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Samantha
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SHE SPRAWLED ACROSS the couch, sucking a banana Popsicle, transfixed by one of her favorite programs on the National Geographic Channel. On screen, a lone orangutan hunched nearly motionless in a tattered jungle of leaves and ropey vines. His shoulders drooped, the amber tendrils of fur on his head gently swaying. The narrator, one of those lispy British dudes that always make these wildlife shows sound like a madhatter’s tea party, seemed to know everything the ape was thinking.
“Bartholomew has tried his run at the females only to be violently cast out by his father, just like that, his food source at the preserve fiercely guarded by the others and his ribs wounded in the process. He’s been like this for two days and if he doesn’t find food soon, he will most certainly starve.”
The ape looked up at the sparkling tree canopy. He slapped a palm on a vine and pulled himself hand-over-hand, up and out of the camera frame.
“Bartholomew may be down, but he is not out. He will return, a sort of prodigal ape, and will remember his father’s slight and the other males and females who shunned him. It won’t be a pretty homecoming. Orangutans are strong enough to literally tear each other limb from limb.”
Mom galloped, three steps at a time, down to the family room. “Hey!” she said all happy-go-lucky.
Samantha paused the TV and looked up from the couch. “Hey.”
Mom sat down on the couch arm. “Wanted to tell you again how proud I was of you the other night.”
“Thanks,” Samantha said quietly, gnawing a little on the Popsicle stick, she could still get a little syrup out if she sucked hard enough.
“Not just the play. The reporters too. Jamie okay?”
Actually, Jamie was getting newfound attention, not all of it good. Maddox Funk-Abel now oscillated between whistling at her in the hall and “accidentally” running her into the lockers. Brace and Zev called him out every time they were around. But sometimes they weren’t. Jamie just laughed it off. And though Mom was besties with Maddox’s mom, it seemed premature to take a whack at that hornet’s nest.
“She’s obsessing over going to Cooper now.” It was odd how now that Jamie was considering leaving for the big city, she talked less about the prospect of hormones and surgery.
“Ah, that’s good.” Mom nodded. “I just hated to see you stuck in the middle. Your grandmother should have warned you. In fact, I’m surprised we haven’t heard from her.”
Samantha was no longer surprised. Grandma was skewered in the press that week for trying to rush the vote. Even half the Republicans turned down her request to vote on the amendment and called it grandstanding. Marrisota had one more chance next week at a special hearing. Mark Fox was already tuning up the Shakespeare On The Bluffs bus for a final protest.
Samantha crossed arms. “She barely said two words to me at the matinee. Except she thought it was too pagan. I know she’s pissed about what I said.”
Up popped the angry elevens on Mom’s brow, but as the look of concern grew on Samantha’s face, the elevens faded.
“Oh, honey. You could murder someone and that woman would still love you. It’s just that Grandma’s from another era.” Mom picked up Samantha’s leg by the ankle and removed one sneaker, then the other, and tossed the shoes on the floor.
“And possibly another dimension.”
“She wants the best for you. But she can’t exactly switch positions now, even if she wanted to, she’d lose face with so many of her supporters.”
Samantha nodded thoughtfully. “Did you know the origin of ‘saving face’ comes from China? It’s a really crucial indicator of trust in their social network.”
“Where do you learn this stuff? I know it’s not in school.”
Samantha shrugged, tapped the Popsicle stick to her lips. “Lucy says I should consider evolutionary psychology. And put singing and astronomy on the backburner.”
“Mmm. She does, does she? Well, you could do anything you wanted. You’ve always been smarter than you dress.”
“Hey!” Samantha spun a throw pillow at her.
Mom caught it and whacked Samantha in the belly with it. “Seriously though, you’ve got plenty of time to decide.”
“I kinda like the idea of studying what I can really get my hands on.”
“And—how many primates have you been getting your hands on?”
“Mom.”
“What about you and Jamie? Is there something romantic going—”
Samantha grimaced. “She’s my best friend.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I like Zev!”
“So that’s still on?”
“Well, I need to call him. He texted me after the play. We might do something this weekend. Is the protest on Saturday or Sunday?”
“Neither,” Mom said. “It will probably be on a weekday, same day as the hearing. Anyway, who said you’re going?”
“Come on.” Sam sat up. “I could get out of school—”
“Dad and I don’t want you mixed up in it.”
“There are a ton of kids in PFLAG.”
“It’s going to be hard enough for your grandma to have me there. Mark and Ray know you support them.”
“This is bigger than Mark and Ray and you know it.” Samantha glowered at her mom and then looked away. “I wouldn’t be obnoxious or anything.”
“I said, no.” Back came the angry elevens.
“Mom.”
“No.”
“God.” Samantha flicked off the TV and bolted to her room. At that moment she hated her mom, really, really hated her. She could think of no other word for it. The feeling was like a seething ball of copper in her belly. Her tears ran over her cheeks. Why was Mom such a bitch?
Oh my God I just hated my mom in my head. What the fuck is wrong with me?
She called Jamie.
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“NOPE. NEVER HATED my parents. I’ve hated my cousin though. Dude, I love your mom.”
“I know. I think there’s something wrong with me. She just told me how proud she was . . .” Sam sobbed into the phone.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe it’s your period.”
“That’s such a stereotype.” From Jamie? She fought the urge to hang up.
“Sam, maybe she’s right not to let you. I mean, my parents said fine, but sometimes I think they’re worried if I don’t get my way, I’ll slit my wrists. And sometimes I think they just don’t want to grow up.”
Samantha wiped her eyes and fell back on her pillow. “Wish we could swap parents for a couple weeks.”
“You do have better food.”
Samantha chuckled. “Did you read the blog?”
“Yeah. Weird isn’t it?”
“Okay, she may be crazy.”
“This is what we have to look forward to.”
“Let’s not grow up then.”
“Deal,” Jamie said. “That has to be your grampa that visited Sojourn, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. So embarrassing.”
“At least Lucy doesn’t hold it against you.”
“Yeah. Hey, what did Maddox say to you today?”
“Nothing. I gotta go.”
“Jame, seriously, what did he say? Did he call you Snowplow again?”
“No, just Glinda.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“That’s just uncharacteristically nice of him.”
“Is it such a surprise that someone might like me?”
“No. But Maddox? Talk about crazy. You could do better. Remember what he did to Amanda Barnes?”
“She was a willing participant. Just underage.”
“Wow, blame the victim much?”
“Are you serious?”
Jamie sighed.
“Okay,” Samantha said. “Night.”
“Night.”
B L O G G I N G M Y S O J O U R N
One Woman’s Journey from Gay to Straight
What if my natural state is blowing things up? What if since my brother died, blowing stuff up has gotten results? What if I walked the hot grate to be seen? To be heard? All I know for sure is that I’m standing here with a stick of lit dynamite and I don’t know where to throw it. When I tried prayer, there was only silence.
I’ve been asked to do something for “the cause.” I suppose it’s been a long time coming. Maybe everything we do is a long time coming.
It is a definite betrayal. So twisted, and yet, so perfect in the long run. I guess you have to capsize a sinking boat to get it to float. I only hope the ones I’ve come to care about don’t get hurt too much. The rest of them? They’re going to wish they never messed with me.
Praise Jesus
Posted by Liesl ~ 1:00 AM ~ 2 comments
InChrist commented:
Good luck! But you won’t really need it. With Jesus on your side, anything is possible.
Rolf68 commented:
Please don’t do anything stupider.