“This one has a better look too.”
“What makes mine better than yours?”
“Mine is just. . . too focused and intentional.”
“Doesn't that make yours much more impressive?”
It's not clear on why he wants to highlight this poorly executed filming of mine. I wouldn’t bother examining it myself since I'm already bad at it, it's unnecessary. Rather than passing judgment on it and despite how ridiculous it is for me to believe it's acceptable, he’s still considering sending it after completing his current work or whatever he's doing right now. The effort I put in over the next thirty minutes made it obvious that I lack any real interest in it. “It's not that bad.”
“Why take the risk when you could simply focus on your own which has a better chance of getting approved?” I conveyed it to him directly. Or he might be putting on a facade to avoid hurting my feelings. “You're pretending.”
He looked at me with a look of disbelief, “I'm not sure where you're headed with this.”
“I won't be upset if you leave mine out.”
In reality I'd be relieved if no one saw how poor my shots are. “Have faith in me for this, Cari.”
I pushed the entire thing out of my mind because I can't tolerate the repetition. Most importantly he's in control and is fully aware of what he's doing.
Looking at our current messy table, it made me realize that we ordered too many snacks from the distant fast food stalls, and it was mostly Sam's doing. It was a few good bites, but not quite what I was expecting. I remain in my seat trying to occupy my thoughts with something else and the next thing I knew was watching Sam approach in my direction carrying a handful of snacks in wraps. For a moment, it seemed like it wasn't only meant for the two of us. “Since I wasn't sure what you like to eat, I brought these.”
And he displayed every single one infront of me.
“To begin with, I'll eat whatever you offer but I can’t manage to eat everything.”
I appeared utterly shocked when it all became clear to me.
“Help yourself to whatever you want.”
“What happens to the rest of this?”
“Nothing will be wasted. We’ll have some while heading home.”
“This is great, we won't need to spend a few minutes deciding what to eat because I'm telling you, it would consume a lot of our time.”
“Great.”
He’s appeared redundant over the past couple of hours after making me hold the camera. He's unusually generous today, which feels strange. I know Sam has a distinct personality that makes him a bit more friendly, and I suppose what I’m feeling right now is insignificant.
“What was it about?” I was trying to gather some leftovers when he suddenly asked me. I needed to eat a few bites, knowing I wouldn't feel hungry during the ride.
“What?”
“With you and Laurel before?”
“Oh, it was nothing.”
“Yeah, it looked the ordinary to me.” Those trivial conversations that often lead to nothing, where a small issue quickly becomes significant just so she can have something to say, which usually confuses me, but I tolerate it because she’s my friend. “The house was nice.”
I packed everything into the carrier bag and separated the ones we’ve already consumed. The ones I didn't enjoy and regret trying, as their initially appealing flavor turned out to be strange. “I wanted to let you know that your dad has invited me for dinner tomorrow. At your house.”
I quickly looked over at Sam who's now seated awkwardly. As soon as I heard what he said, it shifted my feelings instantly. He gives the impression of being honest right now. “I wasn't intending to reveal this to you—”
“What?” Now I'm confused and need to ask him once more. Dad doesn’t just permit anyone else inside the house except for Laurel. We neither dine together, ask about left overs or talk at all. Throughout my entire life, I've only eaten in my bedroom and it's nothing new to me. Eating outside isn’t my thing, to be honest I find it nauseating and quite uncomfortable. On top of everything, I’m baffled as to why he would invite Sam for dinner. At our house, where it's a mess. He couldn't like Sam just like that because they've only met once and doesn't even know each other yet.
“I think that's fine.”
“No, it's not. Tell him you couldn't make it.”
“Why would I do that? I already told him I'll be there.”
It would certainly trouble me to have someone who unexpectedly became a friend and is also someone I work with. I believe it wasn’t even meant to happen. I’m not meant to come across someone who seems to know so much about my troubled life without me sharing anything initially. Not long after he plans to have dinner at our place, which I don’t think is a good idea. It upsets me that he didn’t inform me right after my father asked him to. “And you hadn’t brought it up earlier?”
“I thought it would be okay, given that you’re both speaking now.”
“Why does it matter? Besides, you wouldn't really enjoy—”
“Your father was merely trying to familiarize himself with me, Cari. I find it very kind of him to ask me that.”
“Fine. Do whatever you want.”
I left right away when he made me feel like I was being oblivious. I don't want to place the blame on him. I was attempting to stay calm, but I realize I’m quite quick-tempered and now I’m sure Sam regrets hiring me.
I left because that's my usual response. I’m not fond of the dinner idea because it raises many questions for me. If he had told me sooner maybe I wouldn’t have acted that way towards Sam. They think that Dad and I are making progress since we can have a casual conversation, but we still have a long journey ahead. I want to have a serious conversation with him considering how much time he’s spent in the shadows. If we could perhaps develop a connection like the one Mom and I had. I realized that I had also lost him to some extent. After that unintended talk he hasn’t reached out to me or brought it up again. There’s no question that he has slightly changed, yet I seek something more. I’d like to clear the air between us before we allow anyone into our house. It would be terrible to have someone over and end up feeling uncomfortable and breathless for no reason. Now that Sam is stepping into this situation, it would be unfortunate if I made him feel even more uneasy considering how much he already knows. I feel a bit regretful about walking away. “Cari.”
“I should have mentioned it to you. But you should know that I’m personally eager to meet your dad too.”
“Why? What—What’s interesting about him?” This time I confronted him with a direct question. There was a lengthy pause and I noticed the hesitation. “Sam?”
“I have a feeling you’ll be upset with me over this.”
“What is it?” He’s gazing at me as if he has a lot to say and I’m doing my best to be patient.
“I have feelings for you, Cari.”
I wanted to laugh at what he said but his face was so red with embarrassment that I didn’t know how to respond. “What?”
“You heard that and I'm not gonna be that guy who's just gonna sit around and I’m not the kind of person to wait for you to figure it out yourself, because I know you would never happen to just instantly think that someone will ever like you.”
“And I have no regrets telling you that.” I found myself questioning the sincerity of his words and what prompted him to reveal his feelings now. Was it something I had missed? Did I unintentionally give off signals that led him to believe I felt the same way?
