And Then We Fell Apart (18+)

chapter 4

"Labor Day weekend? Seriously?" I groan when my mom tells me a few days later that I should start packing a weekend bag. It's Wednesday, and I leave Friday morning to go visit my dad despite my pleading not to. "It's the last weekend of summer!"

She leans against the counter after sliding a new vase of pink hydrangeas across it from Mari's garden. "I know. I'm sorry. But it's only until Sunday morning. Two nights."

"Can't you tell him I'll come another weekend? Like, during the school year?" I plead.

I watch her shrug, and I suddenly wish she wasn't so spineless when it comes to my dad. She's always let him overpower her and make decisions for her, which is a big reason why I don't think we got along in the first fifteen years of my life. Without him here, we're just fine.

I'm fine without him.

With a deep, guttural sigh fleeing my lips, I go upstairs and frustratedly pull a duffel bag from my closet and crumble to the white carpeted floor. It stings my sunburned knees, but I don't mind it. The sunburn reminds me of being at the beach with Sam and Bennett and Noah. A good memory. This duffel bag makes me think of leaving all of that behind for a couple of days. A bad memory.

I reach for my phone and dial Sam's number, proud that I was able to memorize it just a few weeks after he gave it to me. I wonder if he knows mine.

"Hello?"

"Sam? Wait until you hear this," I unzip the bag angrily. "I have to go stay with my dad this weekend."

"This weekend?" He sounds just as disappointed as I do. On one of our nights in the brush, I went into more detail about what he did to my mom. He looked horrified when I told him. "It's the last weekend of summer!"

Sighing, I say, "I know. That's what I said."

"Can't you tell him you'll come visit a different weekend?" I wonder if he knows I said the same thing earlier. Suddenly I don't feel so bad. In the little over two months we've known each other, we get on the same wavelength. We seem to always say the same stuff and if that's not the case, we think the same thoughts. It's funny to our moms, but it always prompts an eye roll from Stella.

"I tried," I sulk. "I don't know why he's doing this to me. It's like one more fuck you after everything he did," I frustratedly throw some clothes into the bag.

He laughs, but then stays quiet for a moment. I almost don't notice it because of my irate packing, but then it goes on for too long and I look up at the ceiling and sulk some more.

"What, Sam?" I seethe.

"Nothing," he exhales. I can tell he's smiling. "I've just never heard you say fuck before."

I hold the phone between my shoulder and cheek, giggling from his words. He always knows how to make me feel better even when he's not trying very hard. "I think I'm spending too much time with Noah and Bennett. Especially Bennett."

"Maybe," he replies. I picture him leaning up against the wall in the hallway where the receiver hangs. "When do you leave?"

"Friday morning."

"Well it's only Wednesday night. We can spend all day tomorrow together and do as much fun summer stuff as you want. Only if you want, that is," he backtracks.

I wipe my sweating palms on my bare thighs. "Okay. Yeah, I want to. We can talk about it tonight at our spot?"

"Sure," he's still smiling. "Can we get there a little earlier, say eight-thirty? Before sunset?"