Pick
Sam walked into the lobby of Bushwell Plaza, her headphones on as she tried to remember whether Carly had said today was the day her and Spencer were going out to have dinner with an old friend of their fathers or not.
She wasn't paying attention, and therefore found herself colliding with someone was she started towards the elevator.
"Ow!" she snapped, pulling out her headphones. "Watch where you're-Oh, it's you."
She looked up at Freddie, who quickly steadied himself. He was carrying a pile of mail in his arms.
"Hey," he said. "I was just getting our mail…"
Sam, slightly surprised that Freddie didn't have any comeback to her bumping into him, scoffed. "What, you have to read your latest issue of Nubs Weekly?"
Freddie didn't even look up as he continued to absentmindedly riffle through the mail.
"Um…did you hear me?" Sam said. "Nubs Weekly. See, it's implying that you're a nub. Which you are."
"Very funny," Freddie mumbled.
Sam sighed. "Oh come on, it's no fun messing with you if you're gonna be all mopey about it."
"Sorry."
Sam frowned. "Okay, Benson, what is up with you? Why you acting so down in the dumps?"
Freddie shrugged. "I'm not down. I just…never mind."
"Hey," Sam said, her tone softening a bit. "Dude, what's wrong?"
Freddie gave her a small smile. "It's stupid."
"Probably," Sam agreed. "But come on, tell me."
Freddie pulled out a large envelope from the pile of mail. "I just got a letter from my dad today."
Sam blinked. She had never heard Freddie talk about his dad before, even when they were dating. And of course, she never pushed the subject because, well, she herself knew what it was like to want to keep some things to yourself.
"Oh," she said simply. "Well…isn't-isn't that good?"
"Yeah, it's real great," Freddie mumbled darkly, and Sam was slightly taken aback by his tone. "My dad things he can make up for never seeing me or calling me or anything by sending some lame joke card with some cash in it and a promise to 'see me soon'."
Sam didn't reply.
"I mean, what, am I supposed to be happy I get letters and junk from him three or four times a year so that he can not feel guilty?" Freddie continued. "Am I supposed to prop all his dumb cards up on my desk? Am I supposed to just forget about the fact that he hasn't bothered to visit since him and my mom divorced when I was twelve?"
Sam looked down at her feet. "Yeah, well, at least your dad bothers to acknowledge your presence."
Freddie's face instantly fell. "Sam," he said quickly, his voice returning to normal. "Sam, I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I-I forgot-"
"It's okay," Sam shrugged. She had always avoided mentioning her father as well, so why Freddie have thought about it? "So, um, what did the letter say?"
"I dunno," Freddie sighed. "I didn't open it. I-I stopped opening the letters awhile ago."
"You don't ever get curious?" Sam asked.
Freddie shook his head. "What's the point? Like I said, it's not like it matters what he says in his cards. It's not gonna make him suddenly care enough to come here."
"Well, okay," Sam said. "But, I dunno, how do you know it won't make you feel even a tiny bit better to read his card if you haven't done it in so long?"
Freddie pondered this for a moment. "I guess you have a point," he finally admitted.
"Yeah, well, even I can come up with good ideas sometimes," Sam said, making to turn around back towards the entrance of the lobby. "Anyway, I'm gonna go. I think tonight is the night Carly and Spencer are gone and I don't feel like sitting in an empty apartment so-"
"Will you read it with me?" Freddie asked, causing Sam to stop in her tracks.
"You-You want me to read your dad's card with you?" she said.
"I just…I want someone there with me," Freddie said. "You-You want to?"
Sam stared at him for a moment before she slowly nodded. "Yeah," she said softly. "Yeah, I-I'll read it with you."
The two teens stepped into the elevator and headed up to the eighth floor and into Freddie's apartment. His mother wasn't home, thankfully, so both were able to pass peacefully through the living room without fear of being sprayed with any of her new antibacterial concoctions.
They stepped out onto Freddie's fire escape, which seemed to have been made their special spot through some form of unspoken communication over the years.
The two were silent for a moment as Freddie stared down at the envelope in his hand.
"Do you know how to open it?" Sam finally spoke, hoping to ease the tension.
"Yeah," Freddie nodded. "Yeah, I-I'm just…"
He took a deep breath and carefully broke the seal of the envelope, pulling out a simply card.
"Well, it's open," Sam said softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Hard part's done."
Freddie gave her a small smile. "I guess it is."
Still, he didn't make any effort to open the card. He instead turned to Sam. "Your dad never sends you anything? Ever?"
Sam shook her head, looking down at her lap. "The last time I heard from my dad was when I was three and he told me he was going to the store to pick up dinner and, well, never came back."
She could feel the tears welling in her eyes that always surfaced when she spoke about her father; the exact reason she never did speak about him.
"He didn't even care enough to say goodbye," she said, her voice shaking. "He just left. And-And for weeks after I just kept figuring he'd-he'd come back. I remember I'd sit in front of the window sometimes watching for him to come up the driveway. But then…then my mom told me he wasn't going to, that he had left for good. He never even calls on my birthday or on holidays or anything. He doesn't check to see if I'm okay or even alive for that matter. He could care less. I-I barely even got to know him, I-I told you, I was three, but-but still…"
Freddie moved closer to her and put a comforting arm around her. "I'm really sorry," he said. "I-Here I am, complaining about my dad sending me stuff when-when yours…well, you-you have it worse than me, I guess."
Sam wiped her eyes. "No, I don't," she said. "You did get to know your dad before he-he left you. I don't really know what I've been missing, but-but you do. That's got to be even worse."
Freddie sighed. "It's not a contest," he said. "It's-It's sucky either way. Both of us…both of us have had to grow up without a dad, no matter what the reason or how long we knew him."
Sam nodded sadly. She glanced back down at Freddie's card in his hand. "So…are you going to read it?"
Freddie sat there for a minute silently before slowly opening the card and beginning to read aloud.
"Dear Freddie," he said. "I hope you're doing well. I know you must be in your last year of high school by now; I'm proud of you. I know you'll be off doing great things in the world soon. I would like it if we could get together soon. I mentioned in my last letter that I've moved to Georgia. One day maybe you can take a road trip down here to see me. Good luck with all going on in your life right now. Love, Dad." He looked up. "Well, that's it."
"You okay?" Sam asked.
Freddie smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Um, thanks for being here while I read it. It means a lot."
"No problem," Sam said. "Hey…have-have you ever told anyone about your dad?"
Freddie shook his head. "No."
"Not-Not even Carly?"
Freddie shook his head again. "Nope, nobody," he said. "Well, except for you now."
Sam felt a warm sense of pride glowing inside of her.
"Oh, look," Freddie said, reaching back inside of the envelope and pulling out two one-hundred dollar bills.
"Whoa!" Sam said. "He sent you two hundred bucks? What, is the guy loaded?"
"Who knows," Freddie said. "Hey, maybe I should open those other cards…I'm gonna need the extra money for college next year."
"Yeah, you probably have a couple thousand bucks laying around your room," Sam chuckled. "I guess that makes up for the dinky allowance your mom gives you."
Freddie laughed. "Alright," he said, getting to his feet. "Pick the most expensive food you can think of."
"Um…I dunno, lobster?" Sam said. "Why?"
"Because," Freddie said, holding up the bills. "Me and you are gonna go spend this cash on a fancy lobster feast. Let's go, Puckett."
Sam grinned, standing up as well. "You got it, Benson."
