Serrated
Setting: End of "Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail"
Characters: Sam, Sam's father Rating: PG Summery: "I bet you almost forgot it was something you could get caught for." Sam breathed. Sam's phone call to his father at the end of "Somebody's going to Emergency, Somebody's going to Jail"
"Dad."
"Hi."
"It's me."
"I know. I know. Don't you think I know? I-I know my own son's voice, for Christ's sake."
Sam thought he sounded far away, and utterly exhausted. No, not so much far away as... displaced. The word "lost" was too cliché.
"That wasn't what I meant, but sure, get offended." Sam sighed.
There was a pause.
"That wasn't why I called you." Sam murmured.
"To offend me? You didn't call me to offend me? Really? Why didn't you call me three days ago."
Sam sat up in his chair. His father was drunk and expectant, but it didn't keep him from the anger that was so easy to get at. "Why didn't I call you? I'm not the one-"
"I know." He cut Sam off, and Sam thought he sounded miles and miles away and alien. "Don't you think I know."
Sam sighed and sat back. "Well, I don't know, Dad. Apparently not."
There was a long silence. "It never had anything to do with your mother."
Sam laughed dryly, because it had been three days since he'd been told, not three hours, and it had been thirty-two years with this man for his father.
"I think Mom might disagree." Was all he said.
"After a little while it stopped feeling urgent, Sam. It stopped feeling illicit. It started feeling like my life."
"Yeah. I bet you almost forgot it was something you could get caught for." Sam breathed.
"I did. I did. I got stupid."
Sam sighed. "No, Dad. You got complacent. You were always stupid."
"Don't talk to me like that."
"Will you try and stop me, Dad? Will you please get in a cab and come to the Whitehouse, stop by the Deputy Communication Director's office-"
"Don't throw your title at me, son-"
"-won't you come by and tell me that I shouldn't talk to you like that just so I can get close enough to you to punch you in the mouth you two-faced son of a bitch." Sam said tightly. "When you kissed Mom were you really kissing her instead?" he asked suddenly. "Was Mom the woman on the side? The mistress you just happened to have a kid with, all accidental, all unplanned and hapless? Where was your brain while the rest of you was with her?"
"Slow down Samuel I can't hear you. There's a lag. Are you on a cell phone?"
Sam almost exploded. He almost exploded and fell onto the ground in pieces like a fourth of July firework, all champagne and red and white and blue.
"No, Dad. I'm at work."
There was pause.
"I'm on my phone at work, Dad."
"Oh." Another pause, full of long-distance fuzz. A staticy sigh. "I'm drunk."
Sam rubbed his eyes. "I know."
"Yeah."
"Have you talked to Mom, Dad?"
"I'm in a hotel room."
"Okay."
"I tried to call her."
"Yeah. Just like you tried to call me."
"I tried to call her, I said."
"Okay."
"Where are you going."
"I'm gonna go out with some friends and then try to sleep." He said.
"I've never met your friends."
"No."
"You've never wanted me to."
"No, not really."
"I mean, ever since you were a kid."
Sam sighed. "I didn't want you or Mom to meet them when I was kid, Dad. I was a kid."
"Yeah. But you were always smarter than me, and it always embarrassed you."
"That's not true."
"It is."
"This isn't about me, Dad, Jesus this isn't even a little about me."
"No." his father said. "No more than it's about your mother."
Sam didn't say anything.
"I'm sorry, Samuel."
Sam sucked in a breath that he was afraid might be audible.
"I'm sorry you found out how you did. I'm sorry it happened at all, the way it did. I'm sorry."
There was a pause in which Sam truly didn't know the slightest thing to say.
"Go out with your friends, Sam." His father finally said, defeated and surrendered, and Sam felt like he couldn't help it. Everything in Sam's body was sharp and brittle and biting, and everything was serrated and waiting for something to cut.
"I think I'll just go home dad. Suddenly getting drunk seems a lot less appealing." He murmured. Another pause.
"Alright son."
The line clicked. Sam stood up and found the strength to drive home. He fell into his bed and forgot to call Josh's cell phone to mention he wasn't coming out, but he had a funny feeling like it didn't matter. Like, in the shadow of that ultimate infidelity, any smaller transgressions were about as thick as light steam, and half as potent.
So he slept inside that shadow, and dreamed dreams that he couldn't remember when he woke up, and didn't open his eyes until Sunday morning, when everything was bright and time was skewed.
fin
Setting: End of "Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail"
Characters: Sam, Sam's father Rating: PG Summery: "I bet you almost forgot it was something you could get caught for." Sam breathed. Sam's phone call to his father at the end of "Somebody's going to Emergency, Somebody's going to Jail"
"Dad."
"Hi."
"It's me."
"I know. I know. Don't you think I know? I-I know my own son's voice, for Christ's sake."
Sam thought he sounded far away, and utterly exhausted. No, not so much far away as... displaced. The word "lost" was too cliché.
"That wasn't what I meant, but sure, get offended." Sam sighed.
There was a pause.
"That wasn't why I called you." Sam murmured.
"To offend me? You didn't call me to offend me? Really? Why didn't you call me three days ago."
Sam sat up in his chair. His father was drunk and expectant, but it didn't keep him from the anger that was so easy to get at. "Why didn't I call you? I'm not the one-"
"I know." He cut Sam off, and Sam thought he sounded miles and miles away and alien. "Don't you think I know."
Sam sighed and sat back. "Well, I don't know, Dad. Apparently not."
There was a long silence. "It never had anything to do with your mother."
Sam laughed dryly, because it had been three days since he'd been told, not three hours, and it had been thirty-two years with this man for his father.
"I think Mom might disagree." Was all he said.
"After a little while it stopped feeling urgent, Sam. It stopped feeling illicit. It started feeling like my life."
"Yeah. I bet you almost forgot it was something you could get caught for." Sam breathed.
"I did. I did. I got stupid."
Sam sighed. "No, Dad. You got complacent. You were always stupid."
"Don't talk to me like that."
"Will you try and stop me, Dad? Will you please get in a cab and come to the Whitehouse, stop by the Deputy Communication Director's office-"
"Don't throw your title at me, son-"
"-won't you come by and tell me that I shouldn't talk to you like that just so I can get close enough to you to punch you in the mouth you two-faced son of a bitch." Sam said tightly. "When you kissed Mom were you really kissing her instead?" he asked suddenly. "Was Mom the woman on the side? The mistress you just happened to have a kid with, all accidental, all unplanned and hapless? Where was your brain while the rest of you was with her?"
"Slow down Samuel I can't hear you. There's a lag. Are you on a cell phone?"
Sam almost exploded. He almost exploded and fell onto the ground in pieces like a fourth of July firework, all champagne and red and white and blue.
"No, Dad. I'm at work."
There was pause.
"I'm on my phone at work, Dad."
"Oh." Another pause, full of long-distance fuzz. A staticy sigh. "I'm drunk."
Sam rubbed his eyes. "I know."
"Yeah."
"Have you talked to Mom, Dad?"
"I'm in a hotel room."
"Okay."
"I tried to call her."
"Yeah. Just like you tried to call me."
"I tried to call her, I said."
"Okay."
"Where are you going."
"I'm gonna go out with some friends and then try to sleep." He said.
"I've never met your friends."
"No."
"You've never wanted me to."
"No, not really."
"I mean, ever since you were a kid."
Sam sighed. "I didn't want you or Mom to meet them when I was kid, Dad. I was a kid."
"Yeah. But you were always smarter than me, and it always embarrassed you."
"That's not true."
"It is."
"This isn't about me, Dad, Jesus this isn't even a little about me."
"No." his father said. "No more than it's about your mother."
Sam didn't say anything.
"I'm sorry, Samuel."
Sam sucked in a breath that he was afraid might be audible.
"I'm sorry you found out how you did. I'm sorry it happened at all, the way it did. I'm sorry."
There was a pause in which Sam truly didn't know the slightest thing to say.
"Go out with your friends, Sam." His father finally said, defeated and surrendered, and Sam felt like he couldn't help it. Everything in Sam's body was sharp and brittle and biting, and everything was serrated and waiting for something to cut.
"I think I'll just go home dad. Suddenly getting drunk seems a lot less appealing." He murmured. Another pause.
"Alright son."
The line clicked. Sam stood up and found the strength to drive home. He fell into his bed and forgot to call Josh's cell phone to mention he wasn't coming out, but he had a funny feeling like it didn't matter. Like, in the shadow of that ultimate infidelity, any smaller transgressions were about as thick as light steam, and half as potent.
So he slept inside that shadow, and dreamed dreams that he couldn't remember when he woke up, and didn't open his eyes until Sunday morning, when everything was bright and time was skewed.
fin