Title: Moving On
AUTHOR: Jos Mous
DISCLAIMER: I own none of these characters, I’m not making any profit out of this, blahblahblah.
PAIRINGS: Jane/Robin; Sam/Brooke
NOTE: One quick look at the pairings and it doesn’t require a Sherlock Holmes to deduce that this is a sequel to “Letting Go”. However, this story is slightly more focused on Sam and slightly less on Jane. That doesn’t mean there aren’t a lot of Jane/Robin moments, as this first part will clearly demonstrate.
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to focus on her homework. It didn’t really work since all she managed to do was focus at the large amount of flowers standing proudly in a vase on the kitchen table. There were two things Sam knew about these flowers:
1) They came quite regularly.
2) They came from someone named Robin.
These two little titbits of knowledge wasn’t exactly enough to satisfy Sam’s curiosity. Sure, the first week Sam had had no problem with it. Her mom was dating, in love, moving on. Which was all good. She was even willing to forgive the rather frequent dinner dates the two of them had, which had left Sam home alone several times now.
But this was week four. And the flowers and the dinners just kept on going. And the only thing Sam knew about her mom’s lover was his name.
That was it. Nothing else. And every single time Sam tried to find out more about him, Jane just started to stutter slightly and avoided the subject somehow.
Sam heard the front door fall shut. This meant that in about three seconds her mom would be coming in, greet her, notice the flowers, smile, smell the flowers, smile, read the card, smile even more and then ask Sam about how her day at school had been.
Jane walked into the kitchen.
“Hi honey.” She said.
“Hey mom.” Sam greeted. “Someone left you flowers. Again.”
Jane smiled as she picked up the flowers and inhaled their scent.
“They’re from Robin. Again.”
Jane picked up the card and read it, her smile growing every second.
“Yes, thank you for noticing my presence.” Sam muttered.
“Oh, I’m sorry, hon.” Jane sat, setting down the flowers again. “How was your day?”
Sam rolled her eyes. <<I’m a freakin’ clairvoyant.>>
“Same as always.” She said. “And how was your day, mom? Fantasising about your lover all day at work?”
“Sam.” Jane said sternly.
“Oh, come on, mom. The last four weeks there’s been only one person on your mind. And you and I both know who it is.”
“I know, Sam, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to ignore you or anything. It’s just…”
“Yeah, I know, you’re in love.” Sam said. “But I have no clue with who and that’s the part that’s really bothering me. I mean, judging from the way you’re walking around on Cloud 9 all the time, I’d wager it’s not gonna be very long before he’s my stepdad. And the only thing I know about him is his name. I’ve never even seen him once. I have no clue who he is.”
Jane sighed and sat down. Sam knew the signs. This was going to be a ‘conversation’. So either her mom was about to come up with some excuse or she might actually tell her something.
“Sam, I…” Jane paused, unsure of what to say.
This was good, in Sam’s opinion. This meant that it wasn’t going to be another excuse. Sam took this opportunity by sitting up straight, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking expectantly.
“You’re not going to make this any easier fore me, are you?”
Sam slowly shook her head.
“OK then. Might as well be direct and get it over with. The reason I’ve been so reluctant to tell you anything is because Robin’s a woman.”
Sam’s rigid posture melted away. “A… a woman?” Was all she managed to say.
Jane looked away from Sam, nervously fidgeting her hair. “Yeah.”
“You’re dating, romantically dating, a woman?”
“Yes I am, Sam.”
“So, how are you taking it?” Jane asked.
Sam had to think about this. “I’m… not… really… sure. It takes some getting used to. A lot of getting used to, actually. But I think I might deal with it.” She smiled a little. “After all, you didn’t raise me to be a homophobe.”
“You have no idea how grateful I am for that right now.” Jane said.
“So… when do I get to meet hi… her?”
Jane smiled. “When did you become the adult around here?”
“Same time you started behaving like a teenager with a crush.” Sam answered. “But still, my question remains.”
“I’ll ask her tomorrow, OK? And if she agrees, then… then you’ll get to meet her.”
“OK, fair enough.” Sam said. “But can I ask you one more thing? And then I’ll drop it, I promise.”
“What about dad?” Sam asked. “I mean, I get that you’re happy now and I’m OK with that and all. But… well… you’re happy with… a woman, and… well, what about dad?”
“I loved your father, Sam, you know that. And I guess I’ll always love him. But I love her too.”
“Yeah, but mom, what does that make you? I mean, you hear all these stories, but…”
“Sam, I loved him. Now I love her. Don’t… don’t start labelling me. I taught you better than that.”
“No buts. You were going to drop the subject, so drop it already and get on with your homework, all right?”
“Fine.” Sam said.
“Good. In that case, I think I’ll start dinner.”
“What’re we having?” Sam asked, already having her books open in front of her.
“Oh you know.” Jane said, getting up from her chair. “Meat, potatoes, cabbage.”
“Yummy.” Sam said sarcastically.
“You can’t always have what you want dear.”
“Yeah, don’t I know it.” Sam muttered.
Another day of the torture that some people liked calling High School had thankfully passed and if Sam had been a very religious person she would’ve dropped onto her knees and sent out a prayer of thanks to whoever was listening. She wasn’t a very religious person, however, so when the door shut behind her she just leaned against it and sighed with relief. It was Friday, the weekend had started, she wouldn’t have to face Brooke again until Monday and why did she hear someone humming?
Jane was not a person who hummed. That is to say, Sam didn’t think she was. But as Sam came closer and closer to her mother’s bedroom, the humming grew in volume. When she actually reached the room, it had been confirmed. Her mom was actually humming. She was also standing in front of the mirror, trying on a dress.
“Well, you’re home early.” Sam said.
Jane turned around, all smiles. “It was a slow day at work today, so I called it a day and went home.”
“So that you would have more time to make yourself pretty for your girlfriend.” Sam stated. “God, you’re acting like a teenager. You know I’m the one who’s supposed to do that, right?”
“Today’s our one month anniversary.” Jane said. “So forgive me for being excited.” She looked back into the mirror. “How do I look?”
Sam chuckled. “You look fine, mom.”
“Yes, really. Trust me when I say you’re gonna knock that girlfriend of yours off her feet.”
“You think so?”
“Mom, stop being so insecure. Anyway, is she coming to pick you up or what?”
“We’re going to the restaurant separately and meet up there, like before. I hope it’ll be the last time. Got some big plans for tonight.”
Sam made a show of covering her ears, bending forward and looking like she might be sick. “I so do NOT want to hear about your big plans.” Sam said. “You know every child hopes she was born out of an immaculate conception.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, young lady. It’s not like that.”
“Hell yes, it is.” Sam said. “Having big plans for a night means planning to… do that which currently cannot be named.”
“Well, even if I do, it’s still none of your business, young lady.”
“God, I hope not.”
The night was cool, the sky was clear, the restaurant expensive and the watch said she was five minutes late. Robin already stood in front of the entrance and if Jane hadn’t been in a slight hurry she would’ve stopped to admire her beauty for a moment. As it was though, Jane hurried towards Robin, who smiled upon noticing her. Jane slowed down to a normal walk as she approached the woman. They kissed. It was brief, civil and meant like a greeting.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Jane said.
“No big deal.” Robin answered.
“Of course it’s a big deal. It’s our one month anniversary. Which reminds me...” Jane put one hand into one of her pockets and presented Robin with a small, black box.
Robin accepted the gift, opened it and smiled.
“It’s beautiful, Jane.”
“It’s just a simple necklace.” She said. “Consider it an apology for not showing up in time.”
Robin extended one hand to take one of Jane’s hands in it.
“It’s beautiful.” She repeated. “Thank you.”
“Do you want me to put it on?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t.”
Jane took the necklace from its confines. Robin turned around and Jane took a step closer. It was then that one small part of her realised that she was standing too close to Robin. She had learned very early in their relationship that being too close to the woman would cause a number of bodily parts and organs to feel strange and fluttery, an inability to think clearly and, most of all, a desire to never move again.
“Jane?” Robin asked.
Jane broke free of the spell and gently placed the necklace around her lover’s neck. After the necklace was in place, Robin turned around. The look in her eyes was beyond description, but it did closely mirror the look in Jane’s eyes.
The women kissed again. It was less civil, far more intimate, lasted a great deal longer and was a far more accurate depiction of the love the two women felt for each other.
Dinner went by smoothly. The women made inane small talk during the entire evening, but whatever it was that their mouths was saying was not important. The unspoken conversation was far more important and consisted mostly out of glances, smiles, the tucking away of a stray hair, the holding of hands and even the occasional feeding of the other.
Dinner ended, the check had been paid and the two women were about to leave when Jane took Robin’s right hand in both her hands and said those words that somehow always meant trouble.
“Robin, there’s something you should know.”
Robin looked at her, becoming serious.
“It’s just that my daughter wants to meet you and I think she has a right to. So it would mean a lot to both of us if you’d come around tomorrow night?”
“How much does she know?” Robin asked.
“She knows you’re a woman.”
Robin nodded. “So the really shocking news is still to come, then.”
Jane smiled. “I suppose so, yes. But will you be coming?”
“There’s nothing I’d love to do more. Even if it means having to face an awkward situation.”
“We’d have to face it sooner or later. Might as well be now.”
“Not now.” Robin said. “Now is spending time with you. Tomorrow we’ll face it.”
“Will you be bringing Harrison along?”
“I think I will.”
“Very well. Now, like you said, tomorrow is tomorrow.” And here her tone grew less serious. “And I still have plans for the now.”
NOTE: I've been staring at a blank screen for quite some time before this part rolled out. And, as most of you will know, that is never a good sign.
Ah, the joys of Saturday morning television. How non-existent they were. Sam flicked from one channel to the next, getting more bored every time. But at least it helped take her mind off Brooke. Which was a good thing since the blonde cheerleader had been prancing around in there for way too long.
At least Nicole was honest about being a total bitch. But no, not Brooke. She'd have to be so damn _nice_ about everything. She could stab you in the back and make it look like a favour to you. And the worst part was that she was so damn pretty that Sam just couldn't bring herself to hating her guts like she should.
The front door opened and fell shut a few moments later. Sam looked up to see it was ten in the morning. She realised that she had a choice. She could either sit here and keep thinking about Brooke, or she could go have a conversation with her mother.
Both didn't seem very appealing, but unfortunately a third option wasn't presenting itself. Sighing, Sam turned off the TV and got up. She cornered her mother in the kitchen and looked justifiably pissed off. Jane on the other hand looked like she was on Cloud 9. Not that she had ever left there since she came back from her cruise.
"So, where have _you_ been last night?" Sam asked sternly.
"That's really none of your business, young lady." Jane said.
"Whenever I'm gone for an entire night you freak out. So I think I have a right to know where you've been."
Jane shrugged. "Well, you asked for it. Robin and I spent the night in a motel. Together. Need I say more?"
Sam's face scrunched up. "I'd rather you didn't."
"Good, because I wasn't going to tell you anything anyway. Now, Robin has agreed to come over for dinner tonight. But, since our kitchen is almost devoid of food of any kind."
"I have to go do some heavy-duty shopping." Sam finished the sentence grudgingly.
"Actually, I was going to say that _I_ was going to get the groceries. But it's very nice of you to volunteer. Shall I write everything down for you?"
The convenience store was small, but it had everything Sam needed. Having gathered everything she had to, she walked over to the cashier.
"Hey, Miss John."
Robin started working out how much Sam had to pay her and frowned slightly at some of the articles.
"Anything wrong?" Sam asked.
"No." Robin answered. "It's just that this is some pretty expensive stuff."
Sam shrugged. "We're having someone for dinner tonight."
Robin swallowed. "Have you now?"
"Yeah, mom's mystery lover is coming over tonight to introduce he. himself."
Robin smiled. "Well, I'm sure that your mom's mystery lover is very lucky la. man."
Sam stared at her for a moment, thinking. Then she decided that it wasn't really her business anyway, so she paid and got her groceries.
"Later Miss John."
Robin watched the girl go and didn't speak until she was well out of sight.
"Take over for me, will you Miranda?" She asked. "I've got something important to do."
"Yeah, sure." Miranda answered. "But wasn't the big one month anniversary yesterday?" She added smiling.
"This is more important." Robin said.
Imagination is, like so many things in life, a double-edged sword. People who don't have it are never great thinkers, never will be great thinkers and will never be able to think a truly original thought. However, people with no imagination whatsoever tend to take things at face value, without any room paranoia or other disturbing behaviour. People with lots of imagination, on the other hand, tend to belong to the great thinkers, philosophers and inventors of the time, because like to look at something and then look at again from a different angle. They also tend to get ideas that come out of nowhere, which sometimes can result in suspicion or simply, mental torture.
Sam was a girl with imagination. And at this point in time, that was a pretty bad thing. It had started with her mom walking around the house rather nervous. Shortly after that Jane had almost begged Sam not to freak when the woman she loved showed up on the doorstep. This lead Sam to believe that there was every reason to freak. And so, Sam started thinking.
And, like many people with much imagination, she started at what could be so bad that she'd freak out.
<<Well,>> Sam thought. <<If it were Mary Cherry's mom, that would be bad.>>
Sam snickered. What a preposterous idea. But still. if it was true. Jane really was _very_ nervous. And Mary Cherry's mom _was_ single.
No, it couldn't be!
So here Sam was, sitting on the couch, looking at the clock every two seconds, expecting to see Mary Cherry and her mother any minute now.
After a while, Sam heard voices outside. They were shouts that tried not to sound like shouts. It was clear that an argument was going on.
<<Maybe it _is_ Mary Cherry's mom.>> Sam thought, with ever-increasing dread. <<Because Mary Cherry would probably enjoy this as much as I do. Oh God, it really IS Mary Cherry's mom!>>
The doorbell rang and Sam froze in quiet terror. Jane got up from the couch. Not quite knowing why, Sam followed.
The trip to the hallway was very short and soon, the door started to open.
Sam started sweating and her mind stopped thinking.
Then, an entire tsunami of relief flooded over her.
"Oh, thank God." She said. "It's just Harrison's mom."
Then she looked at that statement once more in her mind.
"Wait a sec... HARRISON'S MOM!!??"
Dinner was quiet. And it wasn't the good kind of comfortable-silence-quiet. It was the quiet where you could already hear the explosion that was bound to come any second now. Harrison sat at one end of the table. He looked angry, but he also seemed to be unsure as to who he should direct that anger to. So he just looked angry in general. Sam sat opposite of Harrison, at the other end of the table. She was sort of eating, but it was automatic behaviour while her mind, that had retreated from the table at the moment, was busy working things out. Jane and Robin sat next to each other, casting worried glances at their offspring.
"So." Sam said at long last. "Who's gonna move in with who and when?" She asked simply.
"What?" Harrison hissed.
"I think I agree with my son here." Robin said. "Only not with quite so much venom." She added, casting a sharp glance in Harrison's direction.
Harrison shrugged and looked away.
"Well, it'd be the logical to do, right?" Sam said. "I mean, if my mom is any indication the two of you would've been engaged a long time if it wasn't for the fact that you're both women."
"You're probably right." Robin said, reaching out slightly and taking Jane's hand in her own. "But none of our houses are big enough to house the four of us."
"Well." Jane started. "Maybe if we bought one together?"
"I can't believe you're discussing this!" Harrison shouted. "Are you all nuts! And Sam, you of all people should see it."
"See what, Harrison?" Sam asked evenly. "See how much my mom loves your mom? You think that's easy for me? It's weird and it's freaking me out! But at least, _I_ got over it, because it's obvious to anyone with or without eyesight that this is right." Here she briefly looked at Jane and Robin. "Well. maybe not _completely_ over it, but I'm getting there." She concluded.
"Thanks, honey." Jane said.
Sam shrugged. "Should go without saying, really."
"And how about you?" Robin asked. "Will you be able to 'get over it'?"
Harrison doubted. Something inside him said that this was all _wrong_ somehow. On the other hand, Robin _was_ his mother and a good one at that.
"I'll need some time to figure that out." Harrison said.
"That's all I ask."
NOTE: The sudden surge of inspiration I had about two weeks ago seems to have ebbed once again. Well… that isn’t exactly true. I have been getting ideas for an original story featuring werewolves and dragons, but since I’ve only got the very last scene of that story… Anyway, let’s get on with this story.
It was a nice, sunny day at Kennedy High. This was not surprising, because in the particular location where Kennedy High was located it was always bright and sunny. Even at night. Sam and Lily were walking through the corridors of Kennedy High. Lily was ranting about Mary Cherry and her coats made out of the fur of anally electrocuted mink, but Sam wasn’t exactly listening. She had other things on her mind. Well, one other thing really. Although, occasionally another, just slightly smaller thing crept in as well.
“Sam are you listening?”
Sam’s brain returned to what at the moment passed for reality. And, like all brains that suddenly have to pay attention to the outside world, all Sam’s brain could come up with was:
“So you haven’t been listening.” Lily stated.
“Not really, no. I’ve got some stuff on my mind.”
“Let me guess, is it blonde, a cheerleader and seated next to you in Biology?”
“No.” Sam said. “And I don’t think about Brooke all the time.”
“Uh-huh.” Said Lily, clearly stating her disbelief.
“Of course you don’t.”
“So, what were you saying again?” Sam asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
It worked. Lily launched back into rant-mode and Sam’s mind once again retreated from the direct vicinity.
And so Sam and Lily walked towards the general direction of wherever it was that they were supposed to be until Sam froze all of the sudden.
“Harrison.” Said Sam.
“Sam.” Said Harrison.
Sam started walking again. Harrison too started walking again.
Lily quickly walked up next to Sam.
“OK, I know there was an entire plethora of words in that two-word conversation and I want to know what they were.”
“No, you don’t.” Said Sam.
“Oh yes I do Sam.” Lily said. “And if you don’t tell me I’ll…” The brunette faltered. She wasn’t very good at threats. “I’ll do something unpleasant.” She finished lamely.
“Oh, well, if you put it like _that_ how can I refuse?”
“So you’ll tell me?” Lily asked eagerly.
“I was being sarcastic.”
Sam looked at the blonde. She was looking to the front of the classroom where Miss Glass could appear any moment now. But still Sam felt like she had to say something. She just didn’t know what. Because, when it came down to it, what was it that popular girls talked about? Make-up? Clothes? Boys?
All of them were topics that Sam just didn’t understand or find particularly fascinating.
“So… saw that movie on TV last night?” Sam asked. Movies were fairly neutral territory. Pretty much everyone watched movies, right?
“Which one do you mean?” Brooke asked.
Sam realised quite painfully that she hadn’t seen any movies yesterday night. She had been much too busy failing to type an editorial for the Zapruder Reporter because she was thinking about other stuff. Brooke being the other one.
“You know, the one with…” Sam tried to envision what the TV guide looked like last night. Then she managed to come up with a name she remembered seeing. “Rebecca Liljeberg.”
“Who?” Brooke asked.
“Oh… you know.” Sam said, hoping that she sounded like someone who knew Rebecca Liljeberg and expected everyone else to know her as well.
“Actually, I don’t. What was it about?”
“Oh, it was this… foreign movie about… err… a girl and err…”
“OK class, listen up.”
Sam thanked the gods for sending Miss Glass at this very particular moment and motioned towards Brooke that they should be paying attention right now and not be talking about movies.
Around halfway during Biology class Sam noticed that a note was being moved in her direction. Sam took it, unfolded it and read.
“If you had actually seen that movie, Sam, you would’ve known it was about two girls falling in love.”
Sam swallowed since she didn’t have anything in her mouth to choke on, quickly folded the note and stuffed it into her pocket. She then briefly glanced at Brooke, who was watching Miss Glass’ explanation about the construction of enzymes on a cellular level with an innocent smile on her face.
Sam continued glancing at Brooke during lunch time. Brooke was talking animatedly with Nicole and Mary Cherry about something or the other. It all looked perfectly normal.
Brooke had watched a foreign movie about lesbians.
Was that something popular people did?
And if not, had Brooke been trying to tell her something?
And if so, what did that mean?
That she had a shot?
“Mom, I’m home!” Sam shouted as she closed the door behind her. Her mother probably wasn’t home, but it was something she always did. She briefly wondered when that habit started, but woken up from her musing when she heard someone shouting:
“I’m over here!”
Sam walked over to the kitchen. Jane was there. Robin was also there. They were sitting next to other. There were no signs to indicate that they had been interrupted. Or at least, no signs to show that they had been interrupted in something that Sam really didn’t want to see.
In front of them, on the table, were several books and booklets.
“What’re you doing?” Sam asked, thinking it to be a fairly safe question.
“Comparing bank accounts.” Jane answered, not looking up.
“Bank accounts.” Sam said. “What for?”
Jane and Robin looked up at her. It was still weird. Something inside of Sam, at the very core of her very being, said that these two women were romantically involved with each other and that there really was nothing wrong about it. Everything else inside Sam revolted against the idea.
“Remember that dinner we had?” Jane asked.
“Yeah. What about it?”
“Remember the first thing you said during dinner?” Robin asked.
Terror crawled up Sam’s spine and infected her brains. The world seemed to freeze around her as she managed to formulate her question.
“Have you found a house yet?”
Jane and Robin looked at each other. Then Jane looked back at Sam.
Then she nodded.
Sam felt the very urgent need to talk to someone. So she locked herself up in her room, took out her cell-phone and rang Carmen.
“Hi this is Sam McPherson. Can I talk to Carmen?”
*Just a second.*
“Carm! It’s me, Sam.”
“Yeah, hi. Hey, I was wondering, how much attention did you pay in Bio?”
*Not paying attention again?* Carmen sounded somewhat amused.
“Sorta. I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind right now.”
*You setting up your next big attack on Brooke McQueen?*
“Oh come on Carmen. You know me better than that.”
<<But not TOO much better, hopefully.>>
*Sure I do, Sam. So, what’d you miss?*
“That stuff about RNA, mRNA and tRNA, basically.”
*In other words: Everything.*
*Funny how you’re only distracted so much in Biology class.*
“Carm are you gonna help me or not?”
Carmen started explaining the process of enzyme-engineering. Sam walked over to her bed and let herself fall down on top of it. Staring at the ceiling she thought about what she was about to say. Or how she was going to say it.
*So when the mRNA reaches the ribosome--- Yeah, what?*
“Do you think that…” Sam hesitated. “Personality is somehow genetical?”
*I don’t think so, I guess.* Carmen answered. *Why’re you asking?*
*You…?* Carmen prompted.
“It’s just that…”
Sam sighed. How was she going to phrase this?
“Mom has started dating again.”
“With a woman.”
*So, now you’re wondering if you might be gay as well? Is that it?*
“Err… sort of.” Sam answered.
“I’m not exactly wondering.” Sam said carefully. “It’s more like knowing.”
*So… you’re mom’s gay---*
“Bi.” Sam quickly interrupted.
*OK, fine, bi. And you’re gay too. And now you’re not sure if this is… what? An inherited trait?*
“You make it sound like something stupid.”
*It IS something stupid.* Carmen said.
“But… you know how they say that intelligence is genetical.”
*Look, I’ll put it simply. You and your mom both like girls. That’s it. End of story. Why bother with the ‘why’ or ‘how’?*
“Yeah, I know. But it’s still bothering me.”
*Look at it like this: I’m straight. My parents are straight. Doesn’t bother me, though.*
Sam hesitated. Why _was_ that different? Carmen took the silence as a gap she quickly had to fill.
*OK, then look at it like this: You know your mom isn’t going to freak when you come out.*
“Well… I guess that’s true.”
*So? Problem solved?*
“I suppose.” Sam said.
*Great. Oh and Sam?*
*Next time just say what’s bothering you and don’t let me have to repeat one very boring Biology lesson, OK?*
“Sure. Bye Carm.”
Sam stared at the now inactive phone in her hand. The conversation hadn’t exactly helped. The brunette had two major issues in her life. And she had just carefully avoided both of them.
Sam lay back on the bed and stared at ceiling, trying hard not to think.
NOTE: Considering the fact that every sentence was a struggle, this part is not very good. What’s worse, it’s also the start of a new plot line that’s too big to just abandon.
It was several days later Sam was in the Novak adhering to the call of nature, like everybody has to do once a while. She stared blankly at the door in front of her. What she saw, however, where the two faces of Brooke McQueen. There was Cheerleading Queen McQueen, the girl who everyone knew and who liked to make the lives of people with less social standing a living Hell. And then there was Biology Brooke, who was actually nice from time to time. The first Brooke was probably a facade, the second most likely the real deal.
But that never says a lot.
A lot of people become their facades.
The really big problem was that Brooke was now talking to her outside of class as well. Sure, Sam was happy about this development, but it also turned the vague attraction she had felt for so long into… what? A crush? Love?
Sam thoughts were disturbed when she heard something that didn’t sound very pleasant. It sounded like someone throwing up. Then again, it _was_ flu season and some of the hard-core nerds _did_ come to school even when their temperatures reached a dangerous level.
Sam heard someone flush the toilet, then the sounds of walking feet, rushing water, more walking and then the closing of a door.
The brunette decided that this was a good moment to finish up.
“Jeez, you look awful.” Was the first thing Sam said as she sat down next to Brooke in Bio. It probably wasn’t the brightest thing to say, but it sure was the honest thing to say.
“Why thanks Sam.” Brooke said tiredly. “I feel like crap too.”
“Got the flu as well?”
Brooke shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah.”
Sam took a moment to take a better look at Brooke. It didn’t look very pretty. Her hair wasn’t clean, wasn’t combed and seemed to stick together here and there. Her face was ashen with dark rims under eyes that looked very tired, on the verge of lifeless.
“You should’ve stayed home.” Sam said. “Because you look seriously ill.”
“You’re probably right.” Brooke said. Then she snickered very briefly. “You know what Nicole’s advice was?”
“Put on some more make-up. Make myself presentable.” She said with an unhealthy dose of bitterness. “I don’t want to be presentable.” She added quietly.
“OK, that’s it.” Sam decided. “Miss Glass, Sir?” The brunette asked, raising her hand.
“Yes Miss McPherson?” Glass asked.
“I think Brooke here is seriously ill. She really needs to get home.”
“No I don’t.” Brooke defended weakly.
Glass walked up to the two girls and looked at Brooke.
“Well, if you’re not ill then you’re the best faker I’ve ever had in my class.” Glass said. “Report to Principal Hall and go home. That’s an order Missy. Sam, you go with her.”
“I don’t need her help.” Brooke said.
“Well, you’re not going to drive like that, that’s for sure.”
“OK, fine.” Brooke relented.
The blonde stood up, swayed slightly and would’ve fallen to the floor if Sam hadn’t been quick enough to catch her.
“On second thought.” Glass said. “You take her to the nurse’s office, wait until she wakes up, take her home and take care of her until her folks come home. I’ll deal with the principal.”
“Thanks.” Sam said, trying to get into a position where she could support Brooke better.
“Don’t mention it. Students passing out are not good for our school’s image.”
A few hours later, Sam had managed to drive Brooke home, help her up the stairs into bed. She now stood in the blonde’s room, not quite knowing whether she should go or stay, so she decided to look around the room for a bit while she waited for the now conscious Brooke to say anything. The brunette had often wondered what the blonde’s room looked like, though, in all honesty, it wasn’t an interest fuelled from a desire to get some interior decorating tips. But the Palace, as the McQueen house was generally known amongst the Kennedy High populace, had been a big disappointment to Sam. It was quite frankly too big for just two people to live in, so a large part of the house simply seemed unused. And the part that was ‘used’, if that term was appropriate, wasn’t so much ‘lived in’, but more ‘existed in from time to time’. At that point Sam was very happy with the small apartment where she and her mom lived in at the moment.
“Sam?” Brooke asked weakly.
Sam turned around to look at her. “Yeah?”
“You don’t have to stay, you know.”
“I know.” Sam said, shrugging. “But I figured I’d stay until your dad comes home or something. Unless you want me to leave, of course.”
“No.” Brooke said. “But dad won’t come home until tomorrow.”
“He’s been to some business convention for a month or something, so…”
“I get it.” Sam said.
<<Must’ve been lonely.>> The brunette added in her thoughts.
“I’d like you to stay.” Brooke admitted. “I like you. When you’re not campaigning against the popular ones.”
“Well, the feeling’s mutual.” Sam said smiling. “I like you when you’re not crushing the unpopular ones beneath the soles of your designer shoes.”
Brooke groaned quietly, but said nothing.
“I’ll be calling my mom now, telling her I’ll stay here. Be right back.”
Sam calmly walked out of the room, shut the door, walked down the hallway and down the stairs, then stopped.
<<Brooke likes me. Brooke LIKES me. YesyesyesyesyesyesYES!!!>>
The brunette punched the air several times in triumph, then got a hold of herself and went in search of a phone.
Five minutes later, Sam had left a message on the answering machine and had gone back to Brooke’s room, where she was currently seated on a chair, looking at the blonde, who looked back with rather bleary eyes.
“Is there any place I can sleep?” Sam asked.
“There’s an empty bedroom on the other end of the bathroom over there.” Brooke nodded. “It’s got a bed in it. You can use that.”
Sam nodded. “Can I get you anything?”
“Nah. Not hungry.”
“OK, anything else? Something to read or something?”
“I just want to go to sleep, actually.”
“That works for me too.” Sam said. “But I think I’ll just take your temperature first.”
Brooke hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“So what’s the verdict?” Brooke asked, after a thermometer had been in her mouth for an appropriate time.
“Oh… err…” Sam said distractedly, looking at the turn-out. “You’d better stay in bed for now.”
“Good plan.” Brooke said, then turned around.
“Uh-huh.” Sam said, more to herself than to the blonde.
Sam was no medical genius. She never had been and she wasn’t aspiring to become one. But she did have sufficient knowledge to know a few things. One of these things was that when people have the flu, the have a fever. And since Brooke seemed to have pretty bad case of the flu, she would have a pretty high fever.
But Brooke didn’t have a fever.
Her body temperature was normal.
So if she didn’t have the flu, what was wrong with her then?
Sam turned and looked at the blonde. She had heard the rumours. EVERYBODY had heard the rumours, despite Nicole’s efforts to crush them. But the rumours also said that that had been a pretty long time ago. That the blonde was over it now. But as Sam looked at the unhealthy face of the other girl, she couldn’t help but notice that the bones stuck out quite visibly and that the skin only seemed to be in place because it was supported solely by those bones.
“Brooke? Brooke, wake up.”
Brooke slowly opened her eyes and saw nothing. After a while her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she thought that she saw Sam looking at her.
“Sam? What time is it?”
“Half past seven, more or less. Can I turn on the lights?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Brooke heard Sam stand up and walk a few paces. Then the blonde rapidly blinked several times as wave of light crashed into her eyes. After her eyes adjusted, she noticed Sam was carrying a large, but rather flat, box.
“Pizza.” Sam answered. “I know it’s not the best thing for a sick person like yourself, but it’s still healthier than anything I could cook up. So, you wanna slice?”
“No.” Brooke said. “I don’t think my stomach could take it.”
“Fair enough.” Sam said. “Want some fruit then? I thought I saw some downstairs.”
“I’m not hungry.” Brooke mumbled, turning around and away from Sam.
“Brooke, you have to eat.” Sam said. “You don’t look healthy and you don’t have a fever, so…” The brunette took a deep breath, then decided to be direct. “Brooke, are you anorexic?”
The blonde didn’t answer. Minutes seemed to go by where Brooke remained completely motionless. And when she spoke it was so quietly that Sam almost couldn’t hear.
Sam nodded. “That’s… err… that’s pretty bad, Brooke. What’s worse, you’re pretty good at hiding it too. I didn’t notice anything until today.”
“I’ve got experience.” Brooke mumbled.
“Yeah.” Sam said to the air. “Well, here’s the deal McQueen. Either you eat some fruit right now, or I’ll tell your dad tomorrow and leave it up to him.”
Brooke turned around as fast as she could. “Please don’t tell him, please. He’ll just send me to the hospital.”
“Which is probably the smartest thing to do right now.” Sam said coldly. “But I won’t rat if you eat something right now. Without throwing it up afterwards.”
“I think there’s some melon in the fridge.” Brooke said. “I’ll have something of that.”
Sam nodded and left after putting the pizza box on the floor. A few moments later, she returned with a glass of water and a slice of lemon that wasn’t very big, but wasn’t exactly small either. She handed the lemon to Brooke who took it reluctantly.
“Now eat it.” Sam said sternly, as she sat back on the chair.
Slowly, with great reluctance and very small bites, Brooke ate the lemon. After several very long minutes she had finally finished the thing and let the leftovers drop on the ground.
“I’ll have that water now.” Brooke said.
Sam handed her the glass and was very pleased when she saw the blonde drink it quickly. After she had finished it, she put the empty glass on the ground, pulled up the blankets and looked at Sam.
“I’ll clean it up later.” Sam said. “You just go to sleep now.”
“'Kay.” Brooke said. Then she smiled a little. “Thanks.”
Sam smiled back.
Brooke turned over and closed her eyes. Sam remained in her chair, watching the girl and thinking. Sure, Brooke smile had been completely genuine, but Sam didn’t think that that wouldn’t prevent the blonde from getting up late at night when she thought Sam was sleeping to throw it all up again all the same.
Sam sighed to herself.
“I’d better wait ‘till she’s really asleep and then make some coffee.” She muttered. “‘Cause I have a feeling it’s going to be a very long night.”
NOTE: Not all that long ago (and this in no way relates to the fic), a colleague from my mom’s work had a baby (well, the girlfriend of said colleague, but that’s besides the point). So now, born on the 15th of August, which happens to be my birthday, a girl has been born that carries the name Sam. Coincidence? Probably. But I just thought it was somehow appropriate.
The small, blue bowl was bleary. This wasn’t a fault from the bowl itself, obviously. Instead, Sam accused the tears in her eyes of making everything bleary. Tears that were there simply because her eyes had been open for far too long. Yawning profusely, Sam tried to aim some cereals into the bowl. When she thought the bowl was pretty much filled, she took the milk bottle and added milk. After that her hand wandered in the area next to the bowl until she remembered that she had never taken a spoon to begin with. Yawning again, with her eyes half-closed, Sam stood up and felt her way through the kitchen.
<<Thank God it’s Saturday.>> Sam thought to herself.
After finding a spoon, Sam sat back down and started eating. Soon after, she heard the front door open and close. A few moments later a man with blonde hair was standing in the kitchen.
“Err… hello.” He said, confused. “May I ask who you are?”
“Sam.” She answered, trying to suppress another yawn.
“Sam.” Said the man. “Oh, yes, now I remember. Brooke talks about you sometimes. I’m Mike, her father.” He said, extending his hand.
Sam dutifully shook it, then went back to eating her breakfast.
“Can I ask why you’re here?”
Sam hesitated for a moment. Even through her sleepy mind she realised that there were two things she could do. Tell the truth, which would break her promise but would probably be better for Brooke, or lie, which was what she had promised to do.
“Brooke’s fallen ill.” Sam said. “So I stayed here to take care of her for a bit.”
“Well, that’s certainly very nice of you.” Mike said. “Nothing serious, I hope?”
“Nah.” Sam lied. “Just a touch of the flu.”
“Thank goodness.” Mike said, in a tone of voice that Sam wonder how much Brooke’s father suspected.
“Oh, and here she is now.” Sam said.
Brooke stood in the doorway, looking every bit as miserable as yesterday.
“Hey dad, Sam.” She greeted.
“Hi honey.” Mike said, walking over to her and hugging her briefly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you fell ill.”
Brooke briefly glanced at Sam, a question evident in her eyes. Sam shook her head.
“Yeah, well, ‘t is the season and all that.” Brooke answered.
“Hey Brooke,” Sam said pointedly. “I’m just having breakfast. Care to join me?”
Brooke looked over to Sam and realised that it hadn’t been a question.
After the two girls had finished their breakfast, Brooke quickly retreated back to bed. Sam hurried after her, simply to make sure that Brooke wouldn’t throw it all up again. Fortunately, all the blonde did was crawl back into bed and pull up the covers.
“I’ll be going home now, Brooke.” Sam said. “But I will be checking up on you regularly, understand? And if I find out then Mike finds out.”
“I know.” Brooke said.
“OK then.” Sam said. “Sweet dreams.”
The blonde seemed to reply, but it was too muffled for Sam to be able to hear it. The brunette watched the other girl for a while, then turned around and closed the door behind her. It was only then that her mind started jumping up and down ferociously, trying to make Sam realise something through the sleepy haze.
<<Wait a sec…>> She thought rather slowly. <<There was something… What was it Mike said again? Brooke talks about me sometimes?>> It took a moment for this realisation to completely dawn on Sam, but when it did the brunette felt very much like jumping up and down like the proverbial giddy schoolgirl. Instead, she just went in search of Mike to ask him if he would be so kind as to give her a lift home.
Once Sam got back home the first thing she did was go to her room, take off her clothes, crash down onto her bed and sleep all day until it was time for dinner.
Sunday was bright and sunny and, Jane thought, a perfect opportunity to go look at the new house. As Jane pulled up in front of it, Sam discovered that her mother hadn’t been the only one who had got that idea. Not that that came as a surprise to her.
The house itself wasn’t very big. Through the front door you set foot in a small hallway, that contained a staircase going up and access to a small room with a lonely toilet. Walking out the hall you came into the main area of the first floor of the house which Jane and Robin had already enthusiastically divided into the living room and the kitchen. On the second floor there were four separate rooms: three bedrooms and a small bathroom that was just big enough for a reasonably large sink and a shower. An attic, a garage and a small backyard completed the picture.
“So what do you think?” Jane asked expectantly after the short tour was finished.
“Well, it’s bigger than what we live in now.” Sam said. “Except that this is still mostly empty. What do you think Harrison?”
Harrison grumbled something incoherently. Jane’s cheerful expression clouded for a moment, but a reassuring hand from Robin on her shoulder helped dissipate the clouds rather quickly.
“So, when do we move in here?” Sam asked.
Jane and Robin looked at each other for a moment, silently asking the question of who was going to respond.
“Somewhere next week.” Jane said. “We haven’t made a specific date yet, but… next week.”
“I see.” Sam said. “Well, I think I’ll look around on my for a while. Coming Harrison?”
Harrison’s eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. “You’re not going to leave the two of them alone, are you?”
“Harrison, they’re responsible adults. They know what they’re doing.” Then Sam smiled. “And I know I don’t want to be around when they’re doing it.”
“Sam!” Jane yelled, even though she tried to a hide a smile.
“Just kidding.” Sam said. “But don’t tell me your bedroom is going to have two separate beds.”
Laughing, the brunette made her way down the stairs, leaving the adults on the second floor and, admittedly, dangerously close to their future bedroom. She was quickly followed by Harrison.
“Sam, how can you joke about this?” Harrison asked annoyed when the two of them were downstairs and standing in the still-empty living room.
“Well, why now? Joking about one’s parents is a privilege teenagers have.”
“Yes, but I don’t think you’ve quite realised that both our mothers are, you know, mothers.”
“Oh God, you’re not going to make a great big issue out of the gay thing, are you?” Sam said.
“No, of course not.” Harrison said defensively. “It’s just that homosexuality isn’t quite accepted yet and that it’ll probably cause trouble and stuff. I’m just looking out for their best interests, is all.”
“Harrison, are you blind? Their best interests are each other. I know my mom hasn’t been really happy since my dad died, but now she’s, you know, happy again. And I think the same thing goes for your mom.”
Harrison looked at the ground, not able to come up with a plausible denial.
“Look, we might as well accept the fact that we’ll practically be siblings. Deal with it and move on.” Sam said reasonably.
Harrison still didn’t quite answer, but made a few sounds that could have been interpreted that he sort of agreed with the girl.
“So, we’re both not having a large amount of trouble?”
Harrison shook his head. “No, I guess not.”
“Great.” Sam said. “Can I borrow your cell-phone for a sec?”
Harrison looked up, surprised. “What has my cell-phone got to do with anything?”
“Nothing. It’s just that I need to call someone right now.”
“What, right now? Can’t you just wait until get home?”
“Harrison, don’t argue.”
“OK, OK, fine. Can I at least ask who you’re gonna call?”
“Ghostbusters.” Sam answered grinning, taking the cell-phone.
The brunette quickly dialled the number, ignoring Harrison’s protests and waited for someone to pick up.
*This is the answering machine of Mike McQueen. Both me and my daughter are not home at the moment. If you want to leave a message, wait for the beep.*
Sam looked at the phone, reluctantly hung up and handed it back to Harrison.
“Nobody home?” He guessed.
“Bingo.” Sam said. “I’ll try again later.” The brunette looked around for a bit to indicate that the phoning topic was closed and that she was going to open up a new one. “Well, I’ve seen it with this place. Let’s say we go pick up our moms and go home?”
As Sam and Harrison walked up the stairs again, the two of them spotted their mothers in the biggest bedroom. They looked slightly dishevelled and very much interrupted, but at least their were no signs that any clothing had been removed.
“Home sweet home. For now.” Sam said as she and Jane returned to their apartment. “And can I just say that I am very happy that there still was no actual bed in the bedroom?”
“I think you already commented on that a few times.” Jane said.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” Sam said, walking towards the small living room.
After entering the living room, Sam walked over to the phone and noticed that the light on the answering machine was blinking. Curious, she pressed the ‘play’ button. After a while the rather distraught voice of Mike could be heard.
*Err… hi… uhm… I hope I have the right number… Anyway this is Mike and err… well… Brooke insisted that I called you, because… well, just because. She, that is to say, Brooke, well… she didn’t have the flu… Her… err… well, her eating disorder is playing up again, so… You can visit her sometimes in the… Of course, I don’t have the visiting hours on me right now… Anyway, I’ll be bringing Brooke to the hospital now and she wanted me tell you that it’s not your fault for not knowing… So anyway… err… yes.*
*You have no further messages.*
NOTE: I’m sticking with a PG-13 rating for this part, even though some people might prefer to see an R or perhaps even an NC-17 rating here. So if you’re VERY easily offended, you might want to skip this part.
Brooke was not asleep. But, then again, technically speaking, you could also say that she was not awake. Brooke was somewhere between awake and asleep. It’s a place where insensible thoughts look very sensible and where usually everything is pretty much OK.
Unfortunately for Brooke, the last few weeks (or where they months already? Brooke couldn’t quite remember right now.) she had devoted all of her time to burning up her energy reserves. After that she had used what few fat reserves she actually had. And then the only thing that kept her body going were lies. Her brains had been sending energy cheques to every limb, muscle and organ while it knew full well that it had no way of cashing them. But still, Brooke’s body had operated for some time, driven solely by IOU’s.
And now that was taking its toll. In Brooke’s rather peculiar state of mind, she envisioned a very long queue of muscles and organs and sinews standing in front of a rather desperate bank clerk, waving their IOU’s around, demanding to see the bank manager and causing an enormous ruckus.
The blonde briefly wondered if a strike was imminent. She already imagined her internal organs walking around on their tiny little feet and holding tiny little signs in their tiny little hands, saying (in tiny little print): “No Food, No Work” or something like that.
Brooke clung on to those strange images of disgruntled cartoon organs. Because if she were to wake up just the tiniest little bit, she’d realise that she was feeling miserable. That her legs seemed to be made out of chewed chewing gum, that she could _feel_ her internal organs in all their inactiveness, that she didn’t have enough power to lift her arms for some way and that her head was filled with an almost blinding, constantly droning, headache.
In short, the girl was too tired to stay awake, but too sick to fall asleep.
But everything would turn out for the best. Brooke was pretty convinced of that. Sammy would come and make it all better. It wasn’t a matter of having to believe something, it was a simple matter of knowing.
Sammy would help her cash those IOU’s.
Sammy would help her.
Brooke smiled faintly and dreamy. She liked thinking about Sammy. It was her favourite pastime. Especially now.
In yet another attempt to forget the dismal state of her body, Brooke thought about Sam. The way she looked, the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she smiled. The way she smiled at her, to be exact. Oh and then there was that cute thing she did with her tongue when she was concentrating. And then there was her smell. And then there was the softness of her skin. Brooke had never actually felt it, but she imagined that it would be pretty damn soft. And then there were those lips.
God, those lips.
Brooke’d do anything to feel those lips on her own.
Then again, she thought in some distant corner of her mind, she already had.
But kissing Sam, or no, Sam kissing her. Surely that would be the one thing anyone would need to achieve true happiness?
Unless, of course, you didn’t count Sam kissing her jawbone…
Her belly button…
And then lower…
And then still slightly lower…
Brooke sighed softly as her right hand disappeared somewhere in her panties and her fingers touched the spot where she would like to feel Sam’s lips and tongue. She would have groaned in mixture of delight and longing, if it wasn’t for the fact that her body didn’t have enough energy to utter anything more than a sigh.
Her eyes shut tight, her mind filled with images of Sam, Brooke slowly started to emerge from her sleepy haze and into quite a different haze. A small, irrelevant corner of her mind noticed that for once her body wasn’t feeling miserable. That small corner also noted that her body would make her pay severely for what she was doing now.
But the rest of Brooke, if it had actually been able to pay attention to that small corner, wouldn’t have cared anyway. Maybe she didn’t deserve it and it probably wasn’t the smart thing to do, but she needed this moment.
God, how she needed it.
Even if it was all played in her mind, even if it would never come true, she needed Sam loving her.
It was the only way to make it through.
She again sighed softly as she had a small, but satisfying, orgasm. She suddenly felt rather tired and a great deal heavier. She felt that her headache was coming back with a vengeance. She also felt, much to her joy, that she might be able to go to sleep. She considered leaving her hand where it was, since moving her arm seemed like too great an effort right now. But, after a while, she managed to find enough resources somewhere to take her hand out of her panties, even though it remained inside her pyjama pants.
The girl smiled softly as her thoughts went from incoherent to non-existent and she fell asleep.
Sam was nervous. She was quite often nervous. Somewhere, she felt that she probably qualified as an expert on nervousness and that her continued inability to deal with nervousness was just unfair. The reason Sam was nervous wasn’t the door she was standing in front of. Nobody gets nervous of doors. It’s what could be behind the door that makes people nervous. Sam knew what was behind the door in front of her. And, in this case, that made her even more nervous.
Brooke was behind that door.
And Sam didn’t know how to deal with that. She wanted to help the girl with her eating disorder, but feared that she might say all the wrong things and, in effect, making everything a lot worse. Sam knew that she wouldn’t be able to live with that.
Then again, she couldn’t just stand idly by either.
Taking a deep breath, Sam gently knocked on the door. After waiting for an appropriate amount of time, during which she got no response, she opened the door and set one foot inside the room.
“Brooke?” Sam asked, seeing nothing but darkness.
“Sammy…?” Brooke said faintly from somewhere.
“Mind if I turn on the light?” Sam asked, stepping inside.
“Hmmm.” Said Brooke.
It sounded affirmative enough, so Sam let her hand wander over the wall until she found the switch. The room was small. There was a bed, a small desk with a chair and a closet. The single window in the room was obscured by the curtains. Brooke was lying in bed, her head the only thing that stuck out above the covers.
She was smiling.
That struck Sam as being very odd. Why would Brooke be smiling? If her face was any indication, Brooke was still feeling like crap.
“Can I sit down?” Sam asked, indicating the chair.
Brooke nodded faintly.
Sam sat down, then wondered what she was going to do next.
“How are you?” Brooke asked.
“I’m fine.” Sam said. “Bit crazy at home at the moment, but I’ll deal.”
“What’s going on then?” Brooke asked.
“Mom’s got a new lover. It’s a head over heels kind of thing in both cases, I think.”
“That’s nice.” Brooke mumbled.
“But still kind of freaky.” Sam said.
“So, how are you?” Sam asked.
“Still taking it one minute at a time.” Brooke said. “I’ve been busy developing new techniques to not think about how enormously heinous I’m feeling right now.”
“I’ve had a few successes. But payback’s a bitch.”
“Wouldn’t know, really.”
There was a silence. It wasn’t a very nice silence. It demanded to be filled, but neither of the girls dared to speak up. After a while, it was Brooke who mustered her courage first.
“How much, do you think, have I got to lose?”
“Apart from your life?” Sam joked, mere moments before hitting herself in the head for that. “Sorry, that wasn’t… sorry. But… err… right now… I’d say, very little. I mean, sure, Mike and I are trying to cover up for you at school, so I guess your popularity is still safe. But, other than that…”
“Yeah, I’ve pretty much come to that same conclusion as well. So I’ve decided to tell you something.”
“You remember bringing me home that Friday?”
“You remember me admitting that I’m… you know…”
“Yeah.” Sam said again.
“I never would’ve told that. I’d have lied. That is, if you were anyone else.”
“So why didn’t you?” Sam asked.
“Because I did it for you.” Brooke confessed silently.
There was another silence as Sam tried to comprehend what Brooke had just said. When she realised it she needed some further time to recover from this sudden blow.
“Brooke, are you saying?”
Brooke nodded. “I saw you looking at girls sometimes.” The blonde said. “So I thought I might have a shot. But you never looked at me. Not like that. So I thought it was me. That I was ugly. So I wanted to be pretty.” Brooke finished. “For you.” She added silently.
“What?” Brooke asked, fearfully.
Sam got off the chair and knelt down next to the bed. Hesitantly, she extended her arm and gently stroked Brooke’s hair. The blonde closed her eyes, smiled and sighed.
“Whenever I look at girls, it’s just because I find them attractive. But it’s a shallow attraction that doesn’t really mean anything. I never looked at you like that because I don’t find you just another pretty girl.”
<<Especially not now.>> Sam thought in a more cynical part of her mind.
Sam ignored it and moved on. “The reason I never looked at you is because I was afraid what you might see on my face.”
Brooke opened her eyes, still smiling. “And what would that be?”
“I think I’m fairly certain that I might be in love with you.” Sam said.
“Sammy…” Brooke said, but couldn’t finish since emotion wouldn’t let her.
“I want to help you, Brooke.” Sam said. “I don’t know how I’ll go about doing it, but I want to.”
“I know.” Brooke said. “That’s why I told dad.”
“The whole melon and breakfast thing was nice, but it wouldn’t have helped.” Brooke said. “I know it wouldn’t. But I also knew that you didn’t like what you saw. And since I still want to be pretty for you I decided to tell dad so I could get some professional help.”
Sam chuckled. “My, the things we do for love.”
“Yeah.” Brooke agreed.
“But, seriously, you are pretty Brooke.” Sam said. “I think you just don’t realise it and now your body’s paying the price for it.”
“And the worst part is: the bank manager is a little high.” Brooke said.
Sam looked confused. “Huh?”
“Sorry.” Brooke said. “Private thing. But… you really think I’m pretty?”
“I know it, Brooke.” Sam said. “So, basically, all we have to do is make that flesh cage you inhabit right now healthy again and then you’ll be even prettier.”
“Was that a compliment? I’m not quite sure.”
“It was supposed to be one, yeah.”
Brooke smiled again. “You really love me?”
“I think I do. Or I might be having the biggest crush in all of human history.”
“Look, Brooke, visiting hours are almost over and err…”
“Will you come back tomorrow?”
“I will.” Sam answered. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Brooke’s forehead. “See you tomorrow.”
Sam stood up, headed for the door, left the room and, after closing the door behind her, sank down onto the floor. There she sat, her knees drawn up, leaning against the door, her eyes pointing in the direction of the ceiling. She sat there silently for a few moments.
Then she snickered.
Before long Sam sat there, laughing, while a few tears made their way down her cheeks.
|Section 2||Jos Mous||Popular||Main Index|