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Summer
June 15th, 1961
After returning home and collapsing in her Mother's arms, her body utterly drained of any energy, she stayed in bed. Maria doted on her. The first heartbreak is always the most painful. Heartbreak afterwards is a bit more manageable. Maria understood this. She watched as Samantha curled into her blankets and cried. Sometimes she'd drag herself downstairs to lay on the couch. But everything in the house was filled with memories of George, and everywhere she looked he was there.
A week went by of Samantha's moping before she worked up the courage to tell her mother she needed to leave. Get out of the house that reminded her so much of the boy who had broken her heart and start somewhere else. So calls were made to California, and Eleanor Clarke was more than willing to offer not only one, but two spare bedrooms to the heartbroken girls across the pond. Samantha sobbed to her grandmother on her mother's shoulder, the phone static crackling in her ear and sounding much like her mind felt. Fuzzy and filled with fragmented thoughts.
A week later, Samantha pulled herself together and started packing. Eden stopped by every day that week. She had had her own recovery in the time that they had returned from Hamburg. Together they went to the Chippy and quit. The entire week was spent packing. A different sadness seemed to take over her as she put away books and frames, quilts and afghans, memories and trinkets. Putting it all in labeled boxes. Neatly organizing her life. She wondered if someone would be able to go through the contents of her boxes and think of who she was, what her life in Liverpool was like. Would they have even be able to guess that she wasn't actually from the small little port town? Probably not.
Then, two weeks after the packing began, it ended. All of her boxes of things had been sent over to California , along with Frodo, and were due to arrive a day before she got there. Samantha looked at her empty room the day their flight was due. It was filled with only her bed, desk, and an empty closet. Maria stood by her side with her hand clasped around Samantha's own very tightly. They both stared at the room in silence until Eden let herself into the house with some loud banging noises and a couple of curse words. Maria kissed Samantha on the cheek and hurried down and to help Eden. Samantha, on the other hand, took in the emptiness of it all. With her jacket slung over her arm she began wandering the room. She traced the wall with her fingers, stopping at the closet to smile at the thought of that silly yellow dress that George liked so much. The thought was followed by a pang in her chest, so she continued on. Next her fingers stopped at the window. She thought of her first night in the room, looking out at the snow falling with a sense of longing for home. Would she long for Liverpool? She thought. Before another thought of George came to mind she continued once more. At the sight of her bed she thought about Paul sitting on it and lighting a cigarette. His young and soft features somehow looked aged with a cigarette on his lips. Then, of course, she stopped at her desk. When it had been filled with notebooks for school, John always seemed to stop in her room while he was over and draw stupid pictures in them. She'd find them studying, and laugh.
Sitting on her desk now was the one picture she debated taking. She took the frame in her hands and wondered if she should give it back to Louise on her way to the airport. George with his guitar in hand and a forced smile on his face. Looking so much younger than he had when she saw him in Hamburg. No pain in his features, no pleading in his eyes, just a young teen bothered by his mother taking a picture of him. Samantha felt so angry with herself as she looked at the picture. What happened to that George? Her George. Had it been her that made him so sad? Maybe it was good he kissed someone else. She had only been making him miserable.
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Roses Are Red
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