A Tale of Three Brothers (Completed)

Buried

Sam wasn't able to get much sleep that night. He listened silently to the sound of Martha's sniffles. She was trying to cry without being heard. He knew what that was like.

The last time Sam spoke to his mom they'd argued. She'd been cleaning his room and had found some of the army pamphlets he'd hidden beneath his bed. She'd confronted him about it, and when Sam told her had plans to join at the end of his senior year, things turned ugly.

The last thing she'd said right before she grabbed her car keys was, "You're just like your father. Selfish.

An hour later, the police were knocking at their door, and Sam remembered sitting where Martha was, trying not to be heard as he cried.

"Martha?" Sam whispered.

The sniffling stopped. "I'm fine," Martha said.

"I know that," Sam said. "I was just going to ask if you wanted me to stay up with you."

Martha sniffled again, and Sam waited for her to reply. "You can sit at that end," Martha finally said.

Sam sat cross-legged at one end of the bed. In the darkness, he could only make out the outline of her face, but that seemed to calm her down some because she stopped sniffling. Sam was dying to ask her what happened, but he didn't think she was ready for that. If it was what he'd suspected, he wasn't sure he was ready for it either.

"You know, I think this is the first time you and I have spent more than five minutes together without one of us threatening to disembowel the other," Sam said.

"No, it's not," Martha said.

"It is too," Sam said. "Name one other time."

"You were drunk."

Sam felt he should have known Martha's story would start would those words. The moments in his life that he cringed at most, usually started with those words.

"It was at Dylan's birthday party. Remember? You spiked the punch and then forgot you spiked it." She laughed. "And then you spent most of the night puking it all up. I stayed with you."

Her story added up. Sam remembered Dylan's birthday, but not being at the party. "Why did you stay with me?" Sam asked. He couldn't imagine volunteering to stay with anyone who was throwing up that much.

"Drunk people have to be watched or they could choke on their own vomit," Martha said.

Sam laughed. "No, I know that. I mean, why did you choose to stay with me?"

Martha didn't answer for a minute. Then she said, "because I thought in the morning you'd remember what I'd done and thank me or something."

She didn't need to tell him whether or not he thanked her because he clearly remembered what happened the next day. He'd woken up from his spot on the floor with Martha laying next to him. He'd woken her up, and as soon as he'd found out they hadn't slept together, told her to get out of his room.

Sam cringed at the memory. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was an asshole."

"Nah. I was stupid. Back then I would have done anything to get you to notice me."

"But not anymore?" Sam asked her.

"No. I'm not that kid anymore. I don't think I ever can be," she added bitterly.

Sam was unsure how to feel about what she'd just said, but he reached for her hand out of instinct. Her skin was smooth under his hand, which felt suddenly clammy and hot. "You will be," he said.