WARNING: Attention ALL Readers, there are more of those tough prison scenes featured in this chapter… but this shall be the last chapter that those types of prison scenes appear in.
Theblissfulchaos, 12vivamusica, undaunted scholar, nakala, Princess 976, missbee1999, FanGirl44, QTFics, seven month itch, Elly, nonasui, RaeRaeRaeLiz, cupcake, danalexkayarimad, Mel, Jan, and my newfound friend, padnpendreamer…
The Rhetoric
I'm the type of guy who wonders what I would do, if ever I somehow came across a magic genie of the lamp. "Master, what is it that you wish of me?" He would ask, with his voice booming all over the skies and smoke filling up all around me.
Then, I would look that genie right in the eyes and say, "I have been waiting my whole life for a moment like this, and I have you know, Mr. Genie – I am 100% prepared to answer your query. For my first wish – I wish that I could erase all of the pain that I have ever caused."
I know that I've caused a lot, and because I've caused so much in the past, people that I care about are still facing problems, right now. My family keeps having to move, the love of my life is a target and I plan to have a family of my own someday… What will I say, what will I do when I little girl with a face like her mom's and eyes like mine looks right at me and asks, "Daddy, is it true what they have said about you?" I'll die – that's what I'll do. I'll simply die of shame, unless of course I could erase the pain. No one would have anything to talk about if no one was hurt. And even if they talked about it, it wouldn't bother a soul, because the pain that I caused had ceased to exist. They wouldn't have to beg for justice. They wouldn't have to thirst for revenge.
I would have a second chance to make an impact upon the lives of others, and this time, I could make sure that the impact was a positive one with good results. People like Matt Rutherford would be spared of the tragedy of losing everyone that they held dear and letting that loss be the foundation of the person that they become – a person who is more of an empty shell than a man of flesh and bone… a shell that I helped to hollow out.
"Genie, I also have wish number #2 prepared, because it corresponds with wish #1: I wish that I could erase all of the pain that I've caused myself. Hear me out, Mr. Genie – I'm not saying undo what I have ever done – because I want to be sure that I learn from it, that it doesn't happen again. But, I think that we both know that even if no one is hurting any longer, without this particular erasure, I will never let myself live in peace for ever having hurt them all and ever having placed the people that I love in danger."
I want to be able to forgive myself and trust myself to love and trust myself to be loved. I don't want to have to fear being in love or fear someone being in love with me. I want the peace of mind that comes with closure, and that closure will only come when I can stop dwelling on how I hurt others and how it hurts me now.
"Finally Genie – and this is the most important wish that I have – I wish that to be filled up with love, so that the people who have to face me later never have to go through meeting the monster inside of me, struggling to get out when he's rubbed the wrong way. Drown him in love and cleanse me of any trace of him. I never want to say or do something to hurt Mercedes, and he might be able to get me to do that someday."
I didn't realize how much someone could mean to me, until I realized that I'm in love with her and she's the woman that I want to build and spend my life with. If I live from now until my last breath just filled up with love, my family will see how much she means to me. My father would approve and my mother wouldn't be worried. My siblings would celebrate along with me and my woman would cherish me in the way that I honestly believe that she would, if she only knew how serious I am about her…
But, alas… there is no Genie, no lamp, no three wishes, no magic, and no perfect tying of loose ends, especially not when what was unraveled was such a delicate fabric that strands even fell off when I tore things in half. There is some pain that I caused that will never be absolved. There was some harm I did that can never be reversed – to a tapestry of lives and to myself. There are some things inside of me that could take everything away, if I'm not strong enough to sift those things out and pluck them away. The only thing that I have to help me now, is my faith, my family and my friends… so I hope that each and every one of them can bear with me until I can fully become that man that I fantasize about being. I hope that they can just love me, even in my current state. Because their love is the closest to magic that I can have and I couldn't wish for anything better than knowing that the people that I love accept me and love me back."
Dwight looked at Sam, watching him, biting nervously into his lip. The man's hands were shaking and he opened his mouth to assure Sam, but when Sam realized he was done reading the part he'd opened the journal to, Sam reached over and turned more pages to lead him to what he really wanted him to read:
It had gotten bearable, physically. He was used to it, he supposed… but you just couldn't get used to that emotional trouble – to the dehumanizing way that they spoke to him and the emasculating way they handled him. Sam Evans was not even a person. He was an unappreciated and valueless article of property which belonged to the Brotherhood. Figgins was trying to teach him that he was more, that he deserved more and that he should demand more, even if just to solidify his rights as a human, prisoner or not…
But Sam preferred to stop fighting if it meant that he would not have to be hurt as much. He preferred not to try to complain and make legal issues, if it meant that the guards would stop becoming angry with him making them look bad and allowing whatever would happen to happen to him. Everything felt like a lost cause – everything except for hope in the future… a future in which he would no longer have to be in this place. Figgins had an old lawyer friend who would help with Sam's appeals, as it seemed that Schuester's people had no intention of ever letting the kid see the light of day as a free man, again.
While Ms. Holiday did not personally attack Will Schuester and friends, she DID attack the machine that was the white power movement and the way that they targeted young men and boys like Sam who felt cheated in life and needed someone to blame. She got into the psychological struggle of some of the young inductees and had Sam observed and entered into counseling. As she worked diligently on his appeals process, she built up sympathy on the outside, supporters and attention. Sam was just a boy, after all and she would use his All-American, Boy Next Door features to her advantage… but that tattoo on his neck made it hard. She could always make sure he wore a nice suit, or even cowboy casuals… but having to constantly try to shield his neck was a task, and of course, she would not be able to do it when he needed to be interviewed inside, because he would be in his prison suit. Yet, Holly Holiday had a certain charm about her that she might have been able to make him a poster boy, even if he wasn't an attractive young white boy that the country could forgive of anything.
Sam spent his yard time with Figgins, reading his Bible and asking questions, or they would sometimes work out and have light conversation. Most of the heavy stuff, they talked about after lights out, before going to bed. No one would ever know how blessed Sam felt to have Figgins in his life. For the first time that he could remember, he looked at someone different and saw them as someone good. He felt really good about it, too. He felt like at least a bit of the weight that he had been carrying on his chest for the past few years had been lifted. Figgins showed him that it was acceptable to form opinions about people on an individual basis, and not as a whole group, and assured him that he would find when he opened himself to do so, there were people from all walks of life that he would like and love.
At the very beginning of things, Ms. Holiday told Sam that appeals sometimes took years and that he would have to be certain that the entire time, he remained out of trouble, because a blemish could set him back and start them over from scratch. So, he tried not to make a stir, even though it disgusted him that Cooter and his minions wanted to watch Jeff perform oral activity on him and watch him take Jeff from the back. He tried not to scream too loud or fight too hard when they came after him. He tried to forget about the fact that Officer Goolsby hated him with a passion and ignored anything that ever happened to him when he couldn't defend himself.
He began to pray, a lot. He saw that Figgins seemed to be at perfect peace about his life and situations, and Figgins claimed that his relationship with God and his prayer life were the reasons why he could face anything. Sam became a praying machine, after a while. Everything that would happen, his mind would go to another place, not begging for it to end or for things to get better – he was not that naïve, but he prayed that he could endure and that it would not change him for the worse.
When the abuse first began, it lasted for weeks and after Figgins' advice, Sam told and the abuse stopped for a few weeks, while Sam was in the infirmary and the case was being studied. The abuse he got from the backlash was not the same type, but just as vicious, with him being beaten or having to fight every time he turned around. He was in and out of the infirmary for several more weeks. Two months of it was more than he could take and he withdrew his original complaint and still faced the wrath of Goolsby and the punishment of Cooter. He fought it for another three months, to no good end and he stopped fighting. He just tried to accept it. For another two months, he did try to just take it as the life that he had been dealt. Altogether, nine months had passed of him being inside and of those nine months, he had been learning from Figgins for seven of them…
Cooter and Canada's boss got into a fight in the yard, which broke out into a gang brawl, which broke out into a riot. Sam tried to stay out of that mess. Figgins managed to slip out of the danger zone, in the beginning, but Sam and Jeff were watching, curiously (both secretly hoping that the fight got Cooter killed. Sure, that only meant that Phil would take his place, but Phil wasn't as scary or strong.) So, when things went crazy, they both were kind of in the middle of it all. Sam tried to flee and Jeff followed after him, holding on tightly. One reason that Jeff had never fought off any of the guys that used him was because he was supposed to be protected by his services! Sam shook Jeff off, but the smaller guy continued to go the path that Sam was going, to get out of the line of fire. But, when the tear gas started and the SWAT team was busting through the place, no one could see anything and everyone was in pain.
Sam was rounded up and thrown into a cell and once he could see again, he asked, "What happened to you, Figgins?" He turned to see, not Figgins, but Cooter. "How the hell did you get into my cell?"
"Actually, Sweetie, this is MY cell, and I guess they accidentally put you in the wrong place," Cooter answered. There was still yelling and commotion going on and prisoners were wailing and banging on the walls, floor and bars, pissed off and sick.
"You started this! You should be in isolation!" Sam screamed out and went to the bars to call out for help.
"Sad story about when a riot breaks out in these places – it can take several hours before things are set straight again," Cooter told him. "So, why don't you just get comfortable? We can take a little nap together."
"Go to hell. Where is Phil?" Sam wondered and looked across the way towards the cell that he should have been in. He saw fighting going on… Phil and Figgins! Sam beat on the bars and screamed out to the guards, to try to tell them what was happening, over there.
"That sand nigger's done nothing but get in our business since you got here, but the moment you embraced him and began to listen to what he had to say, instead of us – you sealed his fate. We just needed an opportunity. You think that he and his friends are gonna somehow get you out of here in one piece? All he did was give you false hope and get himself marked. Phil doesn't look like much, but he's really good at smuggling weaponry," Cooter taunted. Sam screamed and tried even harder to get the attention of the guards, but he saw that all of them were busy trying to round up inmates and get them into cells, or calm down the ones that were already inside.
"Nobody can hear you right now," Cooter said and pushed himself on Sam. The two of them began to fight. Sam was smaller, not as strong, younger and not as evil, but he was afraid and he was filled with rage. Though he was unsuccessful, he fought with the man until he hadn't the strength to fight anymore. Cooter was choking him and choked him until he passed out.
Sam felt something around him, he didn't know what. But, after a moment, he realized that feeling. He knew that awful touch and the hold and the force all belonged to Cooter. Where the hell was he? He began to fight, upon coming to, and realized that he was in the bottom bunk of Cooter's cell, being harmed! Sam kicked his legs and elbowed the man. Cooter seemed practically invincible. This was looking pretty hopeless, until he heard a familiar voice, "Cooter Menkins! What in the HELL?" It was Officer Washington.
She opened the cell and Cooter threw Sam towards her and said, "Hell, you guys put him in my cell, I musta mistook him for a present." He gave Sam a smug grin and even chuckled. Sam wanted to attack him, but he was sick and just began to vomit, outside of the cell, instead. He choked and held himself and tried to adjust his torn uniform as he saw Officer Washington hitting Cooter with her stick and restraining him to the floor. Things after that were a little jumbled.
Sam and Figgins both ended up in the infirmary, and Sam was SO glad that Figgy wasn't dead, but he was in trouble, because he'd killed Phil. "That was self defense. Everyone knows it and they won't be able to hit you with anything besides," Sam said, laying on his side to look at his battered friend, in the bed next to him.
"I never wanted to kill again, Sam. It takes away from a man. You are fortunate that you haven't yet known that feeling. I pray that you never will have to, but I fear that this can't turn out any other way," the older man said.
"What do you mean?" Sam wondered.
"I survived a hit and you survived an attack – orchestrated by the same people. They aren't just going to forget about us. They'll come again and next time, even more forcefully. Their leader has been put into solitary for what will surely be a long time and their second in command has died by my hands. They are regrouping right not and you and I are going to be returning to a kill or be killed type of environment," Figgins told him.
"Couldn't we go to protective custody? I mean, I think that everyone on staff knows the skinny on these douchebags…" Sam began.
"You may speak with the administration about protective custody for yourself. You will eventually be released and you have much to live for. I do not."
"What about for me, Figgy? What if I told you that I'd never make it in this place without you?" Sam asked, with tears welling in his eyes.
The old man smiled and said, "Well then, Sam Evans – I suppose that I too am going to have to try to fight to survive."
Officer Washington walked the men back to their cells, "I don't care for you, Sam Evans. I never did. But the fact that my good friend Figgins is willing to vouch for you tells me that there is something special about you that my sorry ass eyes just must be missing. I'm supposed to have glasses on, but they don't work with my style and I'm not about to poke myself in the eye with no contacts." She opened the cell and said, "But my eyes are good enough to see when something isn't right and nothing is going to happen on my watch… to either of you. You best take care of this old man, Sam Evans. He'd die for you. That's the kind of man that Figgins is. I hope that somewhere inside of you, you can appreciate that."
"Thank you Officer Washington. Not just for looking out for us, but for what you did when you saw me being attacked…" Sam attempted to make a speech.
"Evans, I don't have time to listen to some unwarranted gratitude for me doing the job that I made a vow to do."
"You made a vow to beat the hell out of him with your night stick?" Sam asked.
"You saw him touch my booty when I questioned him about what he was doing to you," she commented. Sam had saw no such thing, but he nodded his head. Washington probably hated Cooter just as much as anyone else and was just using that time to finally take out some of her frustrations on him. She frowned and said, "Seriously, though… it was bad enough that he was bold enough to do what he was doing, knowing that he could be caught at any time, but when he was unremorseful and even made a joke about it, that's where this corrections officer drew the line and crossed it and beat the living hell out of him. I dare him to make a complaint." She smiled and Sam and began to patrol the area.
After about four months without incident, Sam began to relax about retaliation from the Brotherhood. As a matter of fact, he was not bothered by them, at all during the time that Cooter was away and when their big bad boss returned, Sam still was not sought after. Maybe Cooter had decided he was more trouble than what he was worth, or maybe he was still biding his time.
Sam was sitting in the mess hall with Figgins, eating and talking about God when Jeff came to the table and asked to sit down. "Oh, Dear Lord! Jeff?" Sam said. He could hardly tell that it was the slightly older, but smaller and weaker man. His face was a collection of bruises and abrasions, and swollen all over. He almost looked like a horror movie monster. "What happened to you?" Sam asked.
Jeff could hardly be understood as he attempted to tell Sam, "Since Officer Washington is keeping such a watch on you, Cooter decided to just take out everything he has against you on me. He said it was 'close enough,' and that he'll do it until he can get his hands on you and end you for good." Sam got up and Figgins grabbed him and pulled him back down.
"I can't let somebody else take a beating for me," Sam said. "It isn't right and I won't be that kind of coward. Jeff is like a toothpick and look at him! I won't be able to sleep if I let this go on."
"You get yourself killed or worse, denied parole if you interfere with this matter, in this way," Figgins said. Then, to Jeff, he said, "Son, I recommend that you see one of the corrections officers about this situation, so that you will be allotted to go through the proper channels to have yourself protected from such brutalities in the near future."
Jeff shrugged his shoulders and said, "I gave myself to them. I belong to them. When Sam came, I was so happy not to be the only one anymore. I didn't care if I had to suck him off or let him screw me… he wasn't like them, so I didn't even mind. I always minded letting them touch me, but I just did it. I let them. Sam didn't. He fought and they made him pay, but I never tried to step in when he was being beaten and savagely raped. I don't expect you to do anything for me, Sam. I just didn't want to sit alone."
Sam watched as Jeff was removed from the cell block. Jeff tried to hang himself. He wasn't as strong as Sam and he couldn't take that kind of abuse (not that he should have had to.) He would survive, but for how long and what would they do to him when he was brought back? Sam was crying. "I can't let them get away with this," Sam said.
"You can't do anything about it. It is up to the system to take care of these things," Figgins told him.
"The system doesn't care about us!" Sam cried. "Jeff isn't some hardass. He was high off coke one night with a group of friends and accidentally killed some people with his car. I know that killing is bad and it's wrong to do drugs, but doesn't he deserve to just be here and serve his time, with the knowledge of where he went wrong and the possible opportunity to someday try to do things a better way?" Sam wiped his face and glared at Cooter, who now had another cellmate that Sam knew he was violating, because that's just how that bastard was!
Sam began wrapping a cloth around his neck to cover his tattoo. He stopped even glancing Cooter's direction and even if he knew he was in the vicinity – Sam refused to look at him with anger or hatred. He still felt it, but he thought that he might get better results by pretending that nothing the guy did r said got to him, in any way. It infuriated Cooter, naturally. One of his main sources of life was intimidation and terror. Being ignored meant that he was not effective, and everyone was beginning to notice it. He was losing respect, because he could not keep his bitch's behavior under control. Even with the new cellmate that he was roughhousing, the fact that Sam, being as young and tender as he was, was defying him said a lot against his reputation.
In fact, Sam would go so far as to actually have conversations with David, the chaplain's assistant and even spoke kindly to Canada. He flirted with Officer Washington, despite her quickly and efficiently shutting that down and he and Figgins were closer than ever. If anyone saw him, they came to but one conclusion – that he couldn't give two sh*ts about Cooter or the Brotherhood and he was laughing at all of them. In. Their. Faces. But, the new Sam was getting proper results with his appeals process. Holly noticed that he was handling things differently, and she could honestly say that he was well-liked by other prisoners and DONE WITH the Aryan Brotherhood and any affiliated white supremacy organizations.
A year and six months after being incarcerated, Sam fortunately had an appeals hearing scheduled. He and Figgins remained silent about this, because the crabs in the system might try to create problems for the young man if they knew. Yet, somehow – Cooter knew. If he didn't know, he certainly had wonderfully problematic timing. He had not made so much as an attempt to sneeze on Sam in months… but the night before the hearing, he went after the young man. They were in the shower when the predator attempted to attack. It was more of a fight than an attack, though. He had no idea that Sam had gotten so strong and as they two of them continued the struggle, Figgins tried to break it up.
The shower was not one of the best places for a fight, as it was wet and slippery. Even if one had the skills, the disadvantages would make for a complicated process. Cooter grabbed Figgins' from between he and Sam and shoved the man into the shower wall, which he hit, then fell onto the floor, crushing his head against the shower floor. Sam gasped and looked at him. He was bleeding and a little dazed. Sam went to try to see about him and Cooter simply smiled, with his arms folded, pleased with himself. As he turned to try to leave, Sam heard someone say, "Evans," and he felt something being slipped into his hand. It was a weapon. He had a shank and an opportunity. The guards had not yet stepped in and Cooter was not out of reach. He bit his lip, ran up on him and stabbed him as many times as he could before the man fell to the floor. Sam dropped the weapon and backed away from the body. The inmates were making noises, laughing and joking, some yelling. He went to check on Figgy.
Figgins shook his head and asked, "What did you do?"
"He was never going to leave us alone. He was never going to stop!" Sam said. "He hurt you, again! You're too old to keep getting attacked like that." He tried to help his mentor up, but Figgins' breath was slow and labored. "Figgy, let me help you up. We gotta get you some help," Sam said.
"You shouldn't have done what you did," Figgins said. "You should have left him to God."
"Shhh…" Sam said to him, then called for help. The guards came in and saw Cooter first, then Figgins , in Sam's arms. "Cooter attacked him. I think he's seriously hurt," Sam said as the guards gathered up the man. Washington looked close to tears as she radioed for medical assistance in the shower room. Goolsby checked Cooter as Sam asked, "Is he dead?"
Goolsby simply pressed his lips together and threw a towel to Sam. "Let's go, Evans." Sam heard him reporting Cooter's death over his radio, but the small fragment of joy at finally being free of him faded in an instant when he heard Washington's voice.
"We just lost Figgins, too," she said through the radio.
Sam rushed to try to get outside of the shower room, but Goolsby stopped him. "Get dressed, Evans. You're off back to your cell."
"My cell mate…"
"Is dead, and if you run out there butt ass naked to see for yourself, he's still gonna be dead, and I'm gonna beat you senseless for running out of here naked," the man told him.
Sam quickly began to get dressed and uttered, "I just want to see him. I just want to have the chance to say bye to him…"
"Evans…" Goolsby tried to pull Sam to take him to his cell, but Sam ran straight towards Figgins' body being taken away. "Evans, stop!" The officer called and when he did not, one of the others swung their stick at the rushing inmate, mistaking him for a threat. Sam felt the weapon crack against his skull and fell to the floor, barely hearing and argument around him. It sounded like Washington was arguing with someone… Someone had hit him in the head…
Sam was in a coma for about a week and woke up with one of the messiest wounds that he had ever had. He couldn't remember anything, right away, but as the nurses began to stir around him and contact the doctor, etc… he began to remember bits and pieces. The two most important ones – Cooter was dead… but so was Figgins. Sam began to cry, upon remembering and would not say anything for days. Several of the inmates had reported seeing Sam stab Cooter.
Holly promised that she would spin it as self defense, "I mean, this guy's record speaks for itself and next to yours, he doesn't stand a chance. Besides, just as many people as claimed they say you do it, a few others insisted that Figgins did it and some claimed that fill in the blank (whoever they hate) did it. There are traces of your prints on the weapon, so – I can't really claim that you had nothing to do with it. But, with your previous complaints on file, along with your medical records for the rectal tearing and different injuries that you suffered, that now that he's dead, you don't have to be afraid to admit were his doing, you'll be fine. Unfortunately, even though you won't get additional charges added on, you may lose your parole time. Even though you made an effort to stab him in the side, the way the stabs were administered indicate execution and the angle proves that you were standing behind him when you did it." She was sorting through papers as her client sat silently.
"I am going to get you out of here, kid… sooner or later – whatever it takes," she promised him. And that was what she did. It took her another five years or so, and in that timeframe, Sam developed some friendships with other inmates and even had the chance to see Jeff alive and well again, before his final day. But, by the time he was actually released, he had gone through so much changing.
Every now and then, he did have to use his whiteness as a tool to get out of something and he was not a friend of everyone – but he could take care of himself and he even watched after Jeff, because Washington made sure that they ended up in the same cell after all of the madness. By the time Sam got out, his mother let him know that they would not be able to come to collect him. Life had been hard enough since he had been gone, and they decided that the media circus that would be around for his release was more than they could bear having to put Stacie and Stevie through, now that they seemed to be out of the shadow of the ordeal.
He understood. It hurt his heart, but he did understand, and he did not even try to contact them until after he had a phone of his own. They still had the last number that he had for them when he was in prison and he spoke with his mother as frequently as he could, and his brother and sister whenever they were available, during the times he called for his mother. But, he was most reluctant to speak with his father, to even face the man… he felt like he had failed him so miserably, every since that first leap of illogic that set in motion all of the years that they'd missed. He hoped that someday, he could feel like a worthy son again, because he respected and admired his father so much, and he wanted to have that in return, some day.
Dwight was crying as he shut the book and handed it back to Sam. Sam's finger's grazed his father's and they sat there, with their hands touching for a moment longer. Dwight gave him a smile and nodded. It did not matter what had happened. He would be there for Sam, any day, every day, in whatever way. He tousled the short strands of hair on his son's head, wishing that he could look at him and still see the little boy that he used to do that to all the time, but this man was a man… and he had gone through a lot. To still be able to stand, and to smile… Hell, Dwight admired and respected him more than anyone else he knew.
Mercedes had tired herself out with the dogs on the floor. She began to crawl towards the couch and climbed up, "I am getting really sleepy. You think we could take off, or would your parents mind?" She smelled Sam… he smelled slightly different and when he said, "Err.. oh, Boy…" She realized that she was not on Sam at all.
But, she confirmed, when she reached out for his face and felt the prickly facial hair and a hot face beneath it. "I am so sorry, Mr. Evans!" She said, staring towards his shirt as he lifted her up, held at an arm's length away from him and placed her into Sam's arms. She touched Sam's face, smelled his neck, realized that she was in the right arms and held unto him as she whispered, "I am so embarrassed. I must have gotten turned around, rolling around with the dogs. Is he mad?" She wondered.
Sam laughed and whispered back, "Naw, I think that he pitched a tent."
"Sam!" She hissed. He laughed a little more and kissed her on the tip of her nose, "Seriously, he isn't mad. He's blushing."
"I am mortified," she said in a normal speaking voice.
"Don't be. You're uh… you're with family," Dwight said, and looked at Sam. Mary gasped at the statement, but did not comment. Sam stared at his father, trying to read him. The man looked stressed to say it, but he added, "Sam loves you and he deserves to be happy. I think that you make him happy and unless you show me something that negates that, you're uh… you're ya know… A-OK, in my book." He folded his arms and his lips twitched a little.
"Thank you, Mr. Evans," Mercedes said.
Sam watched Mary star at her husband, flabbergasted at his words. She wanted to be the one to welcome Mercedes with open arms, but it had been extremely complicated for her to find the right words or to muster up the courage to be as generous as she thought she should in front of Dwight… now, he was the one taking that step? It confused her and irritated her, at the same time. But, she just smiled through it. Hell, Sam was happy and she wanted him to be. The fact that Dwight was on board with that was a good thing; but she already knew that Stevie would throw a fit. Especially if he learned that his father called her "family…" whether he meant it, or not (which she was certain that he did not).
Sam and Mercedes were heading back to their motel and would be back the next day after they had the chance to go to church and get back to everyone from home. On the way to the van, Mercedes commented, "You could have stopped me from climbing onto your dad's lap."
He laughed at her and said, "And ruined my chances of seeing the look on his face, when you did? It was priceless. He sat there looking kind of like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of what to say. Your cleavage was showing, so I'm sure that was a distraction, then you just climbed on him, so willy-nilly and his entire face turned red and he looked at me with these wide eyes!" Sam laughed heartily as he opened her door and helped her inside. She was simply shaking her head. When he got in on the other side, he said, "Mom was trying not to laugh, I was simply watching in amusement."
"Both of you are cruel to do that to your lovers," Mercedes said.
"Hey, for all you know, that was the thing that won you his favor!" Sam teased her as he started the van. He elbowed her playfully and she leaned over to lay on his shoulder. "Honestly, it happened too fast for us to really catch you. I wouldn't purposefully embarrass you." She smiled and wrapped her arm around his waist as they drove.