"Vegas," I finally managed to sniffle. My father rolled his eyes so hard he must have caught a glimpse of gray matter.
"Vegas? Vegas, Samantha? You met him on your girl's trip? Jessica, I knew we shouldn't have fucking let that happen, Jesus Christ, and you gave him your address? Where the hell did you meet him in Vegas? Did you guys go to a goddam biker bar?" My father was about to launch into one of his famous tirades: a steady flow of words that could go on for hours, days even, if left unchecked.
"Bill, you were the one who suggested Vegas," Mom said, coming to my defense once more.
"I didn't give him my address, Daddy, I swear," I said, wiping tears from my eyes. "Are we gonna be okay? Why did you do that, Daddy? What did he do?"
"Just … go upstairs, please, Samantha, for now," Dad said, sighing, looking defeated. I stayed put, not willing to leave until I got some answers. The panic had subsided to a dull, throbbing ache. Later, I'd know this was shock. At the time, it was all I could do to think straight. I was tired and angry and upset and hurt and curious all at the same time, but all of those feelings were just below the surface, just out of reach.
"But … " I sputtered, but knew better than to protest further. Dad's eyes had fallen on me, and I knew there was no arguing. Breaking away from my mother, I slowly shambled up the staircase to my room. For some reason, as I went, I thought about the day my parents had planned: a sunny, summer barbeque by the pool. The thought broke my heart into a million pieces. And I ruined it, I thought, finally reaching the top of the stairs. I looked down behind me; Mom and Dad both were staring up at their daughter: their beloved, straight-A, "saving it for marriage," daughter.
I'd never been so happy to be sent to my room.
17
S.O.S., I tapped with shaking fingers on my phone, sending out a distress call to Becky and Alicia. Within seconds, they'd both responded.
Coming over now, Alicia wrote back.
Be there in ten, was Becky's response.
No, can't, stuck in room, skype?!?!?! I shot back. I turned on my computer and opened Skype; they were both online already, and soon we were set up in a three-way chat. They could see, from one glance I'm sure, how upset I was. As I told them the whole story, from the text to the showdown to being sent to my room, their jaws dropped.
"Holy shit, Samantha! How did he find you?"
"Wait, your dad threatened him? With a gun?"
"Do you know where he is? You gotta talk to him," Alicia said. Becky's face scrunched in reaction.
"Alicia, what the hell are you talking about? You gotta stay far, far away from him, Samantha!"
"Guys, I … "
"No, no, I mean, we met him, too, Becky, I mean, he showed up at her house, what kind of guy does that unless he … "
"Um, a serial killer?! A psycho, that's who, Alicia! Samantha, if your dad … "
"Your dad let him go, so obviously he's not a murderer, girl … "
"Alicia, you are the worst! Samantha, you CANNOT go looking for this guy, he's bad news."
"He's totally in love with you! So he's got a past? Who doesn't? Sammy, you absolutely cannot let him leave without … "
"Guys, guys, I can't, right now. Please, stop. I mean … he could be dangerous, like really dangerous! Or he could just be … I don't know! Please, just everyone stop talking for like five seconds," I finally managed to blurt out, breathing heavily. They were like physical representations of my own torn mind: what I wanted, and what I knew was right.
There was silence as Alicia and Becky paused in their ranting, both looking into their webcams with concern.
"I'm sorry, I know, this is like … way much to deal with," Becky finally said. Alicia nodded.
"You don't have to decide anything right now. Maybe you should talk to your dad first?"
"Yeah, talk to your dad. See why he reacted that way. Then … well, then you can figure out what you wanna do," Becky said, her voice loaded. I could tell she was really trying hard not to leap down my throat again. I could also tell that she was trying not to say "I told you so": she had been the only one who'd ever suggested what I was doing with Boon was wrong.
"Guys … what if I really screwed up? What if … "
"You didn't do anything wrong, Sammy," Alicia interrupted.
"You were just having fun and getting to know someone. You made a decision and you enjoyed it and you couldn't have known that all this was going to happen," Becky said, nodding in agreement.
"You should never feel bad about something like that. I mean, you totally impressed me, going after what you wanted like that, and even if it ends in a massive crash and burn, you'll always have my respect, girl," Alicia said with a smile. I found myself grinning along. It was amazing, no matter how bad things looked, that my friends could still manage to put a smile on my face. I loved them for that.
"Thanks … I needed that," I said, breathing normally for the first time since Boon had shown up.
"Of course, Sammy. You know we're always here for you," Becky said, leaning in and smooching the webcam.
"Talk to your dad, then call us! Is it really bad that I'm kinda pumped on all this drama?" Alicia asked, a sly smile on her face.
"YES," Becky and I answered in unison.
"You're a total bitch," I said, laughing. Alicia shrugged and leaned in to the camera, also pretending to kiss it.
"Whatever, I love you," she said. "Now go talk to your dad!"
As I signed off, I wondered if I should give Mom and Dad a little more time to hash it out. In the meantime, I figured, I could pace my room and think about every worst-case-scenario in the world. I knew that I'd drive myself crazy just sitting in my room alone, so I made the decision to at least try. I slipped out of my room quietly and hovered near the top of the stairs. I could hear Mom and Dad talking, loudly, from downstairs.
"She deserves an explanation, Bill. Whatever went on between them … "
"Jesus, Jillian! How can you even bring that up! When I think of our Samantha getting involved in that … that … "
"She's 18! She's going to meet boys. She's going to like boys. She's going to like the wrong sort of boy sometimes. You, of all people, should know what a guy like that can do … "
"Don't you ever compare me to that scum, Jillian. I might have had a rough side when you met me, but … "
"A rough side? Honey, you better make an appointment to be checked for early dementia. If I recall, you spent the better part of junior year in a cloud of smoke … and most of senior year in the drunk tank!"
"This isn't about me, Jillian! This is about our daughter making eyes with some biker trash! And not just any biker trash, the fucking son of the man who … "
"How old do you think that boy was, huh? Do you really think he even knew what was happening then?"
"Well, he's old enough now to know to stay the hell away from good girls like Samantha!"
"Okay, okay, I'm not saying I'm crazy about the idea either, honey, but you can't blame her. Or him! Boys like girls! He followed her all the way from Vegas! I mean, does that sound like a guy who wants to throw Samantha away like a used Kleenex?"
"I don't care what he wants to do with Samantha; he's never going to have anything to do with her ever again!"
"Stop!" I finally said, my heart beating fast. The voices stopped. I tip-toed down the stairs, which was silly, since they obviously knew I was there, but I felt like I was an intruder in my own home, breaking and entering their conversation. "Please, just stop."
Mom and Dad stared at me at the bottom of the stairs, mingled expressions of confusion and concern on their faces. I stared back, trying to look grown up, trying to look like I could handle it.
"Just … please, tell me. I … I need to know. I'm afraid, Daddy," I said, stuttering over my words, making eye contact with my father. I needed him to know how important this was to me, that it wasn't just some crush gone wrong. I knew that telling him I was afraid (which I was) was my best shot at getting him to talk. Daddy could never let me go around feeling scared. And this time, he knew, telling me that he would "take care of everything" wasn't going to cut it.
I was too old for that now.
I think, now, when I look back on it, that moment was all about that one realization: I was too old for a lot of things. I was too old to be kept in the dark. I was too old to not take risks. I was too old to entrust my safety with just my parents. I was growing up. I was making my own mistakes. A look of sadness came over my father's face as he seemed to contemplate all this. Then he nodded.