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chapter forty-three
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through the streets and down the hill
i stared out the window
underneath i started to feel
something had finally let go
-Ivy, "Blame It On Yourself"
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September 11, 2003
9:45 am
Sam inhaled deeply and shut her eyes. She massaged her temples, forcing herself to focus once again on the report in front of her. She had been desperately hoping for a case to come in so that she would have something to take her mind off of the previous evening, but to no avail. Instead she found herself stuck doing backed up peer review case files, her eyes wandering off as she silently struggled to pay attention to the reports in front of her.
Giving up as she felt a headache coming on, she leaned back and pushed her arms against the edge of her desk. She reached to the handle of her top drawer, pulling it open and feeling blindly until she felt the small bottle of ibuprofen in her hands. She slowly twisted the top off and shook two pills into her hand. Standing, her eyes scanned the bullpen as she strode purposefully towards the break room, anxious to have a few moments to herself.
The door shut behind her with a soft thud, and she made her way over to the refrigerator. She pulled out a water bottle and washed the ibuprofen down with one quick swig, relishing the feeling of the cool liquid as it coated her throat. She took a series of deep breaths and steadied herself as she leaned back against the counter.
She knew she looked the worse for wear that morning, but she could not help it. She had not slept well the night before, tossing and turning before finally succumbing to a fitful and restless slumber. Her mother's sudden visit had taken her by surprise, dredging up more painful memories than Sam cared to remember. She habitually ignored those memories, finding it much easier to pretend that her family was never close than to remember how rapidly things fell apart.
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"What happened to you?"
Samantha's long ponytail fell over her face as she lifted her head to see where Lindsey's originated from. Lindsey stood by the stove in the kitchenette, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Lindsey was dressed in a miniskirt and had stolen jewelry from their mother's bedroom. She was a freshman in high school and had started spending more and more nights out with her friends, anything to get out of the trailer park. Sam did not blame her, but at the same time, found herself missing her older sister more and more. With their mother still holding down two jobs to make ends meet, Sam knew it would be yet another long night home along, which is why she had been out playing softball with some of the other kids from her class in middle school that evening.
"I slid into home and Tommy fell on me when he was trying to tag me out." Sam mumbled, still feeling a little groggy from the pain medicine she had been given. "His mom took me to the ER. I broke my wrist." She waved the temporary splint the ER doctor had put on in the air without thinking, and she winced when she felt the pain shoot from her forearm all the way up into her shoulder.
"Oh. Sorry." Lindsey spun around and scurried back out of eyesight, but Sam could hear her in the bathroom rifling through their mother's makeup.
An indeterminate amount of time had passed as Sam lay essentially motionless on the small sofa, still worn out from her evening visit to the emergency room and the pain medicine. Lindsey had long since departed for her party when the trailer door opened once again and Betsy Spade shuffled in slowly, shoulder slumped in exhaustion.
"Oh, Sam, honey. Hi."
"Hi, mom." Sam mumbled into the sofa cushion. She waited a few minutes propped up on her good arm but settled back down as Betsy busied herself in the kitchenette, making a racquet as she rifled through drawers and cabinets. The noise irritated Sam, and she slowly rose and began to shuffle to the bedroom she shared with Lindsey. Her mother called her name and she spun her head around quickly. "Yes?"
"What happened to you?" Betsy gestured towards the splint on Sam's left arm.
"I broke my arm." She replied matter-of-factly, holding her good arm on her hip. "The doctor said that I need to see a specialist next week to have a real cast put on after the swelling goes down. And Mrs. McQuiddy tried to call you, but you were at work. She said you could give her a call anytime if you want to talk about it."
"Oh, uh. Okay. Thanks, Sam." Betsy glanced around the kitchen distractedly before slumping onto a chair at the table and peeling the top off of her yogurt. She rubbed at her chin. "I'll call her later. I'm tired tonight."
"Sure. Fine." Sam leaned against the doorframe and watched as her mother absent-mindedly ate her dinner. After it became clear that Betsy was not up for any further conversation, Sam slammed the door behind her. She threw herself on her bed and whispered under her breath. "Whatever."
Her tears fell freely as they moistened her pillow, and she succumbed to a restless slumber feeling hollow and empty and very much alone.
xx
"Be careful, Sam. Don't break anything in that pretty little head of yours." Sam whipped her neck around to see Danny staring at her intently, a smirk on his lips. She shrugged her shoulders, and he stepped up beside her and gestured with his hands as he said, "You were thinking pretty hard about something there. Are you alright?"
Sam sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I guess so."
"What's up?"
Sam lifted the bottle to her lips and took another long drink of water. She crossed her arms and replied, "My mom decided to stop in for a visit last night."
Danny frowned and tilted his neck to the side. "All the way from Wisconsin?"
"Yeah," Sam sighed. "She saw the article in People and wanted to ask me about it in person."
"It makes sense," Danny commented off-handedly and went to take a seat at the round table in the middle of the room. He turned his upper body to one side so that he could look at her and said, "But there's more to it, isn't there?"
"How could you tell?" She exhaled and rolled her eyes before shuffling forward to take the seat beside him. She leaned back against the chair and massaged her temple.
Danny laughed quietly. "Like it or not, I think I know you pretty well by now." He patted her forearm and said, "So come on. Tell me what's wrong."
"Thanks Dr. Phil," she cocked her eyebrows and smiled sarcastically, eliciting another laugh out of him. She wiped aimlessly at a scratch in the tabletop and lowered her eyes as she breathed, "She seemed so ... hurt that I hadn't told her myself."
"Can you blame her?" Danny began to ask. He stopped sheepishly when she shot a stern look in his direction that warned him not to venture any further with that line of questioning, and instead said, "I would have been hurt too, if I had found out in a magazine. I mean, you're dating Daddy Dearest's only son, who just so happens to also be a United States Senator."
"You know, I actually think you would like him if you gave him a chance." Sam shifted her weight and leaned forward defensively in her seat.
"If you like him that much, I'm sure that I would." Danny placed one hand on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "But I would have liked the opportunity to decide for myself." Danny leaned forward and reached for the empty coffee cup left at the table when its owner vacated the room. He spun the empty mug around slowly and tapped his fingers against the side. His nails made a clinking noise as they hit against the ceramic cup. "I understand why you didn't want to say anything, but it's me, Sam."
"Things were complicated enough as it was." She shrugged and cast her eyes around the room. "As much as I try, dysfunction seems to follow me around."
Danny released an ironic chuckle and drew his arms in close to his sides. "That makes two of us."
"Naomi?" Danny lowered his eyes, and although she knew he did not want to talk about it, she decided to press the issue. "Have you even talked to her about it? I mean really talked to her about it?"
"She's made it very clear where she stands," Danny replied with a false-casual wave of his hand. "And we're not talking about me, we're talking about you."
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling her headache coming back in full force in spite of the ibuprofen she took not long before. Naomi had told her that she did not know what to make of the overtures Danny made towards her, and coupling her own uncertainties with Danny's mixed signals, Naomi felt increasingly confused and conflicted by the second. Unsure of how to convey this to Danny without betraying Naomi's confidence, she shivered and rubbed her hands back and forth along her arms. "You should talk to her; you might be surprised at what she has to say."
"And what about you?"
"What about me?" She shrugged, sighing as she ignored the pointed look she knew Danny must be giving her. She reached for the handle of the empty mug and tilted it forward to study the coffee stain that remained on the bottom. "My mom started asking me all of these questions about him and us and where we're going."
"It was too much pressure?" He asked knowingly, a reassuring smile curling at his lips.
"You could say that." Her breath caught at the base of her throat and goose bumps rose along the skin on her forearms.
"I think you're reading too much into this," he answered, shifting in his chair and waiting until she looked back to indicate she was listening. "No one is intentionally trying to put pressure on you. They're just happy for you and naturally curious; the rest of it is in your head."
She released a long sigh and lowered her eyes, running one hand along the base of her shoulder to work out the knot that had settled there. "I feel like everyone has these impossible expectations of me now that I'll never be able to meet."
"Sam," He touched her forearm lightly, and she slowly brought her head up to meet his eyes. "The only expectations that matter are the ones that the two of you set together. The rest of it will all dissipate in time."
Sam smiled weakly and said, "Thanks for the advice, Rico Suave."
"I do what I can." He laughed. "I'll give you a break this time, but next time it'll cost you." He winked cheekily as he rose from the table and walked towards the door. He stopped and leaned back against the doorjamb as he said, "And don't worry about your mother so much. Your family is your family and, like it or not, there's nothing that we can do to change that. We just keep on in spite of them."
She called out his name as he turned to leave, and he spun back around and focused his gaze intently upon her as she said, "We both know that it's never that simple. Martin and I are so different sometimes that it's like night and day." She frowned and cleared her throat. "What if we can't get past that?"
"If you can't compromise, then it is probably for the best." Danny shrugged but smiled knowingly as he put his hands in his pockets. "But I think you'll find a way to make it work. You just have to ask him what he wants and then go from there."
"I don't have to ask him what he wants," She cocked her eyebrows and tilted her head, "I already know." Sam released a short laugh for lack of knowing how else to react. She never held any doubt that Martin wanted a wife, kids, and the white picket fence, and not just for show purposes either. He had even made indications that eventually he saw her in that future with him, but while she knew that she wanted him in her future as well, she worried that the only future she felt she could offer would not be enough. She inhaled deeply and said, "I just don't know how to explain to him that I've never seen that life for myself. It's a nice fantasy, but we both know that reality isn't like that."
"Maybe we do," Danny replied, "But I've always wanted a family anyway." He shrugged and cocked his head to one side. "The worse it got at home, the more I swore that one day I would show them that I could do it right." He shifted his weight forward and said, "Look, the only thing I can tell you is talk to him. You're going to have to resolve this at one point or another, and you won't be able to do it if you hide from the root of the issue."
She nodded as he left her alone with her thoughts. She considered his words carefully, wondering how they had taken two similarly broken childhoods and come up with such perpendicular reasoning. She wished she could borrow some of Danny's optimism that allowed him to believe after all the horrible things he'd seen that a life and a family and a future were all still possibilities.
Regardless of that, she knew that Danny had managed to hit at the heart of the insecurities that seeing her mother so suddenly had already heightened. Her real concern did not lie in how she would hold up to everyone else's expectations, but instead in how she would hold up to Martin's.
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