For the Love of Sam and Eva

A Phone Call

Mum tutted her tongue at me when she saw the mean bruise spreading down the length of my calf.  When I told the story of how it happened and meeting the guy again at the ice cream shop, she fell off her chair laughing, almost knocking her coffee over. Well, I wasn't sure if it was that funny. Mum laughed at practically anything.

“Maybe you should call him,” she told me with a wink.

“I was going to.”

She gasped, astonished, like it was calling the Prime Minister and asking him out for coffee. “But I thought you didn’t want to date.”

I shook my head to myself with a chuckle. “I don’t. I’m going to see if he can be a friend.”

“Ah, I see now.” She tapped her temple a few times, a sign she understood what I was saying.

I looked down at the number on my small hand. It was slightly smudged but legible. I blushed at the scenario running through my mind: me ringing him, his mum picking up and asking me if I was his girlfriend, me hanging up and running to my room to wallow in my embarrassment.

Whoa, where did being his girlfriend come from?

Oh.

I saw where my mind had trailed off to. Of course Sam’s mum would think I was a potential girlfriend. Wasn’t that what all mothers did? I knew that was how my mum operated. But if I thought about it, he could be the kind of boy who always received phone calls from girls. I scowled with distain. That was such a turn off from the idea of calling him now.

“You’ve got netball training on tonight.”

I perked up at the mention of netball. I’d been excited for the new season all year.

I clapped my hands excitedly. “This should be a good year, Mum.”

“I figured. They’ve introduced new coaches, so you should be getting trained properly this time.”

Her words put a damper on my cheery mood. Well, that’d been short-lived. “But I liked Debra.”  

Mum shook her head as she cut up vegetables on the bench. “She wasn’t qualified and her son was strange. He would look up you girls’ body suit skirts.”

I hadn’t realised that was what he’d been doing. I’d always assumed he liked staring at the sky at an awkward angle. An eerie shudder passed through my body and I hugged myself. “I feel so violated.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. Besides,” – a sly smile grew onto her face – “seeing as though you have this Sam guy, I’m sure you’ll forget all about Debra’s son.”

I shot Mum a glare and she laughed at me gently.  I knew my glares weren’t that good, but teasing me about a boy wasn’t that funny. Besides, I wasn’t interested in boys at the moment. Keeping him as a friend would be the smart thing to do. I felt at ease with myself, glad I hadn’t gone crazy and considered the options of being more than friends with a nice guy.   

Well, until Dad walked in.

“What is this that I hear about a boy?” he asked, planting himself at his usual seat at the table. There were those hints of curiosity and suspicion in his tone, the trademark of a father's concern. Dad was a big guy, tall and thick but with a bit of extra softness. He liked to refer to himself as a teddy bear and I did too at one stage of my life – when I was five. Now, it's just awkward but it's true. He does feel like one when you hug him. It was rather weird for someone like my mum, short and lean, to be married to a man like my dad. Ask anyone.

Seriously, you could even ask the fish in the tank.

I stared at him for a moment before responding. “Um, just a guy who kicked me in the face with a soccer ball, then decided to kill my shin and leave me his number after I run into him at the ice cream shop.” I said as casually as I could.