Page 19 of Samson

“Sure you can, but you never do.”

Arthur pursed his lips as he looked around the apartment, pausing on the views out the large picture window of the city beyond. “Only the best for Samson.”

“Here we go.” Samson leaned against the counter and took a sip of his coffee, waiting for the string of disappointments.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this to yourself.”

“What, living a good life?”

“You call this a good life?”

“Penthouse apartment, nice car, lots of friends. Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Friends? You didn’t even know her name.”

“I knew it started with a K.”

“Listen to yourself. Your great-great-grandfather didn’t risk?—”

“Everything,” Samson interrupted, “to make sure his son was born free just so I could turn my back on my family now.”

“Not your family. It’s not about me or your mom, or even your great-great-grandfather. This is about you and God. God called you.”

“Please don’t start with this again.”

“Why? Does it make you uncomfortable? Because it should. You shouldn’t even exist. Your blood line should have died in the Ottoman Empire. Do you know how many Christians they wiped out in the genocide?” Samson sighed, but his dad continued with the same words and the same inflection he used every time. “Then your grandfather nearly died in that fire. And your mo—” He cleared his throat. “After everything your mother went through to bring you into the world. God gave you to us in answer to a promise.”

“I don’t believe in prophesies.”

“You don’t have to believe it. But we prayed for years for a baby, and then we were told we would have a son.”

“He had a fifty-fifty chance to get that right.”

“What about saying that our child would be great?”

“What about it?”

“You think you’re so successful, and that all of this opulence you live in, is down to natural talent?”

“Why not? It’s what the rest of the world thinks.”

“What the rest of the world thinks is not important. What’s important is what you think.”

“You want to know what I think?”

“Yes.”

Samson’s anger was bubbling to the surface, but he couldn’t afford to let it out. Not in front of his dad. “Forget it.”

“No, I want to know.”

“I said forget it.”

“No!” Arthur slammed his hand on the counter and stood. “Tell me what you think is so much more important than following God’s plan for your life!”

Samson threw his mug into the sink. It smashed, and coffee splashed everywhere. “If you knew the stuff I’ve done in my life,” Samson shouted, “you’d understand that God—if He exists—has no more interest in a guy like me. Yeah, I bring home a girl whose name I can’t remember. I drink too much, I drive too fast, and I take risks every day that could cost me my life. And do you want to know why I do all of that?”

His dad was silent.

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