I leaned forward, throwing my arms around Boon's shoulders, pushing him back onto the sand, pressing my lips against his. We giggled through the kiss; his hands came to my waist, held me in place. Finally, he pulled back.
"If you're gonna go, you better go now, or I won't be able to let you leave at all," he said, releasing my waist. I stood up, slightly wobbly, and let out a short cry when I felt Boon's hand suddenly smack against my ass. I blushed, laughing, and hopped over his body to my white dress, which had been laying in the sand. I watched him watch me get dressed, enjoying the feel of his eyes on my moonlit body.
"I'll call you," I said as I began to walk towards the path that led back to the house.
"Samantha," he called after me. I stopped and turned to him. "Just, be careful. Don't … don't get your hopes up."
Too late for that, I thought to myself as I slipped into the woods. My hopes were already living up there in that star-filled night. If they were going to fall, it was going to be one hell of a crash.
22
Mom and Dad, mercifully, hadn't waited up for me. I guess that even with their misgivings about Boon, they knew I was an adult and needed to be treated like one. I slipped quietly up the steps and into my room, leaning against the door and trying to collect myself. The drive home had seemed to take forever, and I'd tried my best not to think of anything as I drove. The last thing I wanted or needed was to end up in a ditch because I let my mind wander.
Now, bathed in the soft light of my bedroom, I thought I'd be up all night, trying to figure out a way to talk to my dad about Boon. You can imagine my surprise, then, when I woke to sun streaming through my window and birds chirping. I'd underestimated the narcotic properties of mind-blowing sex and passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I actually had work that day, and I could barely believe that after everything I'd gone through the past two weeks, I was actually going to don my silly pink-and-white striped uniform and dole out ice cream to families on vacation and kids on summer break.
I spent my shift in a sort of haze, my mind constantly bouncing back and forth like a pinball. What to say to my father, how the many ways this could work out, my possible future with Boon, my possible separation from Boon.
I'd spent a lot of time preparing my meeting-Boon-at-the-lake speech, but the speech I wanted to give my father would have to be a lot more professional and compelling, and I had a lot less time to rehearse it in my mind.
I wanted to talk to Dad that night. If Boon agreed to stick around for a few days, and if Dad needed some time to come around to my way of thinking, then the sooner the better. As I scooped up cones of strawberry ice cream, I thought of the many ways I could approach the subject. We hadn't even mentioned the incident since it took place, and I knew that what I was going to say wouldn't be easy for my father to hear. It had to be perfect.
When I got off work, my heart and mind were both racing. I knew Mom and Dad would both be home by the time I got there. Should I just get it over with as soon as I got in? Should I wait until dinner? After dinner, when we were all watching TV together?
The question was answered for me. As soon as I stepped through the door, I knew something was off. Mom and Dad were sitting in the living room without the TV on. That wouldn't have been weird if they were talking, but they weren't. They were just sitting there. I knew Mom was usually on the treadmill or doing laps at this time, so that was a big red flag, too.
"Um, hi," I said, standing in the hallway and looking in at them. Their faces were … concerning, to say the least. Mom looked uneasy; Dad looked downright distraught. I threw my purse onto the floor and walked to the loveseat, sinking in.
There was no use trying to avoid whatever they were about to say. For a moment, I wondered if this could have nothing at all to do with Boon: maybe something else had happened. Maybe Mom lost her job. Maybe we were going to need to move. Maybe my Aunt Hilde died. I didn't want any of those things to be true, but I also didn't want to have a conversation about Boon unless it was me coming to them.
I noticed the matchbook Boon slipped me sitting on the coffee table and my stomach dropped. There was no question about it: they knew.
"I'm guessing you want to talk to me," I said, deciding that it would be best if I took control of the situation as much as possible.
"Damn right we do," Dad said, his voice harsh. I flinched. I hated disappointing my parents, and I realized for the first time how much I really had betrayed their trust by seeing Boon. I got that sick feeling in my stomach that I only got when I'd really screwed up and had to come clean to my parents. Guilt and shame mixed together. I consciously reminded myself that while, yes, I'd definitely gone behind my parents' backs, I had a pretty good reason, and that this time, maybe, just maybe, I was in the right.
"Why is there a ladder hidden in the backyard?" Mom asked, glancing at Dad with concern. Oh, shit, I thought. We'd forgotten the stupid ladder. In all the drama and running around, Alicia, Becky, and I had all totally forgotten we'd hid the ladder at my house. Mom always played ref between Dad and I, and I knew she was trying to keep Dad from just blowing up before the whole story came out and I had a chance to defend myself.
"I … I … we … "
"And where the hell did this come from?" Dad said, picking up the matchbook and holding it in front of me, waving it in my face. I started to feel something else stirring inside me: anger.
"Well, actually, Dad, it came from my room," I said, realizing that the only way Mom and Dad could have found that is if they'd gone into my room. That would have been fine if I was still 12 and needed Mom to do my laundry and put my clothes away, but I'd been taking care of my own wardrobe for years, and there was, generally, no reason for them to ever go into my room when I wasn't there.
"Don't get smart with me! I know where this came from, and I know who's staying there," Dad said, throwing it onto the table and leaning back in his chair, his eyes shaking with anger.
"Maybe it came from the hotel originally, but you found it in my room, which means you went through my stuff, which you have no right to do! I'm 18 now, I'm going to college this fall, I don't want to have to lock my door just to keep my parents from snooping!"
"It's my house, young lady, and as long as you're living here, I have every right to do whatever the hell I want to your room or with your stuff," Dad shot back.
"Okay, okay, everyone calm down. Samantha, the only reason Dad went through your things is because we found the ladder. We weren't born yesterday, Samantha, and we both thought you were being awfully quiet the other night. All this stuff just confirmed what we already suspected," Mom said, trying to act as the voice of reason.
"Well, so what? So, you're right, I snuck out, so what? You can't ground me anymore! I'm not your little girl that you can just tell what to do! I can make up my own mind about who I want to see," I said, aware that my voice was louder than I meant it to be, my tone defensive.
"We can do whatever we need to, if you're making decisions that are going to hurt you!" Dad said, his tone and volume matching mine.
"He's not gonna hurt me! He'd never hurt me! He's not who you think he is, Dad! He's a good guy, he really is, and he wants out! He doesn't want to be like his father, he wants to be better, he just needs a chance," I shouted, tears coming to my eyes. They were angry tears, the sort of tears that you fight like hell to keep inside because you don't want to show weakness.
"Like hell! The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Samantha, and you're neck-deep in trouble if you think … ."
"You don't even know him! You never even gave him a chance! You just judged him based on what his dad did, you don't know. He's sweet, and he's smart, and he came here to try and escape his life, try to make a new life for himself, and you just want to shove him back down, back to a life he doesn't want, just because … because … because you're … because you're mean, and petty, and close-minded!"
My last words seemed to echo through the house, bouncing off the walls. I was breathing heavily, my father and I caught in a staring contest, tears falling down my face. Dad leaned back, studying me, anger still etched on his face. My mother was looking back and forth at us.
"Everyone needs to stop screaming," she finally said, breaking the silence. My mother's calm voice made me ashamed of losing my temper; my father must have felt the same, because we both dropped our eyes to our laps at the same moment.
"Dad, did you ever … did you know that he was there? Boon was there, in the room, when his mother died. And it was that cop who shot her. And he was crooked, he was helping Boon's dad. That's why he was there, Dad. He was there to get one last cut before the raid.