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My Sister

HJ Taylor

    I always assumed my greatest strength was an ability to look ahead and see trouble. Predicting where the problem might be and when it might be coming is a very useful talent. Leave it to say as I look back that probably my one fundamental rule above all else in managing my life and typically coming out ahead is to keep my friends close and my enemies closer. Cliché? Maybe, but I find it true more often than anything else in this world. The only greater truth might be, blood is thicker than water... at least for some. These folks seem to be ahead of the game more than the rest.

    “What do you think?” I murmur then grunt. The only one around to listen to my rambling is the bird standing in the lake inlet. It’s easy to talk to a statue. The Saturday morning hike was mindless and fast, and absolutely nothing eventful happened.
    A beautiful Blue heron is standing in the shallows. He has a Leopard frog in his mouth. To my surprise he abruptly turns to the sound of my voice as if I was talking to him, which I guess I was, and then drops the thing. Somewhat stunned, I watch the limp amphibian hit the water and float for a second. Then the lucky bastard’s head turns ever so slightly still waiting for that next killing stab from his predator’s beak that doesn’t come. Playing dead is over, and froggy swims aggressively for the murky bottom where the muck there is a more suited camouflage. But the bird has turned its thin head straight at me.
    “Well?” I say, and then retreat a full step back as the heron moves forward within a yard of my foot and looks around. He cocks his head as if waiting for me to tell a story and then shakes his head. Enjoying the company, especially the type that is likely to have no input, I start to tell him what I know.

    When I first saw Sammy, my jaw dropped. The moment my head cleared and the room stopped spinning, I realized I was hopelessly and utterly in love. Yes, no shit, it was love at first site. Her slight alluring overbite, thin, finely chiseled chin, and square jaw, took my view to her lips. Those spectacular cat-shaped, green eyes, and magnetic display of energy that surrounded her just threw me off every time I was within a hundred yards of her. Her image spun some part of my brain every hour of the day. All of that happened before I ever even had the chance to study her splendid body or be in her bed. Amazing lovemaking was only a bonus. I never wanted anything like I wanted her in my life, before or since, and my need for her wasn’t dependent on sexual compatibility. That was a first. If she would have wanted to remain celibate, so be it... probably. But... she didn’t.
    She was a medical student and I was her attending physician instructor. Luckily for me she felt the same way, and had told her friends about me the moment she got home that the evening of her first day. Samantha Robinson made me nervous and tongue tied, something no other woman had ever done. She proceeded to break up with her boyfriend and tell everyone from her previous life that she was moving in with this older guy in the Midwest and probably not ever coming back to good old Cali.
    The month passed, her rotation with me ended, and we moved in with each other. Right or wrong, we didn’t hold back, and publically made the union official. We never left each other’s side. Sure, I was older by ten years, but I had a young enthusiasm. To any other woman I met, my career made me irresistibly charming, wanted, and trustworthy. Who wouldn’t want a smart, successful guy who stayed in shape, looked ten years younger than he was, was confident, and seemed to know what he wanted? When I met Sam, I was in charge of life and she jumped right in as if she were there from the beginning.
    Of course, knowing nothing about one another and moving so quickly, we were bound to find a few quirks and dark skeletons. But you know what? There weren’t too many, nothing either of us couldn’t handle, nothing that was a deal breaker by any means. We fell deeper in love every day and there was no end to that feeling in sight.
    
    “Getting sick yet?” I ask the bird. The damn thing shakes its head and ruffles its wings but remains right there staring at me. So I go on with the yarn.

    We joked about features that we liked on each other. She said my shoulders and long, wavy brown hair, the way I held her when we slept, and the idea I always got what I wanted. She was probably being entirely truthful, that’s how Sammy is. The world is this perfect place just ready to flow by in harmony with every other vibe in the universe. “You just have to grab the right thing when it comes along,” she always said. And she lived that way. Really she did. Nobody loved me better, harder, or more complete. She was scared shitless of commitment or talking about forever, but I never had any doubts about either in connection with us.
    My favs, on the other hand, were that she had the perfect ass, most amazing eyes, and a beauty without make-up that was undeniable. Not everyone fell in love with Sammy the first second like I did, but everyone fell in love with her eventually, a fact I soon had to get used to. I’d never met a girl other men, as well as women, wanted to be close to like her. The fact of the matter was that there was some kind of magnetic pull and give within, and around her that I could never get my finger on. Was she a witch, or was there really some kind of chemical shared that made us mad for each other, as if we could never get enough, like I wanted to just crawl up inside of her and get lost there forever?
    One day when she came home I was waiting for her. I told her to pack and that we were going on a surprise trip. Sammy was young and had never been treated like an adult with fancy gifts and exotic travel, so she was easily excitable. Her idea of a great time was hiking, being frugal, and doing things for others. She got nervous at the idea that somebody was doing something “grown-up” like that for her. At first I didn’t understand her hesitation, but since I had gone to a lot of trouble setting this thing up and organizing every detail, I stuck to my guns and pushed her upstairs to pack. “Get used to it,” I said. “This is going to happen for the rest of your life.”
    She was a long way from home, and medical school stole so much of her time that her family had not seen her in over a year. Her one demand that she made quite clear at the onset was that her family always be a part of “our” life. “Give me that,” she said, “and I’ll never look back.” For her to say such a thing, I thought odd, that a indebted family girl, somebody as close to her father as she described herself as being, ever got away so far from home. Why would she choose to go to the Midwest? Why would they let her? She was obviously smart enough to get into med school anywhere. Why Indiana? I knew there had to be a reason, and that it would come out eventually... when she was ready. But how bad could it be? No way anything that could affect us. Well, on the outside it didn’t seem bad, but deep in the interworking’s of complicated relationships, it was potentially deadly... for me.
    Her only sister lived in NYC. Apparently she was shacked up with a guy Sammy and her gay friend Elizabeth had met while hiking on five dollars a day in Costa Rica. She described him as a “nice” guy who came from a lot of money. But I knew the way Sammy talked about people that she liked, and that wasn’t it. There they were, two good looking college girls, stuck in a foreign country out of money, single, and met no guys, that’s hard enough to believe. That she didn’t even party with him and his friends? Something sounded fishy. By the way she talked about him I knew she wasn’t lying. My impression was that he was a rich boy wanna be who was obviously plastic and unable to show any depth. Turns out I was right. Did I leave out, potentially ruthless, psychopathic, and dangerous?
    Long story short, my surprise trip was to go to New York, hang out with her sister, and go to amazing restaurants, stay up all night, then go on a shopping spree for a Broadway play that was sold out for a year in advance that I managed to get tickets to for an arm and a leg. When she finally found out our destination during a layover in Philly, she was far from thrilled.
    Oh, she put on a good show, said all the right things, but there was something amiss. I just couldn’t figure it out. Sammy got excited about going to a park, but she was distant and edgy for the first time ever in our life together.
    “What’s wrong,” I asked. “Why?” I tried to be patient at first and beat around the bush, but that never worked with Sam. Finally, I had to push the subject to an almost argument level. “Tell me, Sammy, why you’re bummed out?”
    She hadn’t known whether to pack for sun or cold for this excursion. I know she thought we were going to Tahiti or Vale, or something like that. Even when she was guessing I was starting to get an odd feeling I had made a mistake. But wouldn’t such a family girl be thrilled that I actually took the time to call up her sister and set up a visit? You would think so, but she wasn’t.
    Sammy sat back on the cushy first class seat. She slugged down a glass of champagne, while she stared blankly out the window. Then she asked for some vodka. I had some Percocet and Ritalin and we each shared one to take the edge off what I assumed was going to be rough sailing.
    “Didn’t you ever wonder why I ended up in Muncie?” she asked. Her eyes were still so far away, a fear I’d never related to ran through my body. She was totally disconnected. I couldn’t feel her energy and I was suddenly sure she was going to leave me. The vibrant green in each eye looked almost lime with this glaze cover on them.
    “Yea, don’t you remember? You said because there were so many med schools in the state that your chances of getting in were higher.” But even as I said the words I knew that the recollection would never fly. She had an IQ of 158, way higher than mine, and she went to great undergrad schools with pretty good grades. She was level headed, personable, and interviewed great. Why wouldn’t she have went somewhere in her home state of California? Why wouldn’t she have gone anywhere but here? When I looked up, she was looking at me with a disappointed face that made me feel like a child. “You did say that,” I added, defensively. Then I punted. “I just figured you’d tell me the truth when the time was right.”
    That softened her a bit. Her body language changed, and she appeared to be seeing through the negative parts of the trip, and more on, why I brought her.
    “I needed to get away,” she said, and her eyes stared away towards the pilot’s cabin. Of course she didn’t see them. She was looking into a window into her past. “They were smothering me... draining me. I was empty and literally turning into nothing.” Her voice turned monotone and low. If I wasn’t watching her lips move I would have thought she was one of my patients from the psych ward on lithium. The woman talking just wasn’t the girl I knew.
    Suddenly I was horrified by the realization. There was a whole other girl inside mine that I knew nothing about. There was never a judgment as to whether or not to stay with her. I could never give Sammy up. The quandary was about how to protect her, to keep that side of her hidden and gone forever. We all have two sides. Some, maybe lots more. Those with just one personality are the sharks. There are no exceptions. Those are the creatures to avoid at all times.
    “I was in love with a boy,” her eyes flickered back to mine. “Not like this, babe. Nothing like this, but I didn’t know about this, then. Then, he was everything. He made a mistake...” She trailed off and I knew she meant that he had cheated. Something she felt very strongly about and, although she might give a boy one chance to screw up, she would never be the same again.
    I tried to imagine losing the girl that I knew for a more superficial version of herself. Instead my brain revolted and a huge shiver went from my neck into my balls. Instead of imagining that, I just shuddered.
    Sammy continued. “They are draining... my mom and sister. It’s hard to explain. But especially Carol.” Carol is the younger sister by a year. Apparently driven to marry money since she could talk, always right about any topic, and been playing the part of rich bitch since junior high so she would be ready for the role when she found the right guy, being especially careful to never burn bridges of anyone in a social class above her, Carol is domineering to say the least. It seemed that if Carol didn’t come up with the idea, decision, or the okay, trouble quickly ensued.
    As it turned out, the mom sounded like any other conservative mom concerned about the families’ reputation. She wanted to look sharp, have a healthy social life, and her girls around. But to have a younger sister worse than that? Considering how confident and valuable Sammy’s stock is? Now, that was hard to believe.
    “We broke up because of them. I rebelled, and they made me pay. Told them it was me and him or neither of us. Then the fun started. Carol set me up with lie after lie. Then she set him up with one of her friends. In the end, she told me to dump him or she’d make damn sure he was ruined once and for all.”
    I recall listening in amazement. I can visualize almost anything, but not that. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant exactly, but I didn’t really want to know either. Her dad sounded like this fantastic guy who just wanted the best for them both, who did everything in his power to provide for his three women, had a spine, but favored Sammy, something Carol was never going to forgive her for.
    Things went great in New York... at least in the beginning. Carol was short and cute. She had dark stylish, shoulder length hair, and deep brown eyes. She was proper and demanding with perfectly manicured nails, expensive clothes and jewelry, but very cordial, polite and enthusiastic about our future together. She was more than impressed that I took the time to call her before anyone else and set this trip up for Sammy. Her husband was the life of the party, a balding, big nosed Jewish fellow who was very intelligent and knowledgeable about many things including food, wine, and restaurants. He belonged to a social hierarchy well above what my Midwestern small town upbringing would ever enable. His most prized asset was name dropping and knowing about who was who, a subject that seemed to be on the top slot of both Carol and Simon’s priority list, but as a doctor, I was used to being around that.
    Eventually even Sammy relaxed and had fun. She reminisced about old days, talked mostly about us, but freely discussed meeting Simon and his friends in Costa Rica. I could tell by the conversation that there was nothing hidden about the subject, no uncomfortable stares or pauses or incomplete sentences. They had no interest in one another. Apparently Sammy had dressed herself like a skinny little boy most of the trip, a type of woman much different than the made up beauties Simon was used to and would likely marry. Apparently Simon was more concerned about getting his import business set up and his sixteen year old Tican woman than finding some new snotty, diamond in the rough American like Sammy. Lucky for me, I have a nose for that kind of thing.
    However, as the night wore on, I could tell he thought that maybe he had made a mistake. I caught a few of his friends eyeing her and pointing, then whispering to Sammy. He began seeing her in a different light. Sammy wore a long, silver dress and was the hit of the ritzy place we had dinner in. Simon couldn’t keep his eyes off her and began directing the conversation to Sam. He was impressed that Sammy had liked him enough to set him up with her own sister, but at the same time he let it be known on more than one occassion that he had passed her up in Central America. If not for that important decision, I would have never had a chance to be with her now.
    I kept my mouth shut, and instead of going head to head with an arrogant ass out of my element, proceeded to do shots with the guy and listen to his bullshit as if he were teaching me something. The guy who securely has what he wants is always in control. But what began creeping me out more as the night wore on, all of us drunk off our asses, were these odd times when Carol was watching me with this bland facial expression, the most memorable part were those dead doll eyes.
    I have great peripheral vision, a trait that made me an outstanding college quarterback, so good that almost nobody can relate to it. I keep the trick to myself because the ability almost always gives me a lot of useful intel. Whenever she would stare like that, I thought addressing it would be the most honest approach. But when I would turn and look at her, she would start talking, or give me a great, warm smile with her glass up ready to toast me and her sister’s love for each other as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. But the telltale sign of trouble came when I caught her off guard as we were leaving to go back to their apartment.
    “Simon, where are the keys?” she kept asking, but it was more of a firm, accusatory demand then a pleasant question. He shrugged his shoulders. Just previous to this point, we were all laughing and doing a shot with the bar owner.
    As she was digging through her purse, then through his coat pockets, and finally through Sammy’s handbag, I jokingly said, “Hey, Carol, need some money?” I took it for granted we were all family, that the stiff part of the relationship was far behind us, along with the worse of her personality. But immediately, I regretted letting my guard down. This girl was nothing like her sister who I could trust with my life. She was envious, judgmental, and insecure. The turn was so abrupt, the change reminded me of the violent, quick snap from a crocodile on a zebra’s neck who was but a frozen statue the second before.
    She snapped, “There’s nothing I need from you, Joe.” Her voice was low. Carol’s mouth was a painted smile, but her eyes glared.
    Sammy stiffened and was pulling my elbow away, at first softly, but after I didn’t respond, far more firmly. She knows I never back down from a fight, physically, mentally, or verbally. I am typically quit witted, and can usually hold my own with just about anyone. I was just too ripped to get what was going on. Was this real? Could she be serious? This was Sammy’s family I kept telling myself. She is just blowing this whole Carol thing out of proportion. I could relate. I had done so myself before many times. No way could such a good soul come from demented stock. But again, this way of thinking made me underestimate my adversary, all because of the respect I had for the love of my life.
    “Huh,” I grunted with a smart-ass smile on my face. I shook my head to move my long bangs back over one ear and smiled wide to show my all-American boy teeth, one of my best moves for winning and diffusing. Never taking my eyes off Carol, I leaned down to Sammy as if I was going to whisper in her ear. But I talked loud enough for everyone to hear. “Damn glad I called your sis first, baby doll, a week after we met.”
    The owner of the bar roared and started to hand me a last shot of tequila. Even Simon smiled, but it was reserved as if my comment had a low probability to work in any kind of favorable way. He backed away when he moved as if a cobra might be about to jump out of one of the girl’s purses. Of course he would never rush forward to save anybody, not Simon. That wouldn’t be his style. Again, I missed the sign. My third lemon of the night.
    Carol was looking down at the table when I spoke, still looking for keys I suppose. She did not quickly look up after. But I saw her eyes grow. The brown irises’ filled each socket. As they dilated, her eyes turned dark just like a snake’s. Then I heard a loud crack as if someone had snapped their fingers, but it wasn’t that. The sound came from Carol’s jaw popping. Finally I heard a grinding sound that came to me as shrill as a child scratching a chalkboard with his fingernails. This sound was from her jaw rolling and her teeth rubbing.
    “No, Joe,” Carol said calmly, but loud and slow. She wanted everyone to hear.
    Nobody spoke and I felt alone out on a stage with this creature. Outside my perception the room had doubled and everyone took a few steps back. Sammy had let go of my elbow and already moved toward the front door. She was not about to help me. She was petrified. I remember thinking what a strong person Sammy is. What might make her so scared with me around? Then I knew.
    Carol’s head looked up with the same methodical precision that Godzilla might after being hit with a rock thrown by a child. Her face was round and every opening was black like a jack-o-lantern. Only one side of her thin lips curved up in a mock sign of friendship. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
    I said nothing, but stood up straight. My intent was to take the lashing like a brave soul, but making my joints work seemed like such a chore. The words had such dramatic pause between each one that I felt like a shortstop in the middle of thousands who just made an error during the last game of the World Series. All alone, and on my own. I couldn’t speak and had nowhere to go. I just bit my lip and slowly shook my head, no. I didn’t think at all that she was stupid. Such a word never crossed my mind or was intended. Quite the contrary, just like I thought Sammy was amazing, I figured her family would be too. After all, she lived with them growing up. She had to gain such great traits and karma from somebody. But not from Carol. Did I overestimate Sammy’s sister as well as underestimate her? Man, I remember thinking. How could I get something so wrong?
    Then she lashed into me. “You arrogant hick. Who do you think you are? You called me a month after the two of you met. A month! Not a week!”
    Spittle flew from her lips, yet her face was controlled and frozen in that doll look. The side of her mouth that had been trying to smile was now flinching. Carol’s head was shaking and I swear her hair was standing on end like a black cat’s. The only thing that changed was her tone. Was she taller than me, I recall thinking? I’m six-two, and Sam’s sister is maybe five foot. Her shoulders were hunkered up and each arm stiffly braced on the table, the purse squarely between them. I was sitting on one of those kindergarten chairs the teachers put the parents in during student conferences.
    She started to scream with a high pitched moaning quality. “You fucking ass! Both of you...” and she looked to the door for Sammy but she was gone. “Both of you made a mess here! Neither of you called or told anyone. You just started your own fucking pretty little lives without asking anybody. A month it took you! A month!” She put her tiny, red fist hard against the thick oak table top. She had to break a knuckle I had thought, but she showed no pain. “Asshole!” and that word echoed through the bar. Everyone was watching.
    Then the one person I trusted in the world did come back for me. She said nothing at first, just floated forward in that ghostly she way that she has. Silently, she walked between the crazy witch Carol had become, and myself. Tears were streaming from her face. She took me by the arm and wiggled her fingers inside all of mine. She squeezed the moment before she knew that I would try and talk, and instead whispered. “Why?” Her face was white and she stood in front of me. “Why? This...sister, you will not take.” Then she led me out the door into the cold, snowy, busy New York night.
    Without trying, I caught a last glimpse on Carol’s face, a confident smirk that said, “We tried this once before.” The last words I heard from her were, “My sister...” but we started running before I could hear anything more. We found a hotel and spent the rest of the weekend blissfully alone; getting to know one another to a whole new level neither of us thought was possible. Instead of hurting us, Carol had brought us closer together. I asked Sammy why she looked so relaxed the whole time we were together, as if everything was okay. She replied, “I know my sister. She can be pleasant for three days at most. And I know you. If anybody can take her on, you can. I just figured it might be good for a little while longer.” Then she smiled. Little did either of us know, despite the fact she would marry Simon and move out west, that she would eventually come back to get us.
    Two weeks later on the nose, she called. Sure, she apologized, even cried on the phone. Wouldn’t any schemer? Calm things down... before the storm? Direct confrontation didn’t work, so she tried a more indirect method. Of course, I thought myself immortal, and Sammy’s love indestructible. What I didn’t account for was that although I might be immortal and Sammy may love me no matter what, I was destructible, and Sammy might give up.
    At first, Carol’s interference amounted to subtle things. Avoiding her forever was impossible. We had to meet her family. Carol and Simon got married on an exotic island, so we were forced to be around them especially when Sammy was named Maid of Honor. Carol again got the upper hand. Finally we were guilted into going on their home turf at Sammy’s mother’s request. “Be the bigger couple,” she insisted. Timidly we entered while everyone watched. It was like moving in on another animal’s territory.
    Looking back, the tiniest things fly across my mind’s eye like an old movie tape, frame by frame. One time I caught Simon slapping Sammy on the ass. He did it so hard; the cracking sound his palm made could be heard around their house. Why we were there, I’ll never know, but once again my guard was down, and I was lured there by a false sense of security. Time healed all wounds or some bullshit like that. I was so stunned, as I watched from the kitchen doorway I nearly laughed out loud. Carol was in the next room but there was no way she didn’t hear the slap or know what was going on.
    Sammy and Simon were doing dishes together just joking around when he did it. Then he said, “Looks like I picked the wrong sister.” That’s when I stepped in.
    “Don’t think you really had a choice.” I mumbled as if he was the lowest thing on the totem pole.
    That’s when Carol came dancing in and stepped right between me and them both as if I wasn’t even there. If she hadn’t of winked as she waltzed by, I might have thought she hadn’t.
    “That’s not how I showed you,” she commanded. Then she wacked herself so hard on her right butt cheek that the sound actually hurt my ears. She went up on her tiptoes and whispered to Simon loud enough for me to hear. “Play your cards right, baby, maybe you can have us both.” Simon smiled but offered no signs of embarrassment that he had been caught doing something wrong redhanded.
    Then I did something I rarely ever needed to do. I made a control move and squeezed Sammy’s ass, then kissed her passionately. He just laughed like anything I might have saw was one big misunderstanding. Sammy didn’t. She was pissed. We argued later and for the rest of the trip. Even our plans to be alone in wine country were thwarted when Carol and Simon pleaded to tag along.
    It got to the point that every time we were together, Simon and Carol would try to compete with us at some kind of sport or another. We are both natural athletes, so together or one on one, we always whipped them. One time playing tennis Carol started calling Simon names every time he made a bad shot or missed one of ours. It got so loud and degrading that for the first time I actually started feeling sorry for the guy. We decided to call it quits when she hurled her racket at him from only a few feet away. It hit so hard his feet were taken out from under him and he limped the rest of the day. Their attitudes started becoming so bad, I started letting Simon win at things. I thought Sammy believed me. Why wouldn’t she? But it was the only way to bear being near them. Who would have thought that from there on out, there was no winning or losing. I became the catalyst of the continuing conflict between Sammy and her family.
    On another visit, a cousin came up to me concerned. The little boy asked if Sammy and I were breaking up. I asked him why he would think such a thing. He then showed me around the house. There weren’t any pictures of myself, alone or with Sammy, hanging up or sitting on counters at Carol and Simon’s. He was right. I continued the investigation to her mom and dad’s, both who assured me that there were several on their walls and even one on the fridge. But when we later went to their home, not one picture could be found. Both her parents seemed genuinely puzzled. It not only hurt my feelings, but put me on guard. Sammy thought I was imagining the idea and weird that I would even notice such a trivial, plastic thing. She insisted that even if it were true that there was some obvious explanation, an oversight or such, and that I was becoming too sensitive and obsessed over the matter. I know she just wanted everyone to get along. Samantha was getting comfortable with our relationship. Looking back, we were both taking the fantastic experience for granted, and it was cruising a bit on remote control on a slightly lower priority level as is normal after a few years. Regardless, our love was still amazing with no end in sight. I know Sammy addressed the issue with Carol and her mom in her preferred, non-confrontational way. But I never heard anything more about it. A few token photos started showing up in awkward places like the restroom, or extra bedroom.
    Leave it to say that the visits became more infrequent and I began always pushing for them to take place on neutral turf. Christmas’s were spent at Tahoe; Carol and Simon had their friends and we had ours. Our relationship with them became superficial, yet cordial. We were sometimes close but out of arm’s reach. But there were still always those awkward moments.
    One time when Carol had me alone, she told me they were uncomfortable with the way her father was spending money at the casinos. She was afraid he would spend all her inheritance... and ours. She asked me to have him committed, being that I was a doctor. “Can’t we do something, Joe? Teach him a lesson? Have an exit strategy?” When she said that, I knew Simon the business man was behind things too. Carol was bright but not educated in accounting or banking.
    I told Sammy immediately about it. She looked at me as though I had gone insane. Looking back, I think Carol had gotten to her first because she started relating to my criticism of her sister and brother-in-law differently, as though maybe I was making them out to be worse than they really were so we didn’t have to spend as much time with her family. I felt stuck in a corner. Crying wolf would be a death sentence and any further complaints without proof would discredit me for good.
    No, Sammy never admitted that Carol and her had talked, but what else could have caused her new take on them both? A wide gap developed in our relationship for the first time. When Carol finally got pregnant after all the drawn out drama of infertility and past abortions, things really changed. I felt alienated and alone, and Sammy got closer to her mother and sister. She wanted to be a great aunt, who wouldn’t? But when Carol and Sam decided to let the past be the past and start a new relationship without my consent or involvement, I wanted nothing to do with it. That’s when I started drinking every night and doing more than an occasional recreational oxycodone or snort of coke.
    A few months later, this time Simon approached me concerning Sammy’s father. He was old and not responding to the old Parkinson’s drugs as well anymore. He had breathing problems from a long history of smoking and put both of these together, the old man was becoming frustrated with life.
    Everyone else moved out to the back yard balcony, but Simon kept me trapped in conversation lagging behind far out of earshot from Sammy. He kept up his usual smiling business party faŤade as we talked. “Knowing old Ben’s lifestyle,” Simon confided. “I don’t think he wants this anymore.” Ben no doubt was a tough old guy who at one time had life by the balls but kept it all in perspective. He played hard and worked harder. His illnesses were bad turns, I had to agree, but the diseases were hardly doing him in yet. I saw this kind of thing all the time in practice, depression after heart attacks and cancer. They could bounce back. But Simon continued and insisted. He admitted that he had not said anything to Carol yet and was afraid she might not understand, but I knew better. She was behind everything the two of them did. I was beginning to think anymore that Simon was nothing more than a pawn, a nutless lapdog, and Carol was using a different tactic to get me to screw up. I said nothing to Simon as he continued, but listened. “This way of life is killing the old guy.”
    He asked me to go for a ride a bit later. He said he had to get something off his chest. I was skeptical to say the least, but Sammy insisted that I go. “He’s just trying to get to know you better. Maybe you’ll be surprised with what he says. For me, hon? Please?” Then she kissed me like she used to, grabbed me in the crotch, and made promises I just couldn’t resist. Sammy even said she wanted my baby, something she swore she would never do... again a contradiction, considering the woman loved all human life. Why wouldn’t she, of all people, want to bring one into the world? Then she made the closing deal. “Make peace and I’ll marry you.” Something I had been bringing up a lot lately. I was starting to feel like we might be drifting apart and I couldn’t have that. Wouldn’t have that! I knew Sammy would probably never leave me if we stayed just “living together”, she was a dedicated girl who knew when she had what she wanted. But if we were married, it would be a done deal.
    We pulled into the parking lot of a small river bar where the conversation started off simple enough, but took off right where it left off about Sammy’s dad. “We’ve become closer, Joe. Haven’t we? Like brothers? And I never had a brother.” Then he sniffed. I was paralyzed and speechless. With me still in a daze, he continued. “Ben would never ask you himself. You know the stubborn old fart, but he and I have a special relationship being that we live so close to one another. You know he’s coaching my softball team?” I shook my head that I didn’t, even though I knew he was, and the fact disgusted me after all the things they said about the old guy that I loved more than my own father. I could just imagine how they made fun of him trying to hit and run. “Joe... Dr. Joe. He’s begged me more than once to talk with you. He wants to know if there is an easy way... how should I put this... a quicker way for him to go?”
    I damn near ran out of the car and drug him into the water. I would have too, drown him, if I thought I could kill the bastard and not be seen. But the outdoor bar patio was packed and I was caught off guard, as usual, by one of the two greatest manipulators in the universe. Instead, I just distantly shook my head and added, “If he discusses it with me, I’ll consider it.”
    But that was a lie. I would never do that to Ben, not even if he begged me too... or to Sammy. She adored the guy and he loved her. He would stay in this world crippled if he had to, just so he could spend more time with her. He told me so... apparently something Simon and Carol didn’t know... or maybe they did. If I ever did anything like that for any reason, good or bad, Sammy and I would be over. I was taking a chance even telling her about what Simon said. If she somehow took the whole thing as my idea, we’d be curtains for sure.
    Before I could tell Sammy anything, everyone back home was drunk and crazy, including Carol who was on her best behavior... my new best friend. That evening, Simon told a story about one of his old fraternity brothers from college, an Italian kid, who was... shall we say, connected? His eyes kept looking right at me. At first I took the shifting stare as his way to connect. My brother! Yuk! Then it hit me. This is a warning. Carol and Sammy sat next to each other with their legs intertwined. For the first time in a long time at a family gathering, she wasn’t right next to me.
    “If I wanted to have someone killed... seriously, he would do it. He told me as much.” Then one last time he looked at me and shook his head. Everyone else sounded amazed, but didn’t notice our connection. Sammy was oblivious, lost in the adoration of sister love.
    I couldn’t take the fake camaraderie or bullshit anymore. I needed to escape. I tried to get Sammy to party with me, the way her and I used to do alone, but she wouldn’t. I wanted to melt away everyone else in the room except the two of us, but the idea didn’t seem important to her. “What kind of baby do you want to have doing that stuff?” she hinted and giggled. Her happiness was disgusting. I had to hide.
    Instead, I stormed away and started doing anything and everything I could get my hands on. An hour later, Ritalin, Percocet, and cocaine heavy in the system, not to mention a half a bottle of Jack, I could tolerate them all. Barely. That habit continued, in a heavy duty way.
    Six months later, Sammy’s Dad showed up out of the blue. Our business had become demanding, both of us spending over sixty hours per week at the office and barely getting buy. Our bills were high and our lifestyle too lush. My habits were making me unable to focus and my business savvy suffered. Sammy and I were disconnected because she was either working or talking about having babies, and not on my wavelength of partying all the time. I was completely lost and falling from grace fast.
    His approach was weird because Ben and I were close, very close. But that night when he walked in with no bags, he had no eye contact, and Ben was the type to judge a man based based on two things right up front, eye contact and a firm handshake. The two of us went out to have a drink.
    “Joe, how are you two doing?” Ben asked.
    I must have looked at him funny. I’ll admit I was surprised. He never, not even once before, judged me, or dug into our private life together. He was so much like Sammy that sometimes it was hard to remember which one you were talking to.
    “Let me put this another way,” he said. “I’m going to be straight. Rumor has it that you might be being a bit too strong... too hard on Sam. You might not be my business, Joe, but she is. She is everything to me. God knows what it’s like to run a business. I’ve been there. Things get crazy. And trust me, son. I don’t believe a word. This... this...” Then he shook his head frustrated. “Shit!” he blurted. “This came out in a family...” He stopped right there not wanting to give away who said anything. Apparently they had a meeting about this with family members, whoever in the hell that might be. “Anyway,” he continued. “I had to come here and see for myself. I hate grape vining and god damn rumors. I pride myself in knowing people and I know a cheater when I see one.” Then Ben did something right before my eyes that he had never let me see him do before. He looked me over head to toe. I was damn near ready for him to ask me to spin around, but instead, he went on. “I know a physical man against a woman when I see one. You’re neither. Not that or a cheater, but some people are good liars, Joe...”
    Don’t I know it, I thought as he spoke. Was he warning me, then? But Ben, my man, you got the wrong one under scrutiny I wanted to say. I pray to God you figure this out because if you don’t, I’m screwed. Your daughter is blind, even though I love her to death. But I said none of this out loud.
    “They said you got another woman. They think you might be abusing Sammy... physical or mentally, I don’t know, but they brought up some compelling points, Joe. That same month Sammy had two black eyes...”
    Yea, I thought, and everyone knows the story. Sammy can be klutzy, especially when she gets competitive or in a hurry. We’ve been so busy lately we haven’t had an off minute in months. One black eye came on a wave runner when she refused to fall in the water on a wide turn and insisted on hanging on because she didn’t have time to change her clothes if she got wet. The other was from her giving herself Botox injections and accidently hitting a vein. Yet it was odd, I had to admit, both of them coming so close together. Although I never thought about those black eyes at the time, I guess if someone had told me the story I’d be suspicious myself.
    “What do you think?” I asked him point blank. There was no way to defend myself. I had to fall to his judgment.
    “I know my daughter better than anyone else but you. The moment I walked into your house I knew by the way she watches you, the way you touch, your own reaction when I stood in your doorway when you answered the doorbell and let me in with not so much as a break in stride that there was no way any of that bullshit was true. You’re one of a kind!” Then he got serious again. “I respect you, boy. None of this, not a word, goes to Sam.”
    Reluctantly I agreed. Biggest mistake of all time. Again I underestimated my opponent. Carol and Simon knew if their plot backfired about Ben, he’d do exactly what he just did. Trap me without knowing he had.
    Ben’s health declined over the next few months so we had him move in with us. Right about that time, I began getting emails from some unknown source calling themselves my friend. At first I thought they were from Ben, or some other younger cousin that might like me. Then I figured the anonymous source was one of Sammy’s old friends from school. I never could quite figure it out. I’m not sure even today. But they were very informative. They were always about Carol and Simon... or their family posy, or friends who had an opinion about me and Sammy, and our life together.
    Two early example emails were pretty innocent and nothing that surprised me. Simon and Carol’s kids had a pet turtle. It died, so we sent them three baby ones through the internet. They were ecstatic, but I was never allowed to talk to them about it. My exclusion from the surprise kind of hurt my feelings especially when Sammy would talk to Carol about how she should do this or she should do that with the turtles. I was the turtle king, for crying out loud! I kept ours alive for years without a problem and they’re still ticking.
    The email came the next day after he moved in. I was so tweaked up from doing cocaine that I could hardly see straight. It read, “Carol told Sammy that the turtles had to come from her. Simon said if they came from Joe that he would either eat them as sushi, or smash them with his boot.” The second message came later that week, and it mentioned that Carol couldn’t wait until both Simon and I were dead and buried so her and Sammy could be close again.
    By this time, Sammy thought that I was a paranoid fool. I was wasted most of the time and we were losing money far too fast and not making enough. Things were spinning out of control and for the first time in my life things were not going as planned. Without being able to trust anyone, Sammy included, I just hid in my room and did nothing... except drugs and drink. My confidence was shot and I started hating the world, blaming it all, of course, and most appropriately on .... Da, da, da-da! Carol and Simon.
    But it was the night that Ben died when everything was pushed over the edge.
    He left for Belize to go fishing. Apparently Carol called a few days later and said he was sick and in the hospital. Simon was going to pick him up. Now, this made no sense to me since he wasn’t a doctor and we both were. But before I could argue, Carol added, “We know you guys are not doing so well financially and are very busy, so Ben doesn’t want Joe or you to come.”
    What she said had to be true because there was no way Simon and Carol could know such a thing. We never told them. Sure, Simon was a bull shitter. He had friends all over the place. Some in the same town we lived in that we never realized until he introduced them to us. But to have a grasp on our private life? That would be below the belt even for them. We couldn’t be that fully on their mind... could we?
    My knee jerk reaction was that she must be telling the truth. It wasn’t until two weeks later when Carol called to say that Ben had died when he and Simon decided to drive back from Central America that I thought about our very complicated relationship with each other. She went on to say that they took so long coming back and didn’t fly because they were having such a great time hanging out together and Ben was doing so much better than expected. Out of nowhere he had a relapse and they were unable to revive him in the hospital. Too convenient?
    Another call that night was from Carol on my cell. Sammy was taking Ativan and strung out, nearly in a coma to avoid thinking about life without her father. Carol knew enough to use this to her advantage.
    “Joe,” she said in a motherly way. “It’s just you and me, now. Sammy won’t be able to handle this. Simon is racked with guilt. Get her out here. The lawyer wants us all there by the weekend. And Joe, I know you’ll understand. Who wouldn’t really? Even the lawyer and the executor of the will agree that Simon and I are entitled to an additional ten thousand from the will for their trip home. It really cost us a lot more to go out there and get him, then drive him back. Those last few days were hell for Simon. But he insisted, you know. He told Simon to take the money out of the account. You guys know we take care of all of Ben’s finances, right?”
    I just hung up. Screwed over again! I began to think about how far they might go to know everything about us. All the way, of course! They likely did know everything about us including our banking accounts. Of that, I became absolutely and thoroughly convinced. I decided never to underestimate them again. The only problem was how deep down in the gutter I was. Sure I did most of the damage myself getting hooked on drugs and nearly broke. But they pushed every button possible. So far they had played Sammy and me to a tee. Ben paid for taking them so lightly. I wasn’t about to let that happen to the two of us. No way! Under no circumstances would they get that close again.
    I began to think of every possible way they might be intertwined in our life. They were loaded, so why not bugs or private detectives? I fought single handedly to keep them both from the extra ten thousand dollars. They blackballed me with the rest of the family and made sure no one ever spoke to me again. But overall I had won by successfully keeping us together and out of their grasp. I had to show them I still had balls and could beat them. Just once, I had to do it. Sammy withdrew even further. She was depressed and distant. The funeral was a disaster. We both came home and lived in separate worlds until the visitor came... or so I thought.
    The last email came the night he came. The note read, “Joe. Watch out. The same thing that happened to Ben is going to happen to you. Look up Jimmy Morrelli on Facebook. Be careful. Your friend.”
    What the hell did that mean, I thought? I read the same message over and over again. I never showed Sammy the emails. Instead, I just hinted to their content to see what her reaction would be. If I told her straight out she would have just thought I was sending them to myself to set poor, little, innocent Carol up. Then it hit me. I recalled Simon bragging about his Italian buddy from college. I looked up the name on Facebook and narrowed it down to one kid that was Simon’s age who went to Syracuse University.
    It showed a picture of the boy at a frat party. He was stocky and muscular looking, clean-cut with dark shadows around his eyes. He was good looking, thick head of hair and dark brown eye brows, but at the same time he contained a wild vacant look in those eyes. The kind that said anything was possible. There were all kinds of Morelli’s from New York, many in shady enough business’s like arcade games and the food service, but none I could link directly to Jimmy without taking a chance on giving myself away. I couldn’t keep this from Sammy. Even if it meant another death blow for “us”, I decided to confide in her.
    She was lying on the bed curled up under two blankets watching some shopping network show. She never got in the bed unless one of two things was on her mind, sex or sleep, and she never watched television. I told her about what happened, and then showed her the picture of the guy. She said nothing but in the end did the most hurting thing she had ever done to me. She wrinkled her nose after she sniffed my face, then shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’re doing coke again.” Then she lay back down as if I weren’t even there. Okay then, I thought. It’s all up to me.
    I began seeing the kid all over town the next few days, at Wal-Mart, working out in the gym, walking down the sidewalk, or driving past us at a stop sign. Never had I drunk more or did more drugs. None of my choices were good... die, fight, or lose Sammy. Why did I want to remember any of them?
    The last night I saw Sammy I was sitting at the dining room table. In the mirror, I did a double take. Then I froze.
    A dark haired man with a goatee had his face pressed against the window pane. I concentrated hard before I moved to make sure. No matter what angle I looked, the face was there looking about inside our house. The only odd thing about it was that he seemed to be looking inside in a manner to be obvious, not to conceal, as if he wanted me to know he was there and what he would do next. As that thought came to me, I was sure who it was. The face had more wrinkles then on the Facebook picture, but it was him. Jimmy Morrelli.
    Our eyes locked. I seemed to surprise the asshole when I didn’t get jumpy or scared. But I had been imagining almost this exact scenario, and maintained a steady, confident gaze right back at him. Like I’d been waiting for him. That’s when I made my move. While he was confused, I reacted.
    From my waist I lifted out my Colt 45, and without a moment’s hesitation, I fired twice at the window. The bang was so much louder inside our house than at the shooting range, and the breaking of the glass was earth shattering. Even that didn’t detour me. I wasted no time and when I ran to the door to get the jump on the guy, I was glad of what I had done. The only decision left was whether to actually kill him, or just scare the mobster shitless.
    He was running across the street by the time I got to the door. I guess he was a real professional because anyone else who would have been shot at like that would have fallen down and curled up like a baby. Not Jimmy. That scumbag calmly leaped back over our hedges and took off into the park where he disappeared into the shadows of the first set of big Oaks and the closest swing set. The only thing left behind were a few boot footprints, the same size and boot style that I owned.
    I heard Sammy open up the door to the bedroom, but I didn’t wait for her to come down. I ran upstairs, grabbed her in my arms, and kissed her head. With tears in my eyes, I scooped her up and drove her to a motel. She barely spoke the rest of the night, just listened. We made love. Sammy was friendly, consoling even, stroking my hand with her fingers all the way home the next day. Sleeping so soundly the next morning, I decided to leave her in bed and go to work by myself. It was over now. I was alive and refreshed for the first time in a long while. I’d beaten the two assholes and their gangster buddy! We could finally start to piece things together. Sammy didn’t answer the phone all day when I tried to call but that didn’t worry me any. By the way she was sleeping so deeply when I left, I would have bet my life she’d still be asleep after I got home. But when I returned, she was gone.

    Either from disappointment to the stories end, disgust, or frustration... more likely boredom and hunger, the heron flaps his wings and floats low to the water until the magnificent bird disappears in the woods across the inlet. I can’t take my eyes off him the entire time.
    Now here I am, alone again, a way I’m getting used to. Samantha left more than six months ago. No doubt most would think I’ve forgotten what her face looked like, her smell, or the way she moved. But I can still feel her at night. If I didn’t know better, I would swear we still slept together in some lucid dreaming kind of way. We play, hold hands, and when I awake, she is in my thoughts until the second my eyes open and find her gone. That is the dream... real life. I long for sleep to find her again.
    The park’s cold today even though it’s summer. If you can call it a park. Nobody works. The economy sucks. At least I’m not miserable anymore. Now I’m just numb, going around every day, seeing patients with a blank look and monotone voice. I moved to another city so at least everybody wouldn’t ask me about her. I should be afraid I might see her with some other guy, but for some reason that thought never crosses my mind. Maybe she returned out west, but I don’t think so. Not yet anyways.
    Physically, I’m back in shape, maybe better than ever. What else would I do every day but work out? Couple that with hardly eating and the body fat disappears without trying, giving me a six pack for the first time in over a decade. I hardly ever think about Carol and Simon anymore. I won a battle, the last one as far as I know. I haven’t heard from anybody in the entire six months that she’s been gone. I probably should think it’s over, but I can’t. I still know she’s out there. That’s why I keep coming back to these hiking trails every day, her favorite place in the world to get out and do something so she would get that satisfied feeling she did something at all. Her funny little justifications and routines... God, how they make me smile. What I wouldn’t give to have to put up with them every minute of every day again. Yea, I won a battle, but it wasn’t worth losing Sammy. What the hell was I thinking? All those drugs and alcohol for escape just blurred my mind and kept me avoiding issues. A great way to hide, but I was doing so alone. Virtually abandoning Sammy. What could I have expected her to do?
    It wasn’t the drugs or alcohol anyway that made her leave. Her departure had nothing to do with any of my faults which she likely saw deep inside me from the very first. She could have easily looked past the financial crunch. The fact that I stopped working out and trying to look young couldn’t have mattered much. That affected me more than her. In fact for a brief period of time when things were really bad, when she probably assumed I was having an affair or thinking about it, she was probably relieved I no longer cared about the way I looked. It wasn’t the fact that we stopped going out, our worsening reputation, or the neighbor’s no longer talking to us. Hell, in the end, they went to great lengths to avoid us. It wasn’t my lack of giving, or increasingly selfish love making, or even that I made the fact clear that I never wanted anything to do with her old friends, or family. Our constant arguing or my inability to control my temper, my constant need to bring her down to my level, or put her in her place was probably hard to fathom, but even that wasn’t the reason she ran away in the end. She put up with all that because she knew the real me was hiding and that I let this Hyde personality out to disappear and protect myself. I think all along Sammy knew that I was at least partially right about her sister and brother-in-law whether she was willing to admit the truth to either one of us or not. No, in the end, it was my paranoia and mistrust of everyone that made her leave.
    My disgust and disappointment with people was how I destroyed my self-confidence, the trait she was most attracted to. I lost confidence in myself and the whole world, maybe still have. I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ve found myself yet. I got a feeling the second I do, I’ll know. Sammy couldn’t live with the ideal that the world was really that selfish and self-centered, true or otherwise. She and I were too close to have different views about people to live together the way we needed to. She would never want to belong in a loveless, uncaring world, when the two of us were at constant odds with everyone else... with no one to count on or care about except each other. The idea that I was trying to make her understand and possibly see a truth she couldn’t bare just wasn’t going to work. In fact, she let herself go with me in the beginning because she felt I would reinforce her take on things. So one day when she realized that she couldn’t help me come back, that quite possibly I never would come back to how I was, she took off. Again I was the catalyst. This time for her defense mechanism.
    For weeks I looked for some momento she might have taken with her, something she wanted from our life together to prove she couldn’t live without “us”. The idea that she wanted nothing, destroyed me more than anything else. But in the end the only things that might have been missing were a few pictures. I think she left the rest of us behind in hopes it might jog my memory and take me back to an older time when I was somebody different. Maybe it worked. I don’t know. I like to think that maybe the reason she left our entire life behind her is because she plans to come back one day. In any case she left. And I let her. Fighting or forcing her back, playing on her emotions and sympathies wouldn’t have worked. Maybe she would have returned out of guilt and dedication if for no other reason. But I don’t want a shell of my Sammy. I’m glad she left before it got any worse.
    Awhile later I found a note stuck within some notes of a story I had started long before any of this happened. Simple and to the point. “I love the other you.”
    It’s embarrassing to count how many times I reviewed the whole scenario over in my mind. Did all of it really happen? Did I just crack? Did Carol and Simon help me crack? It’s hard to say. I honestly don’t know if the threats were real or not... that I may have really escaped with my life or just been played. Maybe Sammy didn’t know either. I never lied to her, and I know she kept track of that. Maybe Sammy left to save me. In my entire life before losing Sammy, I never lost at anything. The idea that I lost at the only thing that really ever mattered to me, really is a shock.

    I sit down on the same bench Sammy and I must have sat on a thousand times before. The lake inlet curves around with a small brown sandy beach on the end, and thick uninhabited woods on the other side full of herons and ducks. About fifty Canadian Geese are shitting all over the beach as I sit here.
    I follow a mother goose and her six babies rushing across the beach towards the water. As I scan upwards to find the source of their fear, a shock hits my feet so hard that they burn and straighten out in a spasm. A tingle makes my chest shake, and my heart skips a beat... maybe two or three, enough to make my vision waver.
    Across the county road in the parking lot where all the trails are, just getting out of her car, is Sammy. Oh my God, I think. It’s not her body, but it’s her long, dark brown, auburn tinted hair, and those long bangs in her face that used to hypnotize me when we were making love. The same sweep of her hands pushing them back and holding those tight hairs in a mock pony behind her neck. The same head shake, first up for a pause, and then down at the ground, when she fakes a laugh from somebody saying something to her funny that she wasn’t really listening to or caring about. That’s when her head suddenly jerked up and looked right at me as if some electric force notified her that I was here. She let go of her pony.
    I actually saw little yellow and orange dots swim across the road from me, and rush over her like a wave on the shoreline. Her hair actually washed back across her head again to expose her entire face. Those eyes glowed a florescent green; the slight dash of black make-up highlighted them even more. The tiny jaw pulling down to form the o-shaped mouth with the heart shaped lips, and perfectly formed teeth.
    I want to look down, but didn’t. I want to run over to her, grab her, kiss her hard and deep, then ravish every single bit of her body physically and mentally. But I pause when I notice something I somehow overlooked at first glance. Overlooked or ignored? Ignored or knew? Her belly is swollen, not fat, but jutting out straight and proud. I stand up.
     I can’t actually tell what my face is doing. Every inch of skin feels tight and smooth. Then Carol steps in front of her. That monster’s perception is undeniable and uncanny. Either she felt the same chemical vibration I sent crashing into Sammy, or some kind of pheromone release from her sister, but I know she understands what Sammy is seeing before her searching eyes scout me out.
    Little Napoleon shoves a locked and outstretched arm at my baby just as her body language surges at me. Sammy only leans forward a half inch, but I could detect her intention as if I had never left her side. I read her as much as see her. The force is strong in that one... apparently in me too.
    Carol’s faŤade changes. No anger is visible. She is now playing the character of protector. I read her lips. “Never you mind, darling. I’ll handle him.” Now she’s marching to me.
    The first three steps Carol takes are with authority for Sammy’s sake, to put indecision on her potential next move. Then little sister checks the busy road both ways for traffic and speed walks across. After she hits the lawn, her strides become longer and with more finesse, careful and at ease, to show me that I am no threat because I am nothing in either of their lives. She is just the poor little sister caught in between trying to make this transition easier for heart broken, overly tired, and abused Sammy.
    The pitiful thing is, the maneuver works. Sammy shrugs and drops back, both hands on her stomach, rubbing the front of the balloon with such tenderness that tears fill my eyes. I never doubted Sam’s ability to be an amazing mother despite her fears. Now I wonder if it isn’t because she wasn’t always afraid this psychotic wench would try to steal her baby somehow, take over and do away with the real mother. I wonder how many doctors she has taken Sammy too already who would side with Carol in court about her instability and inability to care for the child alone.
    Worse yet, I hesitate. By the time I am ready to run to Sammy’s side, Carol is too close. My only potential advantage is that possibly she didn’t expect to see me here. Again, outplayed.
    “Joe,” she calls out with a hesitant wave. Did she really think I forgot who she is? The idea that Carol is worried about how I might receive her is laughable. “Joe, Joe, Joe...” and she is running to me now with open arms.
     I grit my teeth, but can think of nothing. Of course she was prepared for the slim possibility I might be here. How many times before this day did Sammy want to come here? No doubt Carol put two and two together and found out that this was our private hang-out. She knew everything else about us before. Nobody is this good. Why would she take a chance and let her guard down now when she is this close? No, she knew I might be here.
    But her eyes are crazy. Deranged even. Being near noon, the traffic from the county highway that separates the parking lot and the walking trails from the lake is getting busy and loud, yet her shrill voice penetrates the distracting sounds easy enough. Nothing like a Saturday to get everyone to the lake. Turned from Sammy, and too far away for her to hear anything, Carol turns off the show. Those animal eyes dart back and forth, not those of a trapped animal, but of a killer. She is accessing anyone else around for what she is about to say and do. This is the only way the little bitch works, one on one, and no witnesses.
    She puts her arms around me and squeezes tight. One hand grabs me hard enough to cause a bruise. Her face comes to my chest, but she looks up and pulls my shirt down to her and kisses me on the lips. Her tongue briefly explores my stunned open mouth before I realize. Who would suspect a little girl like this against a big, muscular man like me? No one. Exactly!
    “Look at you, you poor man,” she says, looks me over and licks her lips as if I’m a piece of candy. “God, she has taste.” Then she gives a pout. “Should ‘a played by the rules, Joey. Ya know?”
    I still couldn’t think of a thing to say. Too much to take on, too quick. As many times as I expected to see Sammy out here, today was not one of them. And pregnant?
    “Don’t worry, Joe. I know what you’re thinking. It’s not yours. There’s another man... for a while anyway. He doesn’t know and never will...” She sees me trying to look over her head at Sammy and pinches me again to get my attention. “Don’t interfere. She’s happy.”
    Right, I thought. Sammy wouldn’t let another man touch her... Not now, not that quickly. I look over her head anyway despite the strength in those little arms pulling me down to her. Sammy’s looking at me, but not the way she did in the end, back when she felt sorry for me. Today her look is more like the one that says she still loves me. Always has. No, the look in her eyes now is more the way she saw me when we first met. That confident guy again. The secure, comfortable man with broad, strong shoulders that can hold her through the night. The only thing she might be missing is the smile... And she knows she can give that back to me.
    Carol feels this lapse in control and turns to look at Sammy. Sammy responds by looking down and turning away.
    “Enough, ass,” she barks. “U can see this isn’t a good time for her. She’s got baggage... and issues. She didn’t want you to know and for all practical purposes. You don’t. This is good-bye, Joe. She’s not yours...” Then she smiles long and wide. It takes up most of her head, and it’s wicked, like that Jack-0-Lantern grin she gave the first time we met, the one end starting to quiver. “She’s... mine. By the way, Joe. We’re gonna use Robbinson, our maiden name, for the child’s last name. You gotta admit it has an amazing ring to it. Keeps things in the family, so to say. You remember our Maiden name, right Joe? No reason to confuse the poor kid with horrible stories and boo hoos.” She winks. “Maybe he’ll be back in the picture... but I highly doubt it.”
    “Whe... where’s, Simon,” I stammer out. Another fatal mistake. She lets go of her grip now realizing how weak I really am. If I had any fight left, that one stammer tells her that it is now long gone. Her attraction and flirting turns to disgust. She is in control, and knows it.
    “Didn’t you hear?” I can tell she’s proud to spill out what’s about to comes next. “Poor love. Apparently got an infection in Central America when he went to pick up Ben. He died...” She pulled me down to her again and nearly climbed up my waist to kiss me on the cheek and rub my hair. Then she jumped down lite as a feather. “Can you believe this? A ten million dollar insurance policy leaving moi as the sole beneficiary and his 49 percent share of the real estate business?” She backs up two quick steps and cocks her head slightly to the side as she waves. “Now Stay Away!”
    It’s over, I think. There is no doubt who won this battle, and possibly for all practical purposes, the war. A chance to leap ahead, and once again she reads my mind and counteracts my feeble move with some tricky bit of information that turns my head. Simon’s dead?
    I watch her go all the way to the road before I even realize I haven’t taken a breath. I grasp for any last inning homerun that might give me an edge, but I’m too twisted around and confused to grasp hold of anything. I let the stale air out, and then I do something I remembered Sammy teaching me when we first met, a relaxation technique to use whenever something stresses me out. Breathe in through the nose, short and sweet, and out through the mouth, nice and slow. I swear Sammy is standing right beside me, giving me directions. I can smell her skin and hear her voice. “Do it,” this secret, and alluring whisper says. “I’ll never admit to anything, never discuss it, but I will forgive you, my love, entirely.”
    It’s all the permission I need. My mind is now clearer than it has been in a long time, and happily, once again, under Sammy’s spell.
    I yell. Not bitch, or that awful c-word woman seem to hate more than any other. Carol would be expecting something unprofessional like that. No threats come to mind, nor do I pick up a stone and try to hurl it at her as if I was Davey and she, Goliath. Out of nowhere, that night came back to me again, the night when she showed her true colors and slipped up for the first time in public in New York. That night she thought I implied she was less than smart and turned into a deranged carved pumpkin at Halloween.
    “Hey Stupid!” I scream. It comes out loud, and the words come out clear. Yet no one else seems to notice that I spoke. Except Carol. As if she has been waiting for me to speak something all along, her head pops up just the tiniest bit. Behind, I get a glimpse of Sam. Is she smirking?
    Carol had to see the truck. I watched her look both ways down the road twice each direction very carefully a moment before I spoke and started across County Road D. Hell, I saw the semi and figured even as I yelled that nothing much would happen, that she would never fall for it. Only that my last ditch effort might let her know that I wasn’t completely spineless and could go down fighting.
    Carol stops and whips around, already in a frenzy. By the time she is facing me, crouched low and ready to sizzle something back at me, the realization hits her, I think. She doesn’t bother to turn and stare the truck down. No, instead she chooses to stare at me that last second.
    For the first time in years I know my confidence is back. Right now there are only two things I need to retrieve to be perfect again.
    Carol hisses like a snake. Her tongue actually comes out a few inches, curls up, and tries to fly out at me. She is not surprised or fearful. There is no sign of regret or sorrow. Just a display of spite and hate that I dare take her on and play so dirty. That she was so weak to let a loser like me take her down after so many others that had crossed her path, or had what she wanted, failed. The moment she starts to mouth out, “I’ll get you,” I mouth out something different.
    I can’t look... at least not directly. Most of my concentration instinctually goes to Sammy. She too is looking directly at me. I smile. The first time in over a year. That’s one of those two things I still needed to get back. So many endorphins are released in that moment I can’t even say how good that doing so feels, especially after stopping all drugs months ago. I mouth out back to Carol, “I won.” But I’m thinking a mental reply to her threat, go for it, bitch.
    I start walking to Sammy even before the truck slams into her, an eighteen wheeler from MacLean’s Trucking Company carrying refrigerated pork products. One shoe somehow flies straight up into the air, a bright red hiking boot. How does one of those come off, I wonder? The other flies nearly into the pond water. Several Geese start to pick at the metal ringlets along the tongue. Outside of one leg that goes spinning out behind the truck on the road, there is nothing left of her. I guess the rest is stuck on the grill. Just another bug, I can’t help but think, and smile. But I hide the expression with my hand. That would be too much for Sammy to take. But maybe someday.
    Jokingly I hope she left Sammy, or at least the baby, some of that insurance money... and none of her and Simon’s demented baggage. I start to run. I want to get to the other side of the road before the cops come and block it off. I plan to never let Sammy out of my sight again.
    I carefully look both ways and sprint across. Carol better be one hell of a ghost on the other side. Then, I bite my tongue. No, I literally bite my tongue. If anyone could be, it would be her.
    I connect with Sammy when our eyes lock. This time it’s forever, the second of the two things still necessary for me to become once again perfect. With great wings outstretched and two long legs straight behind as one, a gray heron flies just ahead of me. Watching this graceful thing of nature glide, I actually start to believe I might even get my faith back in people, too.

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