I'm sorry, you guys – I wasn't very clear with Kurt telling Mercy what was happening in Ohio while she was gone… Quinn had actually been out drinking with her friends after the festival.. She was not drinking as a result of Puck's episode, and did not drink after the situation with Beth. After having more than one person comment about it, I decided to try to clear that up. Sam and Mercy took roughly five hours to get to Kentucky, which means that by the time they get there, it's around 2 am and Puck's episode would've been found out sometime after Quinn has already been out drinking with the group.
On another note: I am all about trying to make people think about things from different perspectives, to see things through the eyes or the minds of others and to determine if any of us can ever truly judge anyone for anything? I have had virtually every possible opinion and viewpoint of the situations sent my way and I am so appreciative of that. It makes me feel that my work is making people think not only about the story, not only about the characters that I've written, but about real life people and real life situations, and how they would respond to the extremities of life, if ever faced with them. Things like all of these stories happen to real people, so I wanted to include them.
Thank you all for continuing to read!
The Relatives
When they were inside, Mary had Mercedes to sit at the kitchen table and asked Sam to join her in the living room. Mercedes smiled, in general and Stacie stared at her. "So… you can't see?" Stacie asked, curiously. She had never seen a real blind person before, if she could remember, and wondered why Sammy hadn't mentioned it.
"Nope," she answered with a shy laugh. "Not, like you do. I have ideas of what things are, but no way of truly matching a real image to what it is in front of me. Like, if I feel your face – I'll be able to describe your bone structure to you, the shape of your mouth, the formation of your brow and chin… but I wouldn't be able to tell you what eye color you have, and even if you told me, I wouldn't have anything to catalog it to."
"Is that good or bad, for you?" Stacie asked.
"Both. It's good, because I get to appreciate some things that other people don't…"
"Like Sammy," Stacie said.
Mercedes just smiled and continued saying, "It's bad because when you can't see – things like your dogs… they could have been there, but to me, they came out of nowhere, because I couldn't see them coming and they were barking by the time they were close. Without eyesight, there sometimes is no warning of trouble and sometimes, people take advantage of you, because they know that you can't see." She said with a frown, thinking about Anthony and Matt.
"But, people also help you, though, right?" She asked, with hope in her voice. Mercedes immediately thought about her friends and nodded her head, gently. "Cool," Stacie said.
Stevie had followed his mother and Sam into the living room. Mary said, "Sam, you didn't tell me that she couldn't see."
"I didn't think you would have a problem with her not being able to see. I told you she was black, because I figured that's where the trouble, if any would be present."
"You didn't tell me she was black," Stevie said. "Do you have any idea how hard it has been for us, since you left? We keep moving around, then that Rutherford boy finds out where we are and tells the neighborhood and people start to judge us. Black people treat us like terrorists and I'm just terrified that somebody's gonna try to hurt Stacie one of these days!"
"I'm sorry, Stevie. I truly am. That is on me, because if I hadn't did what I did, you guys wouldn't be a target, but I don't like how you sound like Mercy is part of the problem."
"She's one of them, Sammy. Believe it or not, you can't just undo what you started just because you had a change of heart. If you back down now, we'll all end up casualties."
Mary waved a hand at him and said, "Shush, Stevie! Sammy – I'm surprised that you didn't tell me that she was blind, because that puts a new spin on your relationship with her. I mean… does she even know the difference between white and black. Does she realize the extent of the hate that these people have for you and how that will make them think of her? Won't people look at the two of you, think you're exploiting her handicap and come after you even more vigorously?"
"They surely will. You did your time, and they still want you to pay!" Stevie practically yelled.
"Stevie, I did a small fraction of time for a group of people who will never be able to have a reunion like the one that we're having today. Don't downgrade it. What I did was a terrible thing and I deserved a greater punishment. I've also done other terrible things in the past that I should've paid for. Man didn't catch me, but karma is keeping up with my ass. Guys, Mercedes is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Not just because she took me in and she cares about me, despite everything, but because she's just a wonderful person with a huge heart, even when you don't deserve her love. Mom – I'm willing to deal with whatever happens because of being with her. Stevie – don't be rude and just give her a chance. You'll love her, if you'll look past the obvious."
They reentered the kitchen to find Mercedes touching Stacie's face and describing her. Stacie was smiling brightly and told them, "She can see things with her eyes. I just had her trace the designs on some of Mom's kitchen knickknacks and she could tell me what everything was – the squirrel, the daschund…"
Mercedes lowered her hands as Sam flipped his chair around and sat next to her. "She was able to trace the tattoo on my neck the first day I met her." Stacie's eyes dropped sadly, but Sam quickly said, "Why didn't you guys start breakfast? I want some chicken!" He got up and said, "I'll fix you a plate, Mercy."
"Thank you," she said and after a moment, "Are you staring at me?" She turned towards Stevie and Stacie laughed and clapped her hands. "Sighted people have that power, too. You all just assume that because you can catch people in the act it's limited to you. So, Stevie… what are you thinking? I'm pretty big on honesty and openness."
"I think…" Stevie started, but Mary cut it.
"I think that we should say grace before breakfast! Sammy, you wanna do the honors? We haven't been able to hear you pray in a while," she said. Sam placed a plate in front of his lady and sat down next to her with his own, to oblige his mother. "Amen," she said at the end. "Well, Mercedes… I hope that you enjoy breakfast. Sammy didn't tell us that you're blind…Uh… I don't know… does that enhance your sense of taste, too?"
Mercedes laughed lightly and said, "My other senses are not enhanced by my lack of sight. It's actually a myth. What is true, though is usually, we utilize our other senses more and we use them deeper than you typically do. I've read studies about the power of sight to influence the mind, so many times – you can see something and because you saw it, your mind can tap into all of the other senses. You can see something advertised on a billboard and remember the way it tastes and smells and everything, from one look. Or, you can imagine those things. I have to actually be in the presence of something to smell it. Or, I have to hear it. You say rose, and I can think of the feel of the petals on my fingers and that rose scent. I pass by roses and I can smell them, but that's because my mind only knows them through smell and touch. Since we need to depend so much on the other senses to epitomize things inside of our minds, we have to use them to a greater degree… but they aren't actually more advanced, just used to better results."
Stacie smiled with a twinkle in her eye, "She is amazing! I love her, Sammy." She said.
Mercedes smiled and asked, "Can you show me where I can wash my hands before I eat?" Everyone at the table was already going in on their food, having started while she was talking and Sam completely forgot about washing his own hands. Mercedes would probably tell him something later about having touched a dog, then touched her plate, but at least he could honestly say that he didn't use his hands to touch her food. She washed her hands at the sink and said, "Mmm, lavender and chamomile soap. I love it!" Sam stared curiously at her.
When her phone buzzed, she picked it up and heard the text that he had just sent her, in the computerized voice, "Just be yourself, Mercy. You don't have to try to impress them with your capability. Message from Sam." She hung up and put her phone away before trying the food.
"Oh, wow. This chicken is really great, Mrs. Evans," she announced. "Thank you for having me over. I know that it can't be easy to have to face the woman that your son's been living with since being freed, instead of you. I just want you to know that I've helped him as much as humanly possible."
"Oh, we realize that," Mary said, politely. "In some ways, it's been good that he hasn't been around, but we miss him."
"It's been good?" She repeated, confused.
"People are less likely to throw bricks at our house if they really believe that he isn't inside and hasn't been," Stevie said.
"People can be really cruel," she said, once again thinking of the flier. She wondered what Anthony would have to say about that bit of trouble. She didn't know Matt from a hole in the ground, but she had known Anthony for some time, and recently, when he began to speak to her again and come around, she now wondered if he did so just to try to see what was up with her and Sam… to use against him in an attempt to break his spirit and his heart.
"And they can also punish people who didn't do them anything because of something else," he commented.
Sam quickly interjected, "Yeah, I used to be that kind of person. Taking out my rage and hate on somebody else who didn't deserve it. I'm sorry that I brought you all into that cycle of hate, but it's gonna get better. Once I'm out long enough for people to see how much I've changed and the fact that those things are behind me; after a while, they'll forget that I was ever even involved."
"Maybe if you were here with us. I have to be honest with you, Sam. When you first got out and stayed in Lima, I assumed that you were going back to Schuester," Mary said. She waved a hand and said, "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the fact that he paid for your legal representation and helped us get out of Ohio, but he's very much to blame for that horrific transformation you made in junior high."
"Who is Schuester?" Mercedes asked.
Mary stared at Sam, blankly. He said, "We don't discuss much of that kind of stuff, Mom. That's stuff that I save for counseling and my journaling."
"Schuester was the mentor of this guy that Sammy was friends with in high school – kid named Jesse, real douchebag extraordinaire. Schuester had some big time job at one of the arts schools, but his family was from money and Sammy used to do work for him," Stevie said. "That family that Sammy was arrested for killing – the dad was one of Schuester's worse critics. He had done investigative work and was some kind of surveillance specialist and trying to expose the guy for something he called propitiating institutional racism and some other stuff that might have harmed Schue's image and affected his political career, as I think that he's now running for some type of office."
Mercedes said, "Will Schuester? He's a Nazi? That's impossible. He's an old friend of Emma's and they still get together and have lunch sometimes and stuff."
"Are you serious?" Sam asked, suddenly feeling very weary of Emma Pillsbury.
"Well, yeah. I sang at his wife's ball to support the troops. Emma's the one who referred me to them," she said. "Every time that I've ever talked to him, he was unbelievably nice and very warm."
"They need people like that, set up in high places, just as much as they need people like Sam to be the uneducated, lower class pawns for infantry," Mary said, sadly. "He's been an educator and I believe that he's a lawyer, too. He has charisma and class and he uses that to take in young white children with chips on their shoulders for different reasons and primp them to be used fir his agenda."
Sam sighed and said, "I don't really want to spend breakfast talking about that stuff, Mom."
But, he was thinking about Emma. He'd told her that she reminded him of Jesse St. James… she hadn't mentioned that she knew his mentor. But, then again… the discussion wasn't about her, it was about him, and she was trying to take the focus off of herself to put back on him. If she had no idea that the man was involved in funding white supremacy groups as well as actually forming networks designed to oppress and subjugate minorities, it would not have mattered to her to mention him. But, then again, maybe it would have. He was so confused about her, right now. Then, he remembered that text about staying with her to keep Mercedes out of the line of fire… and now, his brain was in a mess.
Sam glanced around to see his family staring at him. Had someone asked him a question that he missed, thinking about Emma and her possible Nazi ties? "What did I miss?"
Mercedes said softly, "Your mom was just wondering how you took the news of Jesse St. James' murder?" She took a sip of orange juice.
Sam blinked for a moment and shook his head, "That was quite an event. I was questioned about it. There was a huge parade and stuff, downtown to commemorate his life. His wife was a mess, when I saw her, on television. His family was coming down on her, thinking she had something to do with it, but I know that she didn't. She was crazy about him. She pointed the authorities in my direction, thinking, I guess that would take some of the heat off of her. Alas, I had an alibi and they had no proof, so that failed. I think she still thinks ill of me, though."
"I saw his wife," Stevie said. "I distinctly remember seeing her, because I was shocked that she looked like that. I guess that's some part of the plan, to hook up with some socially acceptable black girl to mask the true nature of your beliefs?"
"Stevie, I am warning to shut up," Sam said.
Mercedes asked, "Am I really socially acceptable? I'm blind and wider than the normal parameters of typical beauty. Plus, I'm dark skinned… which I'm told is not really socially acceptable in these instances of what is and isn't socially acceptable. It's a lot of information to try to keep up with, without any real understanding of the characteristics."
Ignoring her, Stevie explained to Sam, "I just remember being that eight year old kid whose dad was too busy working too hard to get little to nothing for it and looking up to my older brother because he was the closest thing to a man that I could spend time with. I remember you telling me how important these things were and to remember them, and now… you're making me feel extremely confused and conflicted, because now you expect me to unlearn things that YOU taught me!" Stevie snapped.
Mary defended, "Sammy was under Schuester's influence at that time. He didn't even know what he believed in. Now, he does. He had to spend what could have been the best years of his life being retaught, in the hardest of ways!"
"Can we stop pretending that you had nothing to do with Sam's poor choices?" Stevie asked his mother. "Did you or did you not have an affair with a black man and cry rape, only for it to be found out later that you had an affair? Did you get around to mentioning that to Sammy? When the two of you were exchanging secrets?"
Sam took a deep breath and he stared at his mother, while saying, "Stevie – you are completely out of line, right now. That's no way to talk to Mom." As Sam stared at Mary, he knew that Stevie was telling the truth. Sam blinked and looked at Mercedes. Her eyes were shut and she was eating, quietly. He wondered what song she was playing in her head to try to drown out this madness that he had invited her into. "Mercy, I'm sorry that things are like this."
"Sam, you've met my family. This is barely a bump in the road, for me," she said and offered him a smile and a hand squeeze. "Don't cry, Stacie. Families argue," Mercedes said. Now, Sam, Stevie and Mary looked at the girl, having not even noticed that she had began crying until it was mentioned. "Know what my family argues about? Whose words prompted me to try to kill myself or whether or not one of us should be left alone. We argue about not needing to be on medication, or about if what we're doing or acting out that day is just because of hormones or an actual mental condition." She laughed and told the girl, "My older sister, Quinn once gave me a description and placed two examples in front of me. She said, 'Most people have family portraits – they are shiny and bright. They capture only the happiness and joy of having a family to love and spend time with. We have a family collage. There are bits and pieces of what was once other families, cut out and removed from those family portraits and glued to try to fit onto this new space. It isn't smooth, and it isn't flawless – but it's obvious that we've worked on it and it is just as beautiful.' She let me feel and portrait and a collage.
You all are so blessed to still have your actual family, to not have to try to take bits and pieces and place them together to try to make your family portrait. I hope that everyone can appreciate that. I know that Sam loves all of you and that there is nothing more important to him than making right everything that he has in his past. That's what family should be about – forgiving each other when we aren't so perfect, because we know that we want to be forgiven of our imperfections…" Mercedes took a sip of her juice as the rest of the room remained silent.
After a moment, she felt Sam's lips gently press against her temple and the scraping of forks against plates. She heard soft chewing and Stacie's sobs die down (though she couldn't see Mary's hand rubbing her daughter's back, affectionately. Eventually, she heard the start of a new conversation, one that wasn't centered around herself or Sam's mistakes or the problems that they had, but just a general conversation about how life in Kentucky was treating them. She heard her phone buzz again and listened to the text, "See what happens when you can just be yourself?"
After breakfast, Sam and Mercedes were given the tour, "Are you two going to be staying here?" Mary asked. "We have a guest room. It's small, though. Really meant for one person, but – I thought that maybe Sammy, you're probably tired of small enclosed spaces…"
"We have a motel room. It's a pretty nice one, too. Not like the one that we lived in when Dad lost his job…" Sam said and drifted off to another place. "So, don't worry about putting us up. Besides, with Kissy and Cluster, there's no way that we'd all be able to fit in this room."
"Speaking of my babies, they'll have to be walked," Mercedes commented.
"Right," Sam said. "I'll have to get Stevie, to make sure his monsters don't attack us while we're doing that." Stevie was in his room, reading, when Sam knocked. The boy looked up at him and sighed. "Stevie, we need to walk the dogs… I was hoping you'd come along and keep yours away from us?" Sam offered one of his crooked little smiles.
Stevie sat up and placed his book aside, "If you go alone, they shouldn't bother you… but I don't know… I guess you don't want to leave her here without you?"
Sam nodded and said, "I kinda figured they were trained that way. Tell you what, why don't we go and leave the ladies here to have girl talk, or whatnot? I haven't had the chance to spend any quality time with my little bro, yet." Stevie sighed again and got up. "Stevie – I know that you think that I let you down by changing, but I promise, it's for the best."
"It's not that you changing let me down, Sammy. It's the fact that you went so far and so deep, to just throw everything away."
"It was the going far and going deep that did throw everything away. We'll talk more. Let's just walk," he said and wrapped an arm around Stevie's shoulders as they left the house.
Mercedes answered her phone and heard Quinn's voice, "Just put it in the stockroom and tag it with my name. Beth, don't climb up there, you could hurt yourself… hellooo?"
"Hey, Quinn! How is everything?" Mercedes asked.
"Business as usual, Girl. I was just calling to see how everything is going there. I figured that you had a nice long ride and some hours to think and settle your heart and mind from all the drama that was last night/this morning… Are you alright?" Quinn asked.
"I'm fine, and I'm not alone. Sam and his brother went to walk the dogs, but I am here with his mom and sister and they are excellent hostesses," Mercedes said. Quinn wondered how many Confederate flags and white hoods were around the house that Mercy just couldn't see, and tried to push the image of her friend surrounded by the likes of the KKK and such out of her mind. "How are you and Beth?"
"Beth is fine. She didn't even really understand what she was seeing. It was late, she's young and she was half asleep. I was highly confused, because I know that Puck doesn't keep any alcohol in his apartment, but Artie had accidentally left it behind a while back and forgot to ever get it. So, the one shred of good about the situation was that Puck didn't actively seek out liquor, but… that is the one thing and it is a shred." Quinn's voice was shaking, but she took a deep breath and said, "I want your advice on something."
"Anything, Quinn."
"I think that Noah should go to rehab. I know that it's only one drink, but let's face it – with you and Sam becoming official now, Emma just isn't cut out for giving him the kind of help that he really needs and would have had years ago if it weren't for his strong belief that he was okay, just because he hadn't been drinking." On the other side of the receiver, Quinn bit her lip in awaiting for the advice.
She heard Mercedes softly tell someone, "I'm sorry, this will be a little longer than I expected. I'm going to step out of the room." Mary helped Mercedes out of the unfamiliar room to some privacy, then Mercedes answered Quinn, "Is he willing to do it? Because, you know that if he isn't, he won't."
"Right now, he's willing to do whatever it takes to not lose Beth, because I have to be honest with you, Cedes. If it hadn't been for your love for Puck, I would not have wanted him anywhere near our daughter. Up until this point, he's been a great father, but I already know how he looks when he falls off. I know how he looks when someone else comes into the picture of your life, and this time around, it has been as bad as when he used to drink. The Noah Puckerman that we've been seeing since he realized that you were going to make Sam a part of your life is the damaged teenage boy that was in and out of the home to try to be near you, instead of trying to get better… He was so unreasonable when we found him. Beth was alarmed, confused and mildly entertained, but I wasn't. I was just angry and afraid and I don't want to feel like that when I go to pick my daughter up from the man who pledged to help me make sure that her life turns out to be nothing like either of ours."
"If Puck wants that kind of help, I think that he should get it." Mercedes said. "Beth deserves a good father who can keep his lid on and you deserve a partner in raising her who lives up to the vows that he has made."
"I was worried about hurting Emma's feelings," Quinn said.
"I'm sure that she'll understand that Puck's situation is outside of her scope of support. If she doesn't Beiste will help her. Puck is like Beiste's boy. She'll definitely want him to have the best help that he can get. If you need to, go into the emergency charity fund, okay?" Mercedes said.
Quinn took a deep breath and said, "I miss you already, Mercy. But, I know that you needed some time away and I hope that you enjoy it. How are you liking the in-laws?" She joked. Mercedes just chuckled uncomfortably. "If you need us for any purpose, you know how to contact us and if you have to make a run for it and hide out, call me. Make sure that you eat and take your medicine and get Sam to update me, regularly," Quinn said.
"Yes, Mother!" Mercedes told her with a small laugh, before hanging up the phone.
Mary was unsure of exactly how to handle sizing up a blind woman for her son… I mean, aside from the blind thing, she's just like any other woman, but the blind thing is distracting, because I feel bad for her. She can't see… Stacie was having no problem, at all, "So, how did you and my brother end up even liking each other?" She asked. It was simply fascinating to her that this was a woman that her shallow older brother would bring home. For one thing, she didn't look like Stacie would have expected. For another, the fact that she had a defect, uncontrollable or not, might have turned off a lot of other people, and Sam's history proved he was not very open… but he did say that he changed, thank GOD! Stacie hated all of the negativity about the issue, over the years.
Their family was what she called "happily hypocritical." Of course they didn't support rounding up people and placing them in concentration camps, ethnic cleansing, lynchings, cross burnings, etc… but why do they have to go to the same places as us, have the same jobs, send their children to school with ours? They never actually stated it that way… but she picked up on it. Hell, she was a sixteen year old with a brother whose reputation had lost her many friends and made her have to change schools several times. She should at least pay attention to these aspects of life…
"Uhh, I don't really know what to say about that. Sam and I met, we became friends while I was trying to help him out. I think that a lot of his emotion stems from that. My emotions stem from the fact that he doesn't treat me like a blind woman, but simply like a woman… something that even my closest of friends struggle with, so I think that it's a situation where both of us are refreshing to the other. We help each other to know that there are people in this world who don't just see you for whatever it is that you look like."
Stacie clasped her hands together and said, "Perfect answer. I enjoy love stories. What kind of stuff do you like to read?" Mary threw her a look and was about to condemn her for asking such a question, but was shocked into silence with Mercedes' answer.
"I love reading fantasy, sci-fi and spiritual books. I've read the Chronicles of Narnia series like six times. And don't even get me started on Dune! I read the Bible, a lot. I keep the copy that my mom gave me when I was younger with me, at all times. I do a lot of audio books, like if I'm having lunch or jogging alone… but for the most part, I love that connection with the book. That I have to open it, to touch it's pages to become a part of the story, to literally feel what is going on inside of it…" She laughed and said, "I know that probably sounds silly."
"No, no. I cherish books. Like, seriously. I love reading, like I said – love stories, but also, I like mysteries and crime dramas."
"Praise! I used to listen to every documentary and report that there was on Court TV about forensics and trials…"
"Oh my God, I love you so much!" Stacie gushed and clapped her hands. "Mom, I think I'm officially a lesbian that is gonna steal Sam's lady!" She laughed and rushed to sit next to Mercedes, instead of on the chair across the way. Mary simply watched the two of them. While she couldn't see herself getting that attached to the woman, and especially not so quickly, she did like the fact that she seemed to be a good person and Sam's emotions for her were obvious all morning long. She had never seen her son look at a woman like that before, and she appreciated that Stacie was a good representative for the family, since she clearly did not know where to eve begin…
Stevie asked, "Do you still have your tattoos?"
Sam frowned and nodded, "Yep. They probably aren't going anywhere. I may be able to eventually afford to remove some of them – the more offensive ones, but they're so extravagant and especially the cross on my back is so huge that it'll take more than I can dish out to get rid of. You don't have any, do you?"
"Are you kidding me? After how they tried to use yours against you in your trial? No. I wouldn't mark myself like that. The truest of tattoos are etched on the heart," Stevie said.
"So are the truest of scars," Sam replied.
"What happened to you inside, Sam? What made you change? I mean – I never want you to be sent away again, but you were so confident and bold. I remember how you weren't afraid of anything. You were going to find the guy that hurt mom and kill him. You helped dad get a good job with Mr. Schue. You were invincible."
"I wasn't. I just thought that I was and prison showed me, very quickly that I had bought a lie." Stevie sighed at his brother's discouraging words. "Stevie, I'm not telling you that it'll be easy to change your entire philosophy, especially if you've been honing it all this time, since you were eight – and I know how difficult it was for me to get rid of stuff that I didn't begin honing until I was a teenager. I'm just telling you that I've been there and it doesn't benefit anyone, ever, to live life based upon hate."
"So, this new life has been good to you?" He asked.
"It could have been. My past has made it hard for people to trust me and I sometimes do things that I picked up when I was not a better person. That's not to say that I think that I'm a good person… because I honestly don't. But, I want to be able to help other people to be good people, by showing them and telling them about what happens to your life when you're like me." Sam stopped walking and placed his hands on Stevie's shoulders, "You are one of the most important people in my life. If there is anyone that I don't want to see follow in my footsteps, it's you and Stacie."
Stevie fought off tears that threatened his eyes. "Oh, Stace is following in your footsteps alright."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked.
"She likes black boys. I think she always has. Remember that time you caught her talking to one, when we were little, and you ran him off? She still does that. I've run off some of them, but she's gotten sneaky about it. She claims that the black people that we meet have more in common with us than the white people that we try to surround ourselves with. 'Ghetto and country are cousins.' Can you believe that she said that? Then I was like – 'Why would you wanna date your cousin?' and she just rolled her eyes and denied that she liked boys, claimed that she just has a lot of black friends because they can relate to her better, because of our money situations." Sam shrugged and continued walking. "What do you see in her? In Mercedes?"
"Mercedes is just about everything that anyone with a good brain would want in a woman. It wasn't at first sight, and it wasn't even the moment that I looked twice… but after watching her for a while, I started to notice that although she had every reason to trust and believe that no one would notice her for being a woman, she still was the most womanly woman that I've ever met. She takes people in when they need help. I'm not the first. She's take in several people – let them live in her shop, or put them up in a bed and breakfast, on her dime. She donates, faithfully, almost obsessively to different charity organizations, volunteers to help underprivileged and handicapped kids, organizes events and supports advancements in mental health studies and research."
Sam picked up a few rocks and began to skip them down the road, continuing on, "She has this boundless love inside of her that you want for when you get married – to know that no matter what you've done or what you'll do, she'll love you and you just want to live up to being the guy that's earned that and wasn't just given it because she gives love so freely. She has this nurturing spirit that you want and need for when you get ready to have kids. But, even though she's loving, nurturing, independent and strong, she's also very feminine. Like – she doesn't need you to take care of her, but if you want to, she'll let you, so long as you don't forget that she doesn't need you to." Sam chucked as he threw the last of his rocks and dusted his hand off on his jeans, "This is the most open that I've been about my feelings for her… even when talking to her."
Stevie nodded and said, "I appreciate being the person you came out to, and I believe you. I'm sure that she's everything that you said. I just think that you could find a white woman who is easily all of those things, as well."
"I probably could, Stevie. But I didn't. I mean, I don't know if I think that there is anything up to chance. I believe that everything happens for a reason and that she was put in my path not only for the purpose of helping me, but for the purpose of being with me. It's perfectly orchestrated."
"Because she doesn't have to look at the thing that you hate the most about yourself… the face that you see in the mirror, the tattoos that you wish you wouldn't have gotten, the stranger with the wrinkles that should not be on such a young face, the scars that you don't want to talk about… and she doesn't have to try too hard to impress you, even though she's blind. Because you have such low self esteem that you'd be with anyone nice enough to treat you like a human being, instead of the monster that you think that you are."
"Stevie, would you watch someone being raped and watch with detachment, because she's black?"
"Of course not! I'm not saying that I don't think they need to be violated…"
"But, when you start drawing lines, eventually, you'll start crossing them, too. You'll tire of the current repetition and keep adding on more weights. Right now, you just don't want them stealing Dad's job, or Mom having feelings for one (and jeopardizing her marriage to Dad), or dating Stacie… that can easily turn into not wanting them to look at you, to talk to you… easily turn into not wanting them in the same space as you or having the same rights as you… easily into not wanting them to have any rights… and what began as you drawing a line became hate with no boundaries and no thought." Sam raised his long sleeve and showed Stevie one of his tattoos, "This hooded guy here, I let Rick freehand that and got it tattooed on me after the first time that I watched Jesse St. James incite David Korafsky to rape a girl. I was convinced that I had pride in this and that history should be preserved and put back into practice. I mean, they were out there raping our women! That never would have been allowed in the old days… Mom would have never been harmed that way, had we still had this type of order and control over those 'animals.' But, as you've already pointed out – Mom was lying about what happened to her, which is an awful thing to do, but it was no excuse for my response. Dad has never been that tolerant of a guy, but that's no excuse, either. We choose who we are going to be. Ultimately, there is always a choice. You can choose to keep the mindset that you're better or you deserve more, but every damn thing that you ever do will always catch up to you, one way, or another, and if you don't make the choice to do the right thing, the wrong will always be waiting for you with open arms."
Sam turned and headed back towards the house, thinking about Jesse St. James and what he had done. Jesse had as much control over him after his "change" as he had in high school. He was supposed to handle Jesse differently. Instead, he killed him… and killing him had not given him peace. If anything, it did the opposite. Even though he knew that Aphasia wanted some justice, she had not asked him for revenge and he didn't even know if she was still handling Jesse's death with the same relief that she seemed to have when she initially found out that he had been killed. He had stopped trying to convince himself that there were young black women all over Ohio, and maybe even other places whose hearts leaped in their chests when the news came on about the robbery homicide. Instead, he just kept praying that he would not fail that way again, and hoped that his karma came in a form that would not hurt Mercy.
Sam and Mary were in the kitchen, talking. Stacie and Mercedes had went into Stacie's room to listen to some audio books that Mercedes had with her and commentary on them, in the meantime. "I'm not going to get mad at the fact that you lied. I think we can all agree that I've done worse. I just want to know why?"
"Your father had been having so much trouble that he hardly noticed me anymore. I was getting a little wider, feeling kind of bad about myself, and when I began having an affair, I thought that my marriage was over and that it was only a matter of time before things fell apart. I was able to get some extra money in, so yeah – not only was I a mistress, but a whore, at that," she shook her head, embarrassed. "Dwight was doing so badly at work, hardly able to do anything significant and we were going to lose the house – even though you guys didn't know it. I was able to make some bill payments here and there, to get you guys some things you needed. I didn't feel bad at the time. Then a condom broke and a period was missed. I panicked."
Mary cried and said, "
asked him, "Do you know how hard it has been for me, knowing that my deceptions placed you on this path?" She trembled and said, "And your father has hated me since he learned the truth. He told me, and I quote, 'You killed our son." She covered her face and began crying.
"You didn't. I made my choices."
"You were fourteen," she said.
"This started long before I thought you'd been raped… but I think that it had much to do with my transformation into the guy that went to prison." He shrugged and said, "Why didn't you tell me, though? I've kept in touch with you more than anyone else in the house."
"Sam, after you told me what happened to you… did you really think that I could tell you about my lie?" She shook her head, "I wouldn't want anyone to know that I was so cowardly, but especially not… Not…"
"A survivor," he said and put his head down. "I, uh… I still have yet to tell dad. I think that I want to get all of that out of the way. I started trying to address things that I did to hurt other people a short while back. It wasn't working out, but I'm not giving up. I'll return back to it. But, while I'm here; I want to make sure that I clear up everything that there is to clear up with all of you. I really have to talk to Dad."
"He'll be home, any minute," she said.
Stevie had a lot to digest when he went into his room. He rested on the bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to music. Sam's role as his brother had not changed, and if Sam believed something to be true or right, Stevie was never one to disagree with him. Throughout all of life, Sam's word had been gold. He couldn't understand why, now… it seemed so hard to listen to what he had to say? But, when he heard his father's truck pulling into the driveway, he glanced out of the window, to confirm, then got up. Maybe he would be able to put some perspective into Sam's changes.