Alright, I'm back! And I have catching up to do! But not today. Today, one update, as usual. Sorry, but that's the way it's going to be.
This oneshot is based off of one of an event in Sam's life...as loosely based a Hollywood's "based on a true story" movies. But, the basic point of this oneshot remains the same, and I dearly hope Sam doesn't find out about this...let it begin!
...sadly, my magicks were not strong enough to defeat the evil dragon, for his were more powerful than mine. And so, with the last of my strength, I...
Knock knock knock.
"Sammykins?" asked Sam's mother. "Could I come in?"
-Of course...- thought Sam shutting her book on her truly engaging story. -The one time mom decides to be more involved in my life is the one time I'm engrossed in a novel on a day school was canceled...-Out loud, Sam shouted through her closed door to her mom: "Mom? Can't you read the sign?"
"I know," said the elder Manson, "But this is important!"
-Sigh...- thought Sam, opening her door. "What?" she said.
Mrs. Manson took a deep breath, and then "Well...your father and I were talking and we were thinking of going to Hawaii this weekend...do you want to come?"
There was a short silence.
"This is important," conceded Sam, "But it's not important right now. It could've waited until I was done reading."
"Actually, no..." said Mrs. Manson, "it couldn't have, because we need to make reservations at the hotel, and we need to get our ensembles together, and, well, if you decide to go, we need to spend time picking out a cruise and hotel you would like, along with calling the school to tell them you wouldn't be there for a couple of days, so..."
-Darn! She's right! I can't be angry with her!- thought Sam. Then, something clicked. "Wait, you were going to take me to Hawaii and specifically choose a cruise to it and hotel I would've liked? And kept out of school to do it?"
"Your father and I were talking about more than cruises, sweetie..." said Mrs. Manson, with a hint of guilt in her voice. "We realize now that we aren't caring for you in the best way we could, and that we're trying to fit you into our wants and needs without thinking about how you feel...could I come in and talk, maybe?"
Sam warily let her mother inside, hiddenly turning on the ghost-detecting ring on her finger. -I swear, if this is Spectra trying to mess with my psyche...- she thought as she made a mental note of her mother not complaining about how she should replace her 'gaudy, absolutely horrifying' black-and-purple themed décor with 'lovely, bright pink, fluffy' whatever-could-possibly-blind-a-person-with-cuteness. In fact, not only did her mother not complain, she didn't react at all, even to the new poster Sam'd hung up, which made Sam feel sick to look at.
"Listen, dear..." said Sam's mother, sitting on the lavender bed. "I know we haven't been the best parents in the past...we realize that now...we realize that we shouldn't force you to change because of our social status or out of fear from reading some newspaper articles that never tell the whole story anyway..." and here she gave off a mirthless chuckle. "As if those were ever any more than excuses..."
Sam slowly walked over to her bed and sat down next to her mom. She stared at her mother, hard. Her mother didn't seem to notice, as both mother and daughter lost themselves to wondering and thinking, primarily the latter. Eventually, Sam made a decision that, Yes, her mother was truly sincere about this. She slowly opened and closed her mouth, not sure what to say. "Mom?" she asked, finally, "Are...are you okay?"
Mrs. Manson looked up. "You shouldn't be asking me that...you haven't done anything to me...despite what we've tried to convince ourselves of...I'm sorry to say that we placed much of the blame for our differences on you...when, really, we were to blame this whole time..."
Sam was silent, because she had no idea what to say.
"We hurt you, Sam. I know we have, I can tell. We have cut you deeply with the indifference we've shown, and the conditions we set, and the understanding we withheld...and the worst part is, I could see all along you were being hurt emotionally by something, but I never thought that it could possibly be us...until finally today it just...'clicked'." Mrs. Manson looked her daughter straight in the eye, and Sam felt like her mother was truly trying, for the first time, to see the girl behind the mask of a gothic persona.
"Sam," Mrs. Manson said, "I want you to know that no matter what, even when we refused to get involved with your social life...even when we withheld you from doing the things we enjoyed...even when we refused to believe that you were really just being you...even when we tried to get people whom you loved like family, and who loved you like that in return, to go away, because we refused to understand what you could possibly see in them...even though we have never been the best parents we could be...we always have, and always will love you."
The mother pulled the daughter into a hug, the first one in so many, many years. Sam fought a small inner struggle. -Goths aren't supposed to cry...we aren't supposed to cry...we aren't...oh, heck with it...- and she began to cry on her mother's shoulder as her mother cried on hers.
After a while they finally separated. Mrs. Manson smiled, and her daughter smiled back. "It's good to see you smile again..." murmured Mrs. Manson, wiping the tears from her eyes. She stood up. "Whenever you're ready to talk, your father and I will be waiting downstairs." She walked towards the door. "I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing before I came in." As she reached the door and Sam picked up the book, Mrs. Manson looked back. "I love you, Sammykins..."
Sam opened her mouth to shout out the usual "My name is Sam, mother!", but then thought better of it, closed her mouth, smiled, and said: "Love you, too, mom..." Mrs. Manson smiled, walking away. Sam picked up her book in order to read it again, but found that she couldn't get into it. She was thinking too hard.
-Despite what she says, it really wasn't all their fault...- thought Sam. -I didn't realize it before, but I really was doing something to them...I was rebelling. Sure, I'm goth, and I always will be goth, but some of the gothic things I did I only did to get a reaction from my parents...I was digging a metaphorical trench between us and all along wondering why they couldn't accept me...-
Sam put down her book and walked over to the still-open door. She looked at the sign she had placed upon it.
Do not Disturb.
And yet even though she had hung that sign up on her door and in her mind, she had been disturbed from her normal patterns of life, and been forced to look at things from another person's view, because someone had bothered to look from hers.
Sam sighed. -Great...- she thought. She bent backwards slightly, cracking her spine. -Well...I had probably better go talk to my parents...- And that is what she did.
Right after buying a lock.
I dunno, the whole thing felt kind of awkward to me, how about you? Um, review please!