Samantha
It's been a month since Harley and I started dating.
I'd developed a whole new group of friends, namely: Wyatt, Axelle, Brandon and a whole bunch of other cooler people, whom we sit with at lunch, unless of course, Harley and I had other plans like bunking and going out to the lake where we'd make out for hours on end.
My parents were blissfully unaware of the fact that I've had the liberating experience of having a girlfriend for the first time and I'd decided to keep my thoughts about coming out and everything else locked away in peaceful ignorance of my own issues.
Life felt seemingly perfect that way.
I was waiting for my mom and dad to settle into the couch across from me. It was a Friday night and, contrary to the norm, they were actually in the country and at home; not slaving away for hours at their laptops, obsessing over work and money like they always are.
They looked tired, the both of them. Like they hadn't slept all night. They were sharply dressed in delicate, expensive brands but beneath all the usual glamour, I saw their exhaustion. I realized that it'd been this way with them ever since. . . she died.
They'd said that they wanted to talk to me about something important. I wondered in the back of mind whether they knew about Harley. Or if it was about her. If so, what could it be?
What would even give them the right to talk about her anyway, after all? After everything.
"How's school?" asked Mom.
"Going well. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just. . . school stuff."
"Good, good. That's very good. Um. . ." She fumbled with the hem of her gold dress, her skin pale. I noticed that her fingers were slightly trembling and so was her voice. I realized that she might have been crying. I was taken aback by how frail she sounded, which is very unlike the strong-minded, intimidating business woman she's known to be.
Apprehension started filling up the back of my mind.
Spit it out already! Is this about my girlfriend? Or my dead sister? Or something completely different?
My dad glanced at her for a brief moment before reluctantly looking back at me.
"We're going to New York this weekend. Together."
Silence.
Deafening, terrible silence.
"I'm sorry. What?" I said icily, trying my best to stay calm.
"I said, we're going to-"
"No, I heard you," I said, my voice rising steadily and uncontrollably. I got up and stared down at him. At the both of them. My mom refused to look at me.
"What the hell do you mean we're going to New York?"
"We. . . think it's time we saw Paris."
Paris.
The name hit a spot deep inside of me, hurting me like no other.
Silence, yet again.
"What makes you think you have the right?" I said quietly.
"We're her parents, for God's sakes," he said, trying his best to not show his annoyance. "We want to make things right. See that. . . that girl, Ashley, and visit the grave. Ask for her forgiveness."
"Forgiveness?" I scoffed loudly.
"For not going to her when she called us," he said more forcefully, cutting the tension in the air with his deep, loud voice.
There was silence again. For just a few moments.
"That's it?" I asked him, my voice barely a whisper. I could feel my mom's eyes on me now. But I was too focused on him to care.
"What more could there be?"
"You're not gonna ask her for forgiveness for kicking her out for being herself, humiliating her in front of everybody she grew up knowing, and hurting her when she was sick with just your words, none of all that?"
"She was sick before she had cancer, Samantha. And what happened can't be changed," he stated.
My mom was back to glaring at the floor. I caught a flicker of guilt pass through her made up features but then again, I might've been dreaming. My mother has no regrets. Ever.
I half-expected myself to burst with rage, but to my own surprise, the flame in me faded away into nothing. I wasn't angry anymore. Not at all. I was too exhausted to be angry. I was. . . sad. Tired. Damaged beyond repair.
"Right," I said quietly.
My mom looked up at me again, surprised. Shocked, even, that I hadn't reacted more.
I nodded, more to myself than to them, and made my way upstairs to my room.
Shutting the door behind me, I picked up my phone and called Harley.
The ringing lasted for a few seconds before the call started with cheers and hoots. Loud music and voices poured out from the phone into my unwelcoming ear. I raised an eyebrow at my reflection in the bedroom mirror, waiting patiently.
"Hey, babe!" Harley yelled into the phone and chuckled a little. I held the phone away a little so as to not damage my own hearing.
"How's it going!" she yelled again.
"Can you find someplace quieter, please?"
"Sure! Give me a minute, okay?" she shouted.
I waited again.
I heard the noise fade and then she spoke again. I held the phone closer to my ear.
"Hi," she breathed out.
"Hi," I replied.
"What's going on? I thought you had something to do with your parents. They wanted to talk or something, right?"
"Yeah, that's just it." I tried to blink the tears away and keep my voice from trembling. But I failed spectacularly and she noticed anyway.
"What-what's wrong?"
"I. . . Um. . . " I couldn't bring myself to speak.
"Sam, are you okay?" she said softly, tension evident in her voice.
"Yeah. I mean, no. I-I don't know, okay?" I said, frustration evident in my own voice, difficult to mask. I immediately felt guilty for it, but before I could apologize, she spoke again.
"Hey, you know what, if you're not busy, meet me at the park. Not the lake, lots of people are gonna be there. The park. Okay?"
"Yeah, I-I can do that," I whispered.
"Alright, see you there," she whispered back, before the line got cut.
I immediately threw the phone on the bed, got changed and went downstairs. All I needed was to get out of here. And Harley was my escape route.
"Where do you think you're going?" said my dad, as I was about to head out, almost getting away with ignoring their existence.
"To see a friend. We're leaving tomorrow, aren't we?" I said, coolly, looking back at him.
There was a pause.
"Yes, yes we are, actually."
I simply shrugged in response before shutting the front door behind me on my way out.
***
"Thought you weren't gonna show," said Harley as I walked the last bit of distance to the bench she was standing next to.
"Sorry, I. . . um. . . took a little detour to the grocery store on the way. I had a lot on my mind and thought chocolate might help."
She smiled sincerely, warmly, before pulling me against her warmth by the waist and kissing me, holding me close, moving my hair behind my ears. I tried to lose myself in her strong arms, which wasn't at all hard to to do.
We soon pulled away, and locked eyes, our faces so close, our bodies pressed up against each other.
"Wanna talk about it?" she whispered in my ear, pressing soft kisses down my neck.
"I have to."
She looked down at me again, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"What do you mean?" she said.
"Can we sit?" I asked. She nodded and hesitantly let go of me like she was afraid that I might fall, sitting down on the wooden bench.
The night was peaceful, quiet. Very unlike my mind, my thoughts. It felt like the peace outside was what was holding me together in the first place.
"My parents and I are supposedly leaving for New York this weekend. They want to seek forgiveness to Paris for being complete assholes after all these years. I would've felt better about it if they hadn't clarified that they still don't believe that the way they behaved was wrong."
Silence.
A companiable one, this time.
For a minute or so as she took the news in.
"Do you think you're ready to see her? To be there?"
I shook my head anxiously. "Nope."
Tears welled up in my eyes but I refused to cry, blinking them away as fast as I can.
Wordlessly, I was pulled up to my feet again along with her and pulled into a silent embrace that lasted for ages and ages. I suddenly felt more whole again, rejuvenated. Like my soul was no longer hurting. It was healing at a rate so, so fast. With just her holding me. And I was amazed by it.
"Just know that I'm here for you," she whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to my forehead, before readily returning to the kind of silence that I needed the most that night.
The loving kind.
***
Hey guys!
Hope you liked this chapter! Lemme know what you think :)
Also, the next few chapters are gonna be in Samantha's POV only.
Love you,
queenred