Chapter 10: Forever Bound
Thursday, November 3rd, 2011
BROOKE
It's hard to believe, and to be completely honest, after everything that had happened yesterday, I probably wouldn't have believed it had I not seen it with my very own eyes, but the remainder of our evening was spent with relative ease after Peyton's departure, turning what I was certain would be a very long, very sleepless night into a relatively uneventful one.
Now, I won't go into details over here, for fear that they may bore you to death, but the one thing that you truly need to know is this; that when night finally did fall, and I did what I always did these days – sit folded like a contortionist in my chair until the ass crack of dawn watching Sam sleep as I researched everything that the internet could possibly tell me about leukemia until the glow of my laptop gave me too much of a headache to carry on – I finally fell asleep only against the full knowledge that my alarm clock would be waking me up within the next hour or so to begin a day that I hoped desperately would be nowhere near as exhausting as the last.
I'd found it to be a slow habit to formulate, but that internal clock programmed somewhere deep in the back of my mind was finally adapting to Sam's strict schedule.
You see, twelve hours following Sam's official start of chemotherapy, after she'd been successfully knocked out cold, and I was finally recovering from the post-traumatic stress of everything that I had seen yesterday, things finally began to settle down around me just long enough to allow me the opportunity to ask at least some of the millions of questions that I'd had floating around in the back of my head since Sam's diagnosis…
It had been Stacy, a nurse who I had already identified as one of my favorite's who'd come to ravish me in explanations. It was Stacy who had ultimately allowed me to get to know her as she knew me, who was slowly taking the place of all of the friends, of all of the peers I had had in my previous life; that of post diagnosis.
She'd offered me the explanations, taught me the ropes, the basics, including my most notorious struggle; that was, how to distinguish between the five million or so different medications that Sam had to be given; what she took, when she took it, how much of it needed to be given to her, and over night, or so it seemed, I found myself mastering the art of the schedule, all the while refraining from mentioning that organization was never really my thing, which of course, was why I had people like Millie working for me…
At the end of the day, I had received my color-coded Excel spread sheet alongside a hands-on instruction guide of coping with your teenager's cancer, so thick that it could have been teaching me how to put together a car from scratch and an emphasis on just how important all of this really was for me to know so that I would be familiar with what to do when it actually came time for Sam to finally come home…
And as much as I knew that Sam was looking for that day, I couldn't say I reciprocated the feeling.
I was watching infomercials later that night; you know, those sad-looking people dishing out sob stories with an 800 number displayed in flashing bubble letters underneath them for donation purposes when my alarm blared its three a.m. wakeup call – Sam's first dosage of pills for the day.
I groped blindly in the dark for Sam's pill box, still thinking about the starving African children I had just seen displayed against the LED screen in front of me; it was difficult to remember hearing a story like that, it was even more difficult for me to remember how it used to make me feel, my heart cracking down the middle, half sympathetic yet at the same time, half grateful that while there were indeed people out there dying, me, my friends, my family were all safe.
It had been a life that I had never imagined for myself, a life I couldn't imagine living.
Sort of like this one used to be.
I hadn't even realized that I'd started to cry until Jake, the graveyard shift male nurse knelt down in front of me and put a strong hand against my knee, indicative of my failure in completing my task of delivering to Sam her required dosage of medication.
"Here Ms. Davis, let me help you." He'd spoke softly, pushing me to remain in my seat as Sam fought and fussed over being awakened to swallow a grey horse pill designed to prevent her kidneys from failing due to the massive amounts of toxic drugs continuously being pumped into her system.
By the end of the ten second exertion, Sam was out cold once again; the drugs floating through her veins doubling as synthetic sleep as my body performed the exact opposite effect; natural caffeine in the form of adrenaline and cortisol; microscopic assurance that I would be getting absolutely no sleep tonight.
"Ms. Davis," Jake had kneeled back into view the second he was confident that Sam was comfortably asleep, "Can I get you anything?"
I could feel my face blush underneath the veil of my embarrassment as I shook my head towards his request; ashamed that I had allowed myself to break down, even more ashamed that I had allowed myself to be caught doing it.
"I'm fine," I'd insisted.
"Yeah," He muttered sarcastically, "And I'm the highest paid employee in this hospital." I couldn't help but smirk at his intentions, obliging the second time around, as he tugged my arm upright and dragged me towards the door.
"But Sam –" I had insisted, pulling away from him in a measure of resistance.
"Sam will not even miss you, trust me." Jake said; an all-knowing tone behind his voice that told me that whatever he had just given Sam was something that would probably effectively have her knocked out cold until she was to begin chemo earlier that morning.
By the time he'd felt safe enough to release me from his gasp again, he'd already had me cornered in the small kitchenette across the hall from Sam's room, practically forcing me, in his relentlessness, to pour a cup of the twenty-four hour brewing coffee from the industrial sized pot in the corner.
"I'm sorry," I replied softly, sitting at the circular table as Jake prepared a coffee for each of us.
"For what, not being made of stone?" He replied, sitting across from me as I shook my head gently.
"This just doesn't ever end, does it?" I asked, watching as Jake nodded truthfully, confused as to whether or not I was relieved by this honesty, or if it just made me feel worse…
But ultimately, I guess that I couldn't have felt too bad, because immediately after that, I had found myself beginning to talk; and anybody who has ever talked to me can tell you that once I start, I cannot be stopped…
And finally, after I'd finally been forced to close my mouth for a damn second because I had been talking for so long that I needed to pause in order to catch my breath, I realized that I had been talking for an entire hour straight, not a single word interrupting us in between.
"Oh my God," I spoke aloud, mortified that I had allowed this to happen, and more importantly, that Jake had allowed me to take up so much of his time, "I can't believe I kept you here for this long…"
"Don't worry," He smirks at me; a smile that proved to me he could have still looked young had he chosen another occupation, "My shift ended about forty five minutes ago."
"You should go then," I felt my cheeks flush mortified, redden under his stare, "I'm sure you have some place else that you'd rather be than here."
But he never did leave, instead, he stood, folding me into his muscular arms, allowing me to linger there for an extra second or two as he muttered from above –
"Don't we all?"
In the end, I had managed at least some sleep, and by some, I mean the absolute bare minimum without pulling an accidental all-nighter, and ultimately, the alarm that had awoken me was not the usual cell phone alarm blare that I was so used to, but instead, the much more effectively response-initiating sound of Sam gagging and sputtering from her position inside of her bed.
My brain automatically declared the scene as a state of emergency, allowing me to jump up alert and awake as well as completely ready to commit to action without even really thinking about it.
Grabbing at the already-familiar emesis basin resting on the shelf above me, I performed the single fluid motion that I have since perfected since earlier yesterday afternoon and literally threw the plastic container forwards where it landed perfectly positioned directly under Sam's chin, only to receive absolutely nothing in return…
It had been a false alarm.
She sputtered painfully for a couple of additional seconds, but eventually, even that had managed to dissipate into nothing more than a few residual coughs and finally, absolutely nothing at all.
Hocking up the lining of mucus restricting the passages at the back of her throat, she spit gracefully into the basin, apparently determined to put at least something inside of it, feeling badly about having just awoken me for nothing although she knew as well as I did that she shouldn't, that it was after all, my voluntary duty to effectively sit up with her and rub her back, whispering words of comfort and support to her as she got sick no matter what time of day or night that it was or how many false alarms that we encountered in the process.
"Jesus Christ, will this ever stop?" She muttered a question I knew immediately to have been meant to be rhetorical judging by the way her head tilted backwards behind her as she pointed her eyes upwards and towards the ceiling, motioning so that I could tell that she had now resorted towards praying to the very Gods above themselves to exert their powers in reversing the action that they'd so unsparingly created…
The call had registered through my head as a plea, a final act of desperation from the girl; the only thing it seemed that she had yet to try within this nightmare.
The thing was that Sam, as well as myself now that I really thought about it, had never really been the praying type…
Now, I couldn't speak for Sam on this, but my theory was this; that praying, and by default I guess, religion, was completely worthless for people like me. You see, the way I viewed it, religion was nothing more than a crutch carried by those desperate to disguise their grandiose fears of loneliness…
As for the rest of us, well I guess that we had eventually just learned to prefer things that way.
Besides, nobody out there was listening to us.
I guess that even Jesus Christ himself must get tired of listening to everybody else's problems eventually, and the way that I was starting to see it, well he'd already died for all of our sins once before… now it was our turn to accept a little bit of responsibility.
"Are you feeling any better Sam?"
Noon came and went here at Tree Hill Memorial Hospital relatively quickly considering the fact that I'd spent the majority of my early morning hours trapped within a constant sleep-wake cycle.
Her eyes never left the television screen, an incessant blare of early morning trash TV - you know, the kind you couldn't go five seconds without hearing the bleep of a curse word, or the hum of a thick southern accent – as she shrugged gently in her response.
Of course, I had the darnedest feeling that her avoidance of me had absolute nothing to do with her eagerness to discover the true identity of the father of little baby La'Quanda and everything to do with the fact that she was hiding something from me.
But even so, being spoken to every once in a while would still be nice… Hell, I think that I would even accept her characteristic back talk at this point… maybe a few one word answers; basic cave man English?
Hell, I think I'd be satisfied with a grunt.
"How about you try and eat something before you start chemo?" I made the suggestion, perhaps stupidly so, motioning towards the tray of food resting un-touched against Sam's bedside table.
But still, she did nothing more beyond flashing me a look; one that had the words "are you serious" written all over it…
I sighed, purposefully audible as I fell back against my chair in defeat; the thing was, Sam's brief increments of rebellious teenage angst were a hell of a lot easier for me to deal with when the variable of cancer hadn't been involved.
I know, I know, I've been hearing this since we'd gotten here; patience is a virtue, and I was trying, really, you have to know that I was trying, but it was all of this insurmountable stress, the never ending sleep deprivation, this situation as a complete whole…
Needless to say, it was starting to get to me, and I had the slightest feeling that it was starting to get to Sam too.
"I'm trying here Sam," I'd finally snapped, raising my voice so unexpectedly that she jumped, "But you've gotta give me a little bit of room here too you know."
I'd felt badly for the outburst instantaneously, but by then it had already been too late.
"Fine," She shot back, "You want me to eat something, then I'll eat something." That hadn't exactly been what I'd meant, and I think for all intents and purposes, Sam knew that, but she'd reciprocated my crossness, pulling her tray of food closer towards her, stabbing at the meal a little bit more viciously than was actually necessary.
Silently, I watched her tackle the few miniscule bites that she could actually manage for several minutes, deciding my lack of input would be best in allowing the both of us to cool down before we said or did something we knew that we'd regret later, but the second she'd pushed that plate away from her again, I saw opportunity, and I grabbed it.
"Come on Sam, talk to me. What's going on with you?"
"Nothing," Nothing was a strange word if you thought about it; it was relatively short in terms of some of its competitors, and when used as a singular sentence, it really didn't sound like a lot, but buried deep behind the meaning, well it was huge.
For example, from a strictly scientific standpoint, I knew that indeed, a lot was actually going on with Sam right now.
Thanks to the endless hours provided by sleepless nights that I'd been spending on my computer lately, I knew this much was true, and hell, had I been asked, I could probably even recite to you the facts as if inducted as an honorary M.D. myself…
But of course, the internet had yet to develop a method of depth or perception to tell me everything that Sam was experiencing beyond the physical sense of the word…
Like I said, nothing is a strange word.
I allowed the silence to fall between us; thick like sap as it filled the room.
I had already tried raising my voice, I'd tried pushing her, I'd tried coercing her to high heaven just to speak to me, but none of that had even come close to working…
And although silence was a word that barely fit within my vocabulary, I was willing to try anything once, so I sat in my silence, and I waited with hands crossed gently within my lap for Sam to start speaking herself.
She refuse to look me in the eye but could tell by the way her expression softened that had managed to get somewhere in this; it was only a few tense seconds later that that theory was confirmed.
"I'm just sick, Brooke," She spoke, her voice meek, feeble; releasing as nothing more than a soft mist, "I'm sick and I'm tired and I want to go home."
I froze; now that she'd said what I'd wanted her to all along, I had no response; I didn't want to lie to her, but at the same time, I didn't want to trot over her hopes, her desire by telling her that I couldn't take her home, I couldn't make her feel alive again, I couldn't make her healthy with my mere touch, as much as I may have wanted to.
"And," She sniffled between words, fueling her words through a huge gulp of air, "I guess that this is all just a lot harder than I thought it would be." She shifted her eyes quickly, scanning my features albeit refusing to linger in an effort to read my facial expressions.
"Sam, listen to me." I rose my voice confidently, "I know that this is hard, and I know that you're tired and that you're feeling down like you can't do this, but look… I am here for you to talk about these things with, and do you wanna know why?"
Her eyes flickered over towards me, her head shaking slightly from side to side.
"Because," I finished, "Whenever you start to feel too tired, or too sick… well I'm here to take over for you, okay?" Color flushed into her cheeks, her features glowing with relief as if surprised to hear that I had been prepared to stick with her until the bitter end long before this…
"Come here," I motioned for her to shift sideways with my head, wedging myself into her cramped bed so that I could snake my arms around her upper body and pull her closer into me, feeling each breath she took under my embrace as she sunk into my skin with a comforting fortitude.
I fell willingly into the moment, my arms rocking her unconsciously back and forth, oblivious to the surroundings, oblivious to the world, and definitely oblivious to the fact that my constant motions possessed the capacity to make her already sensitive stomach, rumble with finality.
A warning of course, would have been nice, but Sam's face paled so suddenly and so dramatically that neither one of us had time to react as Sam keeled forwards abruptly and expelled the waffles she had just had for breakfast in a hefty pile directly on top of a brand new pair of jeans.
I guess that it had been my fault for forcing her to eat to begin with.
For a moment, neither me, nor Sam said anything, instead, we just kind of stared at each other, an expression of shock carved seemingly permanently into our stone faces.
"Sorry," She'd finally managed to splutter, but behind the apology, I couldn't help but notice, was the unmistakable sound of laughter, unsuccessfully attempting to be held back.
"Is this funny to you?" In actuality, I hadn't been annoyed; besides, I had passed my threshold for squeamishness a long time ago… Besides, how the hell could I be mad? I mean, despite it being solely at my own demise, I had finally managed to put a smile onto Sam's face…
And really, that was all I had been truly shooting for this entire time.
LUCAS
I don't think very many people would argue with me when I said that it was natural for a person to be nervous about going into a hospital.
I mean, even when the event in question is no more than a brief visit; entering with the guarantee that at the end of the day, you'll still be able to stand up and leave whenever it was that you wanted to, there was still that vibe, that thickness swirling within the air that penetrates every fiber of your brain, forcing you into a constant discomfort.
Or maybe it had just felt that way to me, as I drove down the familiar pathway towards Tree Hill Memorial Hospital, viewing every opportunity I saw to make a U-Turn home as an opportunity that I should have took.
But I never did.
I knew everything that was going to happen today before it actually did, after all, I had been on both the giving, as well as the receiving end of a morose hospital visit more times than I could even count anymore…
Here's how it'll go; we'll arrive, and we'll stand both sympathetically and supportively around Brooke and Sam's side, just like we were supposed to do for a couple of hours, and then, finally, right after Peyton and I silently decide that we'd had enough depression and sorrow to last us for one day, we will go home, and we'll go to bed, just hoping and praying that when we wake up the next morning, we will still be the same people that we had left behind.
But Tree Hill Memorial Hospital was the place where I had been upon learning of Keith's death. It was the building whose walls I'd sat within more than once, praying desperately for a close friend's well being.
It was the place where I had watched my wife almost die, my mom almost die, my best friend almost die… Hell, it was the place where I had almost died myself…
So like I said; a lot of bad memories.
The aforementioned reasoning provided the bulk of which I was hesitant, and more than a little apprehensive about this trip today, and as bad as I felt saying it, I think that the rest had to do with the idea that I was expected to provide comfort to a girl I hardly knew who was currently laying with one foot already through death's door…
I could probably count the amount of times that I had talked to the girl on one hand; all in passing, all mediated by Brooke…
And then I remembered… Brooke…
The woman had poured both her heart and her soul into my daughter since her birth, yet I couldn't seem to find it in me to go ahead and get to know her own.
Scratch everything that I had said before, I didn't feel bad, I felt like a downright ass.
I felt like an ass for virtually ignoring Sam throughout countless opportunities to see inside of her the same thing that Brooke did, I felt like an ass for doing everything but ignoring Brooke in the time that she needed me the most, and I felt like an ass for waiting until now to finally try and fix it.
Yup, it's official; I am the world's biggest dick.
And you have to believe me when I tell you that when I wake up in the morning and am actually able to see the reflection of Dan's gene pool in my own reflection, well those are some of the worst days of my entire life.
It was weird when I truly sat down and thought about how little I really saw of Brooke Davis these days. It's even weirder when I choose to accompany those thoughts alongside a sense of nostalgia and travel back to the days in which the two of us were positively attached at the hip; an impenetrable chain…
We used to come in a pair, Brooke Davis and myself, but now, those days were almost foreign, as if they had been somebody else's life…
And some days, even I had to remind myself that they weren't.
I had lost myself so deeply inside of my own thought processes that I hadn't even noticed that I'd pulled into the parking garage despite the fact that I'd must have stopped at the ticket booth at the front gates in order to accept my stamped time card currently clutched in a death grip between my fingers…
In my expertise, I had gotten us from my childhood home, to the hospital without even paying attention, but of course, that was about where my skills as our own personal GPS system ended.
In the long run, it had been Peyton who'd actually had to lead me up the elevator towards Sam room, across the twits, down the bends and straight through the hallway of the oncology wing; one of the few units in this place that I must say I've never actually been inside of.
Personally, I was shocked that Peyton had even managed to remember how to get up here; there had been so many twists and turns along the way… Simply walking up here, I couldn't help but be reminded of all of the times that I had attempted to navigate the crooked, confusing streets of Boston in my car; you can find a needle in a haystack before you could actually manage to locate your destination.
I walked several paces behind Peyton the entire time, moving slowly, nervous, growing more and more fearful, as I passed the unfamiliar doorways towards Sam's room, of what exactly it had been that I'd gotten myself into…
But as I rounded the corner, what I'd found instead was a pleasant surprise…one which made my eye bulge slightly and my mouth drop open unexpectedly…
The thing was, I hadn't exactly been expecting to walk in on Brooke bouncing up and down on one foot in an old t-shirt and her underwear, a pair of seemingly soiled jeans discarded in the middle of the floor as she ripped through every article of clothing in her bag, apparently in search of a garment that could be used to cover herself up.
For a split second, I merely stood in the frame in an attempt to get my bearings straight, my brain, so expectant of a morose, morbid scene relatable to that experienced at a funeral, scrambling to comprehend the exact opposite.
I felt my shoulder lurch forward; Peyton pushing past me, thrusting Sawyer harshly into my arms in her wake in an attempt to get to Brooke so that she could provide assistance with… with… well, actually, to be completely honest here, I had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on…
"Brooke, what the hell are you doing?" Peyton's voice echoed humorously across my head.
"Sam puked on me," Brooke offered the simplest of explanations, "And look, she thinks that it's amusing!" I couldn't help but crack a smile, attempting to hide my face in my shoulder so that the clearly distressed Brooke wouldn't think I was making fun of her or something.
Besides, you had to admire somebody who managed to retain her edge in a time like this.
"Okay Luke, you can turn around now." I hadn't even registered the fact that my legs had subconsciously swiveled me around to face the hallway; my muscles gratefully partaking in a rule my brain clearly had trouble comprehending; safe, not sorry.
I mean, it wasn't like I had never seen Brooke Davis in her underwear before or anything like that, it was just that with my wife and infant child right in front of me, I figured that I'd rather not risk anything.
Deeming the situation safe again, I turned, relieved to find Brooke standing safe on solid ground again; balanced on her two feet, her hands on her hips and most importantly clothed, watching carefully as Peyton leaned into Sam in an effort to embrace her in her greeting.
With Peyton busied with Sam, I turned my attention towards Brooke, figuring at this point, she must have needed the support just as much as Sam had.
"How are you doing?"I dropped my voice low, shifting Sawyer predominantly into my right arm so that I could use the left to wrap Brooke into a tight one-armed hug.
"I'm alright," She nodded, flashing me her famous false smile that I knew so well alongside a small nod, both of which I saw right through. I knew that the reality of her answer was that she was struggling, she was having a difficult time, as anybody would in her scenario, of course, but Brooke Davis was, to date, probably the most stubborn woman that I had ever met; too stubborn to ever admit to anybody when she was hurting.
"Here Luke, let me see my goddaughter." She changed the subject quickly, reaching out her arms in a motion that I complied too as Peyton came up behind me, her arms slinking around my waist so that my head reflected naturally to look over my shoulder at her, my eyes skimming across Sam's in the process, initiating conversation silently between us.
"Hey Lucas," She spoke first even though I knew that it was supposed to be my job to have done so.
"Hey Sam, how're you doing?" Jesus, what a freaking stupid question; I was such an idiot sometimes, really I was.
"Been better," She shrugged, and wasn't that the truth if I've ever heard it; the girl looked like shit, and I knew for a fact that she meant it when she said she felt like shit too, of course, just as Brooke had done before her, she put on a brave sake for all of our sakes.
"How was the basketball game last night?" She flowed into small talk naturally; conversation for conversation's sake, and she hid it well, but I'd still managed to catch behind her voice, a vague tone, one which sounded to me strangely like longing, as if she wished more than anything that she could have had the opportunity to have seen how the basketball game went for herself although now that I thought about it, before she got sick, I don't think she'd ever wished to attend a single Tree Hill High event once in her entire life…
I guess things were just different now that it wasn't even an option.
"We won," I nodded proudly, the weight of what I'd falsely feared to be uncomfortable conversation slowly lifting itself off of my chest as we flowed into casualness. "I didn't think that you were such a fan of Tree Hill basketball, Sam."
"It's something to do." She shrugged, nodding her head towards what I recognized in an instant to be Brooke's laptop resting on the bedside table next to her, a bumper sticker emblazoned across the center that read .
I smiled and nodded in recognition, always pleased to see Mouth and Jimmy's website, launched years ago at this point, still running strong.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Trust me." I added that last bit with a hint of a smile behind my voice, knowing full well that Brooke had probably filled Sam in about our history in between these walls.
"I heard," She confirmed.
"So, um…" I lowered my voice flatly, leaning a bit closer into Sam so that only she could hear me, "Have you gotten any time to yourself lately." I gave the smallest of head nods backwards over my shoulder, indicating towards Brooke in my attempt at being inconspicuous about asking whether or not Brooke had been taking care of herself in between taking care of Sam; I had my suspicions, and something told me that she wasn't.
"Not really," Her tone indicated her understanding of the message that I was trying to indicate, confirming everything that I had already believed, "When Peyton came around yesterday she took her down to the cafeteria to get something to eat, but that's it really."
I exhaled steeply, indicating my frustration towards Brooke's stubbornness, nodding in understanding as Sam diverted her gaze, focusing her glossy eyes absentmindedly towards the television screen as if ashamed by what she'd just admitted.
Her face set familiarly and for a second, I studied it; those pale features emphasizing dark circles across every indent of bone that jutted sharply beneath the skin…
I'd never particularly believed that Sam and Brooke looked anything alike, but today there was something different, something that I'd never noticed before…
Sure, it may not have been in the color of her eyes, or the shaping in her chin, but it was in the way that they set; the determination that shown behind those eyes, the confidence presenting in the shape of her face…
As it was, in a mere handful of months of living with each other, Sam had managed to adopt all of Brooke's tiny mannerisms, the ones I used to, and still do love so much in a manner that made it so the two of them appeared almost identical.
And I swear, if I looked hard enough, I could literally see Brooke's face shining brightly behind Sam's own.
"Are you okay, Lucas?" I hadn't even realized that I was staring until Sam said something to me, and the second she did, I shook my head from my oblivious concentration and nodded, my head clearing back into the task that was in front of me.
"Yeah, yeah…" I answered rather unconvincingly, "So, how about you; how are you doing?" I turned the subject back upon her, not wanting her to think that I had come to visit her strictly to check up on Brooke…
After all, I knew that we were both thinking the same exact thing; I had never truly given myself the opportunity to hang out with or so much as talk to Sam since she'd moved in with Brooke last fall, and right now, well let's just say I was starting to regret that more and more with each passing second.
And if I didn't already feel like a total douche bag before, well I definitely did now.
I'm not exactly sure where this sudden concern was coming from; maybe it was the situation, maybe it was from being put into the correct perspective, having a daughter of my own and all, maybe it was a combination of both, who knew… But I did know one thing before, kids, and even us adults sometimes, we just needed somebody to be there for us, to tell us that everything was going to be alright when everything was screaming in every which direction that it wasn't.
I'd finally decided that it was time to put myself out there in becoming one of Sam's confidents, and now, I had no intentions of letting her down again.
"Okay, I guess," She nodded appreciatively, pulling her eyes away from the TV to latch once again onto mine, "It's just kind of weird, I guess."
I found my eyes wandering unconsciously in response to her comment, up the entirety of the length of the IV pole attaching Sam firmly to the ground despite her desire to fly… The rainbow of liquids adorned across their hooks, swinging in their descent downwards into Sam's body suddenly attracted me like a bug to light.
"I mean… with everything else," Even I was surprised by the words that had just escaped my mouth, "How are you holding up with all of this?"
She didn't answer immediately, and for a second, I feared I'd stepped out of my boundary, that I'd come on too strong towards the kid I'd barely so much as spoken to until today.
"I'm alright," She finally nodded, "Just getting used to things, that's all."Her response was hesitant at best, but I had the slightest feeling that she had been asked that very same question at least a million times today alone… she was probably getting sick of it by now.
"Well we're all here for you," I let her know, placing a strong hand on her knee and giving it a gentle squeeze, "Just remember that, okay?"
"I know," She nodded, and I could tell that it was truthful; that she believed me when I'd said it, "Thanks."
I nodded down towards her, finally releasing the hand that I was continuously cupping strongly in support against her thin joint before I turned once again, to face Peyton and Brooke, huddled in the corner, periodically shooting Sam and I suspicious glances so that I couldn't particularly tell whether or not they approved of Sam and my interaction, or if they were just busy wondering what the hell it was that I was doing…
You see, in my life, I have been known as many things; I have been the nice kid, the sweet teenager, the bastard son, the cheating boyfriend, the star athlete, the brooding author… the list goes on and on, but I'm sure you get the point.
Now, some of these things I am proud of, others I am not, but for right now there was only one thing that truly mattered and that was this; for right now I wanted to be one thing and one thing only; I wanted to be the supportive husband to Peyton, the undyingly loving father to Sawyer, the unconditional best friend to Brooke, and the one that was going to be here up until the bitter end for Sam.
No matter how much blood, sweat and tears that it would take.
My mind lingered without me even particularly meaning for it to, settling on one day in particular, a recollection that repeated on a loop within the deepest of my memory banks.
It had been immediately after the shooting; a day in which I already knew that I had finally shattered Brooke's Davis' heart beyond all hopes of repair, although she was not yet aware, a day where I had made her a promise, despite the fact that I'd never told her about it, to this very day.
That day I had told myself that from that moment forward, I would never again turn my back on Brooke Davis for as long as I lived, and for the most part, I think that I had been generally successful, despite a few stray occasions here and there.
The point was, that nothing about that promise changed; not today, not ever, it was merely extended, modified to include Sam, modified because anybody who knew the two knew that they were, and had always been one in the same.