I have another story due today in creative writing. I'm lazy and don't feel like being creative, so I'm going to have a story that I wrote a while ago be critiqued. I've had it read and edited before, but it's still unpublished and, therefore, still in progress. Here it is:
Thicker Than Water
Samantha got up and stumbled towards the sound of the ringing telephone. In the dim, green, summer-morning light, she stubbed her toe on a pile of shoes and slammed her elbow into the wall with a hollow thud, making her coffee-colored hair fall into her face in waves. She stopped for a moment, nursing her injuries, and strained for the sound of the phone. That call was important and she knew it, but she was glad she’d missed it. Crawling back onto her bed, she was careful not to disturb her boyfriend, but she knew he was already awake. She rolled onto her back and waited for a moment.
“Let me see your forehead,” he said into the pillow, “it isn’t bleeding, is it?”
“It wasn’t my forehead,” she responded, examining her toe, which was purple and bleeding, “it was my elbow.”
Brian rolled over and looked at her, she’d shoved her hair behind her ears and had her chin resting on her knee. She was picking intently at her wounded toe.
“You’re so clumsy,” he sighed, but smiled at her anyway. She tried to smile back but it turned into a wince, her toe was really hurt.
“Broken?” he asked.
“Hope not,” she replied.
“Who called?” he finally asked. She knew he’d say it, but she wasn’t prepared for it. She gulped and looked up, her pale green eyes finding his warm brown ones. He knew the answer but wanted her to say it; it’s more real when you say it out loud. Instead, she closed her eyes and fell back on the bed, studying the lines in the ceiling of their old apartment.
“You know she needs you,” Brian said, attempting nonchalance and achieving something more closely resembling exasperation.
“She never has before,” Samantha snapped back. She regretted it immediately but couldn’t’ take it back now. She fiddled with the faded blue bedspread and avoided eye contact with Brian. Her little sister, Melissa, had practically run her our of the house when their father died and now that their mother was gone too, she had turned back to Samantha for support. Samantha had always been resentful towards her sister and she wasn’t about to start comforting her, she’d even missed her mother’s wake.
The phone rang again and this time Brian hopped out of bed and stepped lithely over the various piles of shoes and CD’s and books lying on the hardwood floor of the bedroom and disappeared into the living room to answer the phone. Samantha bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he wouldn’t tell Melissa she was here and available to talk.
“Oh, hey,” came Brian’s voice from the living room, “I didn’t know there was even going to be a practice today.” Samantha breathed a sigh of relief; it was just someone from Brian’s band, not her sister. She looked around the room; the light was becoming brighter and it fell on her piles of clothes and papers all over the floor and on Brian’s bass and amp tucked into the corner. She liked her new life and she didn’t need her sister. Why should he sister, who’d always been so in charge, so full of it, need her? She thought about this until Brian reappeared in the door. He looked troubled.
“I thought that was Melissa again,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing, “I was finally going to make you face her.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t her,” said Samantha and she meant it. She gingerly dropped her feet to the floor and stood. She walked past Brian in the door and he kissed her on the forehead and she smiled in spite of herself.
“I’m gonna make pancakes, want some?” she asked. She didn’t want to go to work, so she was going to put it off for as long as possible. He gave her a look, indicating that he knew she was stalling.
“Don’t you think you should go to work?” he said, a slight smirk on his face. She threw her hands up in defeat and walked back into the bedroom to get dressed. The telephone rang again and he heart leapt into her throat. She swallowed to keep it down and tried in vain to hear the conversation through the closed door. Brian answered it but she couldn’t tell who it was on the other end. He didn’t come to get her, though, so she finished pulling on her worn jeans and shoved her feet into some ragged old flip-flops. She was standing at the bathroom sink, examining her nose, when Brian came in.
“Who was that?” she asked, turning to meet his eyes.
“That was Max again. I was right, there isn’t any practice today,” he said and laughed at how tragically unorganized their friends were. Samantha laughed too, and felt a little better; maybe Melissa would give up and leave her in peace.
“Alright, I’m headed out,” she said, grabbing her keys and cell phone from the sink, “I’ll call you after work.” She kissed him on the cheek and he patted her on the shoulder as she walked down the hall.
Opening the door, she got a face full of warm, mid-morning sun. Blinking, her hand went to the outside pocket of her bag for her sunglasses but she decided against them; she enjoyed the sensation against her cheeks and nose. Squinting into the sun, she got into her beat-up old car and turned the key. It took three tries to get the engine going, but she was lucky; yesterday it had taken her five tries. The radio played her favorite music a little too loud as she drove down the sunlit streets of LA. All of her worries were gone, and she didn’t even react when he phone rang. She picked it up and turned down her music, which was still too loud to hear the person on the other line.
“Hello?!” she said loudly over her music, “that you, Brian?”
“Sam?” came the voice on the other end. Samantha’s heart stopped and she nearly ran the yellow light she was coming to. She stopped in time and fumbled with the knob on her CD player, eventually pushing it in and turning it off altogether.
“Mel?” she finally choked out. The person behind her honked but she stayed stopped at the green light. She hadn’t heard her sister’s voice in three years but that, unmistakably, was who it was. Her car finally rolled forward as she regained control of her body. Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as she gripped it, not knowing what she could say to Melissa. She’d been close with her dad but Melissa hadn’t and when he died, Melissa hadn’t allowed her to stay and help take care of their mother. Samantha hadn’t wasted one second flying all the way across the country and establishing a new life, choosing to forget her past rather than dwell on it. Samantha wasn’t compassionate enough for Mom, Melissa had said. For that, Samantha couldn’t forgive her sister. She’d just accepted their father’s death and continued right on caring for their sick mother, no mourning, no grief, nothing. Samantha knew their mother was dying slowly from cancer, but at least she knew she was going to die, it was nothing like their father’s death.
“I know I shouldn’t have intruded like this,” came Melissa’s mock apologetic voice, “but I thought you should know that mom’s funeral is this weekend…I sent you two plane tickets, did you get them?”
“How did you get this number?” Samantha finally spluttered. Melissa explained how she’s talked to Brian that morning and he’d given her Samantha’s number and she’d felt bad about making him do it, but Samantha was no longer listening. She was furious with Brian and no longer remembered that she was going to work. She arrived at her office and stared up at the building, confused. She couldn’t remember the drive there or why she was here on this beautiful summer day. All she knew was that she had to go home; there was something important there, Brian, he was important because he ruined her life. Breathing deeply, she calmed herself and headed into the office. The newsroom was full as always but she pushed through to the back where the Op-Ed writers got to sit, aloof, in their offices and write about their passions and concerns. She’d only been writing for the LA Times for three months but already had five columns published. This morning, she would focus all of her rage into her column and produce a masterpiece her boss wouldn’t dare leave out of the paper.
But her day at work was terrible and she couldn’t get anything written. She drank too much coffee and shook all day long, not able to decide whether she wanted her sweatshirt on or off. At lunch, she walked to the nearest music store and wandered around aimlessly, missing the time she was supposed to be back, and getting in trouble with her boss. Every time a phone rang, her hands stopped working and her heart beat furiously in her ears. Melissa couldn’t call her at work, she thought, but then again, she wasn’t supposed to call her on her cell phone either.
Driving home, her cell phone vibrated gently against her leg. She’d turned off the ringer but it still made her jump. This time, she picked up and carefully examined the caller ID, not wanting to be caught off-guard again. It said ‘home’ and she knew it was Brian. He had the plane tickets, she thought, they came in the mail today and he has them and he wants me to go. She put the phone back down on the seat and ignored the three more times it rang. Pulling into the parking lot of their apartments, Samantha waited in the car a good, long time, she didn’t want to be angry with Brian; she hated being angry with Brian. It was Melissa that did it, she reminded herself, Melissa called me today and made my day bad. She rested her head on the steering wheel and he brown hair fell around her face. There came a knock on the window.
“Hey, you,” it was Brian, he’d evidently seen her pull up, “did you get my message?”
Samantha sat up and looked at him. His hair was darker than usual in the deep pink of the setting sun and it made his face look different, or maybe it was the expression. She studies it for a moment and decided it was worry.
“I’m sorry. I had a bad day at work,” she said, intentionally softening her voice and leaving out her sister.
“I called you. I couldn’t decided what to have for dinner,” he said, and then half-smiled.
“Let me guess, Chinese?” she said, catching on.
“What else?”
“I think you bleed soy sauce,” she said, but she already felt better. He was just looking out for her, even if he hadn’t done the right thing. Samantha let herself be, more or less, pulled out of the car and led into the apartment. She flopped on the couch and kicked her flip-flops over the side onto another pile of shoes. Brian brought her a plate of fried rice, iced tea, and mail. She set the mail aside and ate slowly, knowing that he was waiting for her to finish.
“You’re the world’s slowest eater,” he finally said, “would you just look at the mail? There’s something there from Melissa.”
“I know,” she said, still refusing to look at the pile of envelopes next to her, “plane tickets.” She couldn’t say any more without getting angry so she sat back and sipped her tea instead.
“You should go,” said Brian. Samantha could sense him brace himself for the fight but, quite to his surprise and hers, she just looked up at him. He looked worried and confused, she wasn’t entirely sure she knew what her face was saying to him. She hoped he’d feel bad for pushing her, but she didn’t mean to worry him.
“I know,” she finally said and looked down. She picked up the envelope with the plane tickets and slit it open with her finger. The tickets dropped onto her lap and she looked at them.
“We have to leave tomorrow,” she said, “I guess I should call work.”
“I should call the guys,” said Brian. Both of them looked at the phone, but not one picked it up. Instead, they let it sit there and went into the bedroom to pack. During the day, Brian had picked up their assorted piles and the hardwood floor was relatively clean. His instruments still stood in the corner, but now her papers were on the desk next to the bed and he shoes had been put on the closet floor. Still, Samantha walked carefully across the floor until the light had been turned on; he toe was still swollen. She opened the dresser and grabbed jeans and t-shirts for both of them and threw them on the bed. Brian walked to the closet and pulled out his suit and a long black skirt.
“You have a shirt to go with this?” he asked, gesturing to the skirt he held in his left hand.
“Yeah, check the other side,” said Samantha, she was sure there was a shirt to go with that skirt; she’d worn it to her dad’s funeral. Brian found it and their garment bag and began to pack them. Samantha pulled an old suitcase out from under their bed and threw in underwear and flip-flops, followed by their jeans and t-shirts. She slammed the top shut unceremoniously and propped the suitcase up against the wall next to the bedroom door. Brian laid the garment bag on top of it and looked at her.
“You look tired,” he said. She thought for a minute and decided he was right. She was tired.
“I think I’m just gonna get in bed,” she said and started to take off her clothes. He threw some pajamas at her as she walked towards the bathroom to brush her teeth. He changed too and got in bed. She came back in and crawled into bed next to him.
“’Night,” he said and kissed her. He reached over her and turned off the light on her bedside table.
Samantha lay there in the cool dark and thought about her flight to DC tomorrow. She hated flying and she hated DC, she hated funerals and she hated her sister. Why was she doing this? These thoughts were running through her head as she drifted off to sleep with Brian snoring softly beside her. It felt like she’d been asleep for two minutes when Brian gently shook her awake. Groggily, she looked up at him; he was already dressed for the flight.
“Get up, sleepyhead,” he said, “we’ve got a plane to catch.”
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes; she’d never been so tired in her whole life. She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow.
“I don’t want to go anymore,” she mumbled. Brian grabbed her feet and slid her off the bed, onto the floor.
“Get dressed, come on,” he said, no longer playful. She pulled on the first jeans she found, which turned out to be Brian’s, but she didn’t care. She stuck her feet into flip-flops and found a clean shirt in the dresser. When he head popped out of the neck hole, Brian’s face was there. He kissed her and handed her a cup of coffee.
“You’re gonna need that,” he said, “you’re not sleeping on the plane, I’ll be bored.”
“Thanks,” she said and grabbed the cup. They walked out to the car and loaded their luggage.
“Ready?” asked Brian.
“No,” she said and climbed into the passenger’s side of the car. She blinked into the early sunlight and though about how she’d enjoyed it so much yesterday. Today she wished she had her sunglasses. Brian climbed in and started the car; it took four tries. They drove to the airport and Samantha was sure he talked the whole way she just didn’t know what he’d said.
The airport was relatively uneventful. The helpful staff tried to lose the luggage and then tried to navigate them to the wrong terminal, but they got on the stuffy, oppressive plane anyway. They were sitting near the front and Samantha had a window seat. She and Brian and talked about nothing in particular until take-off. They waited carefully avoiding the subject of her sister. The six-hour flight went by more quickly than she thought it would have but it was still dinnertime when they reached DC. They stayed in a hotel close to the airport; Samantha wouldn’t even call her sister to tell her that she was there.
“So what do you guys have to eat around here?” said Brian, trying to incite a little playfulness in Samantha.
“Same stuff we have back home,” said Samantha, “except there’s more pizza, a lot more pizza.” It was strange; she no longer thought of DC as home, it had been relocated clear across the country. She looked at Brian and he looked disappointed.
“I guess I could take you to this pizza place I used to love when I was a kid,” she said, feeling guilty for being in such a bad mood. Brian perked up and she felt better. This didn’t have to be such a horrible experience after all. They went to the lobby and rented a car, which Brian refused to drive.
“I don’t know my way around,” he said. Reluctantly, Samantha took the keys and started the car. It only took one turn. She drove through Northern Virginia and into Arlington to a little pizza place called Mario’s. Memories flooded back to her as she drove past places from when she was a kid. Metro stations, roads, schools, neighborhoods, everything she remembered from when she was a kid. Nothing she wanted to remember as an adult.
“They have the best pizza ever,” she said, “but it’s so greasy.” She laughed, remembering how much her dad used to love that place, and how he knew every guy that worked behind the counter. They ordered and ate and Brian agreed that it was the best pizza he’d ever had.
“I’ll drive back, if you want me to,” said Brian. Samantha thought for a minute.
“Sure, just don’t get us lost,” she said and threw him the keys.
They did, indeed, get lost on the way back, ending up in downtown DC. She didn’t know how anyone could do that, they wanted to go further into Virginia and Brian had gotten them stuck in DC. They pulled over on Constitution Avenue to switch drivers.
“How’d you manage this one?” she asked, she smiled at him to reassure him that she wasn’t mad.
“I’ve never seen the monuments and stuff at night,” he said and looked down the Mall in wonder at the lights. Samantha looked up at him and realized how different DC really was from LA. It only made her wish she were home a little more. Brian must have seen her face fall.
“C’mon,” he said and got into the car. Samantha looked up at the monuments again, too, secretly hating them. They drove back in silence mostly, Brian tried to turn on the radio but Samantha turned it off. By the time they reached the hotel, it was nearly midnight.
“I’m so tired. We have to be there at ten in the morning tomorrow,” she said and hopped into bed. Brian joined her and they fell asleep. Samantha slept fitfully and woke several times. She hadn’t seen her sister in years, and she couldn’t bring herself to think about her mother. Had she wanted Samantha there before she died? Or was she ok with just Melissa? Samantha couldn’t decide which would be worse. Samantha wondered and the sun began to rise in the window of the hotel, sending in gray light. The light here is always so gray, she thought. Brian stirred beside her.
“What time is it?” he asked, he rubbing his eyes and ran his finger through his hair.
“8:30,” she replied, “I guess we should get up and get ready.”
They roused themselves and prepared for the funeral. Decked out in black, they went back down to the rental car. Samantha made Brian and this time he didn’t get lost; they made it to the church in record time. Samantha got out onto the steps of the small Catholic church in Falls Church where, as a kid, she sat to watch the Memorial Day parade. She looked up at it and her courage failed. Instead of going in, she sat on the step and looked around at all the things that were so familiar that felt so wrong. She heard the huge oak doors of the church creak open and two voices talking, one familiar and one not. Melissa was coming out of the church and she didn’t have time to go anywhere. She realized then that Melissa and Brian had never met. Brian had been in LA when Samantha got there, they met through some mutual friends. She looked up at Brian, hoping her panic wasn’t too evident, and he gave her a look of reassuring support then turned his focus on the church doors.
“The priest just came out of the church,” he said. Samantha figured that must have been the unfamiliar voice. Melissa had always gone to church but Samantha never really had any interest. She and her father were alike in that respect, he would be ashamed that this funeral was being held in a Catholic church.
“Maybe you should go introduce yourself to him?” came Brian’s voice, intruding upon her thoughts. It wasn’t a suggestion, she noticed, but a question. He was just as unsure of himself as she was of herself. That thought comforted her a little and she stood up. Once up, she couldn’t decide what to do, so she remained. She noticed Brian looking at her with interest and that the voices had stopped. She hadn’t heard the doors close and assumed they would be left open until everyone had arrived. Afraid of what she might find, she stepped down off the stairs and turned around. Melissa was in the door alone and was looking at Brian in an odd way. She hadn’t seemed to notice Samantha yet. Samantha registered how much they looked alike, though Melissa was shorter and her eyes were blue.
“She looks a lot like you,” whispered Brian. Samantha knew he must have figured out who it was in the door. Melissa hadn’t heard his whisper and continued to look at Brian as if he didn’t belong. Samantha felt invisible. She stepped back so a tree blocked her view of Melissa. Brian went to pull her out from behind it but Melissa’s voice floated down from the top of the hill.
“Are you here for my mother’s funeral?” she asked. Brian turned to Samantha and gave her a meaningful look; she shrugged and retreated farther into the tree’s shadow.
“Yeah, I am,” he called, turning towards the church and abandoning Samantha. She leaned against the trunk and sighed.
“Do I know you?” said Melissa; her voice was a lot closer now.
“Sort of…” was Brian’s response. Samantha could tell her was torn between telling her who he was and betraying Samantha and letting Samantha stay hidden behind the tree. She also knew Melissa wouldn’t like that answer.
“Sort of?” there was a note of derision in Melissa’s voice that Samantha knew so well. She scoffed inwardly at that tone. She was only a year older than Melissa, making Melissa 20-years-old. No twenty-something should have that kind of tone of voice mastered, thought Samantha.
“Well, we’ve spoken on the phone,” he said. Samantha’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped in disbelief. He was going to give her away! She started to get angry with him again and hated herself for it; it was Melissa’s fault, “my name’s Brian.”
“Oh!” now Melissa’s voice was fake and bubbly, too nice to be real, “Samantha’s boyfriend! I’ve never met you before. Sorry about that.” She paused and Samantha knew she was searching around for some sign of her.
“Where’s Samantha?” she finally asked. Samantha stopped breathing and waited. A breeze rustled the leaves above her but the two behind the tree remained silent.
“She took a little walk to clear her head,” said Brian and she let out the air she’d been holding in, “she’s nervous about being back.”
“Well, I’d like to see her,” Melissa said, Samantha noticed that the sincerity of the statement betrayed her genuine disappointment that Samantha wasn’t there. She still couldn’t bring herself to leave the shelter of the tree’s shade.
“Well, she’ll be at the funeral,” said Brian.
“Speaking of which, I have to go. It was nice to have met you finally,” said Melissa.
“Yeah, you too,” said Brian. Samantha listened but couldn’t hear anything else, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree, wishing she didn’t have to go to the funeral and hating herself for not having the courage to come out from behind the tree. She felt someone else lean against the tree beside her and jumped. Opening her eyes, she saw Brian.
“She’s really not so bad,” he said and she could tell he didn’t really think that.
“She’s kinda mean,” she said, “I should have warned you. Did you hear the way she said ‘sort of?’? Where does she come off speaking to people like that?” Her anger was rising a little and edged her voice. She tried to swallow it back down but it was still there. Brian reached over and grabbed her hand to calm her down and she leaned her head onto his shoulder.
“Can we just go to the cemetery and meet them there?” she asked and Brian nodded. He checked around the tree and gave her the all clear to get in the car. They drove to the cemetery and passed more familiar, wrong things on the way. She watched them parade by her window and couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes away. Brian tried to say something once but she pretended like she didn’t hear him. They got lost on the way and she had to direct him there, but they made it. Samantha checked her watch.
“The funeral started 20 minutes ago,” she said and looked out the windshield.
“How long before they’ll get here then?” asked Brian.
“No idea,” she said.
“I’ll stay with the car and wait for them,” he said. She was grateful to be left alone. She got out and wandered through the headstones. Samantha knew where he mother’s plot was but she walked instead to her father’s.
She sat with her hands in her lap, playing idly with the folds of her long, black skirt. She was cross-legged on the grave and she stared at the clover that crept along the base of the headstone. Her eyes scanned her father’s name and filled with tears but she blinked furiously to keep them from falling down her cheeks. She sat and sat, losing track of time and oblivious to new noise in the cemetery. She felt bad that couldn’t get up and go to her mother’s plot, she felt bad that her sister had really sounded like she wanted to see her and she wasn’t going to be able to. Samantha sat and thought a felt sorry, sorry for her father, sorry for her mother, sorry for her sister, and sorry for herself. She thought about Brian and LA and home and about DC and all of the strange, familiar things here. The tears escaped and rolled down her face and the tip of her nose turned red. She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and she reached for it, expecting to find Brian’s calloused and worn fingers but instead finding the smooth, soft ones that belonged to Melissa. She held it tightly anyway.
“I loved Mom,” said Samantha. Her voice was wet and quivered.
“I loved Dad,” said Melissa. And at that moment she knew Melissa never meant to hurt her the way she did and that she’d go home to LA and she’d start writing her next column and she’d be happy, but she’d never again become paralyzed at the sound of a ringing phone.
