Sam and Deena B.S.F (Before Sarah Fier)

Sam Fraser Part 7

I wake up in the middle of the night, Deena next to me sleeping. She's so intense and stern all the time, but when she's sleeping, she's so quiet and peaceful. I could watch her softly snoring all night if I could, it makes me smile. I wonder if she does the same with me.

I get up and go into the kitchen to get some water. I close Deena's door and turn around and see Mr. Johnson standing four feet from me, like he was waiting for me to come out.

"Hey..." He scratches his five-o'clock shadow and struggles to look me in the eye. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's all good. I was just about to get some water." I point to the kitchen and he moves out of my way.

"'Course. Of course. Sorry." He sits back on the couch and finishes off his can of beer.

"Was the-- the TV too loud for you girls?" He stutters out. I fill my glass and stand in the kitchen.

"No, it was fine... I'll let you get back to your show." I put my finished glass in the sink and walk back to the bedroom.

"Sam... Could I speak to you for a minute?" He sounds like he's been waiting to talk to me. I'm immediately struck with a wave of unfamiliarity. Mr. Johnson and I have never had an actual conversation ever. Every time I'm over at their house, he's always out of the house or asleep. I get to the recliner and face Mr. Johnson.

"Is there something wrong?" I ask, sincerely.

"No, not, not really... I just wanted to know how Deena is." I'm taken aback and my brow furrows.

"How Deena is?" I repeated to him. He nods.

"It's a silly question, I know. Josh and I have talked, he kept it brief, but, Deena... you know, she hasn't spoken to me, formally, in a while. Since Thanksgiving."

Thanksgiving. I remember how rough that was on Deena and Josh.

"Right, Thanksgiving." I acknowledge.

"She just-- she never gave me the time of day to explain myself, you know? That's how it is with her. She sticks with what she's known, and she's known me as... This, for a long time now." He shows off himself, his dirty white tank-top, with a greasy, car mechanic button up. "She doesn't trust me anymore, which is understandable but... You and her have gotten to know each other closely right? How is she? Is she okay?" I see in his eyes, how broken this man is. I still don't know what happened in Deena's past with her personal life, but from what I can see in front of me, it shattered this family.

"Deena is good. She's great, Mr. Johnson, really."

"Is she now?" His voice got a little higher, like he didn't expect this answer.

"Yeah. To me at least, she seems happy. Happier than she was months ago. She's doing okay in school, still going strong in band, she has a great group of friends. She's stayed out of trouble for the most part too. Deena is doing just fine, Mr. Johnson."

He sits back, like a weight on his shoulders is being lifted off.

"I feel lighter already." He lets a chuckle out and chews down on his lips.

"It's you, isn't it? You who's keeping her in check, huh?" He asks.

"Well, I-I don't know about that, sir. I think she's doing just as well even without me to help. But I will always be there for her. She's important to me."

He nods while looking at the floor.

"She's blind to see it but she's important to me too. I just hope she puts that stinking guard down and sees it for herself." He sits up and crushes his beer cans.