“I have feelings for you, Cari.” The harder I try to ignore it, the more it relentlessly invades my thoughts causing me great distress. I was expecting him to say it was just his way of composing a jest but he ended up leaving me stranded. He did say something, but it falls short and I can't discern its purpose. It's ironic that he left looking so embarrassed when he’s the one who put me in such an awkward situation.
“What was that again?” I asked him previously during the drive home. I usually don’t ask the same question more than once, but this time what I was told makes it hard to believe. He remained completely silent during the ride, his gaze fixed steadily on the road. At a first glance he seems calm, but I’m curious about what’s on his mind at that moment. “You keep asking me, Cari.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?” He keeps avoiding eye contact with me.
Asking would only increase the discomfort of the situation.
Right now I’m in the kitchen preparing the food to be served in the dining table. Dad opted for takeout since neither of us cooks. I’m placing the meals on the platter doing my best not to mess up despite it being simple, but my shaky hands are making it look almost sloppy. I hate that anxiety is creeping in. I called Laurel asking to join us for dinner but she keeps on giving me reasons just to avoid coming over when the truth is, she’s beginning to imagine what I look like in this awkward situation. I still see myself practically begging for her to come have dinner with us.
I needed to prepare everything, which meant not wearing my usual outdoor clothes and actually putting some effort into my appearance. It’s just this one dinner, there's no harm in looking nice for once even though it was unexpected. There doesn’t seem to be a choice in this situation. I spoke with Dad about it and he only said he wanted to catch up with Sam properly, giving me a look that suggested it was fine to have the evening. If he doesn’t bring it up by the end of the night, I won’t be asking about it anymore.
When Sam finally arrived, Dad unexpectedly took his coat and hung it on the old rack, then gave Sam an unusual handshake. I felt a bit disturbed by his face not having its normal expression, only a smile that creeped me out a little. “That smells good.”
As I approach the table I notice the new scent of his candied perfume blending with the aroma of the food, even though I’m not observing him closely. There's something in me that wanted to tease him about that particular smell that reminds me of a little girl's fragrance that I could laugh about it, but I figured this is not the place nor the time for an absurd remark. Throughout the night’s dinner, with most of their conversation focused on Sam's work, I looked engaged but was mentally distant from the subject. It's not that I consider it a boring job. Just not the subject I’d prefer this evening, mainly because I can't relate to it and isn’t something I’d bring up to the table. Seeing Sam so at ease with everything is making me resent him in this situation, especially since this is my home and I’m confused about why I’m so anxious.
“For now I'm just staying at a home unit nearby.”
“What about your parents?”
The pause was so long it made me sense that something had gone wrong right away. His face clearly shows his hesitation, a type of hesitation I’ve never seen in him before.
“They’re good.” Yes, could be a subject he’s not keen to talk about. It’s not so enjoyable to see him so talkative and then suddenly looking ashamed now.
“Sorry. It's just that. . . you talk about how your Dad helped you with your career. . . and you guys seem close. So—” I immediately turned my attention to Dad and gave him a look that says abandon the household topic and change it to something everyone can relate to in this table, with a hope that he gets the gesture.
“T-they’re separating. And right now I'm not really happy about it.” Then he forced a smile, as if he was on the verge of crying but was trying to hold it back.
I quit acting like I was eating just fine, although I don’t usually feel empty despite eating little. Nobody said anything after that.
“But seriously it's fine, I think it's for the better.” When parents contemplate separation, their primary focus often revolves around their own well-being and the challenges they face within the relationship. While my parents haven't gone through this themselves, I had a friend whose parents' separation deeply affected her, both socially and personally. I understand the situation Sam is going through. It's more than just a minor issue and I didn't realize he's dealing with it as well.
The desert finally made it to the house after a few minutes of patiently waiting for it. I was kind of anticipating it wouldn't arrive in order for this evening to be done now. It was the only thing that gave me any sense of satisfaction during this somewhat miserable evening. It was time to clear the table for the first time since the three of us had a meal with Mom here. I really don't wanna be bothered with this whole thing with Dad but he couldn't even have the courage to look at me or start a conversation with me and it's just him having this pride waiting for me to speak about it first. Fine, I'll bear with that. Nonetheless, he could have addressed the awkward topic with Sam earlier but he also chose to remain silent. I felt rather let down by it.
I was considering heading to my room now, as that's what I usually do when I'm home, even though there's nothing much to do but reflect. But I noticed Sam's face looking dejected when I was about to. I had to retrace my steps and sit beside him. I wish I could simply sit here in silence.
“I’m sorry about your parents.” I wasn't going to speak but not saying anything would be worst. Despite not being alright he continues to smile as he normally does.
“It’s fine.” He let out a sigh. “But I also didn't attempt to keep them together.”
“You’re not to blame.” My words almost emerged as a faint whisper. I could hear his voice crack while he was speaking. How could I have noticed it when I acted like none of these things affected me, but right now with Sam I do.
“I’m the only son they have. A part of me feels it's my responsibility as their son to try and reconcile them.” He’s simply staring at the ground.
How do I start comforting him and offering the supportive words usually given to someone in his situation? The initial struggle was grappling with my own feelings of inadequacy. It’s one thing to want to help, but it’s another to know how to do so effectively. This fear was compounded by the pressure to offer profound advice or wisdom, which felt intimidating given my lack of experience. I realized that a big part of my discomfort came from not knowing what was truly needed. He might not recognize that he's finding it hard to release his feelings, but I still get where he's coming from. “It's okay if it happens all the time, but. . . ” He said with a tone of sorrow in his voice.
“I just wish there were something I could do. I decided to stay away from home because it's more than I can handle.” That would explain his choice not to live with his parents, I always assumed he was very self-reliant.
“I’m sorry, Cari.”
“For what?”
“For bringing this up.”
“Hey, you don't have the slightest obligation to fix them.”
I could have withdrawn but instead, I gently placed my hand on the right side of his face to show him he's not alone. There it was, the first time I ever witnessed someone crying next to me with their head resting on my shoulder. When his tears began to flow, I understood that sometimes the most meaningful way to comfort someone is through presence rather than speech. It wasn’t necessary to have the right words to say, the act of physically being there was enough.
