NORMAL (16 page)

"Oh, you'll have plenty of time to study after dinner," Bits mutters flippantly and Sam and I exchange secretive grins. I chose a good safe word.

Sam's mom comes around the corner from the main foyer and introduces herself as Elaine Caplan. She's absolutely beautiful, but looking at her children, I'd expect nothing less. Bits got her blonde hair from her mom, but Elaine's is shoulder length and layered, and her eyes are brown, similar to mine.

She invites us to sit at the kitchen table and serves me chicken breast with rice pilaf and steamed vegetables. It's really rather good. We chat about school, and they ask minimal questions about my life before I moved here, and I wonder if Sam warned them not to pry into my past. I don't know if I'm grateful or annoyed if he did.

We study in the dining room after dinner and by the time Sam guarantees me a ninety or better, I'm already half exhausted. My phone buzzes.

Shit,
it's my mom. It's almost ten and I haven't checked in since she called me when she got home around a quarter after eight and I told her about my car. Sam's gathering up our practice tests as I answer.

"Hi, mom. I'm fine, just finishing up now," I answer.

"Rory, do you know how worried I've been? I've been calling for thirty minutes!" she shouts, obviously frazzled. My mother used to be a totally laid back parent. She got passionately riled up about clients and causes, but me she trusted implicitly. And while I think she still trusts
me
for the most part, my judgment is another story.

She was truly shocked to the bone to learn what had happened, what had
been
happening for so long right under her nose. I know in many ways she blamed herself.
Blames
herself. Not as much as she blames my father though, and I think that actually helped with her self-recrimination. But the bottom line is that since everything came out, she's been making up for lost time, so to speak. She checks in with me every couple of hours when I'm out, where we used to go full days without connecting. She makes sure to be home to have dinner with me most week nights unless she has to work late, where I used to eat alone or next door with Cam.

"Sorry, I've been studying. I told you. My phone was on vibrate in my bag. I didn't hear it," I explain.

"
God,
Rory. I've been imagining all kinds of things. I don't even know this
Sam
person! How do I know-"

"Mom, calm down. Sam's my friend, okay? I told you. We're not even alone. I'm fine. I mean it," I reassure her.
From hands-off parent to helicopter in less than a year
.

I can see that Sam is looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and though he's trying to feign disinterest in a conversation that is clearly about him, I know he hears every word - at least my end.

My mom sighs. "Alright, why don't you give me his address and I'll come pick you up?"

"It's fine, Mom, I told you he would drive me home."

"Aurora, that boy has spent his evening rescuing you from a dead car battery and teaching you math, give him a break-"

"Alright one sec!" I cut her off. She's driving me crazy. I hate when she calls me 'Aurora', it just reminds me of my father. And the truth is I feel guilty, because this isn't her. This isn't the Amy Pine I grew up with. This is a woman who had the rug pulled out from under her in the worst way, all because of me, and who lost her husband and her home in the fallout. And she's right about me burdening Sam, too.

I peek over at Sam who's given up on pretending not to be paying attention. "Everything okay?" he asks tentatively.

I nod. "Yeah, my mom is just lecturing me on imposing on people. She wants to come pick me up to save you the drive, but I don't even know the address here," I reply.

Sam rolls his eyes.
"Imposing?
Don't be ridiculous, you just said it yourself,
'Sayum's mah friend, okay?'
" he teases in an exaggeratedly southern Rory voice that sounds more like Scarlet O'Hara than me. I giggle and cover the mic on my phone.

"I don't mind driving you, really," he adds sincerely.

"Yeah but you have to drive me to school in the morning too, my mom leaves too early to get to the city for work-"

Sam has taken two long-legged steps and is suddenly right in front of me. He places his hand gently on my upper arm. "I'm driving you home, like I said I would, and tomorrow I'll drive you to school, like I said I would. You wouldn't be calling it an imposition if I was Carl, and if you were Tuck you'd be demanding I take you through the drive-thru for takeout on the way."

I stare at him, bemused, because I know he's right, and he slowly takes my phone from my hand and proceeds to introduce himself to my mother, assure her that it's no imposition to give me a ride, that I'd do the same for him, and that I've actually done him a favor by forcing him to study for our test. When he hands me back the phone, my mom is calm and there is a smile in her voice.

"See you soon, honey," she sings, and hangs up.

What has Sam done to my mother?

****

On the ride home I once again marvel at how comfortable I am in a situation that is, in itself, one of my most precarious triggers. I remember the last time I was alone in a car with a man - when Sheriff Chipley, my own friend's father, gave me a ride home from his office last May. I freaked out. When he parked in front of my house I tried the door handle, but it was locked. When I turned to him, he was facing me, not getting out of the car like I'd expected. In retrospect it was likely that he was simply poised to offer me some comforting words, since he turned out to be one of the few people to actually stand by me through the aftermath, but in that moment all I knew was complete terror. I actually smacked him, screamed, cried, hyperventilated, and ended up spending that night in the hospital.

But right now, alone with Sam, who outwardly seems to have a lot in common with Robin, I feel no fear. Because I believe that inside, Sam and Robin couldn't possibly be more different. Sam is slowly earning my trust - something that just over a month ago I'd never have thought possible - and I smile to myself at the thought.

"What's with the secret smile?" Sam asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. I look over at him and consider him a moment before deciding to simply tell him the truth.

"I beat a trigger," I reply proudly.

"Oh yeah? Which one is that?"

"I'm in the car with you. Alone. And I'm not panicking. I'm not even scared," I admit, unable to keep the self-satisfaction out of my voice. In fact, I sound downright boastful. Sam continues to look between me and the road.

"Was that trigger specific to me? Or guys? Or being alone with anyone?" he asks.

"Guys. Men. Being alone with a guy in general is... well I haven't been in almost a year, anyway. Except for you, obviously. But in a car... I never thought I'd be able to do it again, to be honest. Not ever," I admit, wondering why I feel so compelled to answer him when he asks me a question, even an inherently personal one.

Sam considers my words then nods. "It's the safe word... See? I told you it would work. You're comfortable because you know that if I do something to bug you all you have to do is say one word and I'll back off," he explains.

I think about his explanation and determine that while the safe word has definitely helped in the way he's described, it really worked more as a facilitator than anything. Because while I may not have had "calculus" to say before, I still had "no" and "stop" and all the others, and I know better than anyone that with the wrong person, no word, safe or otherwise, is worth a damn.

"It's not just the safe word and you know it," I whisper.  

We've stopped at a red light and Sam is looking at me intently. "Like I've said, you're stronger than you think you are, Ror," he replies.  

I shrug and look away. I'm still not sure he's right about that one. When the light is green again Sam's eyes return to the road and he drives on.

"Are you coming to Andrew's tomorrow night? I think it's gonna be a smaller thing, not a big party," he changes the subject.

"No, I can't. My mom's friend is coming to visit and we're going out to dinner," I explain. One of her closest friends from childhood is coming out from the city and my mom is really looking forward to it. Even though my mom works in Manhattan, she rarely has time to do anything social, she even usually works through lunch or has to meet with clients.

"You and your mom are pretty close, huh? I mean you're always saying you have to have dinner with her..."

He's right. I do have dinner with her most weeknights, and I've used this as an excuse many times to avoid social events. "We're all each other has," I explain with a shrug. "She gave up her whole life for me. I'm the reason they got divorced - my parents I mean - the least I can do is have dinner with her."

"We have that in common then," Sam replies quietly after a pregnant pause. I turn to him, perplexed, which he notices when he peeks over at me. "My dad left because of me, too."

I shake my head. "No, I mean it literally. I'm the only reason they broke up. It was completely my fault... she was on my side, he wasn't. She gave up her career, her home, her marriage, all of it, just to get me the fuck out of there."

Sam stops at another red light and turns his whole body toward me. He licks his bottom lip, distracting me. He has fascinating lips. Full. Pink. I blink a few times to stop myself from thinking such things about someone who is supposed to be my friend.

"The last time my dad hit my mom, he broke her nose. I was thirteen. Big for my age. For the first time, I hit him back. A lot. And then I told him to pack his shit and to leave, and if he ever came back the whole town would know what a piece of shit he was, including the cops." Sam's voice is deathly quiet. "So yeah, he left because of me. I'm the reason they got divorced."

I swallow nervously. I'm struck by Sam's confession that his father was physically abusive to his mom. Elaine seems so normal, so put together. I would never have pegged her for a victim. It also kind of explains a little more about Bits. Her seeking out an older guy to date, and her extreme reaction when he abandoned her.
God,
it all must have been so hard on her. And on Sam, too. I wonder how many times he had to witness his own father hurt his mom, and he was only a child.

"I'm so sorry," I murmur.

Sam shakes his head. "Don't be. We're better off without him," he echoes my own words back to me.

I nod. I'm still reeling from the fact that Sam is confiding in me. I've spent so much time feeling like I was a burden to him, and wondering what it is that he's getting out of this friendship at all. Like when he told me about Bits, this confession about his father gives me a chance to be there for him. To give back to him.

"Can I ask you something, Ror?" he asks quietly. I look at him warily, but nod. "Did your dad... hurt you?"

I take a deep breath and shake my head. "Not in the way you're thinking."

"How then?"

I'm silent for a few moments. The car is in park, in the middle of the street, empty at night on a weekday. "He didn't protect me. He didn't help me. He
blamed
me..."

"Didn't protect you from who, Rory? Blamed you for what?"

I glare at Sam. I don't know how we got here. He knows so much, but he also knows nothing at all, and I'm not sure I
want
him to know. Once he does, he'll look at me differently, that's a fact. So what if he's already deduced that I'm a victim of
something?
He probably thinks someone hit me, like his dad did to his mom. And I think it'd be best to let him think that.

"
Calculus
," I whisper, aware that my eyes have welled up. Sam looks hurt, and I don't know if he's upset that I still won't confide in him or upset
for
me.

Suddenly the sound of a car horn blares from behind us. The light has turned green and we hadn't noticed. Wordlessly, Sam shifts gears and resumes driving me home.

When he pulls up in front of my house, the front door is open and my mother is standing in the open doorway. She may trust Sam to drive me home, but she isn't going to give him time alone with me in a parked car, that's for sure. Sam stops me before I open the passenger door.

"I'm sorry, Rory. I don't mean to pry, I just... You know you can talk to me right? If you want to, I mean. You can tell me anything, I won't repeat it, I swear. I just want to be here for you, okay? I care about you."

He's staring at me intently as I process his words. They've surprised me, and I don't know why, because I think I already know them to be true. The thing is, I
have
talked to him. I
do
talk to him. More than anyone else who isn't my mother or isn't paid to listen to me. And I know I can trust him; I know he hasn't repeated anything I've told him. I know this without him having had to tell me.

I think it's hearing him say he cares about me that's gotten to me. I remember hearing Robin say those same words. I remember wondering exactly what they meant, and believing them simply because he'd spoken them. I'd believed a lot of things simply because Robin said them, not only about his feelings, but about my own. But I'm not the same naive girl I was a year ago. Not even close.