Page 48 of Come Apart
"No."
My answer is short.
Sam gets the point, her eyes softening in sympathy.
She changes the subject.
"My dad is going to flip if he sees you around."
This is as good an opening as I'm going to get.
"Why isn't he here now? Why isn't your mother here?"
She looks down at the blanket.
It's as good as an admission.
"They don't know."
"They don't need to know." She meets my eyes once more. "And you're not going to tell them."
"Sam—"
"No," she repeats firmly. "They can't go through that again. I want to at least let them enjoy their vacation without worrying about me."
"When will they be home?" I ask, my stomach sinking.
"After the weekend."
"Okay." I take a deep breath. "That's good."
At least she's seeing someone if she has a prescription for anxiety medication.
Her eyes stay on the window. "I wasn't trying to commit suicide, Luke. I already told you that." She turns back to me, a little irritated. "If you want to stay and keep me company, I'd be glad to beat you at rummy, but I'm not talking about it anymore. It's none of your business."
I tamp down on my frustration, though it wants to turn to anger.
That won't be helpful in this situation.
"I'd say it is my god damn business," I return firmly. Her expression changes to one of surprise. Maybe she was expecting me to just roll over. But fuck that shit. "I'm still your emergency contact. I'm the one who showed up when you needed me—hell, I'm the one who always shows up."
"Then don't! I didn't tell you to be here," she growls, her hands clenching in the sheets.
"Didn't you? Why else did you text me your room number?" I push. She doesn't have an answer to that. I soften my voice, reaching out to cover her hand with my own. I take it as a good sign when she doesn't immediately pull it away. "I care about you Samantha. I want you to get better. I worry. Okay?"
She looks at the window. It's flooded with light, but the curtains make the whole room dim and dull. "I...yeah." She sighs. "I get it. Sorry I'm so defensive."
"It's alright. I get it," I murmur.
She nods slightly, picking at her fingers now.
An anxious habit that only comes out when she's the most stressed.
This definitely warrants it.
"Was there anything I could have done?"
It just comes out without real thought.
