When You're In Love with a girl

Chapter 20, Sam and Janice

SAM AND JANICE

So the story is this: Sam and his girlfriend Janice skipped school on December 2nd to spend time together at a hotel and go around the not safe areas of New York. They got drunk and spent, no doubt, lots and lots of time together on the bed in their hotel. Drunk on alcohol and desire, Sam and Janice walked back to the school so as not to tip our parents off, but when a speeding car fought the red light when Sam and Janice were walking the crosswalk, they got hit.

Janice is dead. Who was Janice? I don't know, some popular girl. I don't know much about her, except I remember she had short, blonde hair, prominent eyebrows, and dark eyes. I am sorry for Janice, because it wasn't her fault, but maybe it was the consequence she received for skipping school and having sex with my brother in a hotel. A life lost always hurts, but why should I think her death is worse than the death of a starving child in a developing country?

Sam is gone, too. Sure, he is alive, that is good. Except his spirit is gone—his ambitions in football were slashed. The whole length of his right leg bone was shattered by the car. He had a condom spilling out of his pocket, but Mom and Dad pretended it didn't exist. He got the leg amputated. No one knows what to tell him. I remember our family, sitting on hard, black fabric-covered stools, grouped around him. Mom had her camera taped to her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Gemney, but cameras are not allowed in this hospital," said the lady at the waiting room, but Mrs. Gemney said that Sam was her son so she had the right to take his video.

"Sam Gemney is not conscious right now, so he does not have the ability to consent."

Nevertheless, my stupid mother said that she was his mother, that she "fucking birthed him," that she deserved it. So, Mom has the camera. Mom zooms in on Sam's blank face. Some people look like angels when they are sleeping. Sam just looked like he was dead. I guess he wasn't sleeping; he was unconscious, but still he looked blank.

"Sam, son, get better," said Dad, leaning forward over him. Sam was, of course, unconscious, so he didn't hear him. "Forget football... football is not life," he advised. "I...." He seemed like he wanted to say more, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

Mom swiveled the camera on Dad's face, and he let a tear escape.

I was struck, at that moment, by how my mom seemed not to care that her son's leg was gone, that his dreams were so totally destroyed, and that maybe he needed some privacy. The things that people do for fame! The glow of fame blinded her from seeing her son's need.

/Dad drives me home from the hospital. We've never really gotten along well, and the tension between us feels like it is going to break me. At first I try not to cry, and I shake with the effort. Then in the car mirror, I see a single tear slide down my dad's craggly face, and I let myself cry freely. There is so much to feel sorrowful for.

How terrible the world is! I never treated Sam well. Now he has lost a leg and with it, all of his dreams. And what for? As consequence for skipping school to have sex with his girlfriend. It really is terrible. I wish I had been nicer to Sam, offered to record more of his football practices, and taken more of an interest in his thoughts. I had always written him off as an airhead jock, but, even if he was one, I should have treated him kindly because he was my brother.

I remember punching him. How his nose bled and bled, bloodred... his body must have been red, red, red on the street. I am so sorry; it was an assholish thing to do. Maybe Sam had been behaving like an asshole, but one should never harm familyy... I can never imagine doing that again. Next time I visit the hospital, I will hug him, and tell him I am so so sorryy...

The most horrible part of this whole affair is that I am so sorry, sorrier than I ever have been before, but Sam will probably not believe me. I cry and cry and cry.

Dad sees my tears; his eyes are red also. He closes the car door and we head up to our apartment in silence. One of our neighboring apartment renters, a white man with balding hair looks at us with compassion before walking past. Dad opens the door to the apartment.

I walk directly to my room, close the door, and fall onto the bed. I grab my ranting notebook, and tear out the page which damns Sam. I glance over the words on the page. The word "hate" screams out at me and causes me to cry over again.

I grab my blue ballpoint and rewrite them, every single "hate" as love. The page reads:

"I LOVE Sam. Today he laughed at me. We were halfway on our walk to school when I realized I had forgotten Les Mandarins, so I had to go back to get the book. He said I was a try-hard geek, and I didn't actually imagine all the trying hard and reading books would actually get me into a better collegee... He said that he was so good at football he didn't even need to try at school. I freaking LOVE Sam. That was totally so mean of him to say that. He's soo... I just can'tt... ugh, I freaking LOVE him!"

Reading it, I can't even laugh. Back then, when life was simple! I'd do anything to be back there again. Why did I have to take everything so seriously? I wonder if we'll ever be back to that again.

I guess I will walk to school alone from now on. I will miss him so much—sure, Sam was a real pain in the behind, but he is my brother, isn't he? His job is to drive his younger sister crazy, even if he himself is horribly misguided in his beliefs.

I undress and fall asleep.

Author's Note: Okay, readers, that is it until I get back from the unplugging to post another update. 

Please still vote and comment your feedback/questions/comments. I will respond to all of them when I come back.

-Tara