Sam's Theory

by Sarah Mendivel

  “Yeah…okay. I hear you. But seriously, Theory, I don’t feel like I can fight him alone,” I admitted, already worried about the next round of star tracking.

  “Then that means it isn’t time to,” Theory reassured me. “You did excellent work today. Let’s focus on the win you just had and think about what you need to feel more ready for the next time.”

  I turned around and looked at the crater that had become His grave. A mixture of feelings rushed in, making it hard to decipher what was what. I was happy that I had figured out how to fight back finally, but a grief over not having a father figure began to pinch at me as well. How did I end up with such hopeless excuses for parents raising me? What had I done to deserve such a violent childhood? Was I being punished for something? Did I not deserve better?

  “Sam? What are you thinking?” asked Theory, sounding concerned.

  I felt angry at the backwards logic of it all. “This is stupid.”

  “What is?”

  “That I even have to do all of this. I shouldn’t have to,” I said, feeling a volcano begin to heat within me.

  “You’re right; you shouldn’t have to do any of this. You deserved a lot better growing up. But, remember that this is where you are now, and this is how we are going to fix it,” she said adamantly.

  “They shouldn’t have been allowed to have kids,” I replied, unable to shake free of my frustration.

  “I agree,” said Theory.

  But I wasn’t listening. I didn’t care what she had to say right now. Right now I was just mad at all of the effort I had to make for someone else’s mistakes. “They’re the ones who should have to do all of this. They’re the ones who screwed everything up,” I continued, gritting my teeth.

  “Sam – ”

  “No, this is ridiculous,” I blurted aggressively, cutting her off.

  “Sam, your family was – ”

  “Family?!” I yelled, offended by her using such a careless word. “I don’t have a family! I don’t have parents; they didn’t love me! I am completely alone and have to take care of myself.”

  The volcano inside me began to seep a lava of fury into Theory’s library. I didn’t care about being nice right now, I just wanted justice. “What the hell is the point of living if no one wants you anyway? Why the hell is life so unfair? You can’t fix this, Theory! You can’t take away all of this pain!”

  “Child…”

  “Theory,” I yelled at her, tears burning in my eyes. “Don’t you get it?! I am lonely every single day. I just want someone to come home to. I mean, my God, I’d settle for just a home! And I’m pissed off about all of it! How do you fix that, Theory?! How in the hell do you fix all of that?! How do you kill these wolves inside of you? How do you fix a broken heart that no one wanted to take care of in the first place?!”

  “Sam.”

  “No, Theory! You don’t understand! Don’t pretend to understand! You probably grew up with parents who asked you about how your day was and protected you from the world. I bet they didn’t tie you down and rape you! I bet they didn’t call you names and make you feel worthless! I bet they didn’t get off manipulating you!”

  Theory began to walk toward me slowly, but I only grew angrier. “Screw you and the crap you say to me, Theory! I know you are only pretending to love me. You all just pretend! And you’re lying; you are lying with all of this stuff!”

  My screams began to burn through my throat and I could feel the pressure in my head building like a violent river. I was being electrocuted by my own anger. This was more than a fit of rage- it was years’ worth of lies, disappointment, hunger and desperation exploding out of me.

  I felt like I could destroy the universe.

  “Get away, Theory! I hate you! I hate you!”

  “Sam…”

  “Get away you jerk! You don’t know me!”

  “Sam…”

  “You don’t know me!”

  Swish! Theory jolted through the atmosphere of my madness and grabbed my body. I was suddenly locked in an embrace that challenged the ferocity of my madness. I felt Theory’s arms begin to pad me from my own abuse.

  “Let me go! You don’t want me! Let me go,” I screamed desperately.

  I fought Theory’s embrace with everything I had. I channeled every thread of deep-seated fury that lived inside of me and fought against the liar that held me.

  She doesn’t know me! She doesn’t love me!

  I continued to scream and thrash. My fists thumped against Theory’s ribs and I fought harder. “Ahhhhh!”

  I fought for the time I stole another kid’s food at school because I was too scared to ask for dinner at home. I fought for the time that She had kicked me out of the house for two days because Her mood had randomly flipped from hot to cold again. I fought for the time I slept behind a bush in our backyard because I was too afraid of what was inside the house. I fought for the childhood I never had. I fought for the people who didn’t save me. I fought for the system that had failed me. I fought for the God who had turned his back on me. I fought for the life I wanted to keep running away from.

  But Theory continued to hold me. There was no way anyone could take that kind of beating and still be there to love me. No, I was sure I had scared Theory away for good. I was sure that when I finally stopped screaming, I would be abandoned again. Because who would ever love this kind of broken? Who would stick around to love this kind of darkness?

  I was different.

  I was damaged.

  I had blown it.

  Just as my fear of being left again replaced my rage, my arms weakened and I was out of breath. I screamed a final time, from the primal roots of my decayed spirit. It was a noise I hadn’t heard since I was a kid. For a moment, it was as if I had disconnected from myself.

  My body then gave out and I collapsed into Theory’s arms. We melted to the floor together and I wept into the tired knees that offered my head a pillow. I began to cry as hard as I had yelled. My tears tore through my eyes and flamed across my cheeks.

  I couldn’t understand the brutality of the moment I was suspended in. Images of hysterical fights and savage perversions stung past my sadness and whirled into a thousand emotions simultaneously.

  Anger for being orphaned. Sadness for having to grow up too fast. Gratitude for a stranger trying to love me. Confusion about who or what was trustworthy. Excitement about being able to cry again. Anxiety about what this all meant.

  I could feel Theory exhale over me. I looked up, calmer, expecting to see a face of annoyance and disappointment.

  Instead, Theory’s eyes were shut and the eyebrows above them furrowed. I studied Theory’s expression to make certain I was not misreading it. I didn’t understand how this could be. Theory wasn’t upset. This face was something else entirely.

  Theory’s face was filled with…empathy?

  I rolled onto my elbow and pushed myself into a sitting position. Theory’s eyes opened and met mine. I had never seen them so soft and vulnerable before. I could feel my expression begin to match the one before me.

  “Theory?”

  “Yes, child?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm in me that was finally passing. “I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”

  Theory’s head tilted and I felt a warm hand rest against my face. “No, Sam. I am relieved.”

  “Relieved?” I wiped my tears away with the sleeve of my hoodie. “About what?”

  Theory smiled and sighed deeply. “That you have begun to heal, Sam.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  BZZZT!

  The school bell vibrated through the halls, warning me that I only had four minutes left to get to my next class before another detention was handed out. I had fallen asleep in math again, only to wake up to the noise of scooting chairs and other kids knocking into me as they hurriedly bolted from their desks.

  Despite school usually being a safe place, the work itself had always been my worst enemy. I loved learning about
science, art, and English; but there were some topics that simply didn’t agree with me. It had always been difficult for me to concentrate on anything for more than a couple minutes, and my memory seemed to be breaking down constantly. Ever since I was little, my eyes would dart all over the page and I’d scramble up words while I was reading. It was as if my brain had a vendetta against me.

  It didn’t help that my parents thought I was an idiot, too. No matter how much I studied, or how perfect my attendance was, my grades were never good enough for Them. She, in particular, was always quick to remind me of how much more intelligent She was than me. It was a war I had decided against winning forever ago.

  Things had changed my sophomore year, though, when I had befriended my high school math teacher by drawing her cartoon figures in the margins of my homework. Because she noticed my illustrations as a call for help, she made it a point to tutor me in between classes. She had spent so much time helping me that when I received my first ever “B” on a math test, I cried in the back of class out of happiness. It made me wonder what else I could accomplish.

  After that day, I vowed to see what I was made of. I spent months at the library, pouring through textbooks and quizzing myself with flashcards. I was determined to replicate the magic I had created in math into all of my classes. It was impossible to study at home because of the chaos, so I took advantage of every free second at school that I could. I worked hard, and the results of my class assignments begin to give me hope that maybe, just maybe, I was smart.

  Finally, at the end of the semester, my homeroom teacher stopped me in the hall, smiling coyly. He handed me a sealed envelope with the emblem of the school district on it. “Congratulations, kiddo.”

  Confused by what he meant, I tore open the envelope, expecting it to be another notice of failing grades. Instead, it was an announcement congratulating me for making the school’s honor roll. “Oh my God! What?!”

  I looked up at my teacher, both of us with tears in our eyes. I couldn’t help myself and jumped up and down in place. “Oh my God, I did it, I did it!”

  He laughed and patted me on the back. “You sure did. We all knew you had it in you, Sam. Now, rush that letter home and show your mom. I bet She’ll fall out of Her seat when She sees it!”

  I smiled and took off for the parking lot. I couldn’t believe I had made the honor roll! Maybe it meant that I wasn’t an idiot after all. Maybe my brain didn’t work like other kids and I just needed more help. This meant I wouldn’t be a disappointment anymore! Maybe He would be so proud of me that He’d realize it wasn’t worth hurting me anymore.

  Oh man, maybe She would finally be proud of me! Maybe She would even take everyone out to dinner to celebrate, or at least be in a good mood for the night. If I could make honor roll this semester, maybe I could get good grades next year too, and then even go to college!

  I was smiling so huge that my face hurt. I rounded the corner of the school and saw our minivan idling. I rushed up to the car, burst open the door, and yelled. “Mom, Mom! You’re never going to believe this! I just made the honor roll, look!”

  She furrowed her brow and took the letter from my hand. With a flat expression, she read the announcement in its entirety and mumbled. “Hmph.”

  Confused and wondering if She had read it all, I pointed to the part where they said I’d be given an award. “Look, it says right here that I’ll get a certificate at the next assembly!”

  Before I could brag about how I had done it all, She shoved the letter into the center console and threw the car into drive. Not understanding Her reaction, I clicked on my seatbelt, then turned to Her as She drove. “Mom? Aren’t you happy that I made honor roll?”

  “Sweetie,” She said, focusing on the road. “they give that to everyone.”

  Her words went off in my chest like a bomb. I was so crushed that I leaned back into my seat and stared off into space until I couldn’t feel anything, including my body.

  The next morning, as my favorite math teacher introduced a new chapter on fractions, I fell asleep in the back of the class.

  That’s weird. Theory wasn’t here yet. She’s usually always sitting in her chair waiting for me to show up. Hm, maybe she went to get tea. Gosh knows she loves her tea.

  I looked at a clock sitting on the table.

  4:03 p.m.

  We always met at 4:00, sharp. Where was Theory? Why was she late? Suddenly three minutes felt like an eternity.

  I turned toward my chair and dragged my feet over the floor to make noise, in case she was in the kitchen and lost track of time. Maybe she’d hear me and rush in apologizing for being late. I plopped into my chair loudly, huffing with irritation at having to wait for the person who was incessantly early to everything.

  You know, for someone who seemed to be able to read my mind all the time, she was sure failing at it today. How could she not realize I was waiting for her? I looked at the clock again.

  4:06 p.m.

  Okay, I’ll give her until 4:10 and then I’m leaving. This is nonsense; I could still be outside exploring.

  I turned my chair side-to-side, making windshield wiper sounds. Maybe Theory would walk in and see me bored, then feel bad for making me wait. I wonder if she was in her printing press, where it was dark and hard to see the clock. Maybe she was finishing up a project and would swoop in exactly at 4:10, apologizing profusely for being so clumsy with her time tracking.

  Part of me began to sink in on itself, suddenly worrying that she wouldn’t show up at all. No, that wasn’t possible. She’s been here every single day at 4:00 since I arrived weeks ago. I’m sure she’s just late.

  4:17 p.m.

  Wow, almost twenty minutes late? How is that possible? Did she really forget about me?

  4:24 p.m.

  I can’t believe this. She totally forgot!

  4:27 p.m.

  No, worse, she gave up on our work together. Is this because I couldn’t process that memory quick enough? Maybe she got frustrated and decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. Was she mad at me?

  4:32 p.m.

  She isn’t coming. She doesn’t care about me. I messed up somehow.

  4:35 p.m.

  Why did I ever come to her for help? Why did I find this stupid tree house? I would have been fine on my own.

  4:38 p.m.

  She never cared about me.

  She’s gone.

  Fine, then I’m leaving too.

  My heart sunk into the pit of my stomach and all I could feel was the ache of hurt and disappointment. I bowed my head, fighting the urge to cry.

  No, screw that- I wasn’t going to cry over someone who lied about caring about me. I knew this would happen eventually. Everyone else has left me, why wouldn’t she eventually? Obviously I wasn’t worth sticking around for.

  4:44 p.m.

  It was pointless. My pain had mixed into anger to create an ugly color of resentment. Resentment for everything that had brought me here, kept me here, and would eventually send me away from here. It all punched at me with the ferocity of a boxer.

  I felt angry that I had shown up. I felt angry that I was always the one that showed up. I was always supposed to be the reliable one for adults and other people around me. I was angry that I had to take care of myself constantly, knowing that I was no good at it. I was suddenly angry, too, that I missed my mom randomly and wondered where she was, despite everything.

  4:57 p.m.

  I’d wait three more minutes so that I could say I waited an hour. Saying. “I waited an hour” had a lot more power to it than saying. “I waited fifty-seven minutes for you to show up.” Yeah, an hour would make her feel way more guilty than almost an hour. Now I was hoping that she wouldn’t show up.

  5:00 p.m.

  My heart broke in half and I leaned into my hands to cry. I couldn’t believe she never showed up. There would be no more talking, no more processing, no more work. We were done. She had betrayed me and left me alone. She had decided I wasn’t worth her
time and made other things a priority. She had pretended to care about me, but ended up being like all of the others.

  I wiped my face free of tears, sauntered into the kitchen, and pulled the flight of stairs down from the ceiling. Everything felt heavy and disappointing. What was the point of being here anymore? What was the point of doing all of this work with someone who was just going to let you down?

  “Sam,” called a voice from behind me.

  I turned around to see Theory out of breath. She looked worried, but I was too upset to care or ask why.

  “Yeah,” I said gruffly.

  “Sam, I know I was late and I – ”

  “It’s fine, we don’t have to talk about it,” I said, cutting her off as I began to climb the stairs.

  She didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure I wanted her to. I went to my room and laid in bed. I thought of Nova, wondering if she was disappointed in me for not finding her sooner. I mean, I’d probably be mad at me. But whatever, it didn’t matter at this point. It’s not like I could get to her anyway. I tumbled under the covers, wrestling with my hard feelings, until I finally fell asleep.

  Several hours later, the grumble of my stomach woke me up. I had slept through the day

  and forgot to eat lunch. I immediately grew irritated at my body for betraying me, knowing I’d have to probably run into Theory to go downstairs and eat.

  With a giant sigh of irked inconvenience, I huffed downstairs and tried to look into the kitchen to make sure the coast was clear before entering. I didn’t see anyone, so decided I would grab a banana and run back upstairs for the night. As I snuck toward the yellow bunch of handheld snacks though, Theory appeared behind me. “Hello, kiddo.”

  I sighed loudly to signal my annoyance. “Hey.”

  “I’m sorry about earlier. I was hoping we could talk about what happened,” she offered kindly.

  I could hear my tone turn sarcastic. “What is there to talk about? Everything’s fine.”

  Theory pushed back. “So, you aren’t upset I missed our talk today.”

  “No, I’m just hungry.”

  “Mm hm,” she hummed, just as sarcastic as I was.