Remembering December

Chapter Seven

"Oops?" He shot his crooked grin at her, "Anyway, once I realized that I liked you for more than just friends, I also realized that I didn't like Claire anymore, well, not as much. So, I had to break up with Claire since it's unfair to string her along. And well, for a whole entire year, I debated with myself. I wondered whether or not you would reject me. I confided in Billy and well, you know the rest." Adrian finished quickly.

"You're the nicest guy ever." Sam blurted out again. She blushed instantly. Around Adrian, Sam didn't seem to have a filter to her words.

"Why thank you my love!" He said jokingly, letting pet name slip out without a second's thought.

They both froze at the sound of that four lettered word which held a painful amount of truth. A truth that neither party was willing to admit to just yet. They were only seventeen after all.

Sam was the first to rectify things, "Anytime sir!" She chirped. She tried to ignore the way his whole stance seemed to relax in relief once she said those two words, almost like he regretted calling her that.

The air seemed to change after that slip up. The silence that bordered along awkward seemed to stretch out between them. And when the sun finally rose and it grew too chilly to stay out for longer, Adrian hurriedly walked her back home before stuttering something about needing to do something at his place. With quick promises to return later that day, he left in a rush.

<<∞>>

Sam snuggled up beside Adrian, with a smile. He had returned a mere hour after he had left. She didn't pry into why he had made such a hasty departure earlier in the morning since she hated the awkward tension it seemed to cause.

"Sam?" He asked. Sam hummed in response, feeling too comfortable to move from her position. "How's your mom been holding up? You never talk to her at all."

Sam stiffened. She knew it was true, she and mother never spoke at all. It wasn't exactly her fault either. Her mother rarely left the master bedroom when Sam was in the house. It wasn't hard for her mother to avoid the world especially since she worked from home.

"I don't know. We just don't see each other."

"Why did you give up?" He asked.

"I didn't give up! I tried for about a whole year. I tried knocking on her door, I tried staying up all night in order to see her! But she avoided me! I don't even know why!" Sam was nearly yelling at the end. Whenever she talked about her mother, all the pent-up anger would just resurface, full-force.

"Because you remind me of the mistake I made when I was with him." A harsh, rusty voice sounded through the living room.

Sam glanced up, and was startled to see her mother. The once cheery woman had become a formidable looking force of hatred.

Sam breathed in sharply, feeling the words hit her hard. She felt the sting on oncoming tears but held them back. She wanted answers.

"What?" It was the only thing that came out and she sounded hurt rather than firm.

"You look like the mistake," Her mother began with absolutely no emotion, like she was simply stating a fact, and perhaps to her, that was merely a fact. "The horrible mistake I made when I decided to trust."

Sam frowned. There was more to this story than she knew, she could sense it. She vaguely registered Adrian leaving the room to give the daughter and mother some privacy. The loss of his presence was disconcerting to Sam though.

She gulped, "What happened?"

"Why does it matter to you?" Her mother retorted evenly.

"Maybe because it affects me?" Sam bit back through her teeth.

"But what occurred between us, doesn't concern you so, it doesn't matter." Her mother refuted, still maintaining the emotionless tone.

"Yes it does! Because it left me alone! Parentless! The only family member I have left is Adrian and relatives whom I haven't seen for too long! Don't you see? Can't you see how much the divorce hurt me too? Of course you can't, you've forgotten all about me! The most that ever happened is you signing permission sheets or giving me money when I needed it! And then you avoided doing that by leaving wads of cash in that stupid container!" Sam yelled, pointing at the plastic container on a shelf with a bunch of bills in it.

She and her mother shared a tense face off before Sam spoke again, "You were supposed to be my mother! Mom! The woman who would love me unconditionally! Dammit! I don't even know who you are anymore!"

The tears spilled then, rushing down her face in uncontrolled rivers. Though she may have been used to being without her mother, hearing her admittance to giving up made everything so much more real. And she could only feel the deep stabbing sense of betrayal and finality in this argument.

"Well you turned out fine." Her mother stated with an edge of boredom.

In the next room, Adrian could hear every word that was exchanged. He felt a rush of protectiveness and anger at that statement. He simply could not understand why Sam's mother, a woman who used to laugh and bake cookies with them, would turn into such a cold woman.

Once he heard the first sob from Sam, he left his position on the carpeted ground and re-entered the room. One quick look at Sam had him rushing to her.

Sam felt warm, familiar arms wrap around her and she turned and burrowed her face into Adrian's chest. He really was the only family she ever had and she was so grateful to him for sticking with her.

"Wanna come to my place for a while to calm down?" Adrian whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her gently.

She nodded, still crying a bit.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her out of the house. Sam risked a glance over her shoulder, partially hoping for her mother to call her back.

But life wasn't a fairy tale and the story between she and her mother wasn't looking like a happily ever after. Her mother merely leveled her with an impassive frosty glare. Sam wasn't really sure what hurt more, her mother's lack of emotion or the fact that she wouldn't explain anything to Sam. She pushed away the thought, burying it away.

Sam faced forwards again, focusing on Adrian and his comforting presence. The moment they'd closed the door behind them, he stopped, turned her to face him.

"Sam, I'm always here if you need okay?" He said sternly.

"Promise?" She whimpered. Her glossy brown eyes stared back up at him, wide, trusting, broken, and vulnerable.

"Promise."

But she should have known that promises are made to be broken.