October 16, 1982

Senior Year

Mercedes gently bounced the playful two year old on her hip as she strolled through the aisles of the Salvation Army. Leroy gave her $10 so that she could buy the clothes to make her niece's Halloween costume. She was hoping to dress her up like a lion cub.

"A lion cub is good, right Marley?" Mercedes asked, holding up a suede black skirt with a heavy fringe. She could probably cut all the hideous fringe off, use it for Marley's mane, and keep the skirt for herself. The tag read $3, so she shrugged and dropped it in her basket.

"Lion! Roar!" The little girl giggled and clapped her hands.

"Roar!" Mercedes roared back, and the little girl shrieked in laughter, covering her face with her hands.

Little Marley came as a surprise to everyone, including Mama Jones. Leroy's long time girlfriend, Josephine, found out she was pregnant their senior year. Fast forward two years later, and Marley was the center of Leroy's attention. Although they weren't together anymore, he and Josephine were amicable for the sake of their daughter. Needless to say, Mercedes was always quick to take the baby off of Josephine's hands for a day or two, while she focused on college work. Although she loved Marley with every fiber of her being, Mercedes saw the struggle Josephine faced having to raise a two year old, and earn a college diploma. She respected her, but she also felt sorry for her, and made a solemn oath to never have a kid while she was still just a kid herself.

Another person that fell in love with the friendly toddler, was Sam. Sam had always been excellent with children, so when he first walked into the entrance of the Salvation Army store, and caught a glimpse of the child in Mercedes' arms, his eyes lit up. Or maybe his eyes lit up because he saw her. Mercedes was positive it was the former. He sauntered up to them with his hands in his pockets, pulling them out only to embrace Mercedes and place a lingering kiss on her cheek that lasted a little bit longer than it needed to. She felt her skin heat up under his soft lips, and she prayed he wouldn't notice. Thankfully, if he had, he didn't outwardly acknowledge it.

"So this is the famous Marley I've been hearing about, huh?" He gave the little girl a half smirk, and she shyly hid her face in the curve of Mercedes' shoulder.

"Oh, now you want to be shy?" Mercedes teased, "you were just roaring at me a minute ago."

The two year old whimpered softly, and turned her head away from Mercedes.

"She's just shy," Mercedes explained to Sam, "She always gets shy around older boys."

"It's okay, I'm used to women being intimidated by my sexiness." He flipped his hair from his face and she covered her mouth, stifling a snort.

"Okay Dr. Love," she looped her arm through his and pulled him, gently, into the baby clothes section. She leaned forward, looking at the size and prices of the different outfits on the metal rack. She eyed a powder blue leisure suit for children, and crinkled her nose in disgust, "I'm looking for a brown onesie…or maybe some footie pajamas. They have to be brown or black. And they have to have a working zipper just in case Marley has to go. Then we can change her faster. Just be on the look out, okay?" She turned to look up, only to find him staring at her with half a smirk on his face. His emerald green eyes bore into her own chocolate brown ones, overflowing with fascination and adoration.

"What?" She asked him.

"It's just," he chuckled, and smiled bigger, causing the edges of his eyes to crinkle adorably, "seeing you…like this-I can't help but wonder what you'd be like when you have your own little girl."

She saw where this conversation was headed and she needed to put a stop to it immediately.

"Sam-"

"You'd be taking her out and about all the time, teaching her about life and-"

"Sam, I-"

But he was on a roll. His eyes twinkled with enthusiasm, and she felt his arm slide out from under her arm, and he grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Oh, her voice Mercy. She'll have a voice just like her mama. And she's gonna have big beautiful eyes, and your full lips. And then some knuckleheaded blonde kid will fall in love with her, and then daddy's gonna have to whoop some ass-"

"SAM-" Her voice broke, and she felt her heart clench within her chest. She pulled her hand from his, "Sam, please."

She heard the pleading in her own voice, and Sam snapped out of his euphoria, his smile fading.

Mercedes felt a light tug on her hair, "Ti-ti…Ti-ti Cedes."

The two year old stared at her with large hazel eyes and pouted, "You lelled."

Mercedes frowned, "I'm sorry I yelled, Mar."

The child shook her head and pointed at Sam, "You lelled at him."

Mercedes found herself apologizing to Sam for yelling, but he waved it off, supplying his own apology for pushing their friendship boundaries.

Sam hated seeing the broken expression on Mercedes' face. She was in a loving relationship with that guy. And they were getting very serious, much to his dismay. But why did he keep letting himself grow attached to her? He knew she wasn't completely in love with Johnson. A part of him knew that she was still in love with him. Sure, she may have loved Johnson. But she was in love with Sam. With that knowledge in mind, he wasn't afraid of losing her anymore. It just made him physically ill whenever she would kiss him the way she used to kiss Sam, or when she'd giggle at Johnson's jokes the way she used to giggle at Sam's impressions. Sam was slowly rebuilding his relationship with her, though things were still tense. With Mercedes' help, Sam started going back to school and was trying to break his smoking habit. He had to explain to her over and over again that his crash and burn wasn't her fault. Mercedes leaving him just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back. She was the one thing in his life that made everything worthwhile. But when she left, he didn't know what else to do. As of now, he was still trying to get a job so that he could stop the dealing. But no one would hire him. Until they did, he was stuck with what he knew.

He knew he was dangerously blurring the lines between friendship and romance when it came to Mercedes. But, as they walked down the street, pushing a humming Marley in a stroller, he couldn't help but feel like he belonged there- by her side, like a spousal figure. The small smile reappeared on his face as he thought of a possible future with her. He'd thought about marrying the girl since he was fifteen, and now that he was turning eighteen soon, the dream was possible. The autumn wind picked up, blowing Mercedes hair into the air. He caught the scent of vanilla, and he sighed in content. As they stopped at the corner of the block, Mercedes let out a short shudder from the cold, and zipped her black leather jacket up to her neck. Clenching his fists at his sides, Sam resisted the urge to pull her close to him. He was torturing himself when he followed her around like a shadow, but he couldn't help it. He was drawn into her, and, as hard as he'd tried, he couldn't let her go. Not again. When he realized that forgetting about her was impossible, he gave into his weakness. He wanted to be around her every day- or, at least, as much as he could without being her boyfriend.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Mercedes asked. The light turned red, and they began to cross a long, busy street. A few people bumped into Sam's shoulder. Some by accident, but a number of them were possibly on purpose.

"You."

He glanced down at her, only to catch her forcing a straight face. "Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a pause, and then Sam remembered something, "Remember when you came over to my house for the first time?"

She navigated the stroller around a crack in the sidewalk, and Sam briefly stumbled over the back wheel of the stroller.

"Yeah," she quickly shot him an apologetic look, "that's when you and I were watching…what was it…Charlie Brown? We were watching-"

"A Charlie Brown Christmas."

She smiled fondly at the memory, "And you knew it line for line. It was the funniest thing."

The thought of her grinning at the thought of him made him feel like he was on a high. Hell, he would do the impressions right there in the middle of the street if it meant she'd giggle for him again.

"So, listen…" They rounded another corner, and he'd realized that they were not too far away from Sam's apartment building, "I got your dad something. I know how he likes the Mets, and I saw this hat…"

Sam looked over at the girl and she bit her lip, nervously, "You didn't have to buy him anything."

"Ti-ti!"

"Oh, but your dad is so sweet, and he's always asking if I'm alright every time I see him. I thought that he'd like the hat-" Mercedes babbled on and ran her fingers through her hair.

Sam couldn't help but smile at her. She was absolutely adorable when she was anxious.

" 'Cedes, it's okay, I'll take it up to him."

"Ti-ti!"

He hesitated when she saw that her nervous facial expression didn't subside, "Um…well…actually, I was kinda hoping that I could take it up to him. I haven't really seen him in a while, you know."

Sam clenched his jaw. He knew that she was thinking about his mother. His stupid mother. The one that took one look at Mercedes and declared her unfit to be his girlfriend. Sam had no plans of introducing Mercedes to Cynthia Evans, knowing fully well his mother wouldn't be nice. But she caught them kissing in a local park, and he was forced to explain himself.

"Well-um-I…" He stammered.

"You know what," she raised a hand, "forget I asked. It's okay-"

"No, it's fine-"

"TI-TI!" Marley interrupted. She waved her tiny hands in the air, "JUICE!"

"In a minute, Marley."

"JUICE, TI-TI! JUICE!" She started squirming in the stroller and whimpering.

Sam walked around to the front of the stroller, and unbuckled the stroller, plucking the toddler from her seat. Marley cried out for juice again, and he smiled warmly at her.

"Hey now, munchkin, none of that," he held her with both arms as Mercedes searched through the bottom of the stroller for Marley's sippy cup, "You don't wanna make Auntie 'Cedes sad do you?"

The little girl stared at him with big hazel eyes and pouted, shaking her head. Her little brown pigtails shook this way and that, and the pink bobbles at the ends made rattling noises.

"I can't find the cup, ugh," Mercedes pinched the bridge of her nose, "I think I left it either at home or in the store."

"Ti-ti, juice!" The little girl pouted again, getting restless in Sam's arms. She whimpered and Sam rubbed her back soothingly. The little girl hooked her arms around Sam's neck, and rested her head on his shoulder.

"If it helps, there's some apple juice in my apartment," he suggested, "if you want, we can go up and get some. Hopefully, the wench won't be there."

She smirked at him and shook her head, "Sure. I'm sure Marley is just drowsy anyway. She's usually napping by now," she exhaustedly glanced at the stroller again and sighed, "I'm never having kids."

Sam fought the doubtful chuckle building in his chest, and instead grinned. They decided to stroll in the direction of Sam's apartment building. A few people walking down the street glanced in their direction and shook their heads. Sam suddenly became well aware of how this looked to people. Two teenagers, one white and one black, with the light skinned toddler he had cradled in his arms. By the time they arrived at the red, brick building, the temperature had dropped and it was getting dark. A strong gust of wind blew, and Marley shivered in Sam's arms. He instinctively held her closer to him, hoping his body heat would help warm her. The little bleached denim jacket that she had on wasn't doing anything against the cold, and he rolled his eyes.

"Where's her coat?" He asked.

"They didn't pack her with one," Mercedes mirrored his eye roll, "you'd think that, in the middle of fall, they'd think to pack her something a little heavier. My brother, I swear…."

The wind blew again and Marley started to tear up.

"I don't like this," she whimpered into Sam's shoulder.

"We're almost inside, munchkin. You'll be warm in a minute," He cooed to her, rubbing her back.

Seeing Sam being so affectionate towards Marley warmed Mercedes' heart. It was so adorable how he bounced her in his arms and rubbed her back because she was cold. She found herself staring at the pair for a moment, only to find Sam staring back at her.

"What?"

She snapped back into reality, "Nothing."

She collapsed the stroller and Sam held an arm out to her, "Give it."

"Then give me Marley," She said, placing a hand on her hip.

He raised an eyebrow, "I've got it."

"This is my niece we're talking about, Sam. Not a doll."

"I'm not going to drop the her, Mercedes."

"I don't care, I don't trust it."

He sighed and threw his head back. A puff of white air escaped his lips and Mercedes chuckled at his dramatic nature. He tilted his head down and smirked at her.

"Mercedes," he said, stressing her name, "just open the door for me. I've got this."

She hesitated, "If you so much as stumble-"

"I'm not going to drop the baby," he said.

Cautiously, Mercedes gave Sam the stroller and jogged up the stairs to open the front door for him. She sort of got the distinct feeling that Sam was trying to prove something to her.

The inside of Sam's apartment building wasn't completely warm, but it was better than the bitter cold of the outdoors. She could smell someone in the building cooking pasta, and some big band music drifted down the hallway.

"You remember the way, right?" Sam asked.

"Uh, yeah. 3C right?"

He nodded, and she glanced up the winding stairwell that disappeared above their heads.

"Okay give me, Marley," Mercedes said, holding her arms out. Walking into the building was one thing, a winding staircase was something completely different. Without any protests, Sam passed the drowsy toddler into Mercedes' waiting arms. Marley shifted, and then finally adjusted herself into Mercedes' body. Her eyes were closing slowly, and Mercedes slowly rubbed her back. She knew she was tired.

By the time they reached the third floor, Marley was snoring lightly into Mercedes' ear. She couldn't help but giggle at how adorable the little girl looked when she was asleep.

"You know, she kinda looks like you," Sam said, fishing into his jeans for his keys.

"You think so?"

Mercedes looked at the toddler again for confirmation. Marley was, after all, her brother's child.

"Absolutely. She has your nose and lips."

Sam gave her a half smirk and she returned it. As he slowly unlocked and opened the door, Mercedes was met with the familiar scent of Charlie perfume, which only meant one thing.

"Sammy," the familiar woman's voice called, "I've been looking everywhere for you where-"

She glanced at Mercedes and Marley, and then cut her eyes at them.

"H-Hey, Mrs. Evans." Mercedes sheepishly greeted.

Mrs. Cynthia Evans always had it out for Mercedes. Sam knew why. Cynthia was the child of upper middleclass parents that profited off of the war, and moved into the predominantly-white suburbs of Westchester County. She met Sam's father in high school, they got married at eighteen, and have been bound together for twenty two years in a loveless marriage. Sam didn't hate his mother. Sam couldn't hate anybody. But he found that his mother was a very difficult person to like. She was obnoxious, inappropriately stuck up, and a raging bigot. Sure, she was pretty. Hell, Cynthia Evans was beautiful, but anger and smoldering hatred took a toll on her former model good looks. Her long, blonde hair was beginning to gray and thin out. Her radiant skin was beginning to sallow, and her bright blue eyes frequently appeared to be an icy gray. She gained weight in her legs and stomach, but her thin arms made her appear disproportionate. She had the tendency to be kind, but the recent economic struggles made those moments far and in between. What do you do when a former privileged beauty queen is forced to live among the common folk? Sam chose to ignore her, and spent as little time as possible within the house. The only times he ever went home were to sleep, eat, drop off money, and use the bathroom. His father, though kind and understanding, had turned into a puddle of slush under his wife's domineering ways. It irritated Sam to see his father, who had once been part of an equal partnership, reduced to a submissive pile of soft dough.

And so, there they stood. Locked in a three way stare down. Sam stared at his mother, his mother glared at Mercedes, but Mercedes kept her eyes trained on Sam. He could feel his jaw clench, anticipating his mother to say something she would regret. Unlike his spineless father, he had no problem putting her in her place, if need be. As expected, she opened her mouth first.

"Nice of you to stop by, Samuel," she didn't tear her eyes away from Mercedes, but addressed her son coldly, "I was beginning to think you'd taken off again."

The intensity in Mercedes' gaze intensified. He could almost hear her voice ringing through his head.

Again? Sam, when did you run off?

It was a long story appropriate for another time. Sam refused to take his eyes off of that woman. He knew that, if he were to look away, she would either make an obscene gesture to Mercedes, or throw something at her. It's happened before.

"No," Sam spoke through clenched teeth, "I didn't run off again. Lucky for you."

"What's she doing here?"

Mercedes cleared her throat, and he finally felt her gaze lift from him, "I actually came here to give something to your husband. I saw this hat, and-"

"We don't want your charity," Cynthia spat.

"It's not charity," Mercedes countered, "it's a gift."

"I don't care what it is. We don't want it."

Although his back was to Mercedes, he could hear her shift in posture, and he knew her hand was on her hip.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Evans," she spoke as if the title should be used ironically, "I don't understand why you're using the word 'we,' when I specifically stated that it was meant for Mr. Evans."

"Well, he doesn't want it."

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and groaned,

"Look, we're just gonna drop off the fucking hat, grab the apple juice, and head out." He made his way towards the fridge and opened it, looking for the brand new container he'd bought the day before.

"What do you need apple juice for?" His mother asked, her tone a little softer, but replaced with confusion.

"For the baby…for Marley," Sam responded, pushing the water jug out of the way with his right hand. He located the apple juice container at the back corner of the fridge, and proceeded to remove it, taking care not to spill the water jug over.

"Why are you giving our hard earned food to someone else's child?" The softness was gone, and her words shot out with every intention to sting, "It's not our fault Jones can't keep her legs closed. It's no surprise she can't feed a kid."

The choked noise that came out of Sam's throat echoed the one that came out of Mercedes'. Cynthia Evans looked Mercedes square in the eye, with no hint of an apology on her face. Mercedes heard the door to the fridge slam closed.

"You know what, Cynthia," Sam started towards his mother with the apple juice container clutched in his left hand. His jaw was clenched and his eyes looked wild with anger. It took all of Mercedes' power not to allow Sam to splash the juice on his mother. Instead she grabbed his leather clad arm, and tried to pull him back towards her.

"Sam, it's okay," She assured him. As much as she wanted Sam to unleash his fury on his mother, Mercedes had something better planned, "she doesn't know. It's okay."

He kept his eyes locked on her, but his tone was softer, "Doesn't know what?"

"Obviously she doesn't know that Marley is ours," She stated, matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Cynthia chuckled, "that's rich. Don't drag my son down in a pursuit for your next welfare check."

"Nobody's dragging him down," Mercedes calmly responded, knowing fully well she was about to shut the bitch up, "in fact, I've gotten him to go back to school, and I have every intention of going to college. Hopefully, I can earn a degree so I can provide for little Marley. Sam will go to college, after, and we'll both take part in raising our little angel."

Cynthia's smug expression dropped completely, and she began opening and closing her mouth as if she were searching for words. The worried expression in her eyes, and worry lines in her forehead almost caused Mercedes to break out in a fit of laughter. But she had to keep her face completely serious.

The corner of Sam's lips twitched, and he threw an arm around Mercedes, pulling her close.

"It's true," he added, "Marley and Mercedes are the best things to ever happen to me. I've never been so in love."

He twisted the toddler's curls around his finger affectionately, and she let out a tiny whimper in her sleep, adding to the affect.

"And to think," he stage whispered to Mercedes, "that this beautiful child was the product of our love."

His jade-colored eyes pierced into her own, and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Mercedes' cheeks to heat up.

"Enough! I've heard enough, Samuel-"

"Absolutely" Mercedes cut her off, "You know what? I love our child so much, I think I just might go tell everybody in this building about her." She smiled at him, tilting her head down to look at the little girl in her arms.

"Why stop there?" Sam looked squarely at his mother and grinned, "we should just tell the entire neighborhood about Marley. I'm sure they'd LOVE to hear about her."

"You wouldn't dare!" Cynthia challenged him with a single step, at which he chuckled.

"Try me. You think I won't?" He clenched his jaw in defiance.

"Samuel how could you be so stupid? How could you do this to yourself? How could you do this to me? Don't you care about this family's reputation?" She spoke quickly, nervously, and stammered over her words.

"Clearly, I don't-"

"First, there's the drug dealing, and now this?"

He swallowed hard, "I only do that for us."

"Why can't you find a real job? Are you that stupid?" She spat at her only son. Mercedes heard herself make a sharp intake of breath, and Sam closed his eyes, nodding slowly, and placed the juice container on the kitchen counter.

"Of course you'd think that-" He whispered.

"I have every right to think that. We're living in squalor, Samuel. I can't deal with this. We need more money, and clearly this drug thing isn't working."

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, "So then what do you suppose I do, Ma? What? I'm doing the best that I can and you seem to only care about what's in it for you? So, what? Enlighten me. Should I go out and steal? Or should I go and start selling my body?"

To Mercedes' shock and revulsion, Cynthia appeared to have been contemplating those options.

"As long as no one sees you."

Sam looked as though he'd been slapped. Mercedes reached out and grabbed his hand, rubbing the heel of his palm with her thumb. She couldn't, nor would she, say anything at that moment. He bit down on his bottom lip.

"Or, you know, you could just pack your shit and leave. Seeing as how I'm the only one in this fucking family that makes enough money for us to survive," his voice rose, "I pay the rent, I buy our clothes, I pay for the roof over our god damn heads. I won't miss you. I know I won't miss you. As a matter of fact, here," his breathing picked up and he clenched his fist opposite the hand I was holding, shoving his hands into his pockets and pulling out wads of cash. He threw it at her, and her eyes momentarily lit up. The sight disgusted Mercedes as the woman dropped to her knees and scooped the money up greedily, "you figure out ways to spend the money! I'm done with all of this!"

Without a second thought, he grabbed the collapsed stroller, forgetting the juice, and ushered Mercedes out of the door in front of him. His face was bright red, he was breathing heavily, and sucking his lips inward. Mercedes was at a loss for words. Was this a normal thing in the Evans household? His mother would throw insults, and he'd storm out, only to forgive his only mother and return like a lost puppy? Once the duo stepped foot on the bottom landing, Marley had managed to fall asleep again, and Sam was trying his best to take control of his emotions. He plopped himself on the bottom two shag-carpet covered steps and rested the stroller at his feet. The dimly lit foyer gave everything a warm amber glow, only complimented by the dark skies outside the foyer window above the front door.

"Why does this keep happening?" He mumbled, resting his head in his empty palms. He shook his head and sighed.

Not quite sure what to do, Mercedes decided to do what she did best, and began slowly stroking Sam's hair affectionately. He tilted his head to the right and closed his eyes.

"You know what this reminds me of," he said. His raspy voice was about 2 octaves deeper than normal, and Mercedes bit her lip.

"What?"

"That time you comforted me when John died."

She thought back to a few years earlier when Sam came crying on her doorstep because some crazed nut job shot John Lennon and killed him. He was hysterical, and it took Mercedes, Leroy, and Mrs. Jones hours to calm him down. He was sobbing heavily and shaking. Mercedes had him cuddled in her lap, and she was stroking his hair, humming. He eventually dozed off, only to wake up the next morning completely stoic. He didn't smile much, and wouldn't eat. Mrs. Jones and Leroy didn't quite understand why he took John Lennon's death so hard. But Mercedes did. She'd feel the same way if Prince or Michael Jackson died. They were both her entire life, and couldn't imagine being without them. Sure, Mercedes wasn't Sam's girlfriend anymore. But she would always be his best friend. And just like that moment on December 8, 1980, Mercedes took it upon herself to be a friend, once more.

"Yeah," she finally said, "It is like that…sort of. Except you're not crying hysterically and shaking."

His face heated up and she smiled down at him.

"C'mon," she gently tapped the back of his head, "you can stay with me…again."

"I don't want to impose."

"Shut up and go get your clothes," Mercedes rolled her eyes and pursed her lips.

He hesitated, and then stood up, towering over Mercedes already small frame.

"Can I bring my Ramones poster this time?"

She bit her lip, and looked to the ceiling, pretending to give it deep thought.

"Fine."

"And the Star-"

"Not the Star Wars poster. That stays here. My house will not become a nerd fortress."

Sam pouted, adorably, only to tilt his head down and give her a half smirk. She found herself smirking back, involuntarily.

"Thanks, 'Cedes. For everything."