The Story of Sammi

My Father, The Hero

Dad and I sat in silence for quite some time before I said, "Stop at the pharmacy, please. I need to get my pain pills." He parked the truck in front of the pharmacy, but stopped me from getting out. "Let me go and get them," he offered. "You've had a rough morning." I handed him the prescription and sat tight as I watched him go into the store. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket and knew that it had to be Sam calling. I took it out of my pocket and answered. "Hey." "How'd it go, sweetie?" Sam asked. "I don't want to talk about it right now," I told him. "Is it because we forgot about your appointment?" he asked. "We really are sorry about that. Me especially." "I know," I said. "I just don't want to talk about it right now." "Alright, baby," Sam said. "Get some rest. We'll see you when we get back to the house. I love you." "I love you too," I said, then hung up the phone. Dad had reappeared carrying a pharmacy bag. He jumped into the truck, handed me the bag, and said, "Where to, baby girl?" "I don't know," I said. "Just drive." We were driving for what seemed like hours when dad pulled into the parking lot of a cozy little diner. "I'm starving," he said. "How about you?" "Go ahead," I told him. "I'm not hungry." "You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself, Sammi," he said. "Accidents happen. If you want, I'll find out the name of the doctor who worked on your arm the first time and we'll sue him for everything he's got." "That's not necessary, dad," I said. "I'm really just not that hungry." "Will you at least come inside with me?" he asked. "Keep me company?" "No thanks," I told him. "I'll be fine here." "Alright, pumpkin," he said. "Just promise that if you do get out of the truck, you don't go TOO far?" "I promise," I said. Dad headed inside and I just sat back in the truck and took a couple of my pain meds. Maybe I was feeling sorry for myself, but I was disappointed that I was stuck in a cast for ANOTHER 8 weeks. I felt like such a burden on Sam and Dean, seeing as I couldn't really do much with one hand. I even needed help getting dressed, undressed, and showering. I kept telling them I wasn't an invalid, but I sure felt like one. I looked out the windshield and saw Dad's food being delivered to his table. He was talking on his phone, so I took that as an opportunity to get out of the truck and start taking a walk. I promised him I wouldn't go too far, so I wasn't going to. I just felt like I needed some fresh air. There was a park not far from where the diner was located, so I decided to go and find a nice bench to sit down on. I sat there watching the kids running around the playground and people playing fetch with their dogs. I must have lost track of time because I heard my dad's voice calling "Sammi!" Not wanting to move, I yelled back, "I'm at the park!" A few moments later, I turned around to see Dad walking towards me. He took a seat next to me on the bench and asked, "What's really bothering you, pumpkin?" "Nothing," I said. "I'm just having a bad day, that's all." "Why don't I take you home so you can rest?" he suggested. "You'll feel better, I promise." "I don't want to go home," I told him. "Samantha," he sounded a little agitated. "You're not angry at the boys, are you? Because I can't come up with any other reason why you wouldn't want to go home." "I'm not mad at them," I promised. "I just don't want to be a burden for another 8 weeks. I feel like I'm holding them back from enjoying themselves." "Have you ever thought that maybe they don't mind taking care of you because they love you?" he asked. "Well yeah," I said. "So then quit this nonsense and let me take you home," he said. "I'm enjoying the view," I told him. "And the fresh air. Just leave me alone for a bit, please?" "You are just as stubborn as your mother was, you know that?" Dad said. "I'll be waiting in the truck. Take as long as you need." He walked away and I continued to watch the people enjoying themselves, wishing that could be me. If some idiot had done their job right, it could have been. Who was I kidding? Dad was right...I WAS feeling sorry for myself. I needed a pick me up, but what? I must have lost track of time, because I looked up and it had started to get dark and the amount of people in the park had severely decreased. How long had I been sitting there?? I got up to walk back to the truck and there stood Sam and Dean. That's who Dad must have been talking to while he was in the diner. "What's going on, princess?" Dean asked. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said. "I'm fine." Sam walked over and put an arm around me. "No, you're not baby," he said. "Something is bothering you other than your arm. Talk to us." "Nothing is bothering me," I lied. "My dad is just trying to play the hero by getting you two involved." Dean looked me in the eyes and said, "I can tell when someone is lying, Sammi. Just tell us what's wrong." I couldn't fight back the tears any longer. I started to cry and I said, "I'm just depressed. I don't know if it's because I have to wear a cast for another 8 weeks, if it's a side effect of my pain pills, maybe it's a little bit of both...I just feel like I've been nothing but a burden to you two since this latest injury. I can barely do anything by myself, I always need help from one of you, and you were supposed to be on vacation enjoying yourselves...." Dean spoke first. "Stop that crying right now, you understand me? You are not a burden on anyone. Yes, you got hurt pretty bad. Yes, we have been helping you quite a lot, but we do it because we love you. And don't you think that for one second we have not enjoyed every bit of this vacation so far, even WITH your injury." Sam hugged me tight and said, "Dean's right, sweetie. This has been a great vacation. Do you know how many more injuries we'd be dealing with if we were working right now? Besides, family is supposed to take care of you in times of need. So please, stop crying and come home with us." Sam wiped my tears away with his fingers and I asked the boys to wait where they were while I went over to talk to my dad. He was standing against the driver's door, arms already open for a hug. I gladly accepted his gesture, which was followed by him asking, "Do you feel better now?" "I do," I assured him. "Thanks dad, for not letting me give up." "That's what I'm here for, baby girl," he said. "Now go on home with the boys and get some rest. You've had a rough day." He kissed my forehead, waved goodbye to the boys, got into the truck, and drove away. Dean walked over and gave me a hug, then asked, "Are you ready to go home now?" "There's no place else I would rather be," I said with a smile.