Sam and Deena B.S.F (Before Sarah Fier)

Sam Fraser Part 8

I pick at my meatloaf and mixed greens at the dinner table with Mom to my right and Dad to my left. They don't even acknowledge each other, both head down in their plates, no words to fill the gaps in between.

"So... How was everyone's day?" I say to the open air. Both of them look up at me, then for a second at each other, then back at me. This is the most interactive they've been all night.

"Mine was fine. Went to Sunnyvale to have lunch with some investors." Dad shoves a bite of meatloaf down.

"Did some holiday shopping, ran some other errands." Mom takes a long sip of water after finishing her sentence. "Why Sunnyvale?" Mom asks Dad. Dad's head perks up and he puts his fork down, and wipes his mouth with his napkin.

"Because that's where they wanted to have lunch. Is there an issue with that?"
"No, it's just, why spend so much on gas money? That's a whole hour drive when you can have lunch here at a perfectly adequate restaurant."

"The people of Sunnyvale don't settle for 'perfectly adequate'." Dad pushes his plate in front of him, the tension between Mom and Dad rising like hot smoke, I can feel it in front of me.

"Well, we don't live in Sunnyvale, Frank, sorry to burst your false sense of reality."

Dad's face rises and his voice thickens. "False sense of reality? What am I not believing? That we live and breathe in this dump? That lunch could've helped us move out of here, Linda. Get Sam to a better school where DRUGGIES aren't her only friends."

I've had enough of arguing for tonight and I get up and go to my room. They don't even notice me.

When they fight I feel so empty. Like any joy in my life has been ripped out of my soul and all I'm left with is just a body with no purpose. I crash onto my bed and hug a pillow to process. I pretend it's Deena sometimes. I made her spritz some of her perfume on it and her sweater, and whenever I need her and she's not available I just grab the pillow or sweater and hold it to me and I breathe in her.

I feel guilty because I want my parents to split. Partly because I am so drained from their pointless fights, but also because I know they need it the most. They're too much of cowards to quit. They're scared that their distance as a couple is gonna become too real if it's on a piece of paper that declares their separation. It's not selfish for me to think they'd be better off divided because their marriage has affected me a lot too. They're just too ignorant to see it. I feel like divorces are usually because of their kid, but with them it's just their marriage. It was doomed from the start, they rushed into it so fast, getting married when they were freshly eighteen and out of high school. And then they had me because they probably thought they had to because, hey, that's what married couples do, have kids. And then sixteen laters, boom, we're here and as worse as ever. But this time, it wasn't on me, but I know they're gonna try and find an excuse to not blame themselves. That's one thing they have in common.

I close my eyes while squeezing my pillow tight, hearing the faint shouts from downstairs of my parents' rocky decline.

...

I woke up that Saturday morning to my phone ringing. I stumble to my dresser and put the phone to my ear.

"Yeah?" I mumble. But all I hear is the dial tone. Confused, I put the phone back. I guess no one called. I assumed it was Deena since she either leaves me messages late at night or calls in the morning to ask how I slept. Weird. She always does that. I brush it off and get ready to meet everyone at the library to study for winter finals. I managed to convince Deena to come along, which was not easy in the slightest, but I did it anyway and that is a victory I am super proud of.