Chapter Fourteen:
My name is Samantha Nicole David-Jacobs. I am stranger to some, a friend to many, and a girl who, on her 3rd year of high school, witnessed how her life started to shift its way forever.
I have been a pediatric oncologist for almost ten years now. It was a profession I first learned about when I was six and my dad made the LA Times for his acts of saving little Children’s lives. I was so inspired by the life my father had led that I even had that very article laminated so I could keep it as a bookmark. My father was my hero and it was his perseverance to endure sleepless nights as he worked hard on his patients’ cases, his determination to never give up, and his willingness—despite his busy schedule—to always make time for us that first drew me into this. He was a good man. The best there is. Yet, despite all of his accomplishments, it was when I saw how he gave up his luxurious life to do missions that I decided how I wanted to become like him someday.
I was nine when my parents surprised me with the news that we were going to move to the Philippines, a country in South-East Asia that I certainly have never been before. We were supposed to stay there for only six years, but since it became such a hassle for me to transfer schools again, I just decided to stay, well at least until I graduated High School with the condition that my aunt—my brother’s sister—will always check up on me.
I guess you have already heard a whole bunch of stories from a certain guy named Clay Jacobs. It’s true that I married him. That we were only teenagers and were madly in love. And I know that what I’ve done has caused quite a range so with that, I decided to write my short version of the story.
I first met Clayton Jacobs at a wedding back in year 1995. But to be very honest, I didn’t even notice him at all. If he hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known that he was there. All I remember was that time I was so concerned with this book that I was reading while at the very corner of my eye, I saw a small boy and his friends playing rock, paper, scissors. Now how could I ever know that that small boy was determined to give me those cute sidelong glances for many more years to come?
Clay and I got reacquainted again when he entered my school in the early days of July 2002. It was a time when I had been up for thirty-six hours straight, and was pretty much forcing my way up to any kind of laughter. I saw him there standing with two of his friends—Skylerk and Mark—and I knew I recognized his face from somewhere. A picture, I thought. So being the person that I was—a girl who was planning to run for student council president—I took the initiative to go up to him and introduce myself and when we started, I realized that that dark-brown haired, grey eyed, fair skinned dork had the ability to make my first day of school extra special anytime.
He may have told you that I met his parents the summer before, and when I got a little closer to him, I thought of how he looked a lot like his mom. His father was half Asian, but the only thing he got from his dad was his eyes. His adorable, squinty grey eyes.
I am not the type of person who gets caught up in flattery moments. I don’t need a relationship to complete me or define who I am. I don’t get butterflies. I don’t dream about having fairy tales…I’m the type of girl who would choose to stay home and study for school while all my other friends were out on dates. I wasn’t into the idea of falling in love, you see. I’ve never kissed anyone. Never cuddled with anyone. Never did I even picture myself with ending up with some guy for the rest of my life. I think I already had everything figured out when I was eight. When I sat my parents down in a mature, proper manner and told them that I didn’t want to get married. That fairy tales were for kids—which apparently I wasn’t—and that when I grow up, I would become a senator or a doctor, or would chase bad guys and sea monsters for a living. See? Totally not a kid anymore.
