Page 44 of Goldilocks

Lazy, his eyes tired, Sam read the shape of the first question rather than the actual words. His name. He tried to read the next and immediately curled forward as pain pierced through his temples. Someone came to him while he was like that, their feet occupying the stone path right in front of him.

“Are you having a crisis or a headache?” Mary asked.

“Headache,” Sam told her.

There was a rattle. A bottle of pills appeared in his hand, a bottle of water manifesting in the other. “Here.” She sat next to him. “Take those. I want you to be less headachey for the lecture.”

Sam took two pills. If Mary wasn’t watching, he’d have shovelled in far more. “What lecture? What did I do this time?”

“First of all,” Mary said. “You haven’t answered any of my texts. I get that I messed up with Fionn and you were upset with me, but you can’t just ignore me when I ask if you’re okay. Stay mad but message me back.”

“My phone’s been dead,” Sam said. They both knew he was lying. Sam felt no guilt, only annoyance. She knew he hated texting.

“It’s alive and well in your hands right now.” Mary scrubbed her face with her hands. “I’m not trying to nag you. But you keep doing this! Never picking up your phone, off on the water with nobody aware of where you are, ditching every meet-up you plan. It’s too much, okay? You’ve taken on too much between your dad and work and college. I know you turned me down before, but you can let me help with your dad. Just a few days a week.”

“No,” Sam refused.

“Whynot?”

“He’s frustrating to deal with, Mary.” Sam’s hip started to ache again.

“I’ll be fine.”

“No.” His eyes hurt, dull throbs squeezing him like a slowly tightening vice.

“I will keep my cool. I will make sure he gets fed, and that he’s entertained, and—”

“Mary,no.” He was just so tired.

“Give me one good reason why not,” Mary challenged, fire in her eyes. “One good reason or I’m not going to let this go.” He believed the threat, heart and soul.

“Mary,” Sam spoke gently. “You’ll lose your temper. You’ll snap at him, and he won’t understand why you’re upset with him or what he’s done to earn it.”

“I will be patient.”

“I love you, Mary. I really do. But you are not patient.” Sam tried to keep his voice soft. “And it’s not fair on him for someone who doesn’t like him to go in and justtoleratehim.”

“Who says I don’t like him?”

Forget the boat. Sam wanted to curl up right then and there on the bench. “Your honest face does. You think he’s a nuisance. A responsibility you don’t think I should have. An anchor tied to my ankles.”

Her face reddened. And Sam knew it reddened because he was right. He kept his own expression guarded enough so that it didn’t betray that in his weak moments, which seemed to happen more frequently these days, he felt the same way.

The responsibility chafed. He had sought out solutions in the past, and none had worked. Nothing seemed to ever change the situation. Nothing ever shifted the responsibility of his dad’s welfare from his shoulders.

“I will be kind to him.” Mary reached out and covered Sam’s hand with her own. “I can’t dispute all of what you said. But I loveyou. And to makeyouhappy, I will be the most positive spark in that old man’s life, and I swear I’ll be so patient even saints will admire me.”

She forced him to meet her eyes, hers pleading and determined.

Sam believed her. But even though he believed her, something inside him rebelled against the thought of her going into the house. Of being alone there. The idea of it made his mouth and throat itch like he’d swallowed a handful of raspberries.

“Think about it.”

“Alright,” Sam said. He didn’t consider it for more than a second.No, was the answer.

Mary sat back. “And now lecture number two.”

“There’s more?”