Oh Ms Believer

25. Tyler

I came home for a few days before Sam returned to school in September.  There were a couple of reasons. One was that I wanted to see her off to school on the first day. It was important to me. I intended to be home for Rosie's first day of school in a couple of years and then Junie's.  But I also wanted to be home because of the events from June. I didn't know how Sam would handle the first day of school. She puts on a brave face, owing mainly to the fact, I think, that she had to with her birth father, but at the end of the day, when things do start to get to her, Sam either shuts down or breaks down. Sometimes both. In June, when the shooting happened, Sam tried so hard to hold it together so that Jenna wouldn't worry about her too much after I went back on tour after coming home for a while in the aftermath of the shooting. She'd been holding in her grief so tightly that when I asked her if she'd given herself time to grieve and mourn her lost classmates and friends, she had wailed and cried for a long while. And then she slept. She'd exhausted herself from crying, but she'd finally let out some of the pain, fear and anger she'd been bottling up so Jenna wouldn't worry and Rosie wouldn't feel too badly for her sister.

We'd booked the tour in such a way that I'd have been home for Sam's first day anyway. But now I was glad that we had.  I'd return on tour two days later and be back around mid-October. Jenna had plenty of help with all three girls.  My parents would help her out, and Erin and her family were more than willing to help out with the littles if something happened to Sam or Jenna. Debby would be home in a few days as well. And Samantha would help Jenna, too.

Sam came downstairs on her crutches without her leg on the first day of school. She'd told Jenna the night before that she would use her chair today so that her friend Cameron wouldn't feel like everyone was staring at him. The reality was everyone probably would be staring at him in his wheelchair. He'd been paralyzed in the shooting. He, Sam, and the rest of the survivors from the classroom would probably be the topic of many conversations around the school for the first while. They'd been in the classroom when Kyle opened fire. They'd been hit by bullets and injured, Cameron worse than Samantha but no less seriously.

Samantha had been shielded by her friend Blaine who, it had turned out, had been shot three times. Once in the back, once in the leg and the one that took his life, in the head. Samantha hadn't known about the other bullet wounds but had seen Blaine's destroyed head. A lot of sessions with Doc had centred around her, seeing his ruined face and dead right eye staring at her when her teacher was able to help move his body off of Samantha in her dreams. We'd been woken up frequently enough on tour because of it. But she was more open about these things and would even call Doc to set up a phone call session on her own if she needed to talk to him.

That said, I didn't know how being back in the building for a full day would affect Samantha. And I didn't know if any of her classes would be held in that classroom. I didn't know if she had a class in that room or how she'd handle it if she could. If any of the kids could.

I told Jenna I'd take Samantha to school, so the two of us were making breakfast for her and Rosie. Cheesy eggs, because it's become our first day of school tradition. Funnily enough, it started when she moved in with us, and we registered her for school. Josh had been visiting because I'd pretty much ghosted him when Samantha came into our lives and had been promising him all week I would catch him up on what was going on, but Samantha wound up taking a lot of our attention as we learned what we'd be dealing with her.  In an attempt to get Samantha to warm up to him, Josh had made her cheesy eggs for her first day of school back then, and we just carried on with every first day of school after that. This morning, I hoped Samantha found it comforting as well. Something 'normal' on a day destined to be the least typical first day back to school.

She smiled somewhat nervously at me as she sat at the table. Rosie was keeping up a happy chatter. Junie was sleepily nursing.

"Got everything you'll need?" I asked Sam.

"I think so," she said.

"Sweetheart, if its too overwhelming, just call me or Dad and one of us will come get you, okay?" Jenna said. Sam nodded.

I sat down beside her and looked her in the eye.

"Sam, it's going to be okay," I said. "You're going to be okay. But, if it does become too overwhelming, call. We will come get you."

"Okay. Thanks," Sam smiled, a somewhat sad smile.

"Are you nervous about going back?" I asked.

Sam shook her head, stopped, looked like she was thinking about it, then nodded. Tears formed in her eyes.

"I miss Blaine," she sniffled. "And it's gonna hurt so much when I get to school and he's not there with Jill and maybe Mason, if he shows up on time."

I pulled her into a hug. Besides having been shielded by Blaine, she'd been good friends with him and had been the only one of her friends to see the damage firsthand that Kyle's bullets had done to her friend. They were all sad he was gone. Samantha was plagued with the image of his ruined face, his skull partially obliterated by Kyle's actions.

Samantha finished her breakfast, sighed and got herself ready for school. She cleaned her dishes, grabbed her backpack and, using her crutches, went over to her chair and settled herself.

Jenna came out to the entry and gave Sam a hug and a kiss while I grabbed my keys.

"I mean it, Sam. If you need to, call us and you can come home."

"Okay. I'm gonna try to stick it out. But thanks. It's nice knowing I have the option."

I helped her to the truck and drove her to school. Jill, Mason and Cameron were waiting for her outside the school. She smiled just a bit.

"New Musketeer?" I asked. Samantha laughed just a little. But it was nice to hear.

"Yeah, I guess," she said. I left the truck to grab her chair while she hopped out and met me partway. After enduring a hug and a kiss from her dad, she settled herself in her chair and rolled herself over to her friends. I watched as the four hugged each other and made their way into the school. Samantha turned and waved before letting the door close.

I was proud of her for returning to a building she'd last left on a stretcher. I was terrified it would happen again. Logically, I knew it was unlikely. Logic tends not to matter when my kids are concerned. I felt like I'd just sent my daughter into danger.