A/N: Lots of hugs for the kind feedback!
XXX
It was a disaster of mythic proportions. It was far and away the gloomiest, most depressing birthday party Mary had ever been to, which was saying something considering how many of her own she had botched over the years with her surly attitude.
Sam just sat there. He didn't speak unless he was spoken to, and even then he provided one or two word answers at the minimum. Jesse tried, without fail, to cheer him up – playing video games, engaging with the treasured weapons, even telling him he could have his piece of cake when the time came. Sam never bit. Following his cousin around like a zombie, he shook his head at every request and never moved his lips unless absolutely necessary.
Eventually, Mary decided the only thing that might go toward improving his mood was his presents, plus the double chocolate cake she'd picked up at the bakery. Sam sat at the table, a mound of gifts in front of him, gathered by the standing forms of his mom, aunt, and grandmothers, Jesse across from him in anticipation. Brandi, Jinx, and Carolyn were making fruitless attempts at positivity, but it didn't do any good.
"Pick one out Sam," Mary said from her spot next to Brandi, watching him gaze blankly at the pile of presents. "There's lots to choose from."
Wordlessly, he grabbed the nearest box and with not one hint of childish ripping, tearing, or pouncing, he removed the paper, casting the remains aside with his elbow. Lifting the top off a long, rectangular shoebox, he pulled the tissue paper out to find a pair of real leather cowboy boots in rich, handsome brown.
Although Sam loved cowboys, his willingness for dress-up was limited, but Mary had heard him mention multiple times he needed real boots to run faster.
"Sammy boy, look at those!" Brandi gushed dramatically. "Think how fast you'll be able to run!"
"They're so cool!" Jesse chimed in.
"Strapping!" Carolyn added for ruggedness.
But Sam just turned to Mary and the look on his face was one she would not soon forget; it made her blood run cold just to stare into his eyes.
In the most contemptuous tone she had ever heard him utter, he claimed, "I don't like cowboys."
Not only was it the first thing he'd spoken without question all day, it was absolutely the last thing she expected to hear. Her shock caught up with her mouth and she couldn't even begin to form a counter-attack. Unfortunately, Jinx was quicker.
"Darling, of course you do; you love cowboys," she chirped, as though Sam were merely touched in the head.
"No, I don't," he said just as strongly, his gaze never wavering from Mary's.
"Are you sure Sammy?" Brandi attempted to divert just slightly, to maybe prod in the correct direction. "I really think those boots-."
"I said I don't like them…!" he burst loudly.
"Fine," Mary interrupted, not wanting this to escalate, still having the foolish hope that this party would turn out even halfway decent. "Fine; you don't like cowboys…"
She put the lid back on the box, shielding the boots from view, and slid the contents onto the empty chair she was standing behind.
"I got you plenty of other things," she waved at the stack of gifts. "Find something else."
He finally lifted his gaze from Mary's, but the look he gave the remainder of the presents was one filled with disdain. He had the air like he was about to be sick and it was then that Mary realized why that face on him was so upsetting. He looked like she did. Brooding – bitter and dark with no optimistic outlook regardless of how hard others made the effort.
"I don't want them," he decided. "They're all stupid."
"You won't be sure until you open them Sammy," Brandi pressed on, clearly trying to cover up his heartless remark. "I'd hate for you to miss out on something that might surprise you…"
"I'll open one for you, Sam…" Jesse offered, and he reached out his hand to take one of the boxes.
Mistake. Huge mistake.
"Don't! Stop!" Sam yelled, and he stood up.
To Mary's astonishment, the mere idea made him attempt to push the entire pile of presents to the floor. This was going nightmarishly wrong, but it was like a train wreck – Mary just couldn't stop, just couldn't look away.
Fortunately, Brandi was quick enough to snatch Jesse's hand and also managed to rescue the few gifts that were about to tumble to the ground.
"Jess, no; they're his gifts…"
Mary knew, just from knowing Jesse, that his desire to open was not one of greed or a need to have a present as well, but to try and help his friend but she couldn't expect Sam to put those pieces together. She figured it was best to end the proverbial party before things got any worse.
Thankfully, it appeared she and Carolyn were on the same wavelength.
"You know; we don't need to do gifts right now," she spoke up and put her hand on Sam's shoulder. He was breathing heavily from his standing position, clearly about to explode.
"We can have some cake," she suggested, appealing to Mary with a flick of her eyes. "I'll cut you a piece Sam; what do you say?"
What Sam had to say was nothing very good.
"I don't want this cake!" he hollered, looking down onto the table where it was stationed with disapproval. "I wanted the vanilla ice cream one; like you said I was getting!" eyes flashing back to Mary's.
She'd known this would come up, and was honestly surprised it had taken this long. Marshall was supposed to have picked up their pre-ordered cake on his way back home Friday night. With everything that had gone on, Mary had forgotten and the bakery had given it away.
"But Sammy, it's really good…"
Brandi was relentless, but Sam's patience had-had enough.
"I don't want it!"
And he stuck his fist through the center, making an enormous hole in the frosting; the whole thing made a squishing sound and Sam's hand was covered in icing.
"Sam…!" Mary cried, mostly out of surprise, but he wasn't done.
Leaning into the table, he shoved the entire stack of presents and they sailed to the floor – thud, thump, bang- crash – into a huge heap on the linoleum. Without even bothering to give a last word, he turned and ran from the room, but Mary refused to let him get away, refused to let him believe nobody cared how he acted.
"Sam!" she shouted again as he made it to the living room, and she tore after him. "Sam! Sam – stop it!"
She snatched his arm halfway down the hall and made him face her.
"Sam, enough…" she breathed, trying to sound even partially understanding. "Smush…" she began again. "Sheriff; I know this isn't how you…"
"Don't call me sheriff!" he demanded, wrenching his arm free. "And don't call me Smush! My name is Sam! My name is Sam!"
The request hurt Mary more than she could've expected. She'd called him Smush since he was born, and Marshall had donned him the sheriff.
Oh.
"Fine," she resolved to be agreeable with this realization. "Fine, I'll call you Sam."
Trying to ignore the stares of Jinx, Brandi, and Carolyn, Mary tried to turn things around, tried to keep her son from completely going off the deep end.
"Sam, look…" she tried not to touch him this time, which wasn't easy. "I know this sucks; I know this isn't what you wanted. But I think that we…"
"No!" he interjected loudly. "You can't fix it! You can't bring dad here! I want dad! It's not my birthday! It's not my birthday anymore!"
With this string of marginally incoherent phrases, he made his race back to his bedroom and slammed the door just as Mary made it there. Not wanting to burst in on him and leave him some dignity, she just called to him from behind the hatch.
"Sam!" she shouted stupidly. "Sam, come on!"
She even knocked, as if he didn't know she was there. Eventually, the whole thing became pointless but she just couldn't stop. She let the rapping die away and hung her head, resting it against the wood, closing her eyes.
"Sam…" she whispered. "Please…"
She was going to cry. She knew it.
"Sam…"
Nothing.
"Smush…" she said it quietly enough he couldn't have heard any longer, unable to help herself.
The tears came at the exact same moment she felt a hand on her back as she stared into the surface of the door, forehead against the planks, knocking hand still raised at the ready.
When she finally stood upright and turned around, she expected Carolyn, but it was Jinx wearing a sympathetic expression and ignoring the tears on her cheeks.
"Sweetie, just leave him be for a little while," she said gently. "He's upset; he's confused. Come back to the kitchen…"
She took her hand and had to guide her.
"Brandi and I will help you clean up."
She was holding Jinx's hand, but couldn't make her feet move. She didn't want to give in, didn't want Sam to think she didn't give a damn. Most of all, she couldn't stand to leave him in there alone on his birthday; angry and lost and wanting the one thing for his special day that he just couldn't have.
She'd been there. Seven was a bad-bad year.
In the distance she heard Jesse crying, which did nothing to aide her return to the kitchen.
"I was trying to help him! I was just trying to help!"
"Jesse…baby, he's not mad at you…he's sad about Uncle Marshall…"
Was Mary supposed to buy into this logic as well? To cast Sam's outburst aside and pretend his episode of acting out was caused by a bout of melancholy feelings he might never get over? She didn't see that happening – not anytime soon.
"Mary?" Jinx prompted, for she was just staring into space with tears in her eyes as well as stuck to her cheeks, not responding to a word anyone was saying.
She wasn't going to get anything done standing here, so she allowed Jinx to drag her back to the kitchen.
The scene awaiting her was most unpleasant. Jesse sitting alone at the table, shuddering pathetically. Brandi crouched down next to him, rubbing his hair and whispering in his ear. The presents strewn all over the floor; the demolished chocolate cake. And Carolyn – watching the spot where Mary returned instead of succumbing to the drama herself and just falling apart.
Jinx dashed to the center of the room and started retrieving the boxes, settling them one-by-one on the island. She slid a few back and forth, listening to the contents to see if they'd broken. Brandi, patting Jesse's back, stood up and joined her. Carolyn walked around the outer counter to Mary, who sniffled childishly in attempts to stem the flow of tears.
Her mother-in-law put an arm around her, comforting as always.
"It's okay honey," she said quietly.
Mary nodded, even though she didn't agree.
"It's all right. He's upset about Marshall; it's not your fault."
She nodded again, though she agreed with this even less.
She'd never really thought she could have the same nightmare twice, but that was exactly what was happening – only it was a thousand times worse on this go around and she'd never believed it was possible. Spurred on by Carolyn rubbing her furthest shoulder, the words came – flat and empty, but out just the same.
"My dad left two days before my seventh birthday."
Carolyn knew this already, of course, but it was evident she'd forgotten because she sighed in recognition. Even so, she pulled Mary in beside her, squeezing her gently. She kissed her hair, and the words she spoke were warm.
"It must be so hard for you to see him like this," she said sympathetically, softly enough the others couldn't hear. "Sometimes, it's even harder to know just how bad your kids are hurting because you've been there."
A third nod, but this one far more reliable.
"But remember this, okay?"
She was listening even if she wasn't looking at her – eyes fixed on her mother and sister tidying the wrecked kitchen.
"Marshall didn't leave him on purpose. He'd give anything to be here."
And that made all the difference. All the difference in the world.
A/N: All right, I know it's been dreary – I know. But I hope you'll bear with me because while things may not look up for awhile (MAY not LOL!) I promise there's more ahead than all this slogging through it. Take heart, and I beg you to be patient. XOXO