Love the Quiet Ones

Chapter 15 ~ His Mother is Terrifying

"Hey!" Sam grumble to himself under his breath for a moment, "though I said that too, but ya know, still hurts."

Samantha just laughed, not caring about her son's outrage. she hugged me close to her, still holding my head in her hands. "When you're done with him, can I have him?"

Sam's grasp pulled me away from her, "no mom, first of all, I'm never going to be done with him; second, you'd break him; and third, ew."

She pouted, reminding me much of Sam. Sam may not look like her but you can certainly tell who raised him. "Why? It's not he's using his penis in your relationship."

My face burst into fire. Do other people mother's talk like this? I covered my face with my hands.

Sam settled his chin on my head, "so?"

No! Bad Sam! You're not supposed to dispose of the only pride of a man I have yet, she doesn't know for sure.

Sam's fingers played with my hair, "so?" he said again. He continued, "he doesn't need to with my skills." My face is too hot for comfort.

Samantha laughed, "darling," she cooed, "I think that's an over estimation of your skills, and quite possibly your assets too."

I gaped at her, did she just call her son's penis small? Ouch.

"Rude?" Sam yelled from the living room, where I had somehow ended up sometime between her insult and his response. Hmmm. Should I question it? Nah.

She laughed a full hearted laugh, the phone ringing. "I can say it because I'm your mother," she called out, picking up the phone. I could barely hear her voice anymore.

Sam sat us down in front of the tv again, again not on the couch even though it was literally three feet away. "I'll have you know," he told me, "there's nothing I can't protect you from, mother included." He wrapped his arms around me, his head resting on my shoulder. Maybe he'll fall asleep again. If he does, I'm running.

I only nodded before Sam jumped to his feet, banging his knee on my back. I turned to look at him, "Sam?"

The plain terror on his face made me leap to my feet as well, "what's wrong?"

He shushed me with his finger, grabbing my arm and slowly walking backwards to the couch. He stepped on the couch, dragging me on to the cushions, and to the floor on the other side as well.

"Can you tell me what's going on now?"

He bent his head, whispering, "spider."

I almost choked. "What?"

He sighed, slightly loud he said, "spider."

"Okay, I'm really sorry, but can you repeat that?"

He yelled and pointed to the floor where we had been, "there was a spider!"

I burst into laughter. A spider? Is he serious? "Is big o' Sammy afraid of spiders?" I asked between laughing fits. He didn't look at me, his eyes were fixed on the ground. I tried to stuff the laughter inside, my cheeks puffed and strained with the effort. "Dude, it ain't going to kill ya," I told him.

He shook his head, still not looking at me. "You just don't understand."

"Then tell me what I don't understand," I shook his arm, trying to look at his with at least interest.

He turned to me with horror in his eyes, "my mother fed me one," he started, "told me it was 'controlling the fear by making the scary thing part of you'." I gaped at him, "yeah, me too. I'm just glad I was never afraid of anything sharp, guns, or chemicals. I don't think I could have survived swallowing a thumb tac." I cringed at just the thought.

"That's morbid."

"Yeah," his gaze shifted back to the floor. I think I need glasses, I can't even see a dot on the carpet, "... oh. It's not there anymore."

Sam, literally, screamed into my ear. Dear god this by is a child, he jumped back. "Your mother's idea isn't sounding so bad anymore," I mumbled to myself.

"Shhhhh," Sam pressed a finger to my lips, his head moving frantically to locate the spider, "it can smell fear."

I swat his hand off me, "you're being ridiculous."

I found the spider inching towards us, I instinctively stomped on it, killing it with my shoe, "Sam, get me a paper towel." When he didn't move I barked an order at him, "now!" He jumped to it, I heard clattering from the kitchen and the ripping of paper towel off a role.

I waited a while, my foot getting numb from hanging in the air. What? I don't want to get spider on the carpet. I sighed and too off my shoe, I hadn't heard anything from the kitchen in a while, I'm starting to get worried.

I turned the corner into the doorway to see Sam and his mother looking at the counter with a very grim look. They faced away from each other, though thier backs were touching. He whispered things to her periodically, "it's okay mama," and "it'll work out fine."

I didn't ask questions, I took the paper towel from sam's hand, he didn't even look at me. I wiped off the shoe and disposed of the paper towel. He pulled me into a one armed hug once the shoe was on my foot. Sam just silently burrowed his head into my neck, I could feel the tears leaking from his eyes. I absently rubbed his back, there wasn't much more I could do. I make it a rule not to press people about things, they'll tell me when they need to. Hopefully.

We stood there for a long time, I hardly breathed, I was scared to do anything that was too loud. Moments like these were always awkward, what do you do in these situations? I don't know. Does anybody know? Someone please tell me if you do.

Sam kissed my hair, he let go of me, moving to his mother. He hugged her close. "I'm not going any where."

His mother nodded, Samantha was crying. They were like picture images of each other. "I know baby, I know."

Is it rude to say I was actually very curious? I opened my mouth to ask, Sam beat me to it, "my dad called."

"Oh?" I assume this is a bad thing considering that there's a lot of crying going on.

"He wants custody," Sam explained.

"Oh," I nodded. Usually, divorced people usually live around the same area, don't they? My old buddies did. Live next door to each actually. It was terrible now that I think about it. They were always doing everything they could to annoy the crap out of each other. Quite frankly, I don't think they even should have had a divorce, at least they could have saved on the costs of two houses.

Sam looked at me sadly, seeming to understand I was confused as to why that was a problem. "He lives in another country."

"Oh," that is a problem. ~