Page 6 of Goldilocks
“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not something you can help. I just didn’t realise I was so insignificant that my baby brother wouldn’t even remember me.” Bitterness laced every word.
“All caught up?” Ivan interjected. A moment later, Mary rejoined them too, peering up into Sam’s face, probably seeing the unhappiness and the tension.
She frowned. “I was going to give you this, but if you’ve got another one of those headaches, you shouldn’t drink.”
“I’ve got classes in the morning anyway; I wasn’t planning on drinking.” Sam shrugged.
“Hm. I know even if I tell you to take a break, you won’t, but if it’s bad, maybe you should turn in early? Mom won’t mind.” Mary gave Eric the extra drink. “Eric, maybe you could meet me and Sam for lunch tomorrow? If you don’t mind driving to campus?”
“Sounds great,” Ivan agreed readily. He had placed his hand on Eric’s shoulder, and Sam assumed that the move comforted Eric because some of the tension eased from his body. “I’ll drop him out.”
“You have a headache? Do you need painkillers?” Eric asked, his focus never wavering from Sam.
Sam rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “I’m all good; I’ve got some in the car. I’m going to give Mal her present and wish her a happy birthday.” He hesitated a second, briefly meeting Eric’s expectant gaze before averting his own. “Nice to see you,” he said. He caught himself just before saying, ‘Nice to meet you’.
Sam broke away from them, needing to escape. Mary caught up to him within a second. “I’m sure you have plenty to say,” he said, already imagining the lecture he was about to receive.How could you treat your brother like that? What’s wrong with you?But Sam could argue back, couldn’t he? Was it really his fault for not knowing him when he’d left and never visited when Sam was a kid?
“No.” Mary frowned. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know him being here was just sprung on you. Though it wouldn’t have been if you’d read my texts…but okay, I get it. The phone would make a headache worse, so you probably didn’t want to look at it. Sam.” She grabbed his wrist and made him stop.
Sam’s head ached like crazy. He wanted to just lie down and pass out somewhere. His boat would be ideal. But he needed to make sure there was enough food in the house for his dad…Hehadto go home tonight.
“Don’t write him off,” Mary said. “I know he left, but before he did…Eric spoiled you. And you know I hold people accountable for their actions even if they say sorry, so the fact that I think you should give him a chance should tell you a lot.”
“A chance for what?”
Mary raised her hands, making an ‘I don’t know’gesture. “To get to be your brother again? To support you? Spoil you again, maybe? I’d like it if that’s how it went, but I can’t force anything. If he hurts you, I’ll chase him off. You have my word.”
Sam just sighed. He tilted back his head, looking away from those wide, begging eyes. “My head is killing me, Mary.”
“Give me that. I’ll give Mom her present; you go home, take some painkillers and sleep. Do you want me to drive you? I can drive you,” Mary offered, and Sam was sorely tempted to duck out early. He might have grown up with Mary more like a sister than a cousin, but despite his mom passing away early Aunt Mal had never taken on a motherly role for Sam. That was fine, course. Sam had never wanted her to do more than she had, but it did mean there was enough emotional distance between them that Sam didn’t feel the pressing need to be remain for her party.
“And what drink are you on?” Sam asked.
“Oh. Yeah, shoot, forgot. I am sure I can find someone sober to bring you home.” Mary started looking around. When her eyes found their way to Eric and Ivan, the pair still in the spot with their heads bent together, Sam bumped her. “I’ve got it, Mary. I am going to head home, though. You’re not mad at me for flaking out?”
“Of course not,” Mary said. She hugged him tightly. “I’ll text you what time to meet Eric and me tomorrow.”
“Alright,” Sam said, resigned.
Sam ended up dropping a few cousins home before driving back to his own house. He was a few miles inland, and his view of the ocean was blocked by huge rhododendron shrubs that had spread and grown unchecked for years, thriving in the acidic soil. He shut off the engine of his car and gazed at the bungalow he called home. The lights were all out, but that was expected since it was well past midnight. The curtain in the living room peeled back, the inside of the house pitch black through the gap. It stayed open a second before falling back into place. Sam frowned. His dad should be in bed by now. Had he been waiting up for him?
Sam dug out his painkillers. The bottle was full, so instead of pouring out two, he accidentally shook out five. He hesitated only a moment before swallowing them all. Dragging his feet, he gathered up the shopping bags from the passenger seat and ambled toward the front door.
It was unlocked.
Sam’s hand rested on the door handle for a long time, his body not responding to his mind telling it to push it down. Skin clammy, Sam swallowed hard. “Dad,” he said, his voice cracking. He pushed down the tarnished copper handle. “I’m home.”
Sam opened the—
Chapter Three
As Professor Moore dismissed the class, Sam squinted at the notes he’d taken on the different types of Greek columns throughout the ages, already irritated with himself for writing so small. He’d only jotted down the odd word here and there for the last half of the lecture, and Professor Moore was one of those ‘fun’ professors who uploaded slides filled with overly saturated colours and fonts that slashed across the board and through Sam’s head in erratic patterns. It didn’t help that the lecture hall had no windows or natural light but instead fluorescent white bulbs that cast everything in an overly bright, harsh glow.
Books thudded shut, zippers zipped, jackets rustled, and bag straps crinkled against waterproof coats as the large class of fifty students began filing out. Sam packed away his things slowly. He always sat dead centre in the large hall. That way, he was never in anyone’s way at the end when he was still taking notes and everyone else was rushing out; he preferred not to be acknowledged at all while at college, and he was sure his classmates picked up on that because rarely did anyone initiate conversation with him. He dragged his feet as he approached the podium and stopped to wait behind a student who was asking Professor Moore about something related to the lecture.
In the front row, where dedicated students and those with poor eyesight mingled, was a familiar face. Fionn was short and stocky, dressed inappropriately for March temperatures in a perfect white polo that painfully reflected the fluorescent lights, tan khakis and canvas boat shoes. His old-money blond hair matched his outfit. Fionn’s eyes lit up as he spotted Sam.
Sam usually ignored Fionn. There was always some remark or other waiting to slip loose, and while Sam never blinked an eye at anything he said in their hometown, his usual ability to shrug Fionn off lessened when at college. Regardless of location, the juvenile attention-seeking had gotten old years ago.