Chapter Five: The Funeral

Sam was numb as they lowered the casket into the ground. No one had ever warned her that she would one day have to go on without the one person who had never failed her. Certainly not when she was still this young.

The person at all the science fairs, at all the school assemblies, at the silly little races she'd run with her friends when they pretended they were in the Olympics... It had always been Mom. Dad when he could make it, but without fail, it had been Mom.

Life had prepared her to live without her dad, but no one had ever warned her that she would have to find a way to keep going without her mother.

"Sam..."

She lifted her eyes to her dad's. Could see Mark in the distance. The anger as he kicked one of the tires on the limo that had driven them to the funeral.

It figured that her first limousine ride wouldn't be because she'd earned a Nobel prize in physics but because her mother had died.

She looked back at the casket as her dad's hand gripped her shoulder. "Sam, it's time to go."

She didn't look back at him. Just ached for the woman whose lifeless body was going to be put in the ground in a few hours. "I don't want to. I want to stay with her."

There were tears in her dad's voice. "I know, Sammy, but she wouldn't want this. You know that."

The life. The laughter. The confidence. The compassion. It was like a light had been snuffed out in the Carter household since her mom's accident.

It wasn't home anymore, and it was the last place Sam wanted to be these days.

Especially not in the kitchen. Where her world had fallen apart. Everywhere she turned she half-expected Mom to come around the corner and ask, Where's my brave girl, hmm? Then give Sam's chin a gentle squeeze before she went on with her business.

Sam didn't feel very brave right now. Not when she just wanted to wake up from this nightmare, to run back in time and warn her mother not to take a cab, to urge her father not to put his duties at the base over his duties as a husband.

Sam just let the tears dry on her cheeks as she exhaled once. Then turned to face her dad. "Fine. Let's go."

The drive home was silent. Pretty much the way the house had been for the last week. Gone were the little cookies Mom would have ready for them when they got home from school. Gone were the little kisses to the tops of Mark and Sam's heads while they did their homework. Gone was the way Mom would sing into the mop or the broom handle when they played a song on the radio she liked.

Tears stung Sam's eyes.

Dad unlocked the front door. "Sam, would you do me a favor and heat up the tuna casserole Mrs. Talbot dropped off yesterday?"

Sam stiffened. "Why do I have to do it? Why can't Mark?"

Mark rolled his eyes and tapped the back of her head. "Because you're the girl, genius."

Dad's eyes followed Mark. "Don't hit your sister."

The older boy's eyes grew venomous. "What are you gonna do about it? Forget to pick me up from school tomorrow?"

Sam was in tears as she looked back up at her dad. "I can't cook, Dad. Don't make me."

For the first time in her life, Dad looked overwhelmed, like he didn't know what to do first. Sam ran up the stairs, past Mark, and slammed the door behind her.

Even as she closed the door, she could hear Mark's voice in the stairwell. "Good going, Dad."

Sam flopped face down on the stomach as the years she'd tried to restrain at the funeral came by the hundreds.

What she wouldn't give for one more you're very brave from her mother. Wouldn't give for another hug that took her back to her earliest memories. Or the way her mother's thumbs would brush away her tears.

It all felt overwhelming when she thought about it. How Mom wouldn't be there for any more birthdays. Or her graduation from high school. Wouldn't see her get into NASA or lift off into orbit. Wouldn't be there when she got married. Would never see her children.

And even worse, it was wrapped up in this anger. Not at Mom. But at Dad and Mark. Was that why Mom had cooked? Because that's what moms were supposed to do? Or because she liked it? All this time, and Sam had always thought it was because her mother enjoyed it, but maybe that had been a lie.

She racked her brain to think of a time when her dad had done any cooking. Maybe once or twice on Mother's Day when he wasn't deployed. Sometimes, when the weather was good and he wasn't on assignment, he'd grill something, too.

But Mark had been right there with her when Mom had taught those lessons. He could turn on the oven and wait for the cheese on the tuna noodle casserole to melt as much as Sam could.

Besides, Mark wouldn't have gotten away with calling her genius in that tone of voice either. Mom would have insisted he apologize. Then, she would have explained why he'd been wrong to say what he'd said.

The door opened a crack, and Sam almost expected to see her mother come in. Hoped this had all been a bad dream.

But her father stood in the doorway. "What your brother said about me asking you to heat up the casserole, Sam, it's not true. It's just that your brother—well, he's so angry with me right now, and I need to get some paperwork done before I go to the base tomorrow, so I asked you."

Sam's lip trembled as she studied her father. "So because he's yelling at you, Mark gets special treatment?"

Dad swallowed. "Yeah, I know. That's not fair. I'm gonna try harder, okay?"

His breathing was uneven as he exhaled. "I guess we're gonna have to get used to some changes around here, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I guess we are." Sam turned away from her father, not wanting him to see the tears in the corners of her eyes.

There was a long moment of silence before Dad slipped back out the door.

Sam just leaned her cheek against the star pillow she'd had on her bed almost all her life. The only real remnant of her earliest memories.

"I don't know how to be brave without you, Mom," she whispered into the stillness. And I hate that I have to figure it out.


Sam pushed the food around on her plate as she, Dad, and Mark sat around the dining room table that night.

She wasn't a huge fan of tuna noodle casserole to begin with, but between the tension between Mark and Dad and losing Mom the way they had... Well, it didn't appear that anyone had much of an appetite. Not even Mark.

"Hey, you two, I think we need to talk about how a few things are going to work now."

Sam barely lifted her head to look at her dad. Mark just stopped pushing the food around his plate.

"I know it's probably not great timing, but I have to go back to work tomorrow, and—"

Sam stared at her father. "You're going back to work tomorrow? The day after we bury Mom? Doesn't the Air Force even give you time off when you've lost someone important to you?"

Her dad squirmed in his seat. "Well, actually, Sam... I asked to go back tomorrow."

Sam gaped at him. "You asked to go back tomorrow?"

The idea of going back to school and facing all of the people who had heard about her mother made Sam feel a little sick. Besides, she wasn't sure she'd be able to focus on her schoolwork. She couldn't even make herself eat her dinner.

"Don't look so surprised, Sam. I warned you that the Air Force is more important than us."

Shame coiled in Sam's stomach as she remembered how she'd punched her brother after those words. Now, it seemed they were true.

Dad's voice was stronger than it had been in days. "That's not true. Mark, Sam. You have to believe me. It's not true."

Mark dropped his fork to the plate, and it clattered in the silence. "Oh, I'm sorry. Remind me why Mom took a cab from the courthouse, again?"

Dad closed his eyes and looked away from Mark.

"Stop," Sam whispered. Mom wouldn't have liked this. She would have hated the way losing her was breaking them all apart.

"That's right. You had a budget meeting that ran long. And instead of telling everyone that you needed to pick your wife up from work because her car was in the shop, you let her take a taxi home..."

Sam flinched as Mark recited the details of what had happened to their mother.

"Three blocks away, she got hit by some idiot who was higher than a kite. According to the cops, if she'd been sitting in the front seat when she got hit, she would have been injured, but she would likely have survived. Like the cab driver. Like the guy who hit her."

Sam almost felt like she couldn't breathe as the story was recited. The way both Dad and Mark acted like Dad had been responsible for Mom's death.

Mark's expression spewed venom in their father's direction. "But at least you got your budget meeting finished, right? That pressing tactical issue was resolved."

Dad grimaced. "Actually, we had to postpone it when the police called about your mother, so technically..."

Mark slapped the table. "And there it is. Doesn't matter that Mom's gone. Just matters that the meeting got interrupted anyway."

Sam shook her head, uncharacteristically confused in the haze of grief and emotion. "I don't think that's what he meant, Mark. I think he was trying to agree—"

Mark shoved away from the table. "Don't you defend him, Sam. He killed our Mom, and it's time he owned up to it."

Sam flinched at the words as Mark walked out of the dining room.

"You come back here, Mark. I won't have a son of mine speak to me in my own house like that."

Mark just laughed, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You think I want to be your son anymore? After what you did to Mom? Hell no. The minute I can, I'm out of here."

"Mark. Dad." Sam didn't know what to say, what to do to help heal her fractured family. Mom would, though. "Look, can we just talk about this later, when we're not quite so—"

"Sammy, go to your room."

Sam looked up at her father. "What?"

"Mark and I have some things to discuss. Go to your room. You can take your dinner if you want."

Sam's heart plummeted to her stomach as she stood from the table. "You know she wouldn't have wanted this, right? Not you yelling at Dad, Mark. Not Dad yelling at you."

Mark's eyes were filled with a hatred Sam had never seen before as he narrowed his gaze at their dad. "Yeah, well, if Dad had been there for Mom, she would be here right now. Stopping this."

"Go upstairs, kid. I mean it."

Where was that blasted bravery her mother had tried to instill in her? Why was it that when it mattered most, all Sam could do was walk up the stairs in resignation, certain that her family was never going to recover from losing her mother?

She tried not to flinch as the voices grew louder and louder in the dining room. As uglier and uglier words were volleyed from one combatant to another.

For the first time in her life, Sam understood what her mother had tried to tell her about being the first one willing to throw a punch. Perhaps by not engaging in the argument, Sam was the bravest one of her family.

That didn't give her much comfort on a day like today, though. Not much comfort at all.


Inspiration:

I used bits and pieces of what we learn in "Seth," "Jolinar's Memories," and "The Enemy You Know" to help flesh out this particular chapter. Instead of quoting every line that really helped flesh out these scenes, I thought I'd just add the highlighted quotations and how they helped.

3x2 Seth:

Selmak: It hurt your father deeply when his son didn't come to him on his deathbed.
Jacob: Now, why would it hurt? As far as I was concerned, the kid wasn't my son anymore. It didn't hurt a bit.

3x12 Jolinar's Memories:

Young Sam: Why are you crying? (starts to cry) Where's Mom?

3x13 The Devil You Know:

Jacob: Can we talk? Sam, you haven't said two words since... Since the accident. Your brother's made it pretty clear how he feels.
Sam: He blames you.
Jacob: I blame myself.
Sam: Your work has always been more important than us.
Jacob: You know that's not true. I don't want you to forgive me. I don't know if I could accept that yet. I just want you to understand.
Sam: You were supposed to pick Mom up. You were late. She took a cab. There was an accident. I understand.
Jacob: I couldn't have known what would happen.
Sam: But Mom is dead.
Jacob: Nothing I can say or do can change that. All I can do is try and make sure the things she loved the most don't die with her. Sam, without you and your brother, my life is over. Nothing else means more to me. Don't forgive me. Just tell me one day we're going to be okay.