Chapter Twenty
Samantha blanched when she saw her mother in the kitchen. Her eyes wet with tears, Darlene looked like someone had sucker-punched her in the midsection. Perched on the edge of the chair with her arms clinched around her waist, she rocked back and forth, her gaze never leaving Veronica’s face.
A lesson Samantha had learned early was that a person’s life holds pivotal moments that stand out stark and singular. Such an event in a family, whether that event is happy or sad, usually signifies a possible turning point for everyone. Samantha knew her family had already weathered profound changes in the past few years. She endured it again now, as if her every movement were measured and in slow motion. She walked to the table. She gripped the back of a chair with both hands, ambivalent about sitting down. She wouldn’t be surprised if Veronica wanted to tear her younger sister’s eyes out right about now.
“Her test came back positive,” Darlene whispered. “My baby is pregnant.” Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. Shaking her head, she reached for the tissue box on the sideboard. “Sit with us, Sammie.”
Samantha didn’t have the heart to refuse her mother’s request. She pulled out her chair and sat down. Reaching across the oilcloth, she covered Darlene’s hand with her own. Words failed her. Daring to look at Veronica, she was astonished to see an expression of relative calm on her sister’s pale countenance. Or was she in shock?
“I had the HIV test done too,” Veronica said. “But it will most likely come back negative. They told me it takes a while to detect after having sex with someone who has it, so I need to repeat the test in three to six months.” She slid down in her chair, tilted her head, and stared at the ceiling. “I talked with the counsellor and she gave me information about my options for the pregnancy. She told me to think it over. And if I decide on an abortion, I will need to act as quickly as I can.”
“But there are the other options,” Darlene interjected.
Veronica chewed her lip and shook her head. “I never imagined being a mother at this age, Momma. I don’t know if I can handle it. Or if I want to. What about my education? My future?”
“What will your father say?” Darlene asked. “I’m going to have to tell him.” She stood up quickly. “I need a drink. And I have to go to work tonight. Sweet merciful saviour!” She paced the floor again.
“Don’t tell Daddy yet. I need to make up my mind what to do first. Then you can tell him.” Veronica turned, staring daggers at Samantha. “And speaking of telling stuff, Momma, Sam’s been seeing Ben on the sly. Isn’t that right, sis?”
Darlene spun around. “Sammie, no! Is she telling the truth?”
“I…” Samantha flushed a deep shade of crimson. What could she say?
Her mother’s face crumpled. “How could you? I told you to stay away from him and you defied me? What am I supposed to do with the likes of you, chain you on to the house? I can’t do this…I’m poisoned with the two of you.” She thrust back her chair and stood up, looking at them helplessly. “You can get your own damn suppers tonight. I’m going to work, but I’m going somewhere else first.” Throwing her lighter, her cigarettes, and a ball of tissues into her purse, she slung it over her shoulder and left.
“Why’d you have to go and tell her about Ben and me? She’s got enough to deal with, don’t you think?”
Veronica closed her eyes, her head leaning back on the top rung of her chair. Samantha saw the pulse beating in her throat. “Why? Why did I tell her? Sam, as much as I hate to think about it, you’re a part of this mess too. Now fly to hell.”
“How can I? I’m already in it.” Samantha didn’t know what to think about the baby. Ben’s baby. “Are you going to tell Ben?”
Veronica let out a weak laugh. “Why don’t we leave that up to you—his new conquest? If I never speak to him again, it will be too soon, no matter what I decide.” She stood up, looking as if she was unsure what to do next. “I’m going over to Gina’s in a while. You’re on your own for supper.”
Samantha encountered something entirely foreign then, something she had never felt before for her sister. It was pity. As much as she detested Veronica lately, she wished this had never happened to her. Not just because it interfered with her own life and she could possibly be the aunt to her boyfriend’s and sister’s baby. The girl was only seventeen, only one year older than herself; such a tender age to be making this monumental, life-changing decision. And no matter what choice with its own set of repercussions she ultimately made, the road ahead was sure to be a rocky one.
***
Samantha waited at the entrance to Bannerman Park in the growing twilight. At quarter to nine she checked her watch for the second time, wondering why Ben was so late. What in the heck was keeping him? Didn’t he know it wasn’t safe for a girl to be alone on the street at night? Was he going to let her down too, just when she believed he was the last one she could count on?
Pulling her hoodie snugly around her and zipping it shut, Samantha huddled against the rising gale as dusk closed in around her. Traffic whizzed past. Someone approached from the other end of the street. Please, let it be Ben, she prayed. But as the shadowy figure drew closer, she swallowed her disappointment. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t his gait and this person wasn’t nearly as tall. The little hairs on the nape of her neck stood up. She looked at the man out of the corner of her eye.
What would she do if the stranger accosted her? She had nothing with her to defend herself with, only…her house key! She gripped the key ring in the pocket of her hoodie so the key was wedged between her knuckles, its pointy end jutting out and ready. It was better than nothing, something she could jab her attacker in the face or the eyes with if necessary.
The man was practically close enough now to touch. Adrenaline coursed through her when he raised his arm. She got ready to bolt and run.
“Samantha! It’s me.”
Kalen! Weak with relief, Samantha felt as if her knees had turned to jelly. She uttered a small cry, her hand on her pounding chest. Kalen reached for her, supporting her against him as they walked the path of crushed stone into the park.
“I gotcha, Sammie. Sorry for scaring the daylights out of you,” he murmured, holding her in the growing darkness. He led her to the closest bench inside the park entrance, not letting her go until she was seated and he sat beside her. The soft glow from a nearby streetlight allowed them to see each other’s faces. “What in the bloody heck are you doing here by yourself at night?” he chuckled. “You’ve got to stop going out alone after dark! Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”
“Ben was supposed to meet me here. I don’t know what happened, if he forgot about me or what.” Samantha let out a shaky breath. “Think he’s all right?” Her eyes searched around but couldn’t see much of anything through the shadows beyond their own circle of light.
“Something must have held him up. Sure glad I was here to help.”
“I just about stuck you with my key.” Samantha showed him her fist, with the protruding key still clenched in a death grip.
They laughed. Kalen reached down and held her hand, loosening the key ring from it and kneading her cold fingers. “You’re not used to the city yet either. You must’ve been terrified, you poor maid.” His other arm hung loosely over the back of the bench, grazing her shoulders.
“What the—what are you two doing together?”
They both looked up in alarm. Samantha hardly recognized Ben striding toward them, but the voice was unmistakably his.
“Ben!” she cried.
“What do you think we are doing, m’boy?” Kalen replied. “We’re sitting here in the dark!”
Samantha was certain he said it as a rebuke for Ben’s tardiness, but she wondered if Ben knew that.
“Thanks a lot, arse-wipe. Now get your hands off her.”
“Now, dude, hold on a sec—”
Before Samantha knew what was happening, Ben lunged at them, pushing her roughly aside as he hauled Kalen to his feet, b
ringing his startled face inches from his own. Kalen struggled, trying to shrug off his friend’s grip on the sleeves of his jacket. But the harder he worked to free himself, the tighter Ben held on.
“Chill out, man. What the hell you doin’?”
“Getting your mitts off my girl, that’s what.”
“Ben, leave him alone!” Samantha shrieked.
“She was scared out here alone, waiting for you. I was comforting her!” With great effort, Kalen broke Ben’s vice-like grip with his arms and wrenched himself free. “Now stop shagging around.”
“How’s this for comfort?”
Ben’s fist came out of nowhere, punching Kalen squarely in the jaw. Samantha heard the sickening crack before she realized what had happened, as if in a dream. The shorter boy fell back on the ground, stunned. In the murky light, the stream of blood that gushed from his lower lip ran shiny and dark, spilling down over the front of his jean jacket. He looked up at his friend with an odd expression of incredulous surprise.
“You knocked out my tooth,” Kalen said, his hand to his bleeding mouth. He looked at the bloody little piece of him in the palm of his other hand, shaking his head. He struggled, but failed, to hold back tears.
Samantha went to him, kneeling on the ground. She glared up at Ben. “Are you crazy? Kalen was helping me. Look what you did to him!”
In the seconds it took Ben to walk over, his entire aspect changed. When he crouched beside them, he looked as dumbfounded as the others.
Kalen shrank back, holding an arm up to shield his face. “No more, man,” he said, spitting blood on the ground. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry.” He held out a small wad of tissues. Kalen swiped it from his hand and held it to his injured mouth.
The look of misery on Ben’s face was genuine, Samantha could see that. “Let’s get him home.” She linked her arm through Kalen’s and Ben wordlessly followed suit, but Kalen shook him off. Together, they left the park and made their way down the quiet street. A pair of curious passers-by slowed to peer at them briefly before hurrying on.
By the time they got Kalen to his home on Queen’s Road, a heavy drizzle was falling and the wind freshened and howled. Samantha waited on the curb while Ben and Kalen talked in hushed tones in the doorway. She could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation, but she gleaned that Ben was deeply apologetic and wanted to make amends any way he could.
She didn’t know what to think. She watched as Ben mumbled a good-bye, closed the door, and rejoined her, his face the picture of remorse. He reached for her hand, but she stuffed it in her pocket and turned away.
“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t left me waiting for you in the dark.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, his tone contrite. “Me and the old man had some shopping to do after we left Aunt Valerie’s and the checkouts had crazy long line-ups. I should have called to let you know I was running late.”
“Why would you get so angry at your own buddy? Has he ever done anything to make you remotely suspicious?”
“No. But I thought he was making a move on you.”
“I know what you thought, that was obvious. But what gives you the right to turn into a bully? You can’t even wait to hear any explanations before you resort to throwing punches and knocking teeth out. And here the poor soul was only keeping me company until you decided to show up.”
“I see that now. I wish I could go back and fix it, but I can’t. Please forgive me.”
“Your temper frightens me. You weren’t having a brawl on a hockey rink tonight, Ben, and you had nothing to prove, not to mention Kalen is so much slighter than you. Nobody wants to be around you if you can’t control yourself. Me included.”
Both of them had their hoods up and their hands in their pockets. Samantha attempted to jump over a puddle, but couldn’t straddle it completely. Her feet landed in the water with a slosh that soaked them both.
They walked on aimlessly together but painfully separated by her anger and his regret. She looked up to see the Cochrane Street sign, legible by the street light they passed. Waiting at the crosswalk on Duckworth for the traffic to pass, Samantha recognized the War Memorial in the distance, the bronze statues of soldiers poised for battle.
Why did so many men feel the need for aggression, she wondered. Was it an overabundance of testosterone, or simply in their nature to solve problems with force? She knew all men weren’t like this, but far too many of their gender certainly looked to violence as a solution to their problems.
They reached the memorial. Samantha saw what she had read about in school last year: the statues of a fisherman and a lumberman on the lower pedestal, symbolizing the Newfoundlanders who had served the war in the Merchant Marines and the Forestry Corps. Her father had spent years making a living on the sea, and her grandfather had served in the Forestry division in World War Two, before Newfoundland had even joined confederation. She peered up at the bronze figure atop the central and highest pedestal, a woman holding a torch aloft. Alas, in her other hand she too held a weapon, a sword drawn for battle.
Ben motioned for her to sit with him on the steps behind the monument, at the top of a concrete stairway leading to Water Street. Reluctantly, she acquiesced, tying the strings of her hood under her chin more tightly against the chill of the swirling wind. Too late, she realized the steps were wet, and she shivered as the water penetrated the seat of her jeans. The drizzle had changed to a shower, dampening her spirits even more.
“I know it’s no excuse,” Ben said. “But I was afraid of…of losing you too.”
Too? “But you didn’t lose Veronica. You broke it off. It was your choice.”
Ben looked straight ahead, scanning across the roofs on Water Street. “I’m not talking about Veronica. My mom left us, remember?”
Samantha regarded his face in profile. Why hadn’t the true source of Ben’s emotional pain occurred to her? Because she’d been wallowing in her own. She should have been more aware that he was going through a lot of the same stuff she was. They were both unwitting victims of divorce and its aftermath of missing the absent parent.
“I remember, and believe me, I know how rotted you feel. But at least you get to see her sometimes. I won’t see Daddy until December, and even that isn’t a certainty.” An image entered her mind of what she supposed a pretty young Beth Anne would look like, with her little boy Daniel, opening gifts under a Christmas tree. Her father hovering over them, smiling. Irritated, she pushed the mental picture away.
Ben didn’t respond, but finally tore his gaze away from the street and looked at her. Tears stood in his eyes, mingling with the rain on his face.
Like a light switching on in her head, Samantha had an epiphany. This boy was depressed. And he needed help.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I was tossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea, where billows of trouble rolled under surges of joy.”
- Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
Samantha woke up hot and sweaty in a pool of brilliant sunshine on her bed. She squinted at the clock on her bedside table: 10:20 a.m. She’d slept much longer than she intended. Padding to the bathroom, she heard her mother’s soft snores from behind her door. Veronica was nowhere to be seen; her door was open and her bed was neatly made. Slept over at Gina’s, Samantha supposed.
The house had yawned empty when she returned last night, cold and soaked to the skin by the time Ben had walked her home at 11:30 p.m. Most of the evening, they’d talked while tracking around the downtown neighbourhood, before stopping at the coffee shop to get warmed up with large soothing mugs of hot chocolate.
Ben had been reticent in discussing the possibility of his having depression, or of needing any sort of help. Just the same, Samantha hoped she had given him something to consider, gently asking him to think it over and to keep in mind she would always be around for support. The upshot, though, she said, was for him to find a better way, a less brutish way, to deal
with his problems, or she would not be able to be his girlfriend or even his friend. He had looked at her sharply, but nodded his understanding.
She’d decided against bringing up the pregnancy. They’d been through too much brouhaha for one day already. And like Ronnie not wanting to tell their father until she knew what she was going to do, she thought it best to wait too. She wouldn’t tell Ben anything until all the facts were in.
The rest of the evening they’d talked, learning more about one another. On the topic of university or trades school, he still hadn’t decided on a career path, though he had ideas kicking around in his head.
“My old man says the oil industry is looking mighty promising for the future, so he suggested I look into studying oil and gas engineering or technology, something like that. Or study business for that industry. Imagine me with an M.B.A.”
When he asked about her, she confessed her dream had always been to get a Fine Arts degree at the Grenfell College in Corner Brook. She knew it wasn’t practical as a career choice, especially with the stagnant economy and all, but it was her passion.
“The only other area that interests me is Biology, or maybe Psychology,” she admitted, her hands wrapped around the warm mug. She believed her introspective nature would be an asset for a biologist, which got them talking about her personality, and her preference for solitude or one-on-one company.
“Have you always self-analyzed like this?” he asked as he drained the last of his hot drink, smiling for the first time that night. “Maybe Psychology is for you.”
“It’s how I’ve come to know who I am. Of course I don’t like everything about myself, but at least I know why I do some of the things I do,” she’d admitted to him.
Samantha returned to her room and picked up her sketchpad. She opened it and examined the new drawing she had outlined. It was a likeness of the little girl she had seen at the harbour front on that rainy day. With her raincoat on and hood up, the little girl had her back to her and was looking out at the cruise ship leaving the Narrows. For effect, Samantha had decided to draw her alone, without her mother’s hand in hers as it was in the photograph. She wanted the picture to portray a youthful, solitary yearning for something.
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