“GRANDPA SAM”
By Alfonso Villa, aka Sam Volo.
CHAPTER 1
—One year ago—
There was something in his name. I don’t know what, exactly. I can’t explain. But I knew from the moment I heard it that he was destined for greatness. Though I didn’t know there were going to be that kind of events, as the timeline grew larger. Bigger…
I met him when he was twenty years young: Tall. Athletic. Handsome. Nervous, at first. But he coped with whatever he was dealing with at the moment, and I was there when it happened. He resulted to be a very smart, funny guy. With a thirst for money no one could have compared at the time. It took me years to realize what he wanted. Well, it took him years to realize that himself. He changed his mind many times, over the time, depending on how things went. How life treated him. Sometimes he would believe he wanted to be a Casanova. Some other times he would do everything to live like a rock star. Only to find out that it was not the type of life he wanted to live. But through all the stages of his life, he learned things. Things that made him who and what he is now: Famous, unique… for now.
Samuel Torch. Before turning twenty, he lived by a motto. A phrase of a song he heard once in the car his parents used to lend him. A fun song with good rhythm—which was actually the main thing that caught his attention—Until he heard it: ‘I’m on my own’. The whole chorus went on and on: I’m on my own; I’m on my own. I’m on my own; I’m on my own! He eventually found out that was the name of the song. What a surprise…
He believed in signs. And maybe if this song would’ve never popped up at that exact time, he would’ve never become who he is now... The song came up when he was driving the car on the freeway, thinking, crying… He had just left her house.
It was early in the afternoon and he had it all figured it out. By now, he didn’t care what every other person would think about him. Not even her.
He blamed himself for loosing such an opportunity, time ago, so he decided to buy a dozen red roses and leave them on the front door of her house. He rode the car twenty minutes to her house. He got there and parked around the corner. He took a blank card and a black pen from the glove compartment, and wrote as it follows: “I’m sorry. I keep caring about you, though.” Sam grabbed the rose bouquet and tossed the card in it.
He was nervous. He didn’t want someone to catch him doing that, because it seemed so cheesy. But that wouldn’t make him quit. Sam made his way to the front, kneeled and placed the gift on the second step of a little stair up to the entrance. It was not a big house. It was a one story one, located in the corner of a secondary road; three medium sized squares of yard on front of it; two tall trees on the right corner, where the street ended; one window to the left of the front door, and two to the right of it. “It’s done,” he thought as he released a sigh of relief. He got up and started walking to his car, when he heard something coming from behind him. Sam turned around. A brand new Chrysler’s “Jeep”--You know, the new Jeep. The one that looks like a Lego truck--was parking in front of her house. A big, fat, bald, white man got out of the drivers seat, closed the door, fixed his eyes on Sam as he walked to the passengers side and pulled the door open.
What were the odds that Annie’s new fancy boyfriend--who was not less than those guys who happen to born in a rich family, and are so terribly educated that they think they own everything-- arrived to the city exactly that day? And that also precisely at that time he’d be at her house? Sam was numb. It was unbelievable for him; his luck sucked just that much. And he knew what was coming next. It wasn’t like he could just go and “Oh, hey buddy, just some roses, nothing special. Ok, bye then.” Nope. But there he was, Sam, being all careless about getting flowers to that girl, knowing the fact that she didn’t care about him no more, and that she had a boyfriend now. The only thing he could do was to step up to whatever might happen next.
