this moment. It rattled her.
Sam pushed away her sudden case of unexpected nerves and went up the ramp that led her past the stairs and around the corner of the building to a side door. There was an electronic access button, bright blue on a post near the door, which she used with gladness. It wouldn't do to arrive to the interview and personalized tour covered in sweat and panting.
The inside of the building carried the gothic theme onward, and Sam knew that had she been walking, her shoes would have echoed in the grandiose space on the set-apart campus. Material called this campus an urban oasis. Sam would have described it as carefully pastoral, in the sense that the campus had made few concessions to urban growth and sprawl over the decades.
The art on the walls made the space feel cosy, despite the stately tenor of the space. Sam tried not to think about her mother walking down this long hallway towards admissions, tried not to think of her father bumping into her mother and changing history, at least as far as her existence was concerned.
She wasn't sure how successful she was, even though the building was largely quiet at this mid-morning hour. The thoughts of her mother brought her peace as she made her way carefully to admissions, opened the door with yet another button embedded in the wall, and announced herself at the intake desk. "I have a eleven o'clock interview with Sister Gloria."
The student at the desk greeted her and asked her to wait just a moment. Sam made her way to the small waiting area, and took in the photographs on the walls. There were photographs of the various classes on the walls, though the groupings she could see were about five years too late to identify her mother or aunt, never mind her grandmother.
Sister Gloria arrived promptly, her appearance putting Sam in mind of Aunt Sue, save for the wooden cross necklace she wore over her ample chest. "Samantha, I'm Sister Gloria. How did you find your trip out from Nevada?"
Sam greeted her, and replied, "It's a nice time of year to make the drive. Thank you for seeing me today."
Sr. Gloria responded in kind, and led Sam back through the waiting room and into her office. "We'll just have a bit of an interview so that I can better tailor your tour to your expressed interests. Shall we?"
Sam noted that a chair across from Sr. Gloria's desk had already been removed. It was an ideal space to park her chair. When they were both seated and Sam had refused the offer of some water, Sr. Gloria began, "Well, why don't you tell me a little bit about what's led you to apply to Orange Grove?"
Sam tried not to let her eyes wander to the panoramic view behind the Admission's Director's desk, and focused on her words. It was best to address the elephant in the room forthrightly. "I do know that when I began to look at colleges, I was hesitant to consider Orange Grove."
"I do understand the desire to forge one's own path in life." Sr. Gloria allowed, knowing full well that Mama's family had been attending Orange Grove in an unbroken chain of sisterhood since 1937.
"It wasn't so much that urge," Sam replied, somehow trusting this woman beyond her own prior decision not to mention her mother at all. She didn't want to be anyone's charity case, or to rely on connections to get anywhere, "as it was a desire to make sure that I want to be here for my own reasons and not because I'd jump at the chance to get to know my mother, in some way."
"I think your mother would have wanted that for you." Sr. Gloria was clearly unafraid of touchy subjects and Sam respected that about her, "I knew her well enough to know that she would have wanted you to find the best fit for you. I'm gratified to be a part of that process, no matter the outcome of the committee's decision."
Sam continued, "I just wanted to be sure I was choosing a school for the right reasons. I applied because I believe I owe it to myself to explore Orange Grove as any perspective student might. I want to see if I could make a place for myself here irrespective of any family members that might have come here before me."
"I think that is a very reasoned and thoughtful perspective." Sr. Gloria answered, opening the file on her desk. "I will therefore refrain from our usual speech about historical context, as I'm sure your Aunt Susan has told you enough of her own storied past in our halls."
Sam found herself smiling, "I've been well briefed. She told me not to mention her name to you or I might find myself on the reject pile out of sheer trepidation on the school's part."
Sr. Gloria's face sobered for a long second, and it took Sam a moment to discern that she was holding back laughter. "We don't scare half so easily, my dear."
Sam affirmed that she was glad to hear that, and the interview got off to a fine start. Sam answered the typical questions about her application, elaborated where required, and explained her situation as best she was able, "I've enjoyed my online classes, but I'm looking forward to being part of a community."
"We're very proud of the work we do here, and our vibrant student life." Sr. Gloria rose from her seat, "Shall we get started on that tour, then, Sam?"
Sam fell into pace alongside Sr. Gloria as they went out another accessible entrance. "Now, you've noted you'd not be living on the campus, but would you like to see the accessible dorms?" Sr. Gloria led them down a path, where they came to a concrete fork in the road, "Then again, you might be more interested in the art department."
Sam made her choice quickly, and they headed on a tour of the largest building on campus. It was on the opposite end of the quadrangle that was flanked by Tower's hill. Sam tried to be cognizant of the fact that Sr. Gloria had arranged this individual tour largely because the main tours used stairs and went places on campus she would not be easily able to access.
When Sam had called to join a group tour, she had but mentioned the chair so as to get the campus map with the accessible demarcations. The school had offered a tour that had been scheduled within moments, and a personalized one at that. Sam knew it was all admissions work, but it spoke to a responsive and thoughtful school.
Sam knew that she would never be a traditional student. She would never live in the dorms, be a part of that stream of things. Even if the suites were really accessible, the dorms weren't safe. She needed, even now, too much support to really feel safe considering living in that communal environment. Besides, the dorms didn't allow men inside beyond the parlors.
As they walked along in tandem, Sam found herself looking out to the pond where ducks lived happily as Sr. Gloria chatted about the campus. There, along the pond, sat the Senior Seats. They were stone benches limited to seniors, where they would sit and plan their futures, or so legend went. In decades past, women went there to consider proposals. Now, it was far more common to evaluate grad school offers with the help of the wise water spirits said to guard the benches.
For a long second, Sam thought she saw herself sitting there, on the bench under the tree. Her hair was shorter, and she was wearing clothes she didn't own, but she thought she saw herself sitting there all the same. She shook it off, and turned her attention to Sr. Gloria, with the firm notion to not to mention to her flight of fancy to Aunt Sue.
After all, it was probably the uncommonly bright sunlight playing tricks on a stressed mind.
Are you goin' away with no word of farewell?
Will there be not a trace left behind?
I could have loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind;
Oh, you know that was the last thing on my mind.
You had reasons a-plenty for goin',
This I know, this I know.
And the weeds have been steadily growin',
Please don't go, please don't go.
The Last Thing on my Mind, The Seekers
Sam toured the art studios, the photography dark room, and peeked into classrooms. She learned about club and internship opportunities when she toured the Student Center. She had lunch with a group of students, knowing that they would like reflect on her as part of the admissions process as much as she would reflect on them as part of the evaluation process. The day was jam packed with activity and movement.
She resisted the urge to go hide in the bathroom several times. She met more students, faculty, and staff than she could count. She was invited to prospective student events no less than three times, and received alerts for four friend requests on Facebook, not that she really used it other than to keep up with Matrona's social whirl and various organizations regarding the wild horses and efforts to save the rivers and streams in the West.
She spent most of that time with Sr. Gloria as her escort and companion before the Sister ushered her into a into another wing of the large academic building and then into another wood-paneled classroom, "Now, we couldn't get you into a course audit today in your chosen majors, for which I do apologize."
"Just promise me it's not calculus." Sam said, only really half-joking.
Sr. Gloria placed a hand against her breast in mock outrage, as the clock tower chimed the hour. "Don't tell me you inherited the Fuller math phobia, too."
"What can I say?" Sam asked, folding her hands in her lap, primly, and making no mention of her brain damage. "I got the hair, too, Sister."
Before Sr. Gloria could speak, another person entered the small classroom. Sam looked over to the doorway to see whom she surmised to be the professor opening the wooden door and letting herself inside briskly.
Quickly, Sr. Gloria greeted the younger woman, "Dr. Green, this is Samantha Forster. Sam, this is Dr. Green. She chairs the Social Work department here at Orange Grove."
"Thank you for welcoming me into your classroom, Dr. Green." Sam was very careful to mind her manners, as Dr. Green looked the sort to demand that sort of thing. Even so, basic civility was basic civility. She would have extended it anyway, but Dr. Green seemed the sort to put stock by it more than most, just by the way she moved, precisely and in measured gestures.
"I'm very glad to meet you." Dr. Green replied, setting her bag on the desk by the wooden podium. "Sister, class will let out at the usual time."
"I'm off, then, ladies." Sr. Gloria swanned away, and Sam gathered that she would see her once more.
Dr. Green began to move the desks in the room into something resembling a loose circle. Sam offered to help, but Dr. Green thanked her and declined her offer of assistance. Sam listened gratefully when she was informed that she was sitting in on a Helping Relationships Seminar for juniors and seniors. Dr. Green did not engage her in much conversation, and this, Sam knew, was intentional.
Sam tried to stay back as young women began to arrive in clusters. However, three or four pairs of eyes looked her way as they settled into what were clearly their customary seats. There was no room for her in the circle.
Sam wasn't quite sure what to do. Memories of being excluded from circles lingered hotly in her mind. Still, she knew this was an interview. Even if it wasn't, she wasn't about to be relegated to the side. She wasn't a vulnerable kid anymore. She knew how to advocate for herself, and so took the brakes off of her chair, and lifted her hands to the wheel rims.
One blonde in a scarf and equestrian boots smiled, and bid her hello as Sam moved towards her, and slid her chair over to the left. "Is that enough room for you?"
Quickly, Sam rolled forward the final few inches into the space, and tried to gauge the edge of her chair with the legs of the wooden chairs, "Yes, thank you."
The girl on her other side smiled, as Dr. Green slipped from the room, having forgotten some material or other in her office, "I'm Felicity."
"Sam." Sam replied, introducing herself, "I'm here interviewing for a transfer position."
"I've been through the dual interview process." The girl across from her, one with a wide smile and dark eyes, nodded in low-toned commiseration, "It was the longest day of my life thus far."
Sam did not say that she had previously experienced much longer days. Near Death Experiences tended to alienate potential friends.
"They put you girls through the ringer." Girl-who-was-not-Felicity agreed as she pulled a folder from her bag in tandem with her classmates, "There's half the acceptance rate for transfers that there is for traditional applicants. I'm sure you're a shoe-in."
"I wouldn't say that." Sam blurted, thinking over those numbers very quickly. Even with her lack of math skills, she knew that hill was steeper still than the one that dominated the edge of campus and provided its defining landmark. "I'm just hoping my portfolio speaks for itself."
"Oh, you're a fine arts major?" Another girl in the circle interjected, her sleek dark hair pulled up with neon clips. When she'd walked in, she'd casually hung a wrap jacket over the back of her chair.
Before she could do anything but acknowledge the young woman and nod, Dr. Green returned in a whirl of brisk energy and commenced with the seminar.
Sam was, rightfully, contented to watch and reflect on her observations. She learned that Not-Felicity's name was Maritza, and the artsy girl's name was Taja. She learned that the course was a senior-level seminar in building practical competencies for social work majors. Sam hadn't read the materials, but she understood that the whole point was to understand what to do in these practical examples.
Dr. Green continued outlining the next mock-client. "Your client has been charged with a serious crime. He has been ordered by the courts to see you, not as evaluation for a conviction or mitigating circumstances, but rather as a client during the plea bargaining process. It is not yet known what his sentence will comprise." Dr. Green glanced around her circle, "What are some things you think should be discussed in session through the context?"
Sam listened interestingly as the class dove in and explored the potential issues and barriers this client was facing. She did note, however, that not one of them mentioned the very real likelihood that he would be incarcerated. It seemed to her that this was an oversight.
Carefully, in the free-flowing room, she interjected at a sudden burst of silence when the class' train had run out of steam, "Discussing what jail might be like might be profitable. It's very possible that, given the nature of his crime, that he'd spend over a decade there." Sam thought back over what she'd been told of this man, "Do we know if he has any understanding of the corrections system?"
"That's a good point." Aletha, the student across from her who had discussed her own interview and application process, agreed. "Preparing him for the potentiality of jail is important."
The class then moved along into discussing the intricacies of such a venture. Sam was glad she had, if nothing else, shown Dr. Green that she could participate in course work, while thinking on her feet and adjusting to a new environment. Sam realized with blinding clarity that the interview process required she be placed in a course wherein she had little background and no stated interest. It was all part of the evaluation.
At the close of the class period, several of the students invited her to get coffee with them. Sam was genuine in her regret. Instead, she waited with Dr. Green for Sr. Gloria to come back and finish up the day they had shared together.
Dr. Green, as she cleaned up her bag's contents, observed, "You added a great deal to the course today, Sam. Should you be here at Orange Grove in the Fall, I'd like you to stop by my office during the advising period."
Sam promised that she would do so. She had no real interest in being a social worker, but the class had been fun. It had spoken to real concerns, real issues, and she knew there was an active social work club on campus. She thought perhaps Dr. Green could provide more information therein.
Sr. Gloria appeared in the door in a constrained whirl of energy. "Dr. Green, you don't mind if I take Miss Forster?"
"Not at all, Sister." Dr. Green gathered up her things as she had been near to doing, and added, "Samantha, my office is at the corner of this hall before you enter into the Sociology block."
Sam's mind was whirling as Sr. Gloria took her the long way, and the flattest way, back to the Tower. She thought she did everything she needed to do to leave. She hoped she remembered to say goodbye, but after meeting all the students she had this morning during the tour, being introduced to various places and faces on campus, eating in the dining hall for lunch with some Women's Studies majors, and then attending this class, she was people'd out. Sam left, therefore, with her messenger bag full of documents and her mind full of a conclusion she had never expected.
I knew her mind was changing
By the roving of her eye
By the roving of her eye
By the roving of her eye
I knew her mind was changing
Loving Hannah, Mary Black
Jake stared at the email he hadn't opened, knowing that whatever it said was echoed by the letter he'd hidden in his bag. He knew that he had to open it. He had less than three weeks before the National Reply Date came upon him. All of his interviews had been done since February and notifications had come quickly after that. He'd done everything methodically by the book.
He'd had some rejections. Everyone did. They didn't bother him. What bothered him was the acceptance letters. He felt overwhelmed by the responsibility of this choice. Still, he knew that the only thing he could not overcome was not knowing. He set aside his phone.
There were some things he could only accept in black and white, printed before him. He supposed in this way he was still something of a luddite, even if he did now own Quinn's hand-me-down iPhone. Jake therefore, sitting in the truck waiting for Sam to finish her on-campus interview, began to rip the envelope slowly.
The crisp paper felt heavy in his hands. He wanted to have a clear-cut choice before him. He wanted black and white. He wanted clarity. Taking a deep breath, Jake pulled the letter from the envelope and began to read.
Dear Mr. Jacob Ely,
Congratulations!
The paper fell from his hands before the rest of the words were deciphered by his brain. He wished he had been rejected. There was a choice before him now, a choice he would have to make on his own. He now had the option of being in San Fransisco, at a medical school he'd never dreamed would offer him a spot.
He'd applied, but never thought he'd get admitted. Sam had put in an application to Orange Grove with the promise that he would shoot for the moon and send this application himself. He'd had no illusions that he'd be offered a spot. And yet…
He had been offered to one of the best medical schools in the world. They had a possible future in a city where they had family. He had a spot waiting at a school that offered a concerned amount of energy to the plight of the rural underserved. When he'd visited, the students had seemed sincere in the gravity of their work, and open to the welcoming of new MS1s. He hadn't seen that everywhere, and it had spoken to him.
Jake startled hard when there came a knock on the window. His heart was rabbiting his chest as he looked across the seat, and saw Sam fumbling with the door handle. Blindly, he reached over and unlocked the door before climbing out to load the chair.
"How did it go?" Jake asked, trying his best to smooth out his face. He wanted to tell her, and he would, but something held him back.
The look on her face was disbelieving. Sam shoved her bag in the back seat as she spoke, "It went surprisingly well."
Jake's heart skipped. "That's good."
Sam rubbed her back as she stood, putting her weight against the passenger door he'd opened. "I'm exhausted."
He knew she was exhausted. He could see it in the drawn lines of her face, and the way she fumbled through getting out of her chair. He felt it in the way she didn't automatically call him out for the shakes he couldn't quite contain.
Further, Jake empathized. Interviews always made him feel like a wrung out dishcloth. After them, he'd tended to sit in silence for a few hours. "I know."
Sam took his hand, and boosted herself into the truck. Jake folded up the stair, and shut the door quickly to avoid more air escaping. As he put the chair in the back, he saw Sam's head loll against the seat as her body relaxed. She'd taken off her shoes, then.
Now was not the time to have a conversation about anything. Before walking around the truck to open his door, Jake resolved that he would not be mentioning the contents of his letter for a time. There was no point to it. He had a place in Baltimore. Sam loved Marchand, and had only undertaken the interview out of a sense of duty and curiosity, neither of which comprised good reasons to attend a school. He knew she'd be admitted. He felt it in his bones.
However, when they'd both been admitted to schools in Baltimore, they'd agreed to cement their first choices. And yet, Jake had not sent in the paperwork. He'd told himself it was because he wanted to be measured and thoughtful, but now that he had seen the letter on the floorboard of the truck, he knew his hesitation had been based on that letter. He wanted…
It couldn't matter right now. He couldn't go down that road right now. Maybe later, he would be able to see a way beyond Sam getting on a plane for Maryland, and him staying in California. Maybe later, he would see a way beyond her accepting a school she didn't love to stay with him, or vice versa.
He knew he'd do that in a heartbeat. If her heart was at Marchand, then then they would go East. He had an offer from a great school there, and though the process would require a lot of loans, he had more support on offer than a great many admitted applications. Jake knew then that he would silence the voice in the back of his head that was telling him to log on and accept the offer right now. A rash decision would come to no good end.
"Jake?" Sam murmured from where she was sitting next to him, her weight resting against the door.
"Yeah?" He got over, knowing that they would be turning soon. The only place they were heading now was back to Sue's place. Sam, as he had once been when he'd been in her shoes, was out of spoons to deal with anything else today.
"I…" Sam began to babble, a sure sign of nerves, "I don't want this to alter our plans. I also don't want to not tell you this because I think if I don't it could be a huge problem for us later. I don't want that. I also don't want you to think I'm going to do anything about it. I don't want to get ahead of myself here."
"Why don't you tell me what you do want, then?" Jake wondered what she was going on about, knowing that if it was something that could incite her to ramble along, that it was something he wanted to get to the heart of as best he could.
"I think I could see myself at Orange Grove." Sam blurted, her voice filled with a hesitant wonder as she began to talk about her day in excited detail.
"You think or you know?" Jake echoed her statements from a couple of years ago when she rattled to a stop. The similarities seemed staggering. Luckily, they hit a red light, leaving him to stop the Scout at the head of the line waiting to turn.
Jake was able to look at her as she swallowed. After a long moment, she continued, "I know. I guess what I'm really saying is that it was a really good day." Sam continued along, "Aunt Sue said if I saw myself sitting the stone benches, well…" She grinned, "That was a ghost tale."
"Well." Jake started moving when somebody behind them beeped. The light had turned green in the last ten seconds, evidently, and he hadn't seen it, "I think you should do it, if you want to."
"I didn't say that." Sam snapped as they continued onward toward Sue's home. "I simply meant that I had judged it too quickly. It's a nice place."
"I heard what you didn't say." Jake disagreed, knowing that her enthusiasm was genuine. "If you get in, which I know you will, you should make the choice that seems right to you."
"We're going to Baltimore." Sam declared, her face taking on a mulish expression, "I do wish you'd stop spinning fairy tales and deal with reality, here."
They fell into a tense silence as they navigated the traffic. The silence was heavily punctuated by the occasional, "Can I get over?" on his part, and mutterings about traffic on Sam's part. They said nothing about the conversation that had crashed and burned between them.
When Jake had finally found a spot and parked the truck, he reached down and picked the letter up off of the floorboard, and placed it on the seat between them, "You're not the only person that can change their mind, you know."
Sam took the letter with a shocked, "Excuse me?"
"Read it." Jake advised, "You're the one making a mountain out of something that's not even a molehill."
Jake didn't remembered what exactly had been in the contents of the letter, but he remembered something along the lines of a scholarship and stipend. He remembered something about earning a place within the dual degree program, which was no small thing. He waited for her face to light up.
It never happened. Jake felt like she'd punched him, or pushed him off of a cliff into the La Charla.
Sam scanned it, and declared, "Don't act like this means anything to you."
"You know, a 'congratulations' would have been nice." Jake returned, oddly hurt by her reaction. He'd worked really hard for this moment, and she'd…
"Well, I'm sorry." Sam replied caustically, "Congratulations for getting into a school you don't want to attend."
"Oh, thanks a million. I actually want to go there, thanks so much for asking." Jake snatched the letter back when she folded it, and shoved it in the visor above his head, "So sorry your attempt at martyrdom was dashed."
Sam's face went puce. "Martyrdom!"
"You heard what I said." Jake retorted, knowing that she didn't want to face facts because it didn't fit some narrative in her head, "I'm not going to waste my breath repeating myself."
By the time they were in the house, they were on the verge of shouting at one another. Well, Sam was on the verge of shouting. He simply had nothing left to say, and would have welcomed the silence that the initial moments of their ride home had promised.
"Did you ever think, for a single second, that I said I didn't want to attend because I thought I wouldn't get in?" Jake asked, knowing his voice was flinty and low. Anger burned brightly in his blood.
Sam flopped down on the sofa, her hands tremulous from not only the trek up the stairs but also her own unconcealed annoyance, "Oh, sure. You doubted your academic ability." Sam scoffed, "What universe did I wake up in this morning?"
"One where I'm just as human as you are, Sam." Jake snapped, and turned towards the bedroom.
Whatever response she might have had was drowned out by the slam of the bedroom door.
Tell me a piece of your history
that you're proud to call your own…
Can you fill this silence?
You must have the words in that head of yours
And oh, oh can you feel the silence?
I can't take it anymore
The Silence, Bastille
Sam stared out the open door across the stairs she was facing. She had never managed to navigate them with fluid ease. No matter how much she improved, stairs were the bane of her existence. The go-bag at her feet was the only thing helping her to feel as though she was still standing in the doorway, and not falling down the steep stairs on the other side of the porch.
Aunt Sue stood nearby, her bright blue nails pushing aside the curtain, to peek out the window as they waited by the front door, "Well, there he is. You better get a move on."
Sam agreed and picked up her bag, and though it threw her off balance, she managed to haul to to the door and pass it off to Jake. To save time, Jake had acted quickly on moving the truck to an empty spot across the street. This way, the time could be spent navigating the stairs and not trekking to the parking spot they'd found when they had last moved the Scout.
In a sense, Sam was glad to be in the city, even if these stairs still made her dizzy. She needed the space to think. They also needed the space to be away from the ranch, in the hopes that the passage of time would change things enough that when they arrived home, that they would find Kit being more open about his struggles and their parents more open to seeing what was in the front of their faces.
The argument they'd had two days ago had passed without discussion, beyond sincere apologies and more conversation to amend hurt on both sides. They hadn't revisited the subject after mending fences. Sam's acceptance letter to Orange Grove had arrived via email. She knew, by silent accord, that they would talk later.
With everything going on at home, Sam felt like they needed to focus on what points of unity they had remaining. Things were difficult enough without forcing issues that weren't yet wildfires. The whole thing would come to a head in time, but she wasn't going to push it.
Time crawled as she went down the stairs, left hand tight on the banister and right hand placed firmly in Jake's own hand. By the time she came to the bottom of the steps, her knees ached and her lungs heaved. Momentarily, she leaned onto Jake. "I'm not used to this anymore."
Jake stepped closer to allow a mother with a baby and a small child to pass them with her double jogging stroller. He couldn't imagine that woman pushing that huge stroller up the hills and holding it back from rushing down them, but he supposed that was part and parcel of Sam's point. "There's no reason you ought to be."
Sam was exhausted. Navigating the city was taxing, and she hadn't had much rest after the the lingering nausea long car rides still induced. She nodded gamely, and headed to the truck. By the time she crossed the road, she was glad she had the wheelchair for the long distances they'd be covering. The Starbucks at the end of the block was packed, but at least the hive of activity meant cars moved frequently.
Once she was in the truck, and had slid her buckle into place, Sam watched Jake start up the truck. They hadn't been on this journey since the winter chill had been thick in the foggy, chilly, air. It was now warm enough to be thankful for the cool air coming from the vents.
"Do you suppose this'll take more than a few hours?" Sam asked, "I don't relish the idea of trying to get back from the hospital in Friday traffic."
Jake pulled out from their spot along the sidewalk and agreed, "If that happens, we'll just pull off and camp out. It'd be quicker."
Sam knew that although he was joking, there was an enduring truth in his words. They merged into traffic, and Sam closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer that today would speed by without comment by anyone she might meet. Given who she was meeting, that was unlikely, but a girl could dream.
But if I knew now what I thought I knew then
Well, I guess I wouldn't be back here again
You don't say I'm looking older,
Even though I am
Don't make me jump through hoops
Because you know I ain't that kind…
Back Here Again, Josh Hickman
"So," Ella looked at Sam over the rims of glasses Sam had never before seen. Obviously, the purple and yellow rectangular glasses were a new pair. There were a few new desk decorations on the shelves that lined the walls that ran perpendicular to the wide windows that dominated the back wall, but otherwise the sameness of Ella's office only served to show Sam how much had changed over time within her soul. "do you want to talk about it, or are you going to keep wasting your breath on other things?"
"Ella." Sam's ramble about school and the horses came to a stuttering halt. She noted that her hand was fisted in her skirt, drawing the wide hem tight against her knees. "I am updating you on my progress in life, as is the point of this visit."
"Actually, this isn't a formality." Ella leaned forward a bit and tucked her left foot behind her right ankle, "It isn't a given that I would recommend more sessions, and even then you're free to decline them. We all have small stressors that don't have to become things that should be—"
"This might be." Sam allowed, knowing full well that this was a concern that would likely take her decades of treatment to unpack. She bit the bullet. "Kit's home."
"Ah." Ella spoke, and there was a wealth of intonation in the word.
Sam thought back over the sessions she and Jake had undertaken with Ella, and wondered just exactly she had revealed. She was struggling with the tenor of her thoughts, and hated the idea that she wasn't being charitable to him right now. She didn't like Kit, but she wasn't judging him for his health and dependency right now. "What kind of 'ah' was that?"
"That was simply an 'ah,' Sam. It was an articulation of noise to affirm that I'd heard you." Ella replied, "There's no judgement in it. I take it you're less than pleased by this turn of events?"
"You might say that." Sam allowed, explaining the situation as aptly as she was able. She rattled to a stop after a moment of explanation, "I haven't told a soul I confronted him. I don't know how much more I can do. I will say that I'm in a little over my head."
"You're dealing with a complex set of concerns, Sam, for which you have no training and limited personal experience." Ella noted, "Given your history with Kit, and the family dynamic you both have roles within, it's no wonder you feel overwhelmed."
"It's just…" Sam reflected, "This came at a bad time."
"How so?" Ella opened the door for further exploration in her typical forthright fashion.
"Well, I want to go to Orange Grove, and I don't know if it's because I had a good impression of things there or because I'm antsy about being away from home right now." Sam admitted, "I know Jake's wondering how he could leave Darton County, knowing what's happening with Kit."
Ella had always been smart, even when Sam had hated that about her. Then again, she was alive because Ella was good at reading nuance, "There's a difference there for you."
"He's talking about med school in San Fransisco like it's the best thing ever. I think I want to stay closer. I think he's afraid to go farther." Sam summarized, "The difference is monumental."
"And…" Ella pressed.
Sam took a moment to gather her thoughts. "And I don't know how Kit's arrival informs that, only I know it does, somehow."
Ella gave her a long space of a few seconds, well aware that she needed it. This was hard to discuss, largely because of how heavily change and the prospect of it weighed upon her. "Have you shared your concerns with Jake?"
"Not as such." Sam replied, "Things have been tense. I've been trying to tell him that I don't think Kit means to stay, but the truth is, after what Kit said to me, I don't think he means to go. I do need to talk to him. But we argued, and…"
Ella helped her rarely, but when she did, it was only to facilitate more self-expression. "Everything's conflated."
"Yeah." Sam agreed, looking down at her hands and then back again, "I want Jake to follow his dreams. I know if I told him about Kit it'd be the nail in the coffin and he'd never go East." Sam thought for a long moment, "He said I wanted to be a martyr and I think that's how he feels."
Ella prompted, not for her own edification, but so that Sam could work through the muddle of her own thoughts. Somehow knowing this did not make the question easier to reflect upon, "How so?"
"He gave up everything for me. I know he did." Sam did not need to explain once more how Jake had finished his degree online, and had studied for the MCAT beside her hospital bed, how he had done everything he could do for the last three years to keep them balanced. "And he's set to do it again."
"I see." Ella replied.
Sam was glad that she did not have to explain some things to Ella, for Ella had seen them firsthand.
"We can't build a life on him giving up everything, every time something needs compromising." Sam got to the heart of the matter as best she was able, "I want to go to Orange Grove. I want to stay together. But if one of us bends, it needs to be me this time."
"Oh?" Ella vocalized.
Sam looked at her sharply, pulling her gaze away from the busy cityscape outside Ella's windows. Ella sat comfortably in her chair, her eyes on Sam and not on the clock behind Sam's shoulder. Suddenly, Sam realized that there was a bit of nuance that she needed to make clear to Ella, if only for her own peace of mind.
"Not because I can't survive being apart, if that's what you're asking." Sam replied, "I want to feel like an equal in our relationship when it comes time to put our money where our mouth is. We've always said no matter what, we'd stay together."
"You'd lay aside your wishes because he's done it more in the past?" Ella asked, seeking clarification for Sam's sake.
"No." Sam shook her head. This wasn't about giving up more for each other, like some kind of sacrifice olympics. This was about making choices individually and collectively, knowing that no matter what they chose for themselves that they were committed to facing their individual choices together, "I'd do it for our collective good, for him, for me, for our shared objectives."
"But you think he sees staying in San Fransisco as something he's doing for you?" Ella ventured, voicing the statement only so that Sam could reflect upon it, as was Ella's modus operandi.
"Yes." Sam sighed, then, adding, "And once again, the difference is monumental."
Behind her, the clock went tock, tock, tock.
Can't seem to mind my own business
Whatever I try turns out wrong
I seem like my own false witness
And I can't go on
I cover my ears, I close my eyes
Still hear your voice and it's telling me lies
Telling me lies
Telling Me Lies, Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, & Linda Ronstadt
"Will you repeat yourself?" Ayers asked, his eyes steady behind his glasses as Jake opened his eyes to face the words he'd found within himself.
Jake repeated the words he'd spent the last fifteen minutes working to articulate. "I'm apprehensive because Sam thinks I'm lying."
She hadn't said as much, but he could read her. She'd apologized for her lack of enthusiasm but she'd cautioned him to be sure it was what he really wanted. He wondered why she didn't think he knew his own mind.
Ayers did not shift against his leather chair, though Jake resisted the urge to do so. His feet were leaden upon the floor beneath him. "Why does that make you apprehensive?"
"I've never lied to her." Jake articulated, as firm in this truth as he had ever been about anything in his life, "I've never wanted to lie to her."
He was proud of that, largely because he thought it spoke volumes about their dynamic, the relationship they shared, and the bond they had cultivated over the years. He was taciturn and reluctant to voice his thoughts to many people, but he had never once lied to Sam in either commission or omission.
Except for that time with Matrona, which still ate at him. He regretted that, still. He'd learned something about himself and about their relationship from it, but it wasn't something he was going to repeat.
"There's more to this than that, wouldn't you say?" Ayers challenged him, peering from behind his wire-rimmed round glasses. Jake flexed his hands against the armrests of the leather chair. He had worked long and hard in this very chair, and he had to draw on a lot of that self-exploration to arrive at the core of his feelings.
"Well, I wonder how much she thinks I've lied to her." Jake admitted, "If it's the first place her mind goes, I have to ask why."
It wasn't the most charitable thought. It was undeniably true, however. His pulse jumped with the fear that, at one point or another, Sam had lied to him about something in life, though he wasn't
about to say that to Ayers. He knew she really hadn't lied to him anymore than he lied to her. He knew they both had parts of themselves they obscured and that wasn't his issue. His issue here wasn't about their privacy and individuality. He just wanted to know why she would think he was lying to her.
"Have you asked her that?" Ayers asked, his fingers twitching along the line of the armrest as he intentionally mirrored Jake's position.
"I just admitted it to myself." Jake resisted the urge to ask the other man how he could have possibly done that given that he'd been in the room with Ayers the entire time. Jake knew where Ayers was going, however. "I'm going to make the discussion a priority."
Ayers understood that the subject was closed. "Now, do you want to talk about your brother being home?"
"No."
"You didn't bring it up not to talk about it, Jake." Ayers challenged, "You don't need to have your mind made up about it to give yourself permission to explore it."
Jake knew that if he didn't say something, they'd sit here in silence for the rest of the session. He knew this was their check-in, but he thought Ayers had simply gotten lucky that things were happening right around the same time.
"It's not easy for me to admit that I hate the choices he's made." Jake elaborated, "I feel complicit in his lies to our family."
"You know, it takes a certain self-awareness to express uncomfortable truths with bald honesty." Ayers proposed, "How do you think he feels right now?"
"I don't need to develop empathy for him." Jake returned, "I know he's scared. He just acts like we haven't all been there. He's still got a chance to fix issues his life. He walks around like his troubles are an epic tragedy. No amount of empathy would help him get enough perspective."
"You feel a certain kinship for him?"
Jake nodded. Kit no doubt wanted to die. Jake thought him a bit dramatic given that he was laying in a bed of his own making. He could still fix things with Cricket. And yet, Jake envied him in his open expression of his desires. Jake had never felt like he'd had the right to own his own suffering after the accident. "I'm jealous of him."
"That's an interesting word to apply to a man who, in your own words, is struggling with staying sober after his wife left him, who quit his job and came home to his parents under a cloak of lies and half-truths." Ayers summarized.
"He's self-absorbed enough to make himself an innocent victim, even when he had a part in whatever happened." Jake explained, "I could never stop seeing the bigger picture, could never forget, not for a single second, the context of what happened."
He still couldn't, and both of the men in the room knew it. Jake envied Kit's ability to look their mother in the face. He envied that Kit was so utterly sure of his welcome, so sure of the place that would be provided him at Three Ponies. Jake had never really felt that way, that he as himself was owed all of the things Kit took for granted.
"I hate that I still see myself as lacking compared to him. I hate that I see that expressed in our family." Jake continued, "Even though I know objectively—"
Jake didn't know what he knew objectively. Half-formed thoughts floated across his mind, but he wasn't ready to voice them aloud. Ayers wasn't the person he needed to talk to about this, and he knew that now. He'd gotten what he needed out of the session.
He was face to face with his flaws and inadequacies. Jake didn't like feeling this way. He didn't like the fact that Kit was once again part of his world, was once again highlighting that he was the prayed for prodigal son. Jake was determined to own his baggage. He just didn't like having to see Kit, who was unwilling and unable to do that, across from him at the breakfast table. He'd worked too hard to get where he was to see Kit get there without merit or thought.
Oh jealousy, you tripped me up.
Jealousy, you brought me down.
You bring me sorrow, you cause me pain.
Jealousy, when will you let go?
Got a hold of my possessive mind
Turned me into a jealous kind
How? How? How? Oh, my jealousy!
Jealousy, Queen
They worked in tandem to clean up a small dinner and sat back down with a cake Sam had made. Sue was out with her friends. They went to dinner once a week, and this week, the absence of Sue's babble left an echo between them. His apprehension had faded once he'd understood its roots. In its absence, Jake hadn't figured out how to bring up a conversation he knew could very well set them back into that space if they weren't truly communicating. Even then, there was that risk, and he just didn't want to be uneasy any more. He just wanted to work through this together and come to a consensus.
It was Sam who brought up a discussion, with the opener that made his pulse skip, "There are a few things you don't know."
Jake quirked a brow, and allowed. He knew the cake in front of him was meant to soften this discussion, give him something to do, but his bite was halfway to his mouth before he set down his fork and responded, "I'm listening."
"We need, I think, to have two totally distinct discussions." Sam declared, "Do you want to start with school stuff?"
"Better the devil you know, I guess." Jake replied, watching as she set her fork beside her plate without even the pretense of eating her own slice. "For the record, I'm not lying when I told you I wanted to stay here."
"I don't think you're lying, Jake. You've never lied to me and you have no reason to start now." Sam clarified, "I think you're choosing San Fransisco for reasons that having nothing to do with your wants, and everything to do with the fact that you've gotten used to stepping up and sacrificing things for me."
Jake didn't see why she persisted in that perspective. "What do you mean?"
"Well, let's see." Sam ventured, "In the last three years, you've built your life around what had to be done to keep us together, to keep us both safe and functional."
Her hands were shaking, and Jake knew better than to reach out and soothe her right now. He wanted to, but he didn't do it.
Sam continued, "I don't need to give you the laundry list, you know it better than me. I just worry. You deserve more."
"That's not what this is." Jake asserted, wondering exactly what she thought he deserved. He had a place waiting for him that hundreds of other people would have gladly squashed him like a bug to have, and he dreams and goals that made succeeding there possible, "I've never felt that way, but I'm telling you, none of this has anything to do with the accident."
"There's nothing you wouldn't do for me." Sam told him, her green eyes flashing as she came to the core of a truth they shared in its entirety. He knew it was mutual in every possible way. The desire and will to give sacrificially was an element of their relationship they tried to keep in check for each other. "Nothing. But I'm begging you, don't do this for me. No matter how much you want to do it. Don't do this for me."
"I'm not doing this for you." Jake promised, knowing full well she needed more than those words, more than that promise. He just didn't know where she was going with all. All he could offer right now was a listening ear.
" You have to be sure. There is going to come a day," Sam elaborated, tilting her head in a nonverbal attempt to make sure he got where she was going, "and I pray it comes soon, because you deserve that, that no matter how much you love me…" Sam looked totally calm, so accepting of her words, "Where what you feel will never be enough against the mountain of sacrifices you made for me, if you keep on making them."
Jake paused for a long moment. He didn't see that in this situation, at all. All he saw was her being unwilling to listen because she was terrified that…oh. She was terrified that he didn't have the capacity to distinguish his own desires in this situation. She'd just said as much. "Your perceptions are skewed."
Sam reached for her fork, and something unclenched within Jake as she began to slice a bite of cake from her slice with the side of her fork, "How so?"
"I want to be here, because I want to be." Jake replied, "I'm asking you to trust me on that point. I'm not going to say you don't factor into my choice, because you do, but no more so than I factor into yours."
He knew the neither of them could quantify or exactly qualify that sense of things. He only wanted to express that he felt, objectively, that it was extended and returned in equal measure. He would elaborate if she wanted, but it wasn't as though he could easily express the knowledge that, yes, in the past, she had needed more from him, just as he had once needed more of her from her. That had changed, as it should have done, but there was balance between huddling close together in trauma, and not thinking of the other person at all. Both, in their own way, were cause for concern in his mind.
"Because of Kit?" Sam carefully looked away after she asked the question, likely in an attempt to give him some space to answer.
"No?" Jake asked, his eyebrows rising to meet his hairline, as she looked up at him, "Because our life is out here. Because we have friends and family here. Because it wouldn't require a plane ride to get home. Because I like the rural trauma rotation offered. Because when I was on the campus, the students seemed genuinely engaged with their work. Because the school offers an intentional view of rural medicine." Jake continued listing his reasons, "Because it just seems right for a multitude of reasons, one of which, yes, is your interest in Orange Grove."
Sam pressed onward, "But is it what you want?"
"I want it enough to know that I'm…" Jake couldn't quite find the right words to describe what he was feeling, "It's just a 'what if' that's going to stick with me. What if, you know?"
"I want that for you." Sam confessed, "More than anything, I want you to find your what ifs, and go after them."
"I want that for you, too." Jake nodded. "Is this settled, then?"
"I think so." Sam agreed, her face losing every bit of fear that had built behind her eyes over the last few days. Her confidence bloomed in the light there, as she exhaled, hesitating for a second before continuing. "I just have to say it, though. It deserves to be said. We could do the long-distance thing, if you want to be in Baltimore. Lots of people do."
"Not us." Jake posited, comfortable with that truth. He reached for his fork.
"No, I don't think so, either." Sam smiled in answer to the smile that he felt spread across his face, "The option's on the table from my end."
"I'd support you going to Baltimore, if that was your what if, Sam," He knew he would, too. It just wasn't lip service. It would be difficult, but they would make it work, and come out stronger and better for it, if it was she knew to be right in her soul, "but I'm not hearing you say that it is."
"It's the safe option." Sam revealed, "Somehow, it feels like it. I know what I want. I'm only really struggling because I always said I'd never go to Orange Grove."
She had always said that, as point of fact. Jake thought, maybe, that this was what people said when they'd made the best choice they could with the information in front of them. They all did. It was only that their own understanding of the facts before them had shifted, as had their choices as a result.
"It doesn't matter if Sue wants it, too." Jake advised, "What matters is that you want it for your own reasons. If the outcome is the same, that's whatever. You didn't get there on her ways and means. You did it in your own way."
"So did you." Sam affirmed, "For the record, I think they're lucky to have you. You don't need congratulations. They do." Sam put the matter to rest, "We've just got to be prepared for people to insinuate things."
"I don't see why it matters." Jake shrugged, knowing full well she meant their families starting things up on the basis of their congruent choices. They wouldn't see that they had come to this table with independent decisions already made, with their only goal being working out a plan on the basis of these adult, individual choices. They would read things into it.
"I'll remind you of that later." Sam promised, and the joy therein sparked his soul. Jake ate yet more of his cake, and swallowed.
He made an inarticulate sound of agreement. "What was the other thing?"
Sam shifted against the back of her wheelchair, her back cracking before she leaned forward to share her news. "I told Kit to get help."
"You did." Jake heard the infection of a question in his voice, but could not quite bring himself to ask her to reveal how that had happened.
"I did." Sam nodded, before explaining that she had confronted Kit about all of the empty bottles they had collected and pictures of him swigging her cough syrup.
Fury rushed through Jake in tandem with a new depth of fear for his brother. He knew Kit was in a bad way, but somehow that detail made it clear to him that, no matter the consequences, he had a duty to go to his parents with this information. He had a duty to his brother. He would want Kit, no matter their relationship, to know that Jake would always look out for him. Kit had never done it for him, but that didn't matter. At the end of the day, nothing mattered but the fact that Kit was sick. His brother was sick.
And yet, Jake hated himself for his subsequent thoughts. He'd seen too many ranches go under because the guy at the helm was stuck at the bottom of the bottle. It had happened in their own circle, even. Before Jed had gotten sober and gotten the ranch back after Slocum's legal troubles had come to light, he had ended up under the other man's thumb. It was a fate Jake dreaded for Three Ponies.
Jake admitted as much, hating himself for his truth, but being honest enough to express it. He added, "What's going to happen, Sam, to the ranch?"
"He doesn't want to run Three Ponies when the time comes." Sam's eyes were filled with compassion, as they reflected upon the knowledge that that day was coming. When Grandpa needed more support at Deer Path, Dad would shift there. It had been the plan for ages, "He wants to feel like he's powerful somewhere, until the road calls again."
"Sam." Jake pushed a hand through his close cropped hair, "He and Quinn are already buddy-buddy. He's back to being Mom's favorite. He's not going anywhere." When Jake added in the way that being home facilitated his illness, the conclusion was forgone.
Sam had a ready reply, "Even the best coddling gets old."
Then again, so did Jake. It was clear to him that she wasn't seeing the whole picture. "Dad's turned to him."
Sam agreed, sipping her water. "Luke's personable, and he's simply after him to get to work. You see your father turning to Kit. I see him riding him to get to work."
Jake sighed. She just wasn't seeing the whole thing for what it was, or could be. Things added up. She had the pieces, but refused to put together the puzzle.
Jake ate another bite of his cake as Sam spoke, "You seem to have made up your mind."
There was no changing this truth. He had tried when he was young, but there was no point. There was no altering any of this, and her putting the best construction on this did nothing. "I can't compete with him."
"No." Sam agreed, setting down her fork. "No, you won't ever be on his level."
Before Jake could do more than exhale brokenly, Sam continued along in a level tone of voice, "Let me tell you why. You are a great man, Jake."
He couldn't help but scoff and grip his coffee mug.
Sam wouldn't brook his disagreement. "Listen to me, you are. You have a level head on your shoulders, and you work every single day to take care of the people you love, and you give of yourself with a quiet steadfastness. People look at you, and they see so much. They see the kids who stop you in the grocery store, the way you treat the old ladies who fawn over you. You are a great man."
What Sam saw in him wasn't what everyone else saw. Her assessment of him made him deeply uncomfortable. "Sam."
"But to compare yourself to Kit is your failing. You are a great person, and he has had to work very, very, hard at becoming a good person." Sam made her point, though Jake did not exactly get it. She subjectively thought he was a better person. Of course she did.
She must have read his response in his face, because she insisted, "It simply has to do with your personalities, the way you see the world, your orientation to life and others around you. You always put others first. He doesn't, and while you both struggle not to go to extremes therein, it's shaped you both."
"What you're saying is that we're fundamentally different people and that…" Jake wanted to find the right words, but he didn't have them yet, "that I'm more mature? Is that your point?"
"I'm saying it's possible for one person to work hard at being a good person and to be commended for that, whereas another person doesn't have struggle with the basic fundamentals of what it means to be decent because who they innately are sets them up to work towards a greater expression of virtue, for all the pain that entails." Sam shoved her hairband back on her head gently, and thought for a long second.
After a moment, she asked, "Do you understand the difference?"
"I think you're being subjective, here." It meant a lot to him. He just didn't agree that he was somehow a better person. They were different, and Kit had always gotten the accolades for chores as a kid, whereas he and Quinn had just always done their bit without praise, and then later the expectation of it. That he remembered very clearly.
Jake put his napkin down next to his plate. He wasn't really in the mood for any more cake.
"You've both faced different challenges. There's no value judgement in saying you're facing different dragons." Sam continued onward, "But your challenges in this life are not his own, because you're learning different things. His jealousy radiates. He knows you are fundamentally different, and that you don't share his struggles, and his innate sense of inadequacy."
"He's sick right now." Jake replied, "I won't knock him for an illness."
Sam agreed, "I have the upmost compassion for where he is right now. Your differences and your inability to judge yourself on your own merits has nothing to do with him."
Jake understood then what Sam was saying. He had been measuring himself against Kit's standards, and finding himself lacking because he couldn't see the world as Kit did. It struck him as small-minded, immature, and selfish. Unless he missed the mark, he was pretty sure that Kit thought him boring, binary in his thinking, a stick in the mud, and stupid. He'd heard that and worse before from the man's own lips.
To clarify, Sam affirmed, "This has nothing to do with the drinking. Things have always been this way." Sam declared, "It's time you see it, too."
In the distance, they heard a car pulling up to the sidewalk. Sue was home. There was no more time to talk. Right now, Jake counted that as a blessing. He really needed to think. Was it possible that he didn't see Kit as a person? Was it possible that, even after all these years, he was still blinded by the automatic, knee-jerk, belief that his older brother was everything a person ought to be in life?
He didn't know, and he didn't know if he had the capacity to find out. He wasn't sure he wanted to even go there. However, he was sure that Sam had a point. They were their own people. Maybe, through staying in San Fransisco, Jake could learn that lesson well enough to stop feeling like he would never measure up to Kit no matter how hard he tried.
I never wanna live in fear
I don't wanna hold back all the things I need to say
Say, say
I got you figured out, you need to have control
You think that I don't know you, I know you, I know
Trying to tell you now, I've been doing what you want
But I won't be your yes girl, no, not anymore
Just let me go, just let me go
Yes Girl, Bea Miller
They were leaving as soon as Jake got back from the pharmacy with her Scopolamine refill and some snacks for the road. Sam reflected on the weekend as she folded the last bits of the laundry Jake hadn't finished this morning. It had been a long trip, in more ways that one. Sam felt, on the whole, very good about the way things had panned out.
She dreaded going home and diving deep into the transition to living in San Fransisco in the Fall. She knew that leaving would be a challenge. Right now, though, her focus was upon what the summer was going to comprise. Her thoughts of a summer focused on work had evaporated like the spring dew under Kit's tires.
Sam finished folding her last shirt, and shoved the clean clothing into the duffle bag. As she tried to zip the bag, Aunt Sue tapped on the doorjamb and advanced forward to sit on the chair in the corner, "Sunday is Funday!"
"I had fun at church this morning." Sam noted, "Though laundry isn't my idea of a good time."
"That's why I avoid it for as long as humanly possible." Sue quipped, her jersey wrap dress making her lanky figure seem all the yet more urban and sleek, "You left an interesting letter stuck to the fridge this morning."
"Did I?" Sam wondered, knowing full well that she had placed a copy of the confirmation of her acceptance on the fridge, so that Sue would know she had accepted her spot at Orange Grove.
Sam finished zipping the bag to look at Susan, who was grinning like a loon. Sam found herself smiling in return.
"You did." Sue returned, her grin splitting her face, "I for one am just thrilled. I won't apologize for my decades of meddling and pushing, because I know you don't give a damn for my say so and did this because it's your free choice."
"You'd be entirely correct." Sam agreed, fishing an errant pair of flats from the closet. She would need those next week if Jen was serious about her desire to go shopping. Her feet swelled in malls. The bustle made her itch.
Sue was never one to hold back her thoughts, "You saw yourself on the Senior Seats. I know you did." Sue was as contented as the Cheshire Cat. "You did, and that's why you changed your mind."
"I didn't see myself." Sam lied, "I made the decision on the basis of facts, and my impressions of the campus."
"You can't fool me, Samantha Anne." Sue winked, "I'll keep your secret, don't worry. Thirty years from now, you're likely to be in my shoes. Remember that I was merciful."
Sam rolled her eyes, "Merciful? You launched an out and out campaign the second you knew I was female."
"Nonsense." Sue retorted, "I waited to make sure the sonogram was correct before putting you on the mailing list and buying you a onesie."
Sam snorted. She'd heard enough stories to contend otherwise. Oddly, she felt somehow closer to her aunt in this moment. It wasn't why she had made the choices she had, but it was certainly a nice side-effect of it all.
"Oh, let's go to bunch." Sue stood up as Sam heard the kitchen door open to admit the aforementioned man, "We'll celebrate properly." She shifted from foot to foot in childlike exuberance, "Wait until I tell the girls. We'll have a nice day of celebration. I'm sure Jake has news of his own, too."
Jake appeared in the bedroom door, and looked decidedly uncomfortable with the idea of brunch. His own discomfort did not outpace Sam's, however. She shook her minutely in his direction, and focused on her aunt, "Look, when I come back you can take me to one of your pearls and twirls brunches with all the other mothers showing off their horse-faced daughters going to Orange Grove on legacy scholarships."
"That is an entirely unfair representation of my alumna circle." Sue sniffed, waggling her fingers at Jake in a hello, "Only three of my friends make a habit of vintage pearls, and we typically eat too much stuffed french toast to twirl, thank you very much."
"Well, I'll wipe the trail dust off of my face before coming to brunch, how's that?" Sam teased.
"Well, that's mighty charitable." Sue returned. She sobered for a long moment and considered the two of them. "I'm very proud of the both of you. While I know right now's not the right time to discuss logistics, I do want you both to know that you're welcome at home for as long as you like."
Sam knew the surprise on her face was echoed in Jake's own expression. He regained his composure first, "That's something we hadn't expected, Sue."
Sue blinked owlishly at Jake, who stepped forward so as not to linger in the doorway. "And why not?" Her hands landed on her rounded hips as though she was seriously annoyed and not just making light of their seriousness, "You can't beat the amenities, and the in house entertainment comes gratis, even if she can be bribed with good Chinese takeout."
Sam grinned, "We'll be hard pressed to outdo that, but we'll let you know."
Sue agreed to that, and fussed over Jake's own news, which she'd sussed out largely on the basis of the assumption that they were staying together. Sam hadn't yet enlightened her as to the details. Sue was a giant romantic, and she had no desire to expose the inner workings of their relationship to her aunt's gaze.
Sam left Jake to his own devices as she went to the bathroom. After completing the required activities therein, she lifted the edge of her earlobe. There, on the flat slope of her neck, rested a tan patch. She understood that on the street, her anti-nausea patch in pill form was sought after. However, Sam couldn't imagine wanting to take them. They blurred her vision, gave her heartburn, and made her a bit loopy when they first hit her system.
She'd put one on about an hour ago. She'd used her last patch, and Jake had sensibly agreed to pick up the refills from her appointment with Francis on Friday. Sam rinsed her mouth with mouth wash to chase away the cotton-mouth, and stared at herself in the mirror.
She was pale and wan. Her eyes were dilated to cartoonish effect, to such a degree that it made her sick to look at them. However, in their dark depths, Sam swore she saw her future. It was bright, unshaped by her actions, waiting just beyond her grasp. She was determined to face it boldly, even if it did make her stomach swoop.
Then again, that could have just been the drugs.
Everybody's got to walk this lonesome valley
We've got to walk it by ourselves
There's nobody here can walk it for us
We've got to walk it by ourselves
Lonesome Valley, The Carter Family