Bearly Christmas

by Becca Fanning

  Finally, she gave in and picked up the receiver. As she dialed, she closed her eyes.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, this is Samantha,” Samantha said nervously. “Do you have time to see me today? I could really use a talk.”

  --

  Twenty minutes later, Samantha was lying on the couch in her therapist’s office, across town. Dr. Delaney was a woman in her early fifties, with a comforting smile and a gorgeous sweep of icy-white hair. She nodded at Samantha with compassionate eyes.

  “It’s nice to see you,” Dr. Delaney said warmly. “It’s been a couple of weeks. How are you?”

  Samantha didn’t reply. She pursed her lips, staring at the poster of flowers that was tacked on the ceiling. “I had a bad day,” she said softly. “I….I ran into someone that I didn’t ever want to meet.”

  Dr. Delaney frowned. “What happened?”

  There was a long pause. Samantha had begun attending therapy shortly after she’d moved out of Trevor’s house. Dr. Delaney knew all of the gritty details of Eric’s stillbirth, but Samantha felt reticent discussing Rust for some reason.

  “A man came into my office today and said he needed to talk to me.” Samantha closed her eyes, finding it easy to speak when she wasn’t staring her therapist in the face. “He told me that he’d donated sperm to some kind of research project, and it had been accidentally used to impregnate me.”

  “Wow,” Dr. Delaney replied. She was sitting in a chair a few feet away from the couch. Samantha watched as she made a couple of notes on a small pad in her lap. “That had to feel very intense. I understand why you wanted to talk.”

  The small words of compassion were almost overwhelming, and Samantha felt herself tearing up. She nodded imperceptibly. “It was,” she said softly. “It was really hard.”

  “How did it make you feel?”

  A tear rolled down the side of Samantha’s head. She shifted her position on the couch so she was lying on her side. “Angry,” she said slowly. “I was really mad at him for finding me.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I don’t know,” Samantha admitted. “I don’t know why he was mad. It….the talk didn’t go well, and I wound up storming away. When I got home, the guy was outside, in my driveway, waiting for me with roses.”

  “I wonder if he wanted to make sure you didn’t feel guilty.”

  Samantha opened her eyes and stared at Dr. Delaney. “What?”

  “Trevor made you feel guilty, Sam. He made you feel like all of this was your fault, didn’t he?”

  Samantha nodded slowly. A new wave of tears came over her. Dr. Delaney handed over a box of tissues and Samantha wiped her face before blowing her nose. “I felt guilty,” she said softly. “And this guy broke down and said that he never imagined he’d hurt so much or cause anyone else to be hurt, either. He was upset.” She bit her lip and swallowed hard. “I didn’t think he’d apologize for hurting me so badly.”

  Dr. Delaney nodded her head slowly. “Sam, how do you feel right now?”

  Samantha closed her eyes again. “Not great,” she admitted softly. “Like I want to go home and hide from the world, forever. Like I don’t ever want to go back to work or talk to anyone.” She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself tightly. “I wish this had never happened,” she said fiercely. “It made me think about the past again. I thought I’d worked on forgetting it!”

  “Sometimes, we have to use what’s happened in the past to make ourselves stronger,” Dr. Delaney replied. “We can’t let hurtful things change our goals in life, Sam.”

  Samantha’s shoulders slumped. “I want a family, but I don’t even see how it’s possible,” she whispered. “I don’t think I deserve another chance. I lost one baby. What about another?”

  “Samantha,” Dr. Delaney said in a strict voice. “You can’t keep blaming yourself. You know that you had absolutely nothing to do with what happened. The doctor should have been more clear.”

  “He made me feel guilty,” Samantha whispered. Hot tears ran down her cheeks but this time, she made no effort to wipe them away. “And Trevor never talked to me again.”

  Dr. Delaney sighed softly. “Sam, I want you to go home and think about what you really want. And the next time we see each other, we’re going to talk about how to put those steps in motion.” She gave Samantha an encouraging smile. “Everything is going to be alright, Samantha. If it’s not alright, then it’s not the end. You’re young and healthy, there’s absolutely no reason why you can’t have a family. You’re beautiful and smart and would make any man a wonderful partner. You’re going to be a great mom, too.”

  Samantha sobbed. She tried letting Dr. Delaney’s words sink in, but she felt like there was a giant block on her head. “It hurts,” she said through the tears. “It hurts so much. I just don’t want it to hurt anymore! I want to be over this!”

  “I’m going to tell you something that you might not want to hear,” Dr. Delaney said. Her voice was both firm and soft and something about it made Samantha open her eyes and stop crying. “You may never get over it. It might always hurt. But if you’re not being kind to yourself, you won’t be able to move on at all.” She looked into Samantha’s eyes. “Sam, you have to be kind to yourself.” Dr. Delaney tore a clean sheet out of her notebook. “This weekend, I want you to research self-care. Just take an hour and go online and do some searching. I think you could benefit tremendously from being more caring towards yourself.”

  Samantha sniffled. She sat up on the couch and wiped her eyes. “Okay,” she said unsteadily as she handed over her co-payment. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Dr. Delaney.”

  Her therapist nodded. “And come see me next week, Samantha. We’ll talk again.”

  Chapter Three

  As Samantha left her therapist’s office, her mind was filled with lots and lots of images. Meeting Rust had rekindled some kind of urge in her, and as she drove past a woman walking with her children, she was surprised to find herself smiling. It still hurt – Samantha didn’t think that it would ever stop hurting – but part of her imagined how it would feel to walk down the sidewalk with a tiny, sticky fist in her own hand. She wondered how it would feel to clean off a small cut or scrape on a toddler’s knee, how it would feel to see a smile of love and gratitude on her child’s face.

  By the time she got home, she was feeling more emotional than ever. Samantha walked into her apartment with purpose and set her purse down on the chair. She thought about what Dr. Delaney had said. Self-care. Frowning, she walked over to her computer and opened her search engine. For the next half-hour, Samantha was engrossed in various psychology articles and feel-good blogs. She’d never heard of the concept before but it was basically as Dr. Delaney had said – taking care of herself. Sort of like spoiling a friend or a family member, but for herself.

  “I’m going to have a glass of wine,” Samantha said out loud. She walked over to her wine rack and automatically reached for the cheapest bottle of her favorite white. “No,” she said, pulling her hand back. I should have something expensive. Yeah, something really nice and fancy. That’s good self-care, right?

  Smiling to herself, Sam pulled down an expensive bottle of an aged red that she’d bought the year before. She did as everything online had instructed, really taking time to enjoy the fragrance of the wine before taking the first sip.

  Ten minutes later, she was on the couch with her laptop, browsing pet ads. While she wasn’t exactly ready to think about a baby, Samantha had always hated living alone. Trevor hadn’t liked cats, but Samantha had always thought they were cute. Growing up, her mother was allergic so they didn’t have one but she’d always wanted a pet. She knew that having a pet was almost like having a child – something to take care of, to love, to protect. As she browsed through the cutest ads for kittens, she poured herself another giant glass of wine.

  Samantha hadn’t eaten anything all day – the last thing she’d had was the iced tea, at the café with Rust. She could fe
el the wine working its magic quickly and as she stepped up from the table, her body swayed from one side to the other. Samantha let out a nervous giggle as she almost fell, managing to stay upright but splashing some of the wine on her lap.

  “Damn,” Samantha muttered under her breath. She stumbled back to the table and grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring a fresh glass and immediately downing half of it. As she walked into her bedroom to change, she checked the pockets of her pants. There was a sweaty slip of paper inside – Rust’s number. Samantha’s body tingled as she stared at it. There was something unique about his handwriting. She could practically discern his personality just from looking at it: both measured and intelligent.

  Her first thought was to call him. She dismissed that quickly, rolling her eyes and setting the paper down on her bed. But even after she’d finished changing, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. Finally, the wine rose in her and she felt more courageous than ever before.

  Rust answered on the first ring. “Samantha?” He sounded surprised, cautious.

  Samantha let out a laugh. “It’s me,” she said. “Oops!” She’d dropped the glass of wine on the floor. “I need more wine,” she said loudly into the phone.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Some really good wine,” Samantha slurred. Her skin felt hot and scratchy and she wriggled out of the clean pair of pants, curling up on the bed with her phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear. “Wanna come over?”

  “Samantha, what are you talking about?”

  “We should make a baby,” Samantha said. Her tongue felt too thick for her mouth, like it was going to escape. “Come over,” she added, slurring her words so thickly that they bled together.

  Rust didn’t reply. Samantha frowned and hung up, tossing the phone on the floor. She wanted to get up and go get her computer, but her bed hadn’t felt so comfortable in a long time. I’ll just take a little nap, Samantha thought to herself as she closed her eyes. I’ll just sleep for a little while and then everything will be okay.

  The next thing Sam knew, strong hands were pulling her out of bed and propping her up. Her whole body ached and her head was throbbing. There was a dry feeling in her mouth and her eyeballs felt like they were covered in little sticky threads.

  “Samantha?”

  Her eyes flew open and she was astonished to see Rust in front of her. Her vision was blurry and everything seemed to be leaning to the side. She stumbled forward and almost fell, but Rust reached out and wrapped his strong hands around her arms, holding her tightly in place.

  “Samantha, what the hell happened? What’s going on?”

  “Had some wine,” Samantha slurred. “Wanna sit back down,” she added in a loud, whiny tone. “My head hurts! I’m thirsty.” Her words were barely intelligible and Rust cast a worried glance at the empty bottle of wine on her nightstand.

  “Samantha,” Rust said slowly. “Come with me, okay? We’re going to make sure you drink a lot of water.”

  She was aware of a strange, floating sensation. When she realized Rust was carrying her, she tried to reach for the ground. But Rust was stronger and he gently carried Samantha down the hallway and laid her down on the couch.

  “I can keep an eye on you out here,” Rust said softly. “Don’t move. I’m getting you some water.”

  Samantha slipped in and out of consciousness as Rust darted to the kitchen and brought back a tall glass of ice water. When he tilted it back into her mouth, she almost coughed but the water felt like nectar on her swollen, dry tongue and she greedily drank, letting the water spill down her chin and onto her shirt as Rust held the glass.

  --

  Samantha opened her eyes and looked up. She frowned – what was she doing in the living room?

  “Hey, you’re awake.” The voice was familiar and male. Samantha jumped as Rust stepped into her field of vision. “I didn’t think you were ever gonna get up.”

  Samantha frowned again, quickly sitting up and arranging herself. She was on the couch, with a blanket and a big glass of water on the coffee table. There was an empty plastic bucket on the ground. When she realized what had happened, she clapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. Her whole body still hurt and she reached forward for the glass of water, downing the whole thing in a matter of seconds.

  “I passed out, didn’t I?” Her voice was flat as she eyed Rust.

  He nodded. “Yep,” he replied. “Good thing I was here to make sure you didn’t kill yourself.” He raised his eyebrows and a warm flush came over Samantha’s cheeks. “That wasn’t a normal evening for you, was it?”

  Sam shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “I….I don’t know what happened.” She swallowed hard as her heart began to beat rapidly and unevenly in her chest. The familiar feelings of panic and anxiety washed over her and she felt her cheeks burn bright with shame. “Can you leave?”

  “Nope,” Rust said lightly. He sat down next to Sam on the couch and she recoiled, pulling the blanket around herself. “Sam, I know you’re hurting. But come on. Call into work, and let’s go out to breakfast.” He eyed her and Sam felt a slight wave of calm soothe her nerves. “I bet we have a lot to talk about.”

  Twenty minutes later, Sam was buckled into the passenger side of Rust’s Jeep. She liked the way he drove – his Jeep was a stick shift and as she watched his muscular arm move the gearshift into place, she felt a little thrill of something unfamiliar in her body.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Rust laughed as he pulled into the parking lot of a local diner. “Very sure,” he said smoothly. “This place makes the best hangover cure breakfast I’ve had. I’m sure you’ll dig it.”

  Samantha blushed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been alone with a guy for more than just a few minutes. It felt alien, but for once, she didn’t mind. It was a nice change from being alone. Rust was proving to be a good companion – he wasn’t someone who chattered away to fill every silence, and when he did speak, he had something to say.

  “Thank you,” Samantha said softly as Rust opened the door for her. The inside of the diner was neat and a little cramped, but mostly free of people. Waving to someone behind the counter, Rust guided Samantha over to a corner booth.

  “I always sit here and like clockwork, I get hungry,” Rust said. He rubbed his stomach through his shirt – Samantha could see that he was hairy, with the front of his shirt a little puffed up off his chest. “It’s like magic.”

  Samantha nodded. Her stomach growled and she blushed. “I haven’t eaten anything in a long time,” she said softly. “Probably why I got so drunk. I hadn’t had anything to drink in months.”

  Rust opened his eyes widely. “So I won’t have to show up and rescue you from any more nights of self-induced debauchery?”

  Samantha blushed harder. “My therapist called it self-care,” she said softly. “But I have a feeling she didn’t mean getting blackout drunk.”

  After they ordered (jumbo scramble with biscuits and sausage for Rust, fruit salad and a bowl of oatmeal for Samantha), Rust sighed uneasily.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” he said after a moment. “I wanted to remember what you said to me when you called me last night.”

  Samantha stared. “I don’t even want to think about that,” she said in a low voice. “I was drunk. I didn’t mean it.” Her stomach twisted and suddenly, she didn’t feel hungry anymore. She wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and forget that she’d ever met Rust.

  “I know you were drunk,” Rust said gently. He gazed into Samantha’s eyes and she felt a little chill go down her spine. “But it wasn’t a horrible idea, was it?”

  She stared at him. “You’re crazy,” she said flatly. “I didn’t mean it.”

  Rust didn’t break eye contact and she had the oddest feeling that he was reading her mind.