xxxxx
chapter forty-five
xxxxx
your mother recognizes all your desperate displays
and she watches as her babies drift violently away
'til they see themselves in telescopes
well listen, do you see yourself in me?
-Counting Crows, "Recovering the Satellites"
xx
11:25 pm
Martin leaned forward over the sink in Sam's small bathroom and ran his hands under the tap to splash water on his face. He reached blindly to the left side until his hand hit against the cool metal of the towel rack, tugging on one of Sam's washcloths and bringing the soft terrycloth to dry his face. He blinked slowly and opened his eyes. He wiped at the remaining fog on the mirror, the entire room still steamed and muggy from their hot shower earlier, and bent over to pick his towel up off the floor and hang it over the towel rack to dry.
Goosebumps rose rapidly on the skin of his forearms as he stepped back out into the bedroom, reaching back to pull the door shut behind him. He could hear Sam puttering around in her closet, so he shuffled over to the bed, pulling back the duvet and climbing in between the cool sheets. He leaned over to the nightstand, picking up his copy of Truman. He turned over on his side and propped his weight on one elbow as he lay down to read while he waited for her to finish getting ready for bed.
He flipped one well-worn page over, eyes skimming the familiar lines as his mind wandered elsewhere. When Sam told him this afternoon that her mother was in town, he had absolutely no idea what to expect, and no past experience at meeting the parents from which to draw.
From everything that Sam told him previously, or rather, the sheer determination with which she avoided the subject of her family at all costs, he did not know whether to expect some senile old woman or a hardened criminal. However, upon actually meeting her, he found Sam's mother to be a wonderful woman, which left him all the more puzzled about the mysterious circumstances that led the Spade family to be so distant from each other. Because from what he had seen, he could not imagine Sam's mother as anything but a kind, generous, involved parent.
xx
Standing outside of Sam's apartment door, he fumbled through his keys as he tried to find the one she had given him upon their return from the Cape after Labor Day. He felt flustered and a little unsteady on his feet, his knees about to give way as his nerves got the better of him. He had been looking forward to spending some time alone with Sam, but now her mother - whom he knew virtually nothing about - came to town unannounced the night before and he had no idea what to expect.
Finally clasping the proper key in his fingers, he inserted the tiny key into the lock and rapped gently against the door with his fist before turning the doorknob, not wanting to appear completely unannounced. The doorknob wouldn't budge, however, and he suddenly realized that it must have already been unlocked. He quickly turned the key in the opposite direction and felt the knob give way, and he pushed the door open with ease.
Upon walking into the living room, however, he found the room completely empty. He dropped his overnight bag by her bedroom door and ambled in towards the noise he heard in the open area of the kitchen. "Sam?" he raised his voice, only to be surprised when the figure tucked behind the refrigerator turned out to be Sam's mother instead. "Oh, I, uh..." he stuttered clumsily, "Sorry."
Betsy shook her head with a soft smile and held out her hand. "Hi, Martin. I'm Betsy Spade; I'm Sam's mom."
He smiled and took the woman's soft hand in his, trying to be as subtle as possible as he studied her. She was a beautiful woman, and likely at least five years younger than his parents, if not more. He was struck by how young she must have been when Lindsey and Samantha were born. Betsy had short blonde hair that fell just above her shoulders, and bright green eyes that, though a different shade, sparkled in the same manner that Sam's did.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Spade," he said, giving her hand a firm shake before loosening his grip and dropping his hands aimlessly at his sides.
"Betsy, please," she insisted, giving him a warm smile that lit up her face. "Sam just ran down to the basement to move her laundry into the dryer. We got takeout from the Korean place a few blocks away, and there are plenty of leftovers in the fridge if you want anything." Betsy paused as a loud insistent beeping came from the microwave. She took the few small steps and opened the microwave door, taking out a steaming mug. "Sam put on a fresh pot of coffee, but I can't take that much caffeine this late at night," she explained over her shoulder as she reached into the drawer to pull out a tea bag.
He shuffled over to the refrigerator and opened the door, the cool air welcome against his face. He pulled out the Styrofoam containers that obviously held the leftovers, and then turned to the side door and asked, "Do you need the milk?"
"That would be great, thanks."
He grabbed the handle on the milk carton and swung himself around to give it to Betsy, who was currently dipping the tea bag in her hot water. She moved to the kitchen table while he reheated the leftovers in the microwave. The aroma of reheated Korean food began to fill the air, mixing with the lingering smell of the fresh-brewed coffee. He sat down at the table and began to eat as he felt Betsy's eyes on him over the rim of her mug.
"I can only imagine what Sam must have told you about me," she said apprehensively. "You know that we haven't been close for quite some time now."
He nodded and continued to chew silently, sensing that she needed to talk and he would get more out of it if he just listened.
"When their father left, I was only twenty-five years old. We had barely been able to make ends meet before, and I certainly wasn't bringing in much with only a high school diploma and a semester of nursing school. I had to work two jobs to put food on the table, and I could never really be there for either one of the girls..." Betsy paused, tears forming at the corners of her eyes and her voice shaky. "But they were always okay because they had each other. Things started to change when Lindsey went to high school, and by the time both girls were eighteen, they announced they were moving out and never coming back again." Betsy watched him with sad eyes, and he noticed how small she suddenly appeared. "I'm sure that there are a million things I could have done different to be there for my babies, but I just wanted you to know that, whatever you must think of me... I did the best that I could for my girls. I just wish it could have been enough."
"Betsy," he began with uncertainty, "I can't speak for Lindsey, but I can't imagine that Samantha would hold that against you."
"You're very sweet, dear," Betsy replied. "But they both have a right to, and if they don't, I will. As parents, you always want to give your children the best of everything, and it always killed me that I couldn't do that for my girls. Trust me," she paused to ensure that he was listening. "One day when you and Sam have children of your own, you will understand."
"Sam and I aren't... I mean, we've only..." he stuttered, taken completely by surprise at Betsy's words. He had always wanted a family one day and knew the more time he spent with Sam, the more that "one day" seemed not longer to be so far off in his future, but he found marriage and family a difficult issue to bring up around Sam in spite of her assurance that she imagined him in her future as well. He paused and took a deep breath to steady himself. "I know that I want a family eventually," he said finally. "But Sam and I are still adjusting to everything, and we aren't planning that far into our future yet."
"You mean, you don't think Sam is planning that far into her future yet. Don't you?" Betsy remarked knowingly. He gave a guilty nod of his head, and she continued, "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Martin. You seem like a good man, and I know my Sam cares about you a great deal. She's just afraid of hoping for too much because she's always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I think if you give her a little time and understanding, she will come around of her own volition."
Martin smiled back at her, trying to fully take in her advice as he stood up from the table to clear his plate. In the other room, he heard the apartment door open and shut as Sam called out to her mother.
"Sorry I took so long, Mom. I had to wait until a dryer opened up."
"I'm in here, honey," Betsy replied.
Martin finished running his plate under the tap water and wiped his hands dry on the dishtowel before quickly walking into the living room to meet her. He found her with her back to him, studying the shelves where she kept her DVDs. "Did you find the tea bags okay?" she asked, clearly sensing his presence at the edge of the room but mistaking him for her mother.
He walked up behind her and wrapped one arm around her as he said "I found them just fine," and kissed her gently on her temple.
"Martin!?" she said, startled, and she began to tense up in his arms.
"Shhh! Relax!" He said gently before she proceeded to get any more anxious than she already was. "It's alright." He turned her around so that she was facing him, and wrapped his arms lightly around her waist. "Your mom is fine; she's still in the kitchen."
"And you've already met her, I guess?" she whispered nervously.
"I told you: relax," he soothed softly. "We're old friends at this point."
She glared at him playfully, but laughed as he pulled her closer into his chest. And when she laughed against him, it reverberated throughout his entire being.
xx
He broke from his reverie as he felt the bed dip and rise as Sam crawled in next to him. She lay on her stomach on top of the duvet in her tank top and pajama pants, her upper body propped up on her elbows as she leaned into him.
"You are not seriously reading that again, are you?" she laughed and motioned to his book. "You must have read it a thousand times by now!"
"So what if I am?" he shrugged playfully, closing the book and placing it back on the nightstand with a thud.
"Shouldn't you be reading some ancient philosopher like Plato or Aristotle... or at least John Locke or something?" she teased. She shifted to lie on one side with her elbow beneath her, and he could see her chest rise and fall with each breath that she took.
"I've read them all once, and that's enough," he replied as he sat up against the headboard, bringing the pillow into his lap to ruffle it up. There was a lull in the moment as she seemed content to just lie there peacefully, and he casually remarked, "It's really too bad that your mom has to go back to Wisconsin tomorrow."
"Yeah, it is," she agreed pensively, and he could practically see the wheels in her head turning. "She really does seem happy with her job now, you know. I can't believe I never knew that she'd been in nursing school when she got pregnant with Lindsey."
"You know now, though," he answered, trying to cut into the guilt that he could sense radiating from her.
He leaned over to rub her back, and she remained silent for a few minutes, her eyes fixed on the ceiling in deep thought. "I always blamed her," Sam whispered, her voice breaking. He lay back down and pulled her close against him, sensing she needed reassurance as she spoke. "Lindsey moved in with her boyfriend the second she turned eighteen, and Mom was dead set against it. She wanted Linds to apply for scholarships and go to college. But Lindsey can be more stubborn than I am... and she was determined to move out. I'll never forget what Lindsey said to both of us when she was leaving, and I always blamed Mom for pushing her away."
Sam coughed against him, and he continued to run his hands along her back, trying to knead the taut muscles. "But all she really wanted was for us to have more options in life than she did."
He kissed the top of her head and said, "You have all of those options now, if you want them."
"I'm not even sure what those 'options' are," she said as she nestled her head into his chest, "But I'm thinking more and more that I might want to find out."
xxxxx