'I don't pay attention to the world ending. it has ended for me many times and began again in the morning.' nayyirah waheed
season 1, episode 1
when you're lost in the dark
Sept. 26, 2003
Each morning started as the one before and would start the same as the one that followed. An endless, mundane cycle that would drain most people. People who desired sparks at every moment, craved the adrenaline spike as they walked into danger. But sparks and chemicals always lead to flame, and only pyromaniacs enjoy a brilliant blaze.
A tame fire is all one needs. A little flame that flickers in an autumn scented candle, illuminating the night is simple, yet can bring serenity.
The smell still lingered in the daylight. The black wick cowered in the night, most likely a little mouse who snuffed it out. Staring at the side of the love of her life's face, Samara Miller played with his hair. The sunlight highlighted his softened features that only sleep allowed to ever be seen.
Each morning started the same as the one before and would start the same as the one that followed. There was contentment that swelled in her heart knowing that everyday she would wake up, holding the man she loved, and in the next room, her little mouse slept peacefully. How could one leave this behind for a life of instability?
A blaring noise disrupted that moment of peace. As expected. Samara sighed, awaiting for Joel to wake up and turn off the alarm on his side. And as expected, he shifted in his sleep, crinkling his nose, unbothered by the noise.
The corners of her lips twitched. Her hand trailed down his face towards herself, caressing his bare skin. She allowed him to sleep for a few more minutes just once. It was his birthday after all.
Pounding at the door disrupted the peace and quiet. "Alarm!" Sarah stated, awakening her father quicker than their alarm could ever. So much for a few minutes of sleep.
Joel jolted, glancing back at Samara with drowsy eyes laced with confusion and fear. He let out a sigh when he saw the smile plastered on her lips. As he turned off the alarm and let his feet touch the cold floor, stretching his sore body in the process, he spoke through a yawn, "Why'd you turn off the...thing?"
"'T's too much work to crawl over you," she muttered, feeling his infectious yawn attack her. She swallowed it, tears pricking at her eyes as a result but they were dismissed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, placing her chin on his shoulder. "Happy birthday, baby."
As he infected her, she infected him—he couldn't resist the grin that grew on his face. To hide it, he planted a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you."
"What's the plan for today?"
Even after spending seventeen birthdays with him, a glimmer of hope every year still flickered in Samara that he would have some idea of what he wanted to do.
But every morning began the same, only slightly different. And this time was no different.
"Uh, work and sleep."
Samara groaned, falling to her side. Her eyes tracked him as he rose, preparing for the day as if it were any other. "Joel," she dragged, frowning. "Let's do something."
"Like what?" he inquired, tugging on a shirt. "Ain't nothin' that special about today."
His sarcasm triggered the chemicals in her brain which signaled her eyes to roll. For that reason alone, she refused to tell him his shirt was backwards. Still, she observed him, biting her lip to hold back the words she wanted to say. His conjoined present from her and Sarah would provide a sprinkle of magic to the day. Just as it did nearly fifteen years ago.
"Whatever!" Samara bounced onto her toes, slipping on her house shoes. She glided past him without a single glance to the bathroom.
"Mara," Joel dragged out, following behind her like a puppy who just knew something was wrong.
Pretending she hadn't heard him, she began her morning routine as if it were just another day. Exactly as he said it was.
Releasing her braids from her satin mustard yellow wrap. They fell in waves, veiling over her shoulders and back. Her husband guided the hair over her left shoulder, staring at her through the mirror with a tender gaze that belonged to her.
Yet, her disinterested eyes did not fade.
It was a hard game to play with a man like Joel Miller. Someone who would do anything to forge a smile on your face and wave it like a flag. Not a white one, but his own, to claim his victory. Snaking his arms around her waist snuggly, thumbing the exposed skin of her hips.
An even harder game to compete with Samara, who refused to surrender to his predictable, persuasive ways.
If they had all the time in the world, this silent treatment could last decades simply over birthday plans. But time was limited and all they had was now.
"Just promise me that you'll be home before sunset, Joel, or you won't get your gift."
Instantaneously, a smile appeared. He turned his face to look at her directly, eyes brimming with excitement. "You got me a gift?"
"Not if you don't keep your promise. I still have the receipt, I can return it," she told smugly, slipping out of his hold to brush her teeth.
He made a face. Samara already knew the words he had on the tip of his tongue. "You weren't supposed to buy anything."
"It goes with another gift."
"Two gifts?" Samara giggled at his reaction. "You spoil me, Mara."
The two finished getting ready with haste as the smell of cooked eggs and the sound of their daughter's newest obsession made a trail from the kitchen. It was Avril Lavigne if Samara could remember right, she just couldn't recall the title.
"Where's the pancake mix?" Sarah questioned, standing on her tippy-toes to search the cabinets.
Samara glanced at Joel with a knowing look. He looked back at her, struggling to come up with an excuse. "Oh, was I—" Samar gave him a look, one that said 'You know damn well'—"yeah, I was. Sorry."
"I was gonna make you birthday pancakes," Sarah pouted.
Watching her family maneuver around their cozy kitchen, Samara sipped on the coffee that Sarah made for her parents. "Ya'know he doesn't like pancakes."
This time, Sarah gave her mom a look. Her look. Only in moments like this did Samara understand how rude it appeared. She almost—keyword, almost—felt bad for giving it to Joel nearly everyday and creating a carbon copy of it. She sent the look straight back, forcing Sarah to put her focus on pouring orange juice into two glass cups.
"I know you don't like them. It was for our benefit." She pouted again, rubbing her disappointment in Joel's face. "I even got chocolate chips!"
"Aw," Samara groaned, now craving chocolate chip pancakes.
Sarah turned to Joel, holding one cup for him. He made a face as he was just about to divulge his black coffee. "Vitamin C."
He hesitated. Typically, he would have denied it but he already felt bad.
She then faced her mom, holding out the other cup with a knowing smile. "You too, mama." A huff escaped Samara as she accepted it, smiling back as a thank you.
The two locked eyes, silently gesturing cheers to the other before they drank it behind Sarah's back. Joel cringed at the taste, too colorful for his liking. He returned to his coffee. The scent would linger with his words throughout the day. Though his taste in coffee was not what Samara enjoyed, tasting it off of his lips made it savory.
"You get your, uh, homework done?" Even Samara was perplexed by his question. "Fractions?" Still, the two laughed at his words.
Once Sarah claimed breakfast was ready, she forced her parents to sit as she plated their food for them. She returned to them, skillfully carrying three plates of eggs and bacon, striking fear in her mom's soul. "Sarah."
"What? I got it," she boasted. And she did, earning herself a nod of approval from both parents.
She sat on the chair in front of the window, directly in between her parents. As a toddler she was almost as manipulative as she was now and desperately wanted to be beside them both, while being able to see her—irritating, as Samara would say—uncle Tommy. Back then, she didn't understand how much her doe eyes and little pout swayed their minds.
"How old are you again?"
"Too old."
"Thirty-six."
Resisting a smile, Sarah stated, "Gonna have to wear diapers soon."
"Who says I don't already?" he argued swiftly.
"They're a mood killer," Samara claimed, sipping on her orange juice.
"Gross!"
Joel grimaced, pulling something he had pushed out of his mouth with his tongue. "Shell."
"Calcium," Sarah restated before smiling wide and pressing her tongue against her teeth, displaying her shelly-scrambled eggs.
"Lovely. You taught her that."
Samara shrugged. "It's a win, I didn't think she paid attention in my class."
The sound of gears turning echoed through the halls. Joel snapped his head towards the direction, while Samara inhaled deeply to prepare herself. Hearing the God awful nickname Tommy gave her every second he could, would cause her mind to defy all laws of nature and explode. "Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?"
"Well, there would've been."
"Ay," Tommy greeted, wearing clothes Samara swore she had seen him in yesterday. He slapped Joel's back, entering the house as if it was his. "You're still alive you old fucker."
"Aw, he loves you."
"He's dependent on me," Joel pointed out, scarfing down his eggs. "Not the same."
"I think it's the same."
"It's definitely the same." Tommy inspected the kitchen. In disbelief and confusion, he turned to the family. "I thought we were havin' pancakes."
A sigh left Joel's mouth. "We'll pick you somethin' up on the road."
Samara twisted her head around to look at Tommy. "There's still some guacamole and chile con queso in the fridge."
"Sammy, you truly love me," Tommy thought aloud, searching to see if she was lying.
She regretted telling him. Offering kindness went unseen by the man-child, blinded by his juvenile ways. Joel sent her a soft gaze to remind her that Tommy was just messing with her. Years and years of him messing with her, and yet he hasn't learned to treat Samara with more respect. Joel made several attempts to get his brother together but they failed. Because Tommy never tries.
"Concrete guys gonna be there?" Joel inquired, instantly shifting his brain to work mode.
"Yeah, they said maybe."
"Maybe? We can't frame until we pour. We're not gettin' paid until we frame," Joel reminded as he did time and time again. And time and time again, Tommy was more interested in everything but work.
"Well, we could bring someone else on, get the job done faster."
"No, no," Joel shut down. "I'm not splittin' this job. I barely wanna split it with you."
One of the many reasons why Samara fell in love with Joel was that he was ambitious. Any task worth money or his family's happiness, and he'll be determined to get it done. He refused to cut corners and cheat himself out of what he deserved.
But for that same reason, Samara disliked it.
"We could work a double."
Samara and Sarah's heads snapped up. "Baby, tonight?"
"Literally? Today?"
"I know," he reassured gently. "I'll be done by nine."
"What happened to sunset?" Samara reminded, feeling her temperature rising and clouds darkening the bright day by the second.
"It'll still be my birthday at nine, Mara. I promise." Her look made him more determined to meet his new promise. "By nine, right?"
"Yeah."
"I'll bring back a cake," he added, hoping to reduce the flames to a minimal flicked on a wick. "I promise."
"...continued disturbances in Jakarta, but are advising U.S. citizens..." the radio released, picking up the morning news that interrupted the music Sarah liked.
"Jakarta. Where is that, Middle East?" Joel asked, switching his gaze between Samara and Tommy.
Samara stood up with a shrug, picking up her empty plate. "I teach chemistry, not geography."
"Doesn't ring a bell. It's definitely a country," Tommy said, attempting to sound somewhat intelligent. He picked a piece of scrambled eggs off of Samara's plate that she had pushed to the side for having more shells than eggs. "You missed one."
Once it entered his mouth, regret filled his eyes. He spat it out in the sink.
"No, I don't think so."
"Jakarta isn't a country. Being a part of Asia isn't mutually exclusive with being a country, and in fact, it's the capital of Indonesia."
"Shit. There's hope for us yet."
A slap came from Joel as he routinely reached for his watch, but he no longer wore it as it broke and he claimed he was going to get it fixed. He reached into his pocket for his phone. "Alright. Finish up quick, we'll drop you off."
"I'm still eating my eggshells."
"You got seven minutes."
"Doesn't Sammy have a car?" Tommy pointed out.
Collecting her things she had set out for herself last night, Samara held back from narrowing her eyes at Tommy. "Left it at school 'cause Joel picked us up, remember?" She knew he wouldn't have remembered since he was drunk and couldn't figure out how to get out of his own house.
Out of spite, Sarah pointed out what Samara hadn't. "Your t-shirt's inside out."
Joel looked to confirm it. When he did, he looked at his wife, who mouthed 'sorry'. He didn't let it affect him; he continued to gather his things as he fixed his shirt.
"He's losin' it."
Facing Joel's anger—especially on his birthday—was not ideal. Samara ushered Sarah to finish getting ready or else they would be late for school. She even had to force Tommy out of her house because if she hadn't he would have devoured her whole fridge.
Samara aided Joel in putting his work tools into the bed of Tommy's truck. Still no Sarah. He glanced up to Sarah's window, seeing her shadow moving around. "Can you go get her, I can finish this up."
"Yeah, yeah."
As she entered, Sarah stared down the stairs with anxiety leaking out of every pore. It all faded when she saw her mom.
"Hurry before he comes and gets you himself."
"I need to find the watch and money."
Samara sighed, remembering that Sarah wanted to do her side of the gift without her mom's help or money. She could never not give her daughter help. "Top drawer in our room, but be quick."
Her rapid feet stomped into her parents room. Samara waited for her little mouse for barely a minute before a car honked and she heard Joel shout Sarah's name.
The two rushed out the door. Samara's hand hovered over Sarah's back, ushering her to move with haste. But that was all disrupted when Mr. Adler, a kind old soul, called out to Sarah.
"Hey, neighbor!"
"Oh, hi."
Mr. Adler was feeding Mrs. Adler's unresponsive mother tore up pieces of homemade biscuits. "Uh, Connie was askin' after you, since you haven't been over in a while."
Using his distracting task to silently beg her parents for help, Joel told Sarah what he always told her when it came to the Alders. "Make 'em happy."
She turned with a forced smile. "Uh, I could come by after school, but just for, like, a little bit."
"Oh, she'll take whatcha got. Y'all can bake, whatever."
Joel grabbed the last of his items and closed the garage door, ducking a tad to miss it closing on him. He gave Samara a concerned look as she scrunched her nose at the smell of something that unsettled her stomach.
"Speakin' of we got a lotta extra here," Mr. Adler pointed out, holding the plate of biscuits for the family to look at and possibly take. "Y'all, y'all want some biscuits?"
"Mom, dad, you love biscuits," Sarah claimed, selling them out for their betrayal.
Joel caught himself before he could outwardly disregard that blanton lie. "We do. But we're on Atkins."
"Yeah," Samara agreed, feeding Joel's lie.
"On what now?"
"It's, uh—" Samara started but couldn't figure out the words.
"We gotta run, but Sarah'll be by later. She'll stay as long as you want. Tell ya all about Atkins."
"Great! I'll let Connie know."
The smallest bit of guilt rested in Samara's heart as she led Sarah into the truck as Joel opened the backseat door for them.
"Solid."
The smell of cigarette burning smacked Samara in the face as she entered the trunk. Her stomach churned more now that she was near the source of the sickening smell.
"Can't tell you how exciting it was listenin' to that fuckin' conversation."
The smell and visual sight of the cigarette made Joel realize why Samara was making that face. "Put that out."
Tommy listened, dropping out his window. "Happy birthday to you."
"With a sickness in the air, I'm postponing the deadline for the metal project til next Friday," Samara declared, noting the silent reactions ranging from thankful to unbothered. "If, for some reason, you still can't hand in your project on time, talk to me and we'll figure something out. Until then—"as timed, the bell rang, signaling the high schoolers to go home—"see you guys next week!"
A chorus of 'bye Mrs. Miller' sang, encouraging a smile on her face. She rearranged the stacks of papers that cluttered her desk.
A knock captured her attention. A physically small, yet composed of an enormous personality, a student of hers stood at the door, scratching the back of his brunette head. "Haven't seen you in a bit, James. How're you been, sweetheart? Here for tutoring?"
James was the type of kid that often broke the laws of energy by creating his own, being a beam of light for others. Never the class clown, but never a silent student. Yet, he appeared as if someone else had snuck into his body, altering him in a way that he couldn't even recognize.
"Yeah. 'M good!" he stated, voice cracking, defeating his lie. Samara straightened her posture, noting every microscopic action. "No, uh, I'm not good, but uh, it's okay. I'm okay."
Her heart ached at the sight of him trying his hardest to keep it all inside. Imagining Sarah in his position, regardless of the reason behind her tears, destroyed her. James was not hers, but any other mother would be ashamed to let a child suffer alone. "What's going on? You can talk to me if you need to, you know?"
His eyes met hers. Tears begging to fall from his brown eyes. "Alana's still sick—like really sick, but not sick enough for the hospital to keep her overnight in since they're...they're's a lot of people comin' in." He inhaled shakily and deeply. "And sorry for my language, but Mr. Brown is an ass and assigned an essay due next week."
Samara chuckled, walking around her desk to sit at the edge in front of him. "Your use of language is excused. Have you tried talking to him?"
"No..." he confessed sheepishly. "But I would have if he wasn't acting weird."
Samara sent him a look.
"He was! He was twitchin' and whispering 'bout stuff just like Colin was."
"Okay, no more. I get it." She felt presence at the door. Flickering in the direction, Sarah hovered her knuckles over the door, but didn't complete the action as her eyes focused on James. Samara waved at her to give them space; she listened.
"We're gonna talk to Mr. Brown next week, so at least try to start the essay—"James' shoulders dropped, looking at his shoes—"and as for my class, you'll be excused for your missing work and get an extension on the project, but I need you to talk to your other teachers and the principals to keep yourself from falling further behind. What's happening with your family is not your fault, and you should not be punished for it."
Meeting her eyes once more. No tears in sight, only gratitude. "Thank you."
"Now, could you stand outside while I talk to my daughter?" As mentioned, Sarah peeked her curly head around the doorframe. She sent James a smile as they passed each other. Samara opened her mouth, but Sarah spoke faster.
"You should take him to the hospital, mama, to see his sister."
"You were eavesdropping?" Samara asked, seeing Tommy's antics rubbing off on her.
She put her hands up in defense. "Not intentionally. But...he should be with his sister. I'd want that."
Their eyes simultaneously looked down at Samara's abdomen before meeting each other's. Samara smiled softly. "Fine. Then, we can stop by the store to get the watch fixed."
"Or," Sarah dragged out, pulling out her puppy dog eyes. "I can do it myself. It was my idea and you promised I could do this myself."
A true-blooded Miller, Samara thought. Some way or another they would get their way. "Promise you'll be safe, pay attention to your surroundings, and—"
"If I don't feel safe, go straight to Mrs. Alder and ask her to take me—I know, mama."
Samara sighed. Her baby was growing up faster than her heart could take it. Every second of every day, she worried for her. But she had nothing to worry about. She was made up of Samara and Joel, pieces of Tommy, and most importantly and wholly, herself. She was a Miller through and through, Samara did not need to be scared—or at least, more than necessary. She held her head, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
She gathered her things and led Sarah out the door before closing it. James stood silently, waiting for them as he was requested. "Why don't we take a visit to the hospital?"
After calling James' father ahead of time and driving into the city, where the buildings grazed the skies and the people swarmed with ambition, a wave of uneasiness consumed Samara whole. Whether it was the mass that crowded around the hospital in an array of emotions, or the military vehicles forcing their way through the roads, Samara's body shook with doubt and confusion.
"There he is," James announced, pointing at an older man who James was a near carbon copy of. Samara slowed into a park, unsure if it was a safe idea to let James go. But the sun was setting, and unlike her husband, she intended on getting home before darkness spread. "Thanks again, Mrs. Miller."
"You're welcome, James, see you next week, okay?"
"Okay!" He slammed the door shut, rushing to his dad, who signed a thank you to Samara, then waved.
She couldn't help but to note the disruption ahead. Law enforcement placed barriers, forcing citizens into lines where they assessed their medical needs—Samara assumed they would be granted access depending on the law enforcement. Her eyes narrowed. As she passed by gas stations, watching as they increased the prices and an influx of people in line, willing to pay for the new prices.
Shifting through the stations as she drove home, nothing came up. No news, no warnings, no broadcast of Jakarta's status. Nothing. It instilled more fear in the mother to only have stations commemorating Johnny Cash on loop, rather than the truth.
"You can run on for a long time. Run on for a long time. Run on for a long time. Sooner or later, God'll cut you down..."
Late into the night as the clock ticked closer and closer to a new Earth rotation, the regard for time had slipped Samara's mind as her eyes and ears were glued to the news channels. The pages Sarah had flipped throughout were almost as still as air, nearly as nonexistent as it was intangible. A crippling emotion eroded her brain, hacking into the sequences that made her up and altered their main functions until all systems were down.
Numb to the idea of the lack of communication from her government to her own family, Samara couldn't help but wonder about the day after tomorrow. If each of her days were comprised of the same components as the days of her life in her 20s, yet slightly different, how would today and two days from now be so different as today and two weeks ago?
Certain aspects of a daily life could not be seen as an arrangement of variables and constants. Yet, Samara could not help but view it all as that. Her husband and child were a constant, she would always wake up in the safety of her own bed and know they were safe. Tommy was a variable that depending on a constant named Joel, without Joel, Tommy wouldn't find himself becoming an invariable of Samara's life as Joel did thirteen years ago.
Every planned action would become a constant of its own making, planting roots into the garden that was a human's life. As it consumed the nutrients and adapted to the differences it would grow until it is able to bear its own variables.
All it took was one fruit to fall, rot, and take over to change it all.
"No comment today from the Austin Police Department regarding a rash of violent incidents across the city, some suggesting a new street drug may be to blame. More on that when we return, with Manuela Sanchez reporting live..."
The doorknob jiggled, clicking as the gears were shifted. Joel entered, an hour and some-odd minutes past the time he promised. "You locked the door for once. Good job."
Not bothering to look his way, Samara turned off the TV. Joel plopped beside her, sinking into the leather seats. "It's ten."
"I know," he groaned. "They...gave us the wrong size for the headers." He looked at his girls, finding their expressions to be one of no care. "That doesn't mean anything to ya. I'm sorry."
"Where's the cake?" Sarah asked, knowing the answer.
Joel's shoulders slumped. "Shit."
"C'mon, man."
"I'll get us one tomorrow," he claimed.
Samara rolled her eyes. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
He looked at her, inspecting her emotions, both visible and invisible. He looked back down to take off his shoes after finding the truth. "I will."
Neither believed it. "Swear, or you don't get your present."
His head snapped back to Sarah. "You got me a present."
"Swear," they said in unison.
"On my life."
Samara nodded her head to her daughter with a small grin. A weight grew on her chest as the seconds grew closer to the reveal. Sarah pulled out a box she stuffed behind the pillow she laid on, reaching over her mom to give to her dad.
Joel made a face, both surprisingly and mockingly at that fact it was a legitimate gift in a nice box. Samara focused on his face as he opened it. It fell and a soft smile grew at the sight of his watch fixed.
"Fixed it for you," Sarah stated proudly.
He pulled it out, pressing it against his ear. His face dropped once more, scaring Samara and Sarah. "Did you?"
"What?" Sarah asked, grabbing his arm to look at it.
"I don't hear anything."
The two looked at it to confirm his words, only to realize he was messing with them. He laughed loudly.
"That was lame. You're lame."
"Yeah, I know." He stared at the watch for a good minute before the questions began to fall. "Is this a gift from both of you?"
Samara pursed her lips, shaking her head. "T's was all her."
"Where'd you get the money for this?"
"Drugs," Sarah confessed. "I sell hard-core drugs."
Joel nodded. "It's better than what we do."
"It was only 20 dollars, which I stole from you," she confessed truthly and swiftly. "I could've stolen 60, but I put the change back because I'm an honest thief. Besides, it's the thought that counts. And you were never gonna do it yourself, so."
"Thank you," he said after a few seconds. "You know, your mom gave me this to tell me she was pregnant."
Sarah made a face, before relaxing it as she made the connection in her head. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah," she confirmed, grinning at the memory. "I told him...what'd I tell you?"
"Uh, 'you're gonna need it, 'cause I heard babies have to follow a strict feeding schedule.'"
"Well, it's a good thing you got it fixed, right?" Samara asked Sarah, hoping Joel would catch on.
"Yup, 'cause no way am I waking up that early."
It slowly processed in his head. He looked at Sarah, seeing her growing grin. Then to Samara, who stared at him with loving eyes and a nervous look. "You're...pregnant?"
She wasn't able to detect his emotions, which scared her more. Tears brimmed her eyes, choking her that all that could come out was a weak, "Maybe."
Like fireworks, his face lit up with excitement. The look on his face, almost as joyous as the first time, swelled Samara's heart. It felt as if it were about to burst. If it exploded, all that would come out of it would be the endless love she had for her family.
"Oh, mama," Sarah said softly as the tears fell. She hugged her from behind as Joel kissed her forehead before leaning his against it.
"I love you," he whispered, taking her hands into his. There were no words that could express what was going through his mind better than those. And Samara understood. Better than anyone would ever.
"I love you, too." She kissed him, only to pull away at the sound of an innocent giggle. Sarah watched her parents' love as if the world would run out of it. "And I love you, too."
She attacked her daughter with kisses to her crown. In Samara's opinion, the only way to love was as if it were to run out. To love immensely was better than to love shyly.
"Now, give him the other gift," Samara told once she was done.
Sarah perked up, remembering her borrowed gift from the Alders. She pulled it from behind the pillow and handed it to the still grinning man. Somehow, his smile grew even wider as he snatched it from her hand. "Borrowed it from the Alders."
"Oh, this is the one with deleted scenes."
"Yeah, imagine how bad those have to be," Samafa teased, earning a look from Joel.
"C'mon, pop it in. While it's still your birthday."
Joel did so, groaning as he did. The two girls forced him in between them, as they leaned against him. "Don't fall asleep."
"'Course, I won't," Sarah claimed. "It's too riveting."
Yet an hour into the movie, just before the ending sequence, the two found her asleep on Joel's lap. Explosions, gunfire, and screams came from the TV, it was almost shocking that it didn't wake Sarah up. It nearly sounded over Joel's phone.
He stretched to grab it off the coffee table, causing Samara to move from her comfortable spot. She shifted to focus on him.
"Hello?" he said softly, afraid to wake Sarah. "Yeah?"
Joel huffed, glancing at Samara. She furrowed her brows, mouthing, "What?"
"Goddammit."
Whoever was on the other end continued, frustrating Joel further. "Now?"
"Well, which jail? Travis County?"
Samara sat up straight. Jail? Instantly, a person came to mind. The only one who would call Joel up in the middle of the night on his birthday to bail him out. Tommy.
"Goddammit, Tommy," the two said in unison. Samara rubbed her face, knowing Joel wouldn't leave Tommy.
Once he hung up, Joel sighed once more. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize for that idiot," she muttered before looking at Sarah. "Take her to bed, I'll get the car ready."
"No, no. You're not going out there," Joel objected as he lifted Sarah up. "Tommy said it's gotten crazy. No way are you going into that while pregnant."
"Joel."
"I'm serious, Mara." He went up the stairs, not wanting to argue, then returned with her keys and his wallet. "I'll be back in a few, okay?"
Samara wanted to argue but was too tired to do so. "Stay safe."
"I will."
Staring at the closed door, something bubbled in her stomach. Fear. All that she saw out there in the daylight was bound to be worse in the night, and her husband went into it without hesitation.
Samara went up the stairs into Sarah's room and slid into bed with her. She held her tight and close as Samara's heart pounded in her chest. She closed her eyes with only one thought,
she would wake up to the same day as before.
5.4k words
oh, heyyy
...okay that ending was a little weak but idrc the other 5k words makes up for it!
idk what to say besides savor this happiness bc its not gonna happen again.