I woke up at seven-thirty, got dressed, and went downstairs to brew some coffee. Sam was going to want it. She was probably going to need it. But she was not going to be a happy camper, and I'd help her navigate what I assumed was going to be her first hangover. I was also going to ensure she never wanted to experience this again. I was not going to be very nice today. Not mean; I'm not that type of person, but she was definitely going to regret last night. She probably would even if I didn't wake her up early.
"Don't be too harsh, Brendon," Sarah said, rolling over.
I opened Samantha's bedroom door and saw her sprawled out on her bed. She was still wearing her leg, which I knew was probably not great for her but also probably fine for one night. Hopefully, she hadn't gotten sand in her sock or caused any more damage to her leg.
"Wake up, Samantha," I said, standing over her.
She mumbled something and rolled over.
"Nope, get up," I said, loudly, pulling the covers away from her and opening the blinds to let in the sunlight.
"Noooooo," she whined. "Too bright. And too loud!"
She tried to pull her pillow over her head, but I grabbed that from her, too. She rolled over so her face was pressed into the mattress.
"Nope," I said and literally picked her up out of bed. I carried her into her bathroom and deposited her in her shower. I would have turned it on her as well, but I wasn't sure about her prosthetic leg and water.
"Take a shower, get dressed and be downstairs in fifteen minutes," I said, tersely.
"Why? It's Saturday. Why can't you let me sleep in? I have a headache," she whined.
"I bet you do. Fifteen minutes. I will be back if you're not downstairs in fifteen."
I left the bathroom, and Samantha, who was looking up at me through squinty eyes, seeming confused as to how I was talking to her.
I went downstairs and pulled my phone out of my pocket while I made myself a cup of coffee and hit the contact in FaceTime.
"Hey, B," Tyler said jovially when he answered.
"Tyler," I said.
"Uh oh. I don't like the tone of your voice. What's the matter?" He frowned.
"We have a bit of a situation," I said. "Samantha is safe and healthy and fine before you worry about that but it's pretty serious. At least, I think it is."
"What happened?" Tyler asked. I heard Jenna in the background ask the same.
"Your daughter went to a party last night. She had our permission. We knew most of the kids who would be there, and we had no problem with her going."
"Did something happen to her there? Not another Tristan situation, please tell me that."
"No, nothing like that. God, no. Thankfully, no," I said, wanting to assuage his fears that Samantha had been assaulted again.
"So what happened then?"
"Well, for starters, she broke our agreed-upon curfew. By an hour."
"That doesn't sound like Samantha. Did she have a ride? Did they bring her home late?"
"She had a ride, and yes, her ride brought her home late, but not because the driver was late. And I tried calling and texting her. She didn't answer. She told me they'd lost track of time."
"Well, that's not a huge deal. Just give her an earlier curfew next time," Tyler said. "Maybe be her ride if you can be so that she knows that you'll be waiting at whatever time. What curfew did you give her?"
"We agreed on midnight. She came home just after one. But that's not the issue. I mean, it's an issue, but it's not the issue. Tyler, your daughter was shitfaced when she came home last night. She could barely keep herself upright, or keep her eyes focussed."
"No, that's not Sam. She wouldn't do that. Not to you, not to us."
"And yet, she did. I have a few ideas of how I intend to handle this. For starters, I'm not letting her go to any more beach bonfires. I'm thinking at least the next two weekends she's not going out at all."
"That's fair. Except next Friday, she's supposed to come home. The trial starts that following Monday."
"Good. So she wouldn't be going out anyway."
"What else are you planning on doing? Remember, she's kind of fragile. But this really doesn't sound like Samantha. Are you sure her blood sugar wasn't just out of whack? You know that can look and smell like she's drunk."
"I'm sure. Her friend told me she hadn't realized how much Sam had had to drink."
"Oh," Tyler said.
"Yeah. For what I have planned, so far, I have already woken her up," I said.
"It's only, like, eight in the morning there," Tyler said.
"It is. And yes, she has a hangover. And no. I don't want her to sleep it off. I want her to know that getting that drunk feels like shit, and I don't want her to think she can do this again. I also don't want her to think just because she's here and you're not, and that we're not her parents, that she can get away with this kind of stuff. We're responsible for her, and we take that very seriously."
"I know you do. I appreciate that. And I'm glad you're not letting this be some 'she's not at home, let her have some fun' kind of thing. I'm really surprised at this, to be honest. After Tristan and the dance, I would have thought she'd be more careful. I'm a little shocked. And a lot disappointed," he sighed. "Okay. Well, you know how we feel about punishments with Sam. Nothing really serious or too isolating."
"Oh, I know. Don't worry. I'm not going to disassemble her social life here completely. It'll take a hit, and I don't think I will be her favourite person today. I put her in her shower, but I didn't know if her leg could get wet much, so I didn't turn the shower on her. I gave her 15 minutes to shower and get downstairs," I said. "Today, she's going to walk the dogs, change the beds and skim the pool."
"Okay," Tyler said. "So far, that's reasonable."
He agreed, so this would be easy.
"She's not getting a nap," I said.
"Oh. No, Bren, don't do that. She can have a seizure if she's overtired."
"Shit. Right. Okay. She'll have a nap if she needs one," I said. "Straight home from school every day until she goes home for the trial. Except for practice and games. We will be there to pick her up every single day at exactly two thirty. We'll be at every practice and game."
"Okay. Sounds fair. What about group projects?"
"They'll have to come here to work on them," I stated.
Tyler was nodding. Jenna came into the frame.
"Hang on, back this puppy up. I was dealing with a Junie blowout. What's this about straight home from school and napping?"
"It would seem, dear wife, that our daughter got drunk at a party last night and broke curfew by a little over an hour."
"Not Sam," Jenna said. I nodded.
Jenna sighed.
"How is she? Are her sugars okay?"
"She's hungover. Her sugars are fine."
"Okay. Good. Get that kid on the phone," Jenna said.
"She's in the shower," I said, hearing the water turn off in Sam's bathroom.
"Okay. Fine. You tell that child of mine she pulls something like this again, we're bringing her home."
"Jenna, with all due respect, I don't think that would be a good idea. Believe me, we have this covered. I just went over what I have planned for consequences. She's doing some chores today, and will be coming home right after school until she goes home for the trial," I said.
Jenna sighed again.
"You're right. That would traumatize her, I think. Especially because she's going to know how disappointed we are."
Jenna frowned.
"Why would she do this? It's so unlike her."
"My best guess, a mix of peer pressure, letting off some steam, not knowing her limits or tolerance level, wanting to be accepted - I know, peer pressure is sort of the same," I said.
"Sure. I get that. But Sam doesn't usually fold to peer pressure."
"When's the last time Sam was the new kid in school that nobody knew? Not really."
"Seventh grade," Tyler said.
"Exactly. And she wasn't as confident as she is now. But she's still a kid trying to fit in."
"Make sure she calls us later. I want to have a word with her," Tyler said.
"I will. I gotta go, but I wanted you two to know what was going on," I said.
"Thanks Brendon. Thanks for handling this. I'm so sorry she did this. I'm so disappointed," Tyler said.
"Me too. We'll talk later," I said.
We hung up and I heard Samantha crutching her way downstairs. I pulled out a couple of pans and banged them on the stove. I went about making breakfast as loudly as I could.
"Uncle B, can you be a bit quieter?" She asked. "I have a killer headache."
"I bet you do," I said, slamming a pan down on the stove and watching her cringe. "It's called a hangover and it's what happens when you drink to the point of getting shitfaced."
"What?" She said, looking at me.
"Drunk. Drink too much. You know, like you did last night."
"It was one time. I'm sorry!" Samantha said. I made a big production of putting butter in the pan with a metal spoon, Sam groaned.
"There's coffee. You can have some. And we are going to have a talk. And then, you're going to do chores."
"What?" Samantha said, looking up. "What do you mean?"
"Which part are you confused by? We're going to have a chat and we're going to talk about last night. Then you're going to do some chores."
"That part. What chores? Why?"
"Because, Samantha," I said, leaning on the counter and looking in her eyes so she would know I was being serious. "You came home an hour after your curfew. You didn't answer my texts or calls for an hour. I had no idea where you were. We agreed on a curfew if midnight."
"I wasn't that late. Only, like, fifteen minutes or so," Sam said.
"What time was your curfew?" I asked.
"Midnight."
"What time was it when you walked in the door?"
"12:15," she said confidently.
"1:05," I replied.
"No. I looked at my watch. It was 12:15."
"It might have been 12:15 when you looked at your watch. It was 1:05 when you walked - or should I say stumbled - in that door. Samantha, you know we had a deal. I know we aren't your parents and yeah, I'm the 'fun uncle', but Sarah and I are responsible for you while you're here and you really worried and disappointed us last night."
"I'm sorry! It was a mistake. It won't happen again. I got carried away. Please let me go back to bed."
"No. Here," I said, putting a plate of eggs and toast in front of her.
"No bacon?"
"No bacon. Eat up," I said, pouring her a cup of coffee and handing her the sweetener and cream.
Sam looked at me, confused, while she ate.
"Why are you being like this?" She asked.
"Because, Samantha Joseph. You broke my trust," I said. She frowned as she contemplated that.
"I don't get it."
"Samantha," I said, leaning on the counter and looking at her again. "We had a deal. A midnight curfew and you are usually more responsible than that. You really disappointed me and Sarah. For starters, just because your parents aren't here doesn't give you a free pass to act like you want to. Sarah and I agreed to be your guardians while you're in LA and we would have hoped you'd treat us like you treat your parents. But instead, the first opportunity you get, you betray my trust, come home an hour late and don't answer your phone. For all I knew, you could have been lying in a ditch somewhere."
"But I wasn't," Samantha said. "And I said I'm sorry. It was an accident."
"I'm sure it was. But you know how you feel right now?"
She nodded, then groaned. I bet her head really wasn't a friend right now.
"Yeah. Remember this. Because last night was probably the most irresponsible thing you've ever done. You worried Sarah and I and you got shitfaced without a thought to your health or your safety."
"I was fine, though," Sam said.
"How were we supposed to know that? Hmm? You didn't answer your phone. I called you every five minutes after 12:30. Sam, you know we love you. I know we aren't your parents. I know you know that. But while you're here, you're our responsibility. And I would have hoped you would have had enough respect for us that this wouldn't have happened. I guess I expected too much," I said.
Sam looked at me with sad eyes. She realized she'd screwed up. She could see now that I was upset.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be late. And I didn't realize how much I had to drink. And I do respect you and Aunt Sarah. I didn't mean to make you worry. I'm sorry," she said.
"I'm glad you're sorry. I'm sorry, too. So, here's the deal. When you're done breakfast, you can head back upstairs and strip all the beds and then change the sheets. Once you've done that, you're going to skim the pool."
"But you have a pool service!" Sam said.
"So? They're not here until Tuesday."
"But it's so bright out," she whined.
"Yep. Gonna make your head feel great, I bet."
"Why are you being so mean?"
"Mean? You think I'm being mean? How do you think I felt at 12:30 when you weren't home and wouldn't answer your phone? I know what you've been through in your life. You're lucky I'm not actually being mean, because I could do so much worse, but you've seen enough punishment. So you're not going to be sent to your room or anything like that. Oh. And after you're done skimming the pool, you can walk Penny and Bogart and then vacuum the living room."
Samantha was sitting back with her arms crossed and frowning at me.
"Also, from today until next Friday when you leave for the trial, you will come straight home after school. No hanging out with friends, nothing."
"But I have basketball!" She argued.
"Yep. Those will be the only exceptions. Practices and games. No hanging out with the team after. Sarah or I, or both of us, will be at your games and practices. We will be at the school at 2:30 on the dot. If you have any group projects, you'll work here at the house."
"What if we need the library?"
"If it's absolutely essential, we'll take you. Otherwise, you have the internet."
She was frowning deeply.
"What about the party on Friday?"
"You're not going," I said.
"Come on! It's at Brandi's! You said I could go!"
"And now I'm unsaying that you can go. You can't. Consider it being grounded."
"You can't ground me," she said. "I'm 18, and you're not my dad."
"You're my responsibility while you're here. So yes, I can ground you. I've spoken to your dad. Who, by the way, you need to call. They'd like to talk to you, too."
"You told my parents?!"
"Yes, Samantha. I told your parents. Because they needed to know what your behaviour has been like."
She sat and glared at me, pushed her empty plate away and got up from the breakfast bar.
"Clear your plate," I said.
"I can't! I've only got my crutches."
"Fine," I sighed. "I'll do it. Go upstairs and change the beds."
"But isn't Aunt Sarah still sleeping?"
"No. She'll be down soon."
She frowned at me and with a huff, grabbed her crutches and went upstairs.