The meeting with the publisher is delayed until Tuesday afternoon to better accommodate Jean's schedule. Sandra postpones her therapy appointment until Thursday, deciding that's not a bad thing since she wants to make sure she's in a good frame of mind to attend the junior pyramid championship game Tuesday evening.
Her eyes widen at the publishing company's initial offer, but Jean covers her hand with hers, asking for time to review the contract and negotiate the details. She is given a week and is confident she can negotiate a better deal for Sandra, including maintaining creative control should the story be developed into other media such as television or webisodes. They not only want to use her story, but also her illustrations, and she should be paid accordingly.
Late Tuesday afternoon, JJ arrives at the Roslin house to do Cheryl's hair like she did the week before, or the "good-luck bear ears" as Cheryl likes to refer to the style. She's very focused this evening, determined to exploit the other team's weaknesses and keep her teammates motivated. Celebrations will come after the game, at least that is her plan.
It's a large crowd for such a little kids' game, most of which is made up of friends and relatives. A few coaches from other clubs are there eyeing certain children they hope to recruit away. Dave, JJ, Sandra, Bill, Laura, Emilee, Ellen, Saul, Jean, Eugene, Joe, Evelyn, and Jason from school are all in attendance to cheer on Cheryl's team.
They score the first goal, holding celebrations to a minimum, keeping their eyes on the ultimate prize. Their defense stops the other team from scoring, and after a few empty possessions by both sides, Cheryl's team finally breaks through, scoring the next 5 goals to go up 6-0 at intermission. Earlier in the season, her team would relax after taking such a large lead, but not tonight. Cheryl works hard to keep her teammates focused, and they extend their lead by 2 goals coming out of intermission. After a timeout by the opposition, they manage to score the next 2 goals making it 8-2 but can never get any closer. The game ends with a final score of 9-2, and after shaking their opponent's hands, Cheryl and her teammates finally celebrate.
"That was impressive, sweetheart," Dave commends her as Cheryl bounds to him and jumps into his arms. "I'm so proud of you."
"I stayed focused, daddy, just like you taught me! I pretended the score was tied the whole time, even when we got so far ahead. That's what I told my teammates, too. And it worked!"
The medal and trophy ceremony follows, with Cheryl's team cheering for their opponent when they accept the runner-up awards, then each of her teammates coming forward for her coach to put a gold medal around their necks. The trophy is then presented by the league commissioner, and the team gathers to pose for photos.
Bill wakes up Friday at 6 am, glad that this is the final day of the work week. Emilee has been fussy every day while he's gone. When he comes home at night, she punishes him by refusing to look at him for a full hour until he changes from his uniform and sits next to Laura on the sectional, reading a children's story in the soft tone he uses to soothe his daughter. Eventually she can't continue the charade of being angry and her eyes drift to him, first a glare, then with suspicion, then wide-eyed with love, which is his cue to run his finger down her arm so that she can grip his hand until she finally opens her arms toward him, wanting to be held. This routine always brings a tear to Laura's eye. She has been quite emotional over the past week, exhausted from dealing with an upset baby alone all day.
"Maybe someone can come over and watch her for an hour so you can get out for a while," Bill suggested mid-week.
"And have her think both her parents are gone?" Laura asked, wondering if it would cause more upset for their daughter.
"It's going to happen eventually," he reasoned.
"But she'll be older by the time I go back to work, so maybe it'll be easier for her then."
Decisions like this are what make parenting so hard – never knowing for sure if what you're doing will cause more harm than good. Getting used to the uncertainty and second-guessing seems unattainable for both of them. Weekends are a time to reconnect as a family before starting the routine all over again on Monday. Hopefully in a few more weeks, Emilee will grow accustomed to it.
It has also become routine for Bill to shower right away, allowing Laura to sleep longer. He changes Emilee while still in his bath robe, then takes her to Laura for nursing. But once he puts his uniform on after breakfast, Emilee's eyes tear up and she breaks into a loud, inconsolable cry. He's fine with her growing up and hating the military. Hopefully she doesn't grow up hating him.
Laura decides to seek advice from her father while Em is down for a nap before lunch. She details their daily routine, including how Bill's uniform triggers Emilee, and the punishment she dishes out when he gets home.
"Try changing your routine, honey. Have Bill say his goodbyes to both of you, then distract her in her crib while he gets dressed and leaves," Dave suggests.
"Isn't that kind of mean to have him sneak out like that?"
"I don't think so. We had to sneak out of the daycare every time we dropped you off for the first month because you would scream all day if we didn't. You turned out okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I sure you turned out okay?" he asks with a chuckle.
"You know what I mean," she yawns in the phone, missing her morning nap to make this phone call.
"Laurie, she's an infant. If Bill sneaks out but everyone's life is a little happier because of it, I don't see the downside. She won't remember any of this anyway, and it's not like she doesn't have two loving parents who spend as much time with her as possible. Parenting isn't about being perfect, believe me, I know."
Now that she's able to understand the perils of parenting firsthand, she has even more respect for him. "Daddy…I hear you. It's about doing my best and trying to avoid major mistakes, right?" she asks with the smile in her voice matching the one on her face.
"That's right. I've taught you well, firstborn," he laughs.
"Yes, you have. If Bill and I can be half the parents you and mom were, then Emilee will be just fine. You're amazing and I love you. Best dad and granddad ever."
Sandra picks Cheryl up from daycare right after lunch and takes her home where they wait for JJ to pick them up and drive them to the salon. Cheryl is due for a trim, but not too much since she still wants her hair long enough to have voluminous buns on her head. Sandra is going for a bob that is just above her shoulders, highlights, and some texturizing to put some motion in her new do. JJ only needs a few inches trimmed off. All three of them will have manicures and pedicures, with Sandra being given the task of reigning in Cheryl's choice of color. Nothing too red or trampy, something age appropriate. Sandra wonders if she'll even sit still long enough for the polish to dry.
Wanting to look extra special for her blind date tonight with one of Brad's friends, Sandra will go with a tasteful shade of pink to match the outfit she will wear, which is a short casual summer skirt and pink sleeveless top. The night will consist of dinner and dancing at a popular gathering for college students, minus alcohol which Sandra made sure Brad understood when finding her a date. He wholeheartedly agrees after everything Willow has been through with her father, not even having an occasional beer anymore.
She won't be staying with Willow tonight, Dave preferring to have her home at a reasonable time since this is a blind date. She will drive to the dorm, meet Willow, Brad, and her mystery man there, then they will take two vehicles to the restaurant.
Excitement and nerves make Sandra's heart pound as the day goes on. After the solution is put in her hair for the highlights, she sits in the chair for her pedicure, trying to relax with the foot and leg massage that goes with it. Cheryl's legs are too short to reach the shelf for the pedicure and trying to get her to hold still from the ticklishness of someone touching her feet is almost like a wrestling match. Eventually she calms down enough for the experienced pedicurist to apply the cute, bright orange nail polish to her tiny toes.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" the pedicurist asks as she leads her to a dryer. The toe spacers on Cheryl's feet are too big, and she struggles to walk, having to balance on her heels as she makes her way to a chair.
"Once I stopped being ticklish, it was fun!" she exclaims. "And I really like this color."
"You wait here until your mommy is done, then we'll do both your manicures together."
Cheryl stares at the young woman not much older than her sister, wondering if she should say anything about her relationship with JJ. "She's not my mommy. She's my daddy's girlfriend."
"Oh! Well, you seem like you really like each other."
"We do. I love her. My mom died when I was 3. Maybe JJ can be my new mom," she wonders aloud as the woman adjusts her chair so that her feet can reach the dryer.
"We have some magazines that you can look at while you wait. There are some pretty pictures you can look at to pass the time."
"I can read. What kind of magazines?"
Monthly ones about celebrity gossip, cooking, and interior decorating are quickly rejected. Then Cheryl spies one about cats sitting on a table nearby.
The dorm parking lot is nearly empty with most of the students either having gone home for the weekend, or out for the evening. Willow pulls Sandra into her room, marveling at her appearance, and remarking that she looks at least 20 years old with her hair cut shorter and highlighted.
"You. Look. So. Frakking. Hot."
"Thank you. You really think so?"
"YES! You look older but not ancient, and your outfit is sexy but not slutty."
"But my date knows I'm younger, right? And he's okay with that?"
"Yes, I told Brad to tell him you're 17, hope that's okay."
"What's his name?"
"I don't know."
"What's he look like?"
"No idea."
"Is he at least cute?"
Willow shrugs her shoulders. "I asked him to find someone that his sister would approve of. She's 25 and has dated some hot guys, so hopefully he brings someone cute."
"Gods, I think I'm going to barf. What if he's horrible? What if he sticks his hands all over me? What if he orders extra onions on his food and then tries to kiss me?"
"Sandra," Willow says placing her hands on her shoulders to try and calm her down. "Breathe, girl. Brad and I will be there. If you aren't having a good time, pull me aside and tell me. Or if you can't break free, tug on your ear, or talk about Cheryl's pyramid game. Those are your signals. Don't forget them. Breathe."
"Right, breathe," she says using the calming technique her therapist taught her.
"Looks like they're early," Willow says, checking a text on her phone. "Brad just pulled into the parking lot. Let's go to the lobby."
"Oh, gods," Sandra squeaks.
The lobby is empty except for Brad who just walked through the main doors. "He's on his phone in his car," he announces. "He'll be here in a few…Wait, here he comes."
Sandra quickly turns toward Willow so that her back is to the door. She whispers, "Tell me if he's hot. Let me know. I can't look because my face will give me away when I see him."
Willow watches as the tall young man walks through the door, smiling at her boyfriend. "Meow," she whispers to Sandra with a cat-like grin. "My amazing boyfriend brought you some catnip, and I am NOT exaggerating. Wait," she says as Sandra starts to turn, placing her hands on her shoulders again so that she can look her in the eyes. "Remember your rule? No frakking on the first date. This is going to be difficult for you. He's your type, girlfriend."
"You're not lying to me, are you?" Sandra asks, hoping that her friend isn't teasing her.
"Nope. Turn around and see for yourself."
She slowly turns, not wanting to appear too eager, hoping he doesn't notice how thrilled she is. When her eyes land on him, she holds his gaze, then turns back to Willow.
"Is this a joke?" she asks in an accusatory tone.
"What? No," Willow replies confused.
"Sandra?" the young man asks.
"You two know each other?" Willow asks.
"You could say that," Sandra snorts unamused. "That's Jeff. Did you set this up with my dad?"
"Uhhh, Brad? Jeff? I need to talk to Sandra. We'll be right back," Willow says, pulling her friend along by the hand into the hallway away from their dates.
While Jeff tells Brad he's known Sandra for almost a year because he works for her father, Willow goes into damage control mode.
"Sandra, I swear I didn't know who Brad was bringing. He said it was another grad student he met playing pyramid this summer. That's all I knew. I wouldn't do something sneaky like that, and I don't think your dad would either."
"I don't know if I can do this tonight," Sandra replies disappointedly. "I mean, I've been avoiding him because of my dreams, and now I'm supposed to go out with him? This is NOT good."
Willow stares at her friend whom she suspects is going to find a dozen excuses to bow out of the date tonight. The frustration she feels towards her raises her anger. "You know what, Sandra? I'm gonna give you some tough love. You need to suck it up and go on this date. I can't believe you've known him for almost a year. You've told me what great friends you are, how nice he is, and now that I've seen him? What's up with you not making a move on this guy? He's frakking hot! I think you can handle going on a double date for one night with me and Brad. You need to start somewhere – why not a nice evening out with good friends? Don't you dare say no! Now get your ass back in the lobby," Willow points toward the door.
"What if HE doesn't wanna go?"
"Let's find out."
Jeff's face lights up when he sees Sandra again. "You look awesome! When did you change your hair?"
"Thanks, just today. You really like it?"
"I do. Even prettier. Are you worried about going out tonight? Because I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I promise we'll have a good time."
"I'm nervous."
"Look, it's one date with friends. No pressure. It's not like we're gonna get married," he winks at her.
"Ohhh, you would bring that up! The LAST time someone said that to me, I wound up on a date from hell with a guy who kept talking about himself in third person!" Sandra explains to Willow and Brad, the horrible memory something she can laugh about now, which is exactly the reaction Jeff was hoping for.
"I promise, no third person. Jeff doesn't do things like that," he quips before snickering.
"You're the worst," she says, feigning displeasure before slapping him in the arm and allowing him to pull her into a bear hug.
"I've missed you, Sandra. I'm glad you're my date tonight."
At home, Cheryl sits in front of her computer doing internet searches, happily swinging her legs under her chair, occasionally glancing at her toes and fingers and her pretty orange nails. Orange is her new favorite color. In addition to it being a yummy fruit and flavor, it makes her feel happy when she gazes at the warm hue. It's also an unusual color to choose as a favorite, most people sticking with blue, green, or red. Several of the girls at her daycare love pink and while she thinks that's an okay color, orange is unique, kind of like Cheryl. It's also the color of Fletcher, which is why she chose the polish in the first place.
JJ calls her to the kitchen where she helps set the table while her father finishes sautéing a meal of vegetables, chicken, and a special Tauron seasoning that JJ swears by. It smells delicious and Cheryl cannot wait to start eating. Fletcher thinks so, too, standing on his hind legs near the stove, hoping that a chicken chunk falls his way. No such luck this evening.
While they dine together, Dave and JJ talk about their week. Cheryl notices how they smile at each other even when the other person isn't looking. Her father and her mother used to do that, too. Bill and Laura behave the same way. She decides that it may be a sure sign of true love in a relationship. Thinking back to other children's parents when they picked them up at daycare or pyramid practice, several barely acknowledged each other's existence, and a few were rude to one another, like they were tired or frustrated. But not her daddy and JJ. They have always seemed together even when they weren't.
"You're awfully quiet tonight, Cher. Are you okay?" Dave asks. Laura was the same way as a child, staying quiet while her mind was working, trying to decipher a problem. While Cheryl can be a chatterbox like Sandra, she can also be like her oldest sister, choosing to stay quiet until she has a solution to her conundrum.
"Yes. This stir fry is really good. Can I please have more?"
"Of course, you can, honey. I told your dad to make extra because I thought you might like it," JJ says with a smile, taking Cheryl's plate to the stove and putting another large spoonful in the middle.
"Thank you," she says when JJ places it in front of her.
"Were you working on a new game in your room earlier?" JJ asks.
"No."
Dave glances at JJ, letting her know there is something Cheryl isn't sharing with them. "Are you going to make us guess what you were up to?" he asks, hoping it isn't anything devious, trying to keep the mood light.
"You'll never guess."
"Is it about nail polish? Or maybe that cat magazine you were reading at the salon?" JJ asks, thinking a subscription to that periodical might make a good 5th birthday present.
"No and no. It's about you."
A startled look drifts across JJ's face before she can relax enough to reply. "Oh. What about me? Is there something you'd like to ask me?"
"Yes, but I'm not sure that now is the right time."
"Sweetie, you can ask me anything. You don't need to be shy, but if you're not ready, I'll understand."
"It's not that I'm not ready, I'm not sure you and daddy are ready."
"Ready for what, kiddo?" Dave asks, wondering where Cheryl is trying to lead them.
"Okay," she sighs. "I was researching what it would take for you to be my mom. And I found out that you would need to legally adopt me, and that would work best if you and daddy got married. So what do you think about that? Would you be my mom?"
The Spot is a college hangout that has two separate dining areas with a dance floor in the middle. The non-alcoholic section, known as the Dry Spot, is where the two couples request to be seated. The other section, coined the Wet Spot, requires a bracelet that is obtained after showing proof of drinking age. Alcohol is forbidden on the dance floor.
Willow opts for a healthy salad, while Jeff and Brad order bacon cheeseburgers with fries. Sandra shocks everyone when she orders a double bacon cheeseburger and a side salad.
"She's convinced she's going to be an old, fat, spinster living with a dozen cats," Willow states, watching with interest the incredulous expression on Jeff's face.
"Why would you think that?" he asks Sandra.
"I don't exactly have an active social life, 3," she states like he should know this already. "You're my first official date in almost a year. And please, do NOT bring up Scotty. He doesn't count."
What's even more surprising to Jeff and Brad is that Sandra devours her double bacon cheeseburger before they finish theirs, then destroys her salad, and steals half of Jeff's fries.
"Where are you putting all of this?" he asks, impressed with her appetite.
"According to Cheryl, it's going into my big butt."
"You're butt's not big," Jeff states, like he's very familiar with it.
"So, Jeff, you've checked out Sandra's butt?" Willow asks, earning a glare from her best friend.
"You bet I have," he acknowledges proudly. "I'm a guy and she's attractive. You'd have to be crazy not to."
"What else do you like about her?" Willow prompts, this time earning a look from Sandra that may cost her her life.
He doesn't hesitate. "She's honest, even when it's difficult to be honest. She's incredibly smart – how many people finish two years of high school in one summer? That takes brains and dedication. Her creativity is off the charts. She possesses a strength that she doesn't give herself enough credit for, but I hope that someday she realizes just how amazing she is. This thing she does with her hands when she's nervous," he says, demonstrating how she fiddles with them, "is adorable. She's obviously a good eater," he grins, making Willow laugh. "And while she's gorgeous on the outside, she's even more beautiful on the inside. She's everything I could ever want in a woman, and then some."
Willow feels the sting of a tear in her eyes at Jeff's description of her best friend, while Sandra stares at her over the top of her glass while taking a slow sip of soda. "Um," Willow clears her throat, "would you excuse us? Sandra, can you go to the bathroom with me? You know how we girls are, always have to go in pairs."
Pulling Sandra along by the hand toward the restroom in the back of the restaurant, Willow can't get there fast enough. They step inside, then she turns to Sandra. "Oh. My. Frakking. Gods. Sandra! Did you HEAR him? Are you frakking kidding me? He's in love with you! Why aren't you dating him?!"
"No, Will, you're reading too much into this. We're best friends. We know each other really well," Sandra says, dismissing the notion of more than friendship between her and Jeff.
"What was that part about honesty?" Willow calls her out, waggling her eyebrows at her. "Don't bullshit me. What's going on with you? You get along so great together, and he adores you. Why are you holding back? This isn't about you thinking that you only deserve shitty guys, is it? Something else is going on."
"I told you last week, he deserves better than me."
"Bull. Frakking. Shit."
"What is with your language tonight? You're being so mean to me."
"Because you've been BSing me about this guy for long enough! Sandra, what's going through your head?"
"I don't wanna talk about this here," she warns.
"Tough! You could have told me last week, but you didn't. What's this about? Does this have something to do with peeling back a layer?"
"If you must know, then yes. Can we PLEASE not talk about it?"
"Sandra, look," Willow says, softening her tone. "Just tell me. I won't say anything, but I'm starting to get worried about you. Jeff seems like a really great guy, and he's interested in you. I don't wanna see you miss out on something wonderful."
"You're not going to drop this, are you?"
"Only because I care about you. And I love you."
"Geez, now you're gushing, too. Fine. I don't think I'm a very good person, so I don't deserve Jeff."
"Why not? What have you told your therapist?"
"Because…the person I'm so angry at…is my mom. And what kind of person does that make me? I HATE feeling this way."
"Why are you so mad at her?" Willow asks, surprised that this is what's making her friend so angry.
"That's the part we're still working on."
"Okay," Willow says, sizing Sandra up. "Good. You told me. We're both okay. Nothing bad has happened. Nobody's crying, nobody's screaming. We're good, right?"
"Yeah, I guess we are," Sandra says, feeling a small amount of relief at being able to tell Willow about her feelings without them overcoming her. "I kinda feel better now that you know."
"See? That's what friends are for! Now, let's go back out there and have a good time. Onward and upward!"
Her enthusiasm is contagious, Sandra feeling more confident than she has in weeks. "You're right. Time to have fun!"
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," Cheryl says, hanging her head, feeling upset for springing this on her dad and JJ.
"You know what, sweetie," JJ says, scooting her chair next to Cheryl's. "You don't have to feel bad about anything. I would be honored to have you as my daughter someday. Your daddy and I just started dating, so give us some time to see how things go. That's all we need – time."
"But you've known each other for a long time already. And we all do things together. And you love each other. Why do you need more time?"
"We need to be sure that we want to spend our lives together, and that it's good for all of us. That takes time," Dave explains.
"Okay," Cheryl replies, hanging her head again. "Can you give me an idea of how long we're talking about?"
JJ turns her head over her shoulder to hide her smile, Dave giving her a look that makes her heart flutter. She has thought about marriage again, the possibility of growing old with someone she loves, with Dave and his family. But it's nothing that should be rushed into, not just because of her baggage, but also with Dave and his grief over losing his first love. Yet Cheryl has a way of pointing things out, making a solid case for what she desires. If she doesn't decide to go into the military, she could have a solid career as an attorney.
Dave rises from his chair and walks to his youngest, kneeling beside her. "We don't have a timeline, most people usually don't. But Jen and I have some things planned together - a trip to Tauron, and some other things we'd like to do."
"Then can you hurry up and do them? I'm not getting any younger."
"You're a really good dancer," Sandra compliments Jeff on their second upbeat dance of the evening.
"Thanks, so are you," he replies. "My mom taught me. Did you learn from your mom or your dad?"
"Oh, my mom," she says, trying to shrug away the memory of dancing with her on top of her bed like they used to do when she was growing up and refusing to go to sleep. They called it the "Mom and daughter pajama party". They'd start by jumping up and down to burn off some energy, then turn on the stereo and make up silly dance moves while bouncing around laughing. Laura used to stare at them like they were crazy, but Sandra could tell she desperately wanted to join in.
"She must have been a great dancer. Are you more like her or your dad?"
"Definitely more like her," Sandra responds, trying to figure out a way to change the subject. "But lately I've been learning that I'm a lot like dad, too."
"I can see that. I wish I could have met your mom. I'm betting she was amazing."
"Jeff, can we please change the subject? I'm still a little…you know…kind of raw."
"Sure, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…am I being a bad date?"
Jeff broached the one subject she doesn't like to speak about. Becoming involved with him or anyone for that matter would mean more questions, curiosity about her mother, her personal taboo. She envies her little sister, who is too young to remember much about their mom and can easily brush people off if they ask a question about her. But not Sandra. She's old enough to remember, and she remembers everything.
"No, you're great! Best date I've ever had. And it helps that I already know you because I know I can trust you." Determined to shake away the previous conversation, she grabs his hand and pulls him to the middle of the dance floor, where they move to the music until they are both drenched in sweat.
Eventually they take a break to rehydrate, talking to each other and joking around just like they used to before Sandra's dreams began. How she misses this easy banter with him – it makes her kick herself for getting so discombobulated from a few dreams. Willow's right – she's horny, and since she and Jeff are such great friends, he just happens to be the guy fulfilling her mind's sexual fantasies.
She knows the story of her dad and JJ, Dave having filled her in with some of the details one night when he was tucking her into bed. It was sweet, romantic, and heartwarming to listen about how they were friends first, then fake-dated to protect her dad from women at social events, then somewhere turned a corner and began having very real, very deep feelings about one another. It got her thinking about Jeff again and how they almost kissed in the study room in the library at the end of the spring semester. Maybe that's why she keeps dreaming of him. Maybe her relationship with Jeff could follow the same path as her dad's relationship with JJ.
They finish their beverages just as a slow song begins, Sandra hesitating at the table until he reaches for her hand and asks for this dance like a gentleman. Swaying together in unison, she moves closer to him during the song, close enough that she can feel his heart pounding in his chest, or is that hers? Her hands slide up his chest and clasp around his neck, her head resting below his chin.
She smiles thinking back to when he drenched himself in new cologne that a girlfriend had given him last fall. He's learned since then, ditching the trendy college body spray and settling on something more masculine, more mature, like sandalwood with a hint of smoke, pleasing to her nose.
The song ends. Neither one of them wants to let go, still clinging to the other in the middle of the dance floor, students around them moving to the upbeat tempo of a classic song that has begun. Sandra lifts her head to look at his face, her eyes speaking to him by gazing softly, inviting him to move closer, her lips parting to catch her breath.
But this song, this familiar song – at first, she can't place it, but as it plays and as Jeff moves closer, his lips almost touching hers, the strong taste of bile fills her throat.
"No," she says pulling back from him. "Stop. I can't."
He blinks, wondering if he misinterpreted her signs. "Did I get my signals crossed? It seemed like you wanted to kiss me."
"I did. But I can't." She frowns as the music plays, remembering the photo of her mother she took the night Laura danced around the restaurant with Cheryl to this same song, the night they thought they were celebrating her mother's last chemo treatment, the night her mother knew she was doomed but said nothing.
"Let's…sit down and talk."
"No. I'd rather not. I think I'd like to go home."
Jeff motions at Willow and Brad to join him, an apprehensive look on his face, the sudden shift in Sandra's mood concerning him. "I'm going to take her back to the dorm to get her car."
"I want Brad to take me."
"Sandra, what's going on?" Willow asks, noticing how she's avoiding eye contact.
"I wanna go home."
"Can we sit down for a little bit and talk?" Willow asks.
"No, Will, I don't wanna talk! Brad, please, take me back to the dorm so I can drive home."
"What happened?" Willow whispers to Jeff, who shrugs his shoulders in response.
"Look, Sandra, let Brad and Willow stay here. I'll drop you off. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to."
"Is that okay?" Willow asks, making sure that Sandra feels secure.
"Fine, just get me out of here."
Jeff finally breaks the silence five minutes into their ten-minute drive back to the dorm. "Can I call you later, to check on you?"
"Don't." She hasn't looked at him ever since she pulled away from him after the slow dance.
He decides to try again. "Sandra, I care about you, and I'm worried. Is this because I tried to kiss you?"
"I can't kiss you-"
"I'm sorry," he replies.
"I can't be involved with you-"
"Sandra, please, what's happening?"
"I can't fall for you-"
"I don't want to lose you," he says, with a hint of desperation in his voice.
"I can't be your friend-"
"Please don't do this," he pleads.
"Don't call me, don't text me, don't bring me water, don't hang around anymore. I'm done," she states calmly.
"Please, Sandra. What's going on? I'm worried about you. Please talk to me. At least let me follow you home so I know you get there okay."
"You can follow me home, but then I don't wanna see you again. If you care about me, you'll forget about me."
"Hey, sweetheart, how was your date?" Dave asks from the sofa, where he sits with his arm around JJ as they look at a manuscript he's been working on.
Sandra breezes through the entryway, heading straight to her bedroom.
"Sandra?" Dave calls, giving JJ a concerned look.
"I take it your date didn't go well," he says softly as he pushes the door to her room open, disappointed that she didn't have a good time. He hoped this might lead to a decent relationship for her, or at least someone she could date for a while, but judging by her demeanor, that won't happen.
"The date was fine. I just decided I wanted to come home."
"Then why are you crying, honey?" he asks.
"Um," she stammers. She wasn't aware that she had begun crying.
"Sandra, did he do something to you?"
"No. He was great. Best date I ever had," she replies, busying herself with fluffing pillows on her bed, avoiding looking at her dad.
"Did you have a fight with Willow?"
"No."
"Then what's going on?"
Dave eyes JJ, who decides that a woman's approach might work better since Sandra isn't being forthcoming with her father. "Would you like to talk?" she asks, resting her hand on Sandra's shoulder much like her mother used to.
"No! Why does everyone wanna talk? Why can't people just leave me alone?!" she replies angrily.
"Sandra, we're concerned about you," JJ explains.
"You're not my mom! I don't even want you in my room! Get out!" she shrieks, knocking JJ's arm from her and pointing toward the door.
"Sandra! What's gotten into you?!" Dave raises his voice, upset that she would speak to JJ this way.
Placing a hand to his chest, JJ stops him from approaching Sandra, mouthing "I'm okay."
"Honey, I know I'm not your mom. I'm your friend and I'm trying to help. I can't leave you alone right now because your behavior is very odd, and we're worried about you. I know you understand that. If you want me to leave, I will, but please talk to your dad."
"I'm a horrible person."
"No, you're not. Why do you think that?" JJ asks, stepping a little closer to see if she pushes her away again.
"Sandra, we've talked about how you made some poor decisions, but you've paid your dues and gotten your life back on track. Are you still holding onto those feelings?" Dave asks.
"That's not it. This is so much worse," she mumbles, wincing from the terrible pain she's feeling inside.
Dave takes a deep breath to soothe his nerves before responding in a calm manner. "You have me and Jen very worried, and I need to know what's going on. Would you prefer to talk to one of us, or would you like to speak with your therapist?"
"I hate my therapist."
"Did something happen in your session yesterday?" he asks, recalling that she was subdued when he got home last night.
"I hate myself."
"Honey, please, tell me what's wrong. You can tell me anything, I won't be upset. Why do you hate yourself?" he asks.
Peeling back that final layer is like removing a large, painful, bloody scab over a wound that has been festering for almost two years, refusing to heal. "Because I hate mom! Gods, I frakking hate her, for everything! It's all her fault! All of it!"
Her face crumples as she realizes what she just said, her words echoing through the house as the rage pours out of her. "What kind of person hates their dead mother? What does that make me? I hate myself for hating her!"