Be My Friday Night (16 page)

Sam put her hands up in the air, exasperated.

“I hate this. I feel so out of control, and I hate it,” she said.

Layla put her hand on Sam’s back.

“You know, this is kind of a first world problem,” Layla said dryly.

Sam chuckled.

“Is it? I’m realizing I designed my first world life so I’d never have to feel like this. I was going to be self-sufficient and independent and pretty emotionless because emotions are stressful. Now I’m sitting here with my emotions, and someone else’s emotions for that matter, in my hands,” said Sam. Her words escaped in a loud whisper. Sam couldn’t bear to have anyone hear her lose it, especially at work, yet there was no way she could wait until after school to tell Layla how she felt. Sam had to get it out now.

“This is one of the reason’s I love art. I love it for so many reasons but one reason is I can feel so much, and no one else is involved. It’s just me and something someone’s made. It might connect me to a universal truth, but at the end of the experience I’m by myself. I’m in my body, no one else is really involved. There’s something about that I like,” said Sam.

Layla lifted her hand off Sam’s back. Sam looked up and watched her friend scratch her chin in thought.

“I hate to say it Sam, but I think you’re growing up,” said Layla.

Sam shot Layla a look.

"I am a grown-up. I've been one since I left home," said Sam.

“Hear me out. You’re getting pushed out of your comfort zone in a positive way. It’s great! It might not be easy, but it’s great. The best sides of you have been coming out when you’re around Otto. It’s lovely. Maybe he’s showing you the true version of yourself,” said Layla.

Sam frowned and took a gulp of her coffee.

“Layla, of all people you should know no person should find their true self through a romantic partner. Let alone someone they’ve been sleeping with for a few weeks,” said Sam.

Layla shrugged.

“Sure that’s what was told to us in our women’s studies classes at college, and you know most of the things we were taught in those classes saved our lives, but give yourself a break. You’re allowed to let a man who turns you on bring out the best in you. If you were losing yourself, or compromising too much I’d let you know. That’s what I’m here for,” said Layla. She patted Sam on the knee.

Sam looked into her coffee mug. Layla spoke the truth. You could always hear it in Layla’s voice when she spoke the truth. Her best friend had always been brave enough to speak it, even when it went against her own opinions. It was one of the many reasons why Sam loved her.

“Being with Otto has been fun,” said Sam.

Layla nodded.

“Funnily enough, I’m starting to learn that’s the point of all this love stuff. You've helped me see that,” said Layla.

Sam grinned. She was happy her confusion hadn’t been for nothing.

“Thanks,” said Sam.

“No problem,” said Layla. With that, she stood and walked off with her coffee to teach her afternoon classes.

* * *

A
fter Layla left
Sam sat alone at her desk. She felt at a loss, as if she was free falling through time and space. Yes, she’d just successfully taught a class full of high school students. She’d actually taught them content they'd enjoyed. It'd been easier to teach information she found fascinating too.

Rather than bask in the glory of her triumph, her mind kept traveling back to Otto's words. She’d been embarrassed, and mad, when he came dashing to her rescue. Sure, based in past events there was a damn good chance she would’ve needed help with the students. It was that disastrous event that had reconnected her and Otto only a few months ago.

She wasn’t sure what scared her more, the fact she could fight with Otto and it didn’t feel world ending, or that when she allowed Otto to be there for her it felt like being carried off on a cloud of content and pleasure. The idea pained and panicked her. Layla was right, letting someone be there for Sam was so out of her comfort zone. She had no idea how to go forward.

Her cell phone began to buzz on her desk. Sam looked down at it. She didn’t recognize the entire phone number, but she did recognize the area code. She let out a small gasp before composing herself and reaching for the phone.

* * *

“
M
aine
?” said Otto. The words rushed out of his mouth before he had time to compose himself.

Sam nodded. She felt pleased and depressed all at the same time about his outburst.

The look of sadness in his eyes caught her off guard. She scurried to salve the blow.

“Three days. That’s all. It’s for an interview for a professorship. I’ll be back to work on Monday,” she said.

Otto looked down at his desk.

“You know it’s not about you being able to be back at work by Monday,” he said.

Sam paused. She stood to leave. She’d rather say nothing than say how she felt, start a fight, and begin to cry in front of him. At the same time, she knew she needed to be truthful.

“Otto, when I came back to Grover all I wanted was to get this phone call. I couldn’t wait to get out of here. Now you’ve made me question everything I thought I wanted in life,” she said. It was hard to look him in the eye. She heard Otto take a deep breath.

“Sam. I want you to have everything you want. I want you to be happy. I’m happy if you’re happy,” said Otto.

Sam stopped in the doorway. She took a moment to stay still. She let her body tell her how she was feeling, and what she needed to do.

"I'm not even sure what's going to make me happy anymore. I need to go and figure this out," she said.

Sam walked out of the office and away from Otto. She needed to go for a walk. Her brain felt fuzzy. She wanted things to flow; everything was finally coming together. She had an interview and things looked promising. This was exactly what she wanted. Instead she only felt stunted and lost in a maze of many dead ends. She craved for things to just make sense and just work out. She had urges of what she wanted, but she couldn’t articulate it. The trees outside would understand. They’d never asked anything of her before.

* * *

T
hat night Sam
and Otto were quiet in his apartment. They sipped wine. They held each other close and didn’t say anything. The idea of watching TV or having a lively debate about something felt wrong. The idea of too much of anything made Sam’s stomach wrench.

Otto reached over and took the empty wine glass out of her hands. Sam looked around to realize she’d squished herself into the corner of his couch. She must’ve looked pretty pensive clutching her wine glass.

Otto returned and leaned over her. He put his arms around her and covered her mouth with his. Sam tilted her head back. She accepted his warmth and his strength. How strange it was. This was meant to be a transition phase to her new life, a life that could quite possibly start for her the day after tomorrow.

The problem was Otto.

Sam relaxed into the kiss, her body melding to Otto’s. Her brain wondered when she’d begun to let his kisses seep into her bones the way they did. This was dangerous territory. Sam knew her bones would ache with longing if she left, and it was never a good idea to go into a new exciting adventure with brittle bones.

Otto slipped his hands under her shirt and covered her breasts with his hands. Sam took in a sharp breath, and her body calmly told her brain to forget the desperate details.

Or I will get upset
. Sam’s body was in no mood for Sam’s nitpicky brain.

Otto’s hands moved from under Sam’s shirt to the seat of her leggings. He lifted her up. Sam wrapped her legs around him. She laughed in surprise as she continued to kiss him. Slowly he moved his mouth away from hers. She let out a small moan.

“I was thinking we could move this to the bedroom,” he said in a husky whisper.

Sam simply nodded, and he carried her to the bed.

* * *

“
Y
ou can’t go
,” said Layla.

Holly sat next to Layla. Her legs crossed, arms crossed, sitting on the very edge of the couch. Something about her struck Sam as brittle. It made Sam’s bones hurt all over again.

Sam let out a long breath of air.

“This is it guys. This is what I’ve worked so hard for. You know, for like the past eleven years of my life,” she said.

No one looked very impressed. Finally, Layla let out a huff to match Sam’s stubbornness.

“We know. We visited you while you were in grad school. Heck, I lived with you during undergrad, and here’s the first time in your life you haven’t been a wreck,” said Layla. She stared hard at Sam.

Sam stopped at Layla’s fighting words.

Holly cleared her throat to break through the tension.

“You were happy in the summers when you worked in the gallery. It was glamorous and fun. I loved visiting you when you worked there. It was so exciting,” said Holly.

Sam gave her a steely nod.

Sure those summers had been awesome. The gallery had been a special place. Not as high strung as most, and she’d been grateful for such a nurturing experience. It’d been a place where they’d take on a less than polished graduate student versus a glossy power hungry girl with a bachelor’s in art history, most usually a trust fund of some sort, and a penchant for vicious backstabbing.

“That was a special case. It was a summer job. It was just something to do in the meantime when I was just getting started,” Sam said.

“Was coming back to Grover something you were doing in the meantime? You haven’t been this happy in years,” said Layla. She rested her hand on Bob’s head.

“I don’t love being a secretary,” Sam said. Her voice was strained.

“You don’t have to be a secretary, but you know what we're saying. We just want you to be happy,” said Layla.

Holly nodded.

Sam crossed her arms and stood her ground.

"I've worked so hard for this," she said.

Layla's eyes began to water up. Sam was horrified. She knew her friend felt her pain. All that hard work. All those years of doing what she thought she was supposed to do.