Breathe Me || Completed

12.2

12.2 - Goodbye

First, we say goodbye to a friend I didn't know Samantha had made: Tristan.

Samantha's a little ticked with me by the time we arrive, since I wouldn't hold her hand on the walk here. Well, Sam, not everyone is like you. Some of us care what people think. We only have a few hours left together, she'd argued. Which is true. As we wait for someone to come to the door, I reach over and squeeze her arm. She doesn't look at me.

Mrs. Knolls comes to answer the doorbell with a baby on her hip, Tristan's new baby sister. I smile. "Hi, Mrs. Knolls. We were wondering if Tristan's here?"

"Oh, hello, Sally," she says. Her eyes flit over to Samantha for a second, widening. "Who's your friend?"

So they haven't met. Given that Tristan's and Samantha's relationship is probably largely weed based, I can imagine that they did a good deal of sneaking around. Especially since I never caught wind of them, either. "This is Samantha," I tell her. "She's a friend of mine visiting from New York."

"Oh. Yes, I heard about you."

Samantha gives her an evil grin and a girlish wave. She does look rather hellish today, every single hole in her face filled up with metal.

Mrs. Knolls clears her throat. The baby giggles and hits herself in the face. "Yes, he is," she says. "He's down in the basement with some friends. Come on in."

We step into the Knolls house and slip out shoes off our feet. I notice the holes rubbed into the bottom of Samantha's too-big white tube socks -- her father's, probably. I have to remember to give her some of mine before she leaves.

Tristan's house is clean and spare, all blue walls and cold, shining tile floors. There are no pictures on the walls and all of the baby's toys are stacked into neat little bins in a piece of black IKEA furniture. Samantha, unimpressed, forges her way toward the door Mrs. Knolls pointed out as the basement without another word. I thank the woman one more time, giving a contricious look on behalf of my socially-challenged friend before following her.

The basement is a departure from the rest of the house. I follow Samantha down the stairs into a dark, dampish cave, dark with oatmeal-colored carpet and fraught with stains and spills on the floor and walls. It smells strongly of something, but I can't say what.

Samantha tramps down the stairs with her usual stamping feet, announcing our presence to Tristan and his friends before we reach the bottom of the stairs. When we get to the bottom, they're all scrambling as if to hide something, glancing furiously over their shoulders at the staircase.

When they see Samantha, I hear sighs of relief. Their shoulder relax.

It's just Tristan, our friend Eric, Rosie, and, of course, omnipresent Mr. Ivo. I haven't seen him since Summer's story and Tabby's admission -- I can't help blushing when he grins at me with his perfectly straight, white teeth. I guess I can see why everyone is so head over heels for him, even if I don't feel the same way myself. Rosie doesn't look at me, but I realize it's because she's asleep on Ivo's shoulder.

"Shit, man," Tristan says. "I thought you were my mom."

Samantha rolls her eyes and walks over to the couch where the three of them are sat in front of a giant TV, surrounded on all sides by game consoles. The game they're playing right now seems to be some sort of shooting thing. Samantha goes over and sits on the arm of the couch next to Tristan with a smirk.

He smiles at her, actually, which is weird. I can tell from the lopsided tilt of his mouth that he's flirting. Or trying to. He pauses the game and while the other two groan at him, he passes Samantha the joint he's holding.

Well, that's what the smell is, I guess. Lots and lots of weed, mixed with lemon Febreze air freshener.

Samantha takes a -- drag? Sip? I don't know how to do drugs -- of the joint and passes it back to Tristan. She's sitting so that her collar bones stick out like razor blades in her chest, distracting, sexy, strange. Tristan's looking at them, too.

"What brings you to my humble abode at this hour, my fair lady?" he asks, raising his eyebrows at her. Fuck off Tristan.

I take that back. It's not his fault, he doesn't know . . .

Samantha shrugs. "Just thought I'd come say goodbye to my biggest client."

"Goodbye?" says Ivo with a frown. "You're leaving?"

"Yep." Samantha nods. "Tonight."

"Aw," says Tristan. He shakes his head. "Dude, I'm gonna have to go back to Kenny. That guy's the worst."

Kenny is sort of the worst. He's dirty and strange and he's always hanging out around the school, bartering for new clients. For a long time, he's been the only sure way to get weed in Stone Harbor. I only know that from Ivo, who has been known to hide all his weed at Rosie's house and let her take the blame if someone finds it. He's looking at me, matching my awkward pose with an awkward smile. I wave a little. He waves back. Is he making fun of me? It's so hard to tell.

Samantha glances over at me, an unimpressed look on her face. "Yeah, I don't know who that is," she says. "But good luck."

"Kenny's gross," Eric says. "At least you shower, Sam."

"Or do I," says Samantha, straight-faced.

Tristan takes the opportunity to put his nose right up to her skin and take a joking sniff at her. "Oh, nope, she doesn't," he teases. Samantha pretends to be amused but when he looks away, she rolls her eyes at me.

When they're finally done, Tristan tries to give Samantha a hug and she pretty much point-blank rejects him, offering a handshake instead. It's all I can do to keep my laughter inside. She wakes Rosie up and, as if rubbing salt in Tristan's wound, hugs her instead. They call, "Bye! See you! Keep in touch!" behind us as we ascend the stairs.

We come out of the basement back into the cool, clean house and sneak out before Mrs. Knolls can smell the weed on us.