A Tale of Three Brothers (Completed)

Curfews and Conferences

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Your help is the last thing I want. 

Martha's words stuck with Sam long after she'd said them. It was his fault. The whole thing was his fault.

He'd never felt guilt like this before. His mind kept going back to what they'd done to her, and his stomach heaved at the thought.

Lara sat up next to him. "You okay?" she asked, yawning and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

"Not really," Sam said, and his stomach heaved a second time. He pushed Lara away and barely made it to the bathroom in time.

Lara stood over him as he threw up into the toilet. "Probably the alcohol," she said.

Sam glared up at her. "Go home, Lara."

When Sam felt a little bit better he stumbled his way down the stairs. Trisha and his father were in the kitchen arguing about something.

"I'm just saying, I'd like to know who's coming and going. That's all," Trisha said.

"The boys have always been responsible enough to handle this sort of thing," argued Michael. "I don't bother them. They don't bother me. I really don't' see the big deal."

"The big deal? The big deal! You've got one son having sex in the room that's literally next door to ours, another who stays out all night without telling you, girls whose names I don't even know parading in and out like this place is a brothel. Thank god Dylan isn't into girls or who knows what he'd be getting up to."

"What's going on?" Dylan had come downstairs. Sam shushed him.

"So, what, you want me to give them curfews or something? They're not gonna like that."

Sam knew which side of the argument he was on, but even he knew that his father had said the wrong thing. His mother used to joke that his father was so bad with women it was a miracle he'd gotten past the first date with her. Sam could see now that she hadn't been kidding.

Trisha exploded. "They are your children," she said. "It does not matter if they like it. You're their father, but I don't think I've seen you do one fatherly thing with those boys since I've known you. Schools starting. Are you taking them to get clothes? Dylan's got holes in shoes. Elliot is about to graduate. Have you talked to him about college?

When Michael responded with, uh, Trish threw her hands up in frustration. "This is ridiculous," she said. "And you are unbelievable."

Trisha was so angry that she marched right past Sam and Dylan in her haste to get out of the kitchen.

"Well, this sucks," Sam said to Dylan after they'd gone back to their rooms. "Eventually, dad's gonna cave and we're gonna wind up having to deal with curfews and... parent-teacher conferences. Gross."

"I don't think it'll be so bad," Dylan said. "She didn't say people couldn't come over, just that we needed to ask permission."

"Yeah, and that's a problem," Sam said.

"What's a problem?" Elliot had just gotten back.

"Dad and Trisha are talking about curfews," Dylan explained.

"It's all Trisha's fault," Sam said.

Elliot laughed. He sat down on Sam's bed. "You know what, I don't even care right now. Last night was worth it."

Elliot had a grin on his face that Sam remembered all too well. "You banged the girl next door, didn't you?"

Elliot's face went scarlet. "Jesus, Sam, you don't have to say it like that."

"You did," Sam said. "I knew it! She was all over your dick last night. How was she?"

"I'm not telling you that," Elliot said.

"Oh, come on," Sam begged him. "Give us something."

Elliot hesitated. "I don't know, man. It was...different than I thought it'd be."

"Different?" Sam said. "That's the best you got?"

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Despite what you think Sam, not all girls are freaks like Lara. Karen's different."

"You sound like you're in love," Dylan said.

Elliot's face turned an even deeper shade of red. "I don't know about love. I just think she's kinda cool. You know, the kind of girl you marry."

"Like Martha," Sam said.

Sam hadn't meant to say it out loud, but once he had he couldn't take the words back. "I just meant that she isn't the hooking up type." He could feel his ears burning.

"Right," Elliot said, and he gave Sam a strange look.

There was a knock on the door. "Can I come in?" Michael Tavert asked.

It'd been quite a while since their father had been in their rooms. Sam thought he seemed large and out of place perched at the end of Elliot's bed.

Michael Tavert looked around at the room. "I don't recognize this place," he said. "I remember the race car bed and the teddy bear wallpaper...but I don't remember any of this." He looked around at all of Elliot's college posters."I don't remember these," he said, though it was unclear if he was speaking to himself or to his sons. 

Michael Tavert had taken his wife's death hard. Up until the point where he met Trisha, he spent most of his days day drinking at local bars. His sons were left to fend for themselves and now, he felt, they'd been fending for so long they no longer needed him.

"I was thinking, school is about to start up again. It might be nice for you guys to have some new clothes. And shoes." He looked at Dylan. "When you want to go, I left some money on the fridge. So, uh, good luck." He gave them the thumbs up sign. "Oh, and Trisha says you're not allowed to have guests over without permission. I don't really get the big deal, but if you guys could just go with it, I'd appreciate it."

"That all?" Sam asked.

Michael Tavert looked around at the room again. "I think so. I mean, uh, good luck with your first day."

"He does realize school doesn't start for another three weeks?" Elliot said as he left.

"I don't even think he knows what school we go to," Sam said. Elliot and Dylan laughed.