Title: Are You Gonna Deny the Savior in Front of Your Eyes Status: Complete Characters: Anon, Samantha, Naser Rating: SFW Classification: One-Shot Author: PumpkinBrain Summary: It’s been years since Fang died, and Anon hasn’t been doing well. It’s only when he accidentally butt-dials Samantha does he finally get some peace. It had been years since Fang died, and to tell you the truth, I can’t say I ever fully recovered. More often than not, I found my only comfort from the never-ending sadness being the glass bottom of a thing of scotch. Maybe a bottle of painkillers, too, since I wanna pretend I’m Max Payne so badly. But fuck. I really didn’t know what else to do. No matter what, the pain never stopped. I never stopped feeling completely empty. When Fang died, my world had… shattered. When Fang died… a part of me died with her. Not a day went by where I didn’t consider ending it all. Fuck my job, fuck my friends, fuck my life. They all keep trying to get into contact, but fuck that. They don’t care about me. They never have. They were only ever friends with me because Fang liked me. I took a sip from my glass, and I shuddered as the spicy drink went down poorly. Fucker gave me rum, not scotch. What an ass… “Hey, at least you’re still livin’. Wanted to get you to wake up a bit.” The bartender said, setting down a glass he was polishing, and leaning on the counter. “Because you are done, compadre. You’ve been in here for three hours and all you’ve done is choke down scotch, and you’re, what, twenty-five?” He scoffed, and shook his head, but I didn’t get the air of ‘disrespectful elder’ from him. More… ‘concerned dad’. “You’re too young to be destroying your body, boy.” He removed himself from the counter, and crossed his arms. Concerned dad or not, I was drunk, and I was angry. “Fuck off, prick. I’m done when I say I’m done.” I growled. “No, you’re done when I say you’re done. And I say you’re done.” He chuckled, and then used a gun to fill up a plastic cup. “Here. Pepsi. Wash the taste of alcohol out.” He said, and then put the glass in front of me. Despite how much I wanted to keep fighting this guy, I frankly couldn’t find the energy to. And a Pepsi sounded… really good. I was tired of drinks hurting my throat. Sure, it was all that really left me feeling ‘alive’, but sometimes a sugary drink was… well, cool. Sometimes a sugary drink was nice. Anyway, I sat in contemplation and silence as I sipped my Pepsi from a straw. I shuffled my ass, feeling my phone in my back pocket, trying to get more comfortable. I should probably put that in my shirt pocket, but again, I didn’t care. I was tired and angry and just wanted to drink my Pepsi. Could you fucking blame me? My wife is dead, my friends hate me, this bartender won’t let me drink myself to unconsciousness, and the pain never stops. What other options do I really have in this life? Fucking none, I’ll tell you that right now. My job threatened me with a write-up if I continued to show up drunk and late, but honestly, fuck ‘em. I didn’t need a job anymore. I didn’t need anything anymore. I could be homeless, or I could die. Both options seemed preferable to spending another minute PRETENDING THINGS WERE OKAY. But whatever. Who cares about what I’m feeling? For a few minutes or so, I sat there moping, listening to the bar speakers play Green Day’s ‘Holiday’, and I just… sipped away. I kept sipping and sipping, feeling as if I would never truly be hydrated. That hole in my heart couldn’t be filled with soda OR booze. But who cares. Certainly not anybody in my life… and as I thought this, I looked on at the football game on the television with envy. All those football players, all those fans—they were all living it up in rich land. They had life easy. They had wives, kids. They had everything I didn’t, and it felt like a mockery of who I was. Yeah. I was a loser. So fucking what. Kill yourself. Maybe if you do, I can follow in your footsteps. Would be nice, dying. It would end the pain forever. It would hurt for a bit, but eh, worth it. But oh! Speaking of killing myself, I had gone back to my old ways. Every so often, I would pull out my phone and shitpost on various forums. I had given the habit up back in college, but shitposting had become yet another one of my vices. Drugs, alcohol, and shitposting. What a wonderful combination… Though, right now felt like some prime baiting time. Bars. So I pulled out my phone. …but lo and behold, I was on the phone with somebody. What? Huh? Various questions raced through my mind as I stared at the screen in front of me. The name was nearly impossible to read due to my intoxication, but I’m pretty sure I had just butt-dialed somebody. If I’m lucky, it’s Fang’s old number… but wait. Fang can’t pick up her phone. She’s.. no. Forget it. I shook my head, I needed to focus. Who’s calling me? That was the question. So I began to focus. I tried my hardest to read the name. And… when I finally got a better look at the name, I recoiled. Samantha (fang mama) Oh… fuck. Oh no. Samantha? As in, Samantha Aaron? Fuck. What time even is it? Is she still awake?? Obviously, given she picked up, but why would she pick up?! Why would she want to talk to me?! Her failure of a son-in-law had called her, and she simply… picked up the phone? Why? Who is this woman? “ A-Anon, honey, are you there?” She spoke. She sounded tired. Frail. “ I can hear you muttering.” I could barely make it out due to the loud music of the bar, but… she was on the other end. She picked up, and she knew I was here. I couldn’t just pretend the phone was still in my pocket and completely dodge her. Fucking muttering. It had gotten my ass kicked plenty of times, but now, it was locking me into an incredibly awkward situation. Fucking fantastic. But, I figured I needed to just bite the bullet here. I couldn’t just hang up on her. She was always so nice to me, it… it would be a disservice to treat her like that. So… I spoke. “H-Hey, Samantha.” I muttered. My speech was slurred, and I could barely think about what I was saying, but I was talking. “What’s up?” “Anon, that’s my question.” She laughed like an old lady. “It’s eleven at night and you give me a call. I was worried something had happened to you, darling. But you just sound like you’ve been hitting the bottle…” Fuck. She was good. “And that never means good things. Did you just want to talk? Or did you need something from me?” What do I say to that? I didn’t need anything from her, and I didn’t know how I felt about talking to her. Mostly because I’m pretty damn sure she meant ‘talk about your feelings’, and, as a man, that’s… somewhat shameful. So I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to talk about Fang. Dear God, I didn’t want to talk about Fang. It had hurt my heart for so long, and I didn’t want to cry in this fucking bar… “Do you want to talk about… about Lucy, Anon?” Samantha asked, her voice faint. She sounded on the verge of tears already. Fuck. I can’t… I can’t— “I know you loved her, and I know how hard her… I know how hard her death was on you. If you’re… if you’ve been—if you’ve been hitting the bottle.. if you’ve been drinking, because of..” I wiped my eyes. How was she reading so well into the situation already? She was supposed to be a sweet mom, not… not a therapist. She was a mom… not the lady that understands that her son-in-law is a raging alcoholic, and doesn’t even end up sounding angry about it. If anything, she was sympathetic. And that was making the tears form. Why did she care so much? “Because you’re family, Anon.” Samantha muttered. “And I love you, even now. I always will love you. Just as Lucy did.” …that did it. The dam broke, and the tears began to flow. Fuck. I thought I had… I thought I had done enough crying. But this—fuck, apparently it hadn’t been enough. Apparently I still had a lot left in me. And I didn’t know how to feel about that. All it took was one short conversation with this nice lady, and the tears began to come down in waves. “Anon, I can hear you crying.” She spoke softly. It reminded me of when my own mother had loved me. “Please, just—just talk to me.” She sniffled. She was probably about to cry too. But she… she was putting me before herself. She was being selfless. Fang’s death had hit her just as hard, but… …I told myself I wouldn’t talk about Lucy. I told myself I would never talk about her again. I told myself I would just keep her in my heart, but that I couldn’t ever talk about her. I couldn’t pretend she was still around, and I couldn’t pretend I cared. The booze would do the talking. I had to be strong. But… Samantha… she.. she made me feel so weak. So I just found the words spilling out of me. “I just miss her so much.” I admitted, and choked back my tears. Well, tried. “I miss her so much, Samantha. You have no idea.” “I think I have an idea, dear..” She trailed off, and I could swear I heard her wail slightly. Or at least, cry out and cover her mouth. I clutched my phone tightly as I began to speak from my heart. I had kept myself silent for so long, but… now it was just all flowing out. I couldn’t stop it. “Not a day goes by where I don’t think about her. Not a day goes by where I don’t… where I don’t feel so much pain. Where I don’t consider everything I did wrong and… just.. blame myself for her death. Even though I know I had nothing to do with it,” I choked, memories of her mangled body in the wreckage of a car invading my senses. But I pushed them down. “I still feel like I did something wrong. I still feel like I didn’t… like I didn’t say I loved her enough. Like I didn’t appreciate her when she was around. I could’ve made her breakfast that morning. But I didn’t. I fucking didn’t, Samantha!” I shouted. Some patrons of the bar looked at me weird, but the bartender shooed them off. I’d have to tip him later. “I didn’t.” I whispered, my voice breaking as the tears flowed from my face and onto the table. I would could clean it up eventually, but for now, the tears remained. A reminder of my failure. “…I… I understand.” She muttered. And then I said something dumb. “How? How can you…” “…I blame myself, too, Anon.” Samantha spoke a little louder. Crap. “Every… every day, I wonder if I was a good mother or not. I never… I never called her Fang, you know that? I only ever called her Lucy, and… and I never tried to understand what she was going through.” Samantha admitted. “I just… I sat around and hoped that… hoped that my ignorance would pay off, and she would start acting ‘normal’ eventually…” She sniffled, very clearly choking up at what she was saying. Her tears were probably flowing just as freely. “But she only ever did when you came around. As soon as she met you, her… she… she looked so happy, Anon. She looked like my little girl again. She was happy for so many years… and it was because of you.” I didn’t say anything. What could I say? “It was never your fault, Anon. And… and trust me.. she’s looking down on you right now. Tears in her eyes at what you’re doing to yourself.” She whimpered. I was slightly mad at the idea of this turning into a lecture, but… I found myself loosening up in only a few seconds. Samantha cared. She… she wasn’t just my mother. “Please, Anon. Just stay strong, okay? For Fang.” After listening to the last of her words, I let the line sit for a few moments. I wasn’t sure how to respond, and was… slightly hoping she’d continue talking. What she was saying was helping, at least… somewhat. It was just nice to finally talk to someone, I guess. But… she probably wants a reply. “Th-Thank you, Samantha. I’ll try.” I nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. I wasn’t exactly very convicted nor convinced in what I had said, but… I knew I would probably be giving it a shot. Being strong, at least. “That’s all I—“ she froze. “That’s all we ask, Anon.” I nodded again. Her and Ripley. Of course. Of course they… of course they still cared. Fang was #1 in their world, and when she was forcefully removed from the picture, they… they probably got hit harder than me. But they knew how to handle it better. Less alcohol, for one… but either way, I just sighed into the phone. I can’t believe I ended up in this situation, but I can’t say I regret it. It… felt nice. “Th-Thanks for talking to me, Samantha.” “That’s not a problem at all, dear.” She replied, probably comforted by having someone to talk to, as I had done for me. “It just… felt nice to finally talk to someone about it.” I admitted, shuffling around in my seat nervously. I hope nobody was paying attention to my conversation. I was embarrassed to have admitted it was nice to talk about my feelings. “Of course it did, honey. Holding that stuff in is never good for your heart.” I could hear her shaking her head. “But remember, I’m here for you if you ever want to talk, dear. I know Fang is no longer in the picture, but… I still consider you my son-in-law.” She chuckled softly—mirthfully, even. I felt tears well up in my eyes again, but… not out of sadness this time. “Thank you, Samantha. If you… if you ever want to talk to me, about it, don’t—don’t hesitate, you know?” I spoke. My voice was still slurred, and my senses still fucked, but I wasn’t a heartless drunk. Not yet, at least. “And uh—if you ever wanna get lunch or something and catch up, I’d be fine with that, too.” I smiled. …wait. What the fuck? Why did I say that? I don’t know if I can even face Samantha. A phone call is different—a phone call is baseless, headless. It’s two voices talking together. It’s… it’s not like going and seeing someone in real life. So why did I say that? Was I trying to ask her out or something? Was this my grand rebound attempt, or am I just a drunk tard? God, she’s probably gonna be so pissed. She’ll catch on immediately and never want to speak to me again. However, the response I was treated with was something I didn’t expect. “O-Oh—I mean, sure, of course!” She responded happily, and shuffled a bit on her end. “I… I would love to catch up, Anon. It would be good to finally see you after so many years. How does tomorrow evening sound? At that grill on the edge of town? We can get some brunch.” I nearly dropped my fuckin’ phone. She wanted to go have brunch with me? After everything? After… after her daughter’s death, she still wanted to talk to the widowed husband? She still wanted to meet up and have BRUNCH? Who is this woman? “I’m just someone who cares, Anon.” She responded to my muttering for the… third (?) time that night. Lord, I think the muttering got worse when I drank… “It does, Anon. It does.” She laughed. My face flushed as I thought about her words. Argh. It does… “But, I think I’ll let you go, Anon. I can message you some more details about our brunch, if that’s okay?” “Y-Yeah, that’s fine.” Don’t go. “Sounds good, honey. Now why don’t you call a cab and head home? I can tell you’re at a bar.” She snickered softly. It was such a comforting sound. “Get some rest, alright? I want you awake before noon tomorrow. It’s good for the body.” Don’t go. “Now, remember. Fang loves you.” Please don’t go. “And I love you.” “L-Love you too.” I choked out. Please. Samantha. click The sound caused me to wail slightly—and break down once again. So much so that I began sobbing into my arms. God, I missed her so much. Her mother’s words were comforting, but… all they did was remind me of my failure. I… I should’ve asked her to keep talking. I should’ve begged her to stay. I should’ve—I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have let her go. I should’ve asked her not to hang up. Why did she… …Why… …why does everyone keep leaving me behind…? <<<>>> …When I awoke the next morning, I felt like complete shit. Because of course I did. I can’t say I ever got used to the feeling of a hangover, despite how often I ended up drinking myself to unconsciousness. I never even found a good method for getting rid of the hangover. Some people say to drink water while you booze it up, because it helps clear your system, but that’s not what I want. I wanted to be drunk; it helped make the pain go away. But… I didn’t want to be hungover. There was a difference. Hangovers make me feel sick and awful. Drinking makes me feel free… Anyway, I shuffled off my couch, scratching my head as I did. Guess I didn’t make it to the bedroom last night. Couldn’t blame myself, after all. I don’t even remember making it home. Speaking of, I pulled out my phone. 12%. Not good, but manageable. I then checked my recent calls list. Cab Guy Samantha (fang mama) Missed Call: Trish (4) Missed Call: Naser (17) Missed Call: Reed (3) Okay, good. I didn’t drive myself home. I’m not a complete idiot… yet. But now I have to call another cab and get a ride back to that bar. I left my truck there overnight, and that’s… not good. That place was pretty seedy, and carjackers seemed like a common thing in the area. It wasn’t Skin Row, but it was still pretty bad. Hopefully I locked it before I went inside and started binge-drinking. And apparently, calling my dead wife’s mother. …I looked back at my list of calls. A call to Samantha, huh. I don’t… when did I? When did I call Samantha? That’s odd. I don’t really remember— “I want you awake before noon. It’s good for the body.” I shifted my eyes away from the list of numbers and over to my phone’s digital clock. 11:58, it said. Phew. Nearly right on time… however, very shortly after that breath of relief, I remembered that I was SUPPOSED TO MEET SAMANTHA SOMEWHERE. “Fuck.” I whispered, and immediately switched tabs to my messaging app. Goddamn it, I hope I didn’t stand her up. Please tell me I didn’t stand her up. “Meet me at the Sutter Street Bar & Grill at around 1:00. It’s a nice little spot. *smile emoji*” “Snds good. Thank you sammy” “Of course, dear. I look forward to it.” God, ew. Did I really call her Sammy? What the hell? How coherent was I last night? Am I misremembering what I said? I feel like I was a lot more well-spoken than fucking SAMMY. I feel like I was able to hold an actual conversation with the woman and discuss our problems in a meaningful way. Was that wrong? Did I just slur the entire time and talk like an idiot? God. I guess I can’t know unless I ask, but I… kinda don’t want to ask. I think I would rather my memory of last night be a good one over an embarrassing one. Ugh. Why is life so bad? Either way, I… I began to consider some stuff. Did I really want to go meet up with Samantha? I should probably just cancel, right? I don’t feel good, and… And I… …no, I… I miss talking to her. I shook my head. No. I can’t call it off. Talking to her was one of the most… relieving, and… comforting things that I’ve felt in years. Blowing her off and seeing her sad about it would probably drive me to the breaking point. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. I left Fang behind. I can’t leave her behind too. …But if I’m to go, I probably have to get ready to leave here soon. That bar and grill is thirty minutes away, and I only have an hour to get there, traffic not accounted for. I sighed to myself as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. My head hurt like a bitch, but I need to man up. I made a promise to Samantha, and I intend to fulfill it. Pulling up the phone app again, I dialed the cab driver, and it took all of five minutes before a rusted-yellow taxicab drifted to a stop in front of my house. I climbed in quickly and buckled myself, “Sutter Street Bar & Grill, Bossman.” “Not a problem, Anon.” The seedy guy said, gripping a toothpick hanging from his mouth. He then sped off, and I leaned back in my seat. “Thanks, Monarch.” I muttered, trying to nurse my headache. “Not a problem, kid. When do you want me to pick you up and take you back to Chuck’s?” He asked, looking behind him. “I’ll give you a call.” I waved my hand dismissively. “I’m meeting someone.” I explained. “Oh, nice, nice. You finally movin’ on from that ptero girl?” He asked, turning back forward, but still looking into the rearview mirror. My first instinct was to get angry at the assumption. I would never move on from Fang. I would never leave her behind. How dare he ask such a thing? That was my thought process, at least, until I noticed something. It… it was… his eyes. In the mirror, I could see his eyes, and rather than see the usual sleaziness… I saw care. I saw concern. So I let my blood pressure drop slightly. “No, it’s…” I trailed off. This is kinda hard to explain. “It’s her mom. We’re meeting up to… talk about stuff.” “Oh. So it’s… like a therapy session?” He asked, his voice quiet and oddly soft-spoken. “I hope not, but it might devolve into that.” I laughed. He gave a sleazy chuckle, and put his eyes back on the road. “That’s good, kid. I’m glad you’re getting your bearings straight.” He sighed. I raised my eyebrow, and he must’ve seen it. He decided to explain. “I’ve seen it all before, you know? I’m a cab driver. I drive drunk people around, I drive hurt people around, and I drive drunk hurt people around.” I felt like he was about to go on a bit of a tangent, but I can’t say I minded. I liked him. “And you, kid, you’re… you’re the saddest one of the bunch. I’ve seen you, known you since you were in high school. And I just…” He looked out his window, contemplating. “I’ve learned the worst of what’s happened, and I’ve seen what it’s done to you. It’s gone on for too long, kid. You gotta let go. It hurts me to see you like this, you know?” He looked back in the mirror. “I know I’m just the cab driver, but I care about you, you know? You’re my best customer,” He laughed at that last part, but then muted himself again. “…but… you’re also someone I’ve grown to see as… call it weird, but I consider you a nephew in a way. Like I’m your Uncle Monarch.” He then put an arm on the seat next to him, and looked back at me. He somehow kept the car completely straight as he did. “And your Uncle Monarch wants to see you get better, kid.” I was… a little awestruck, honestly. To know he cared about me that much. He was just my cab driver—sure we were on a first-name basis, but he was… he was a cab driver. He didn’t have to know me. He didn’t have to care about me. But… he did. It… it made me sick, thinking about my own friends. My own friends didn’t care enough about me to bother, but this random cab driver did? Lord. All my friends ever do is call me hundreds of times, probably trying to make fun— Missed Call: Naser (17) …no. No, that… he can’t. …He can’t care about me. He’s calling just to rub it in. To blame me for the death of his older sister. I knew it to be true. Why. Why would he… why would he care about me? The car screeched to a stop, and I jolted out of my own head. “We’re here.” Monarch said, and turned back to face me. I set aside my thoughts of Naser. I… I could do some self-reflection later. I needed to go and see Samantha. It would be nice to see Samantha. Or, SAMMY. Haha. I began to pull out my wallet, and Monarch put a hand up. “The fare is 30 bucks, but just give me the 30 at the end of our little journey. 30 for a couple trips sounds fair, doesn’t it?” He asked, giving me a cheeky smile. “No way, man! That’s—“ “Ahbupbup-bup.” He said. “30 at the end of all of our rides. Take it or leave it.” I could never convince him otherwise with this stuff, so I just shook my head and gave a chuckle. “I don’t know how you stay in business.” I muttered, and climbed out of the car. He shrugged. “Maybe this isn’t my only job.” He smiled. “Now go on, go talk to your date.” He said as I shut the door. I yelled as he sped off. “SHE’S NOT MY DAT— oh fuck it whatever.” I sighed. I wouldn’t be able to get that out of his head no matter what I tried. Even if I explained that Samantha was… like, fifty? He probably wouldn’t accept it. Funny guy, Monarch was. Note the sarcasm. I just shook my head and turned around, walking towards the bar and grill. I saw a few people sitting out on the patio, and I had to hold in my curses as I saw how… happy, the couples looked together. They were all chatting and laughing. Nobody was dead, and nobody was an alcoholic. God, I was starting to sound like some kind of redditor neckbeard. ‘Guhhh why is everyone so happy in a relationship except me’ or some bullshit like that. Whatever. It’s all crap anyway. I sighed to myself as I threw open the door to the shop and walked up to the lady at the booth-counter-thing. “Hey, welcome to Sutter Street Bar & Grill!” The lady said cheerfully. She was an ankylosaur. Kinda cute, but I have a bit of an affinity for pterodactyls. “Er—do you have a reservation?” Shit. I hope I didn’t mutter any of what I had said. “Uh, I think so—table for Samantha?” “Ah, she’s right over there!” The girl smiled, and pointed to a table with a familiar blue ptero. “Go ahead and join her if you’d like, I don’t believe she’s ordered yet.” She nodded. She was positively beaming. I needed sunglasses or something… “Thanks,” I nodded, and began my walk over to the table. As I did, I began to get a little nervous. It wasn’t a date or anything, but… I haven’t talked to someone from the Aaron family face-to-face in a long while. And that’s not to mention what Ripley would do if he found out I went to brunch with his wife. God, he’d probably tear me limb-from-limb. But I can’t focus on that right now. I promised Samantha I would be here, so I’ll be here. “Hey, Sam?” I muttered, getting her attention. I hadn’t sat down yet. She raised her head to look at me, and she smiled brightly when she did. “Anon! Hello!” She beamed, and stood up from her seat. The smaller woman quickly gave me a big hug, and I was momentarily shocked—before I hugged her back, of course. After a couple seconds she pulled away, “How have you been, dear?” I finally got a good look at her, and… wow. She hadn’t aged a bit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without her apron, but for this brunch, she seems to have ditched it, instead choosing to wear a blue ringspun cotton shirt that had the words ‘Lost in Love’ inside of a heart. And in case you were wondering, yes, the Os were also hearts. It was a pretty cute shirt, honestly. Wait, shit. She was talking to me. “I-I’ve been good, Samantha. A little bit of a headache but nothing I can’t handle.” I gave an awkward smile. “How are you?” “Oh, I’m great. I just got here, so you’re right on time. Take a seat, hon.” She spoke softly, her expression caring. Loving. “I can call over a waiter and you can get some orange juice. I know you kids like your orange juice.” I laughed as I took a seat across from her, “Samantha, I’m twenty-six. I’m not a kid anymore.” “Oh, geez… compared to me, you’re a kid.” She chuckled. “I’m forty-seven. I’m practically a grandma.” She… did not look forty-seven. I don’t know what she did to keep herself looking like she was 30, but whatever it was, it was working. Maybe she drank baby blood, like the Hollywood execs. I don’t know, but… I had to say something. Couldn’t just leave her hangin’. “No kidding? You’re forty-seven??” I put on airs a bit, “You don’t look a day over twenty-five, Samantha. You gotta teach me your secrets. I feel like I look twenty-five years older than I am…” I muttered, and rubbed my bald head for emphasis. Samantha laughed again. A beautiful sound, truly. “Oh, stop. More compliments like that and I’ll think you’re trying to woo me.” …I laughed nervously at that. That was… kind of an insensitive joke. She quickly caught on, and shook her head. “Ah—I’m sorry. I didn’t…” She trailed off, and I took that as my cue to smile and nod. “That’s alright, Samantha.” I gave her my trademark nervous-yet-confident smile. I didn’t want to say I was offended at her joke. What was I, a redditor? “Oh, please just call me Sam.” She smiled softly. “Samantha is a mouthful.” “Sounds good, Sam.” I chuckled, the insensitive joke from before all but forgotten. Why continue to care? She didn’t mean to say it. As I thought that, a waiter walked up to us and pulled out a notepad and pen. “Hey guys! How are we doing today?” Me and Sam responded with muted ‘good’s. “What can I get started for you? Any drinks? Water?” She spoke in an eccentric tone. Reminded me a bit of Stella, and the reminder of Stella wasn’t helped by the fact that she—our waiter—was also a stego. Fuck. But she asked us a question. Time to get my usual. “Ah, uh, three mimosas, please.” I smiled. “Oh? Are you guys having another join you?” The waiter asked. I suddenly realized, and felt somewhat embarrassed. But I had to stop her before she continued. “I can get another chair over—“ “No, that’s.” I started, interrupting her. “That’s… fine. It’s… they’re..” I looked down at the table in shame. What the hell is wrong with me? “…oh.” The woman said, faltering slightly. Her nametag said ‘Melissa’, so I should probably call her that. Melissa faltered slightly. “Ah, that’s… okay, no problem. What would you like to drink, ma’am?” She turned to Samantha. But she wasn’t paying attention. Samantha was… giving me this look. This look of both motherly disappointment and genuine hurt. It was making me feel guilty. So I… interrupted again. “Ah, actually… could I just.. get a coffee, please?” I muttered, giving her a fake smile. She visibly brightened. “Of course! One coffee, coming right up.” Speaking of being visibly brightened, Samantha looked like a kid on Christmas. She gave me a very small—yet absolutely bright—smile, and spoke up as well, turning to Melissa. “And just an orange juice for me.” Melissa nodded, wrote down our requests, and pocketed the notepad. “Sounds good, you two! I’ll be out with those in a jiffy.” She gave us one last smile, and walked off afterward, leaving me and Samantha alone once again. Here it comes… …Rather than start lecturing me, if you can believe it, she didn’t say anything, instead choosing to shake her head silently. She then spoke, but… not about what I had expected. “So, Anon.” She exhaled. “How are you feeling?” She asked. Didn’t she already—“And yes, I know I already asked that. But you can be honest, okay? Your head hurts, but what about your heart, Anon?” She smiled softly. It was exactly how I had imagined it over the phone. “That phone call last night did a lot for me. Did it… did it do it for you, too?” I blushed at her words. But I couldn’t lie. “Y-Yeah, it did.” I looked down at the table in shame. Again. “I don’t usually talk about my problems, but… I think that’s the best I’ve felt in years, Sam.” I looked back up at her. “I’m glad, honey.” She smiled, and gave a nod. Throughout the rest of our brunch, we avoided the general topics. After that first conversation, there was an unsigned, unspoken agreement to simply enjoy each-other’s company as we ate our food. We weren’t even really talking that much, period—but when we did, it was nice. Short. Though I could definitely tell that the both of us had something below. We had things we were hiding. Things we were hurting about—way more than we were letting on. But I don’t know what it’ll take to get either of us to start discussing it… But, near the end of the dinner, it happened. I had finished off my coffee, and Sam had taken her last sip of orange juice. When I noticed her staring at her empty cup for a while, I cracked a joke. “See a bug?” She shook her head. “No, it’s just… something I’m thinking about.” “What’s that?” I asked, and took my last bite of potatoes. “Anon, is…” She leaned in, whispering. Huh? Didn’t expect this. What’s this about? “Is alcohol all you drink? I thought you were hungover, sweetheart. You don’t need three mimosas when you’re hungover.” She spoke, a whistle coming through her teeth slightly. Huh. Wait. “Uh, n-no, I drink water ‘n stuff… it’s just… what better to get rid of a hangover than champagne?” I gave a nervous smile, and threw in a bit of a chuckle for good measure. Joking is the best way to move past problems… It didn’t work. Because of course it didn’t. Here was an always-concerned mother, and she was talking to her alcoholic son-in-law. Who the fuck would’ve expected that to work? She just shook her head, and grabbed my hand under the table. It shocked me initially, but I can’t say I… I can’t say that I didn’t like it. It was comforting. “Anon, alcohol isn’t the answer.” She whispered. Yeah. Like I haven’t heard those words before. Fucking great... “I’m sure you have, but… I’m..” She tried to formulate her words. Fuck, I muttered again. “I’m just concerned, Anon.” Her eyes became slightly glassy as she said her next words. “I… I’ve lost enough. My daughter and my husband, both taken from this world too early… and.. I—I can’t lose you too.” “W-What?” I asked. At that moment, you could’ve heard a pin drop.. “Your husband? What… what happened—what happened to Ripley?” I asked, looking off to the side slightly and then back at her. “I didn’t…” “Nobody saw it coming, Anon.” She started. Uh oh. She was going to explain it. Yeah, I asked for it… but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to listen to. “But. It was.. it was L-Lucy’s death. It got to him, and he spent a lot of his time thinking about her.” She turned away. “He never STOPPED thinking about her. Nobody should have…” She turned back, “No father should have to bury their daughter, Anon. He never forgot that day. He never stopped loving Lucy… and… it cost him.” I rubbed her hand, and she sighed a broken sigh. “…what happened?” I asked. I was no longer worried about me. She needed to get this off her chest. “…It was a pterodactyl holding up a convenience store. What should’ve been a normal bust turned into a gunfight, and…” She trailed off, before having to put a hand to her mouth to stifle her tears. “And he couldn’t bring himself to shoot the suspect. He lost the fight, Anon.” She choked. “He lost.” I… I didn’t know what to do. How does this look to other people? Here was this nice ptero sweetheart, who’s been nothing but nice to the staff the entire morning, and then here comes this weird alcoholic guy and near the end of the brunch; the lady is crying. Fuck, dude. And forget my image! How do I make her stop crying? I don’t want her to cry. I just wanted to help her get her issues off her chest. Crying is the last thing I want. “I-I’m—I’m sorry, Anon.” She sniffled, and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “Gosh. It just… it’s hard, you know? I don’t want to cry in front of you, but… last night, after our conversation, I’m sure I lost a LOT of water, and from tears alone!” She chuckled. Gosh. She was so sweet. Too sweet. “It’s just… we live with it every day. You live with it. And… I want you to know,” She muttered, and let go of my hands. I missed her touch almost immediately, but then she put her hands out on top of the table. Her nails were painted a nice burgundy, and I felt the urge to grab them again. Hopefully, that’s what she was trying to say. When she gripped me back, I knew. She leaned in again. “Alcohol… it’s not what you want. I’ve tried it. Many, many years ago, when Ripley was first drafted. It was hard to live without him, and I turned to alcohol to… to help with raising the kids.” She admitted. “I’m so ashamed of myself during that time. To this day, I regret it. And I don’t want that for you. You’re such a sweet young man, and you have so much ahead of you. Don’t waste it…” She looked down, angry. But I figured she was more angry at herself. “Don’t waste it on alcohol. It’s not worth it.” I… I didn’t know what to say. She was right. She was obviously right. But I had… I had fallen so far down into the hole, I didn’t know if I could ever climb out. My pain is never relieved. Not… not unless I’m black-out drunk. That’s fucked up, obviously, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t just quit drinking. It’s… it’s not possible. “I’m not asking you to quit drinking, Anon. I’m just asking you to not…” She leaned back in, and gripped my hands tighter. “Don’t drink the pain away. I’m here for you, Anon. Please. Take advantage of me. Use me. I’m… I’m here to save you, Anon.” She smiled a tearful smile. “I’m here for you.” …I stayed silent, considering what I wanted to say. When I thought about it for a second, I began to speak. “I…” Great first word. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can take advantage of you, Sam. You’re… you’re also going through so much. And I find myself wanting to be there for you—but I don’t know if I’m capable of that.” I admitted. Her expression didn’t change. “And… I don’t know if you’re capable of being my anchor. How can we be each other’s anchors when we’re…” I looked down at my coffee. “When we’re so messed up?” Sam shook her head. “That’s not what it’s about, Anon. It’s not about being messed up. It’s about caring for each other. You say you want to be my anchor, but you’re right, I don’t know if you’re capable either.” She shook her head. “I mean, look at me. I’m a forty-year old hag who lives with her son and cries to younger men over the phone. I’ve got a lot of baggage, Anon.” She sighed. “…but so do I.” I admitted. Both of us stayed silent for a few seconds. Both of us were considering what to say. And… for the first time, I spoke first. “But do you want to try?” I asked. “We can… we can try to support each other, Sam.” I said, giving my best idea. It was all I had. When she didn’t say anything, I gave another push. “Whaddya say?” I smiled. “Two broken people… both helping each other stand…” I trailed off. It was a nice idea. Maybe a little fairy-tale, but still a nice idea. Samantha just looked to me, and grabbed my hands again. They were clammy and sweaty. It had taken a lot out of her to tell me all of that stuff. “Alright, Anon.” She agreed, and nodded. “I’ll be there for you…” She looked away, and then back to me. “If you’ll be there for me.” “Sounds good.” I smiled. I was beginning to tear up as well. We both stood up at that moment, deciding we were finally done with our brunch. We took our leave, left our tips, and exited the restaurant—all of our baggage in tow. But now… we were helping each other carry it. As I exited the place and took in the cold air, I looked out at the couples on the patio. They all looked so happy. Like they were enjoying their life much more than I was. But… who knows. That girl over there, she looks a little chubby. She probably feels self-conscious. That guy is balding, he probably wants to wear a hat every day. …because everyone is fighting a battle I know nothing about. <><><><><><><> Over the course of a few weeks, me and Samantha would talk over the phone sometimes. Whether it was due to one of us crying or just because we needed advice on how to cook something, we spoke often over the telephone. But… things were starting to look up. I enjoyed Sam’s company a lot, and she was always very nice to me. I hope she believed I was nice to her as well. Sometimes I can be a dick without thinking about it, and I always apologize, but who knows? Maybe she dislikes me secretly. Lord knows my friends all do. Speaking of my friends, sometimes I hear Naser in the background of the phone calls. He sounds like he’s doing alright, and every time he’s there, Sam asks me to talk to him… but I decline. I don’t know how Naser feels about me anymore. Talking to Samantha is shifting my view slightly—but after everything, how can he want to talk to me? How can he consider me a friend? I practically abandoned him… all because I thought he abandoned me. How do I even approach that? How do I consider my options here? There aren’t any solid choices. This isn’t a visual novel. Ugh… But anyway.. there’s… there’s something else I need to mention. And bare with me. Please bare with me. Dear GOD. It is NOT what it looks like. It’s just… I… I think I’m falling for Samantha. I have no idea how it happened, but I think I really noticed around a week or so ago. It was just a normal day. I had woken up, made breakfast, only had one beer (baby steps), and sat alone in my house. I didn’t have work that day, which was nice—and oh yeah, I’ve started going back to work. Samantha had been able to talk some sense into me regarding that. Which was… nice. My job had said they missed me, and were worried about me, which I didn’t expect. I honestly expected to get fired. But they… they just accepted me back. It was honestly pretty cool of them. They said they all knew I was going through a hard time, and were supportive of me. It was just corporate that was threatening me. …anyway, anyway. Enough about work. Samantha had given me a call that day. She wasn’t calling to discuss anything serious, and only wanted to see how I was doing that morning. But during the conversation… she had mentioned me being cute. She had done it before. But… something about that time. It made my heart race. It made me light-headed, and I had instantly imagined a family with her. I had rushed ahead our entire life, all the way up to dying in each other’s arms. And… I liked what I saw. I liked what I saw, and… I didn’t… maybe it was because of Fang? Maybe I’m just into her because she looks like Fang? But that… that can’t be it. She’s… she’s different. I never thought this way about her before. I’d never even been attracted to her before—not even when I first saw her at Fang’s house. Maybe Ripley was just scaring the shit out of me, but at the time, I just thought she was… basic. If anything. She was a mom. She was Fang’s mom. But now…? She’s… she’s Samantha. She’s someone I talk to almost daily, and she’s… she’s someone that I’ve enjoyed every second of my time with. Normally, that’s never the case. If I were to talk to the same person every day for an entire month, I would’ve gone insane. But with… with Samantha? It’s so different. I look forward to her phone calls. I look forward to our brunches. And… I… I really like her. She’s the mother of my deceased wife, but… she makes me feel so happy. I told myself I would never move on from Fang. But… I’ve also told Samantha that she needs to let go of Ripley. …and I… I think I need to take my own advice. I’ll never forget Fang. I’ll never forget what we had. But… she’s gone. And she’ll be gone forever. There’s nothing I can do anymore except… look forward. Look forward to a brighter future. One with… one with my savior in it. …in a few hours, me and Samantha are meeting up for another brunch. I’ll discuss my feelings with her then. Maybe she feels the same. Maybe she doesn’t. But… either way, I can’t keep going on with these thoughts in my head. They’re dangerous, and they have the power to completely destroy our relationship if I’m not careful with this. I have to approach this in the perfect way. But not too perfect. I have to expect the unexpected. And no, I didn’t just see that on a bumper sticker. Fuck you. Ringringring Ope. Phone call. Gotta take this… “Hello!” I said, already knowing who it was. I didn’t even have to check the caller ID. But wait. Wait an entire minute. No. Maybe it IS someone— “Hello, Anon!” Samantha’s voice came through the phone. Oh thank fucking God. “Are we still on for our brunch?” “Of course!” I exclaimed, smiling. I kept in the sigh of relief. “Unless you have other plans? Hot date, maybe?” I joked. I ignored the pain in my heart. “Oh, stop! You know I’m too old to pull these days.” She snickered. My heart continued to ache. “No, I was just calling to check-in. But it seems we’re good.” She stayed silent for a moment. Then she spoke up again. “How are you doing, Anon?” “Doin’ alright—“ I exhaled. “Nothing much going on. Just chillin’.” “Chillin’?” Samantha asked. “Gosh. You sound like Reed.” “Ha-ha.” I laughed, sadly. I missed Reed. Then… she sighed into the phone. “Actually, I’m sorry. I need to talk about something before we go to brunch. I don’t… I don’t want to ruin anything.” She spoke softly. “Can I talk for a bit?” “Of course, Sam.” I said, and leaned forward on my chair. “Go ahead.” “It’s… Naser.” She sighed. Damn it. “He hasn’t been doing good recently. He’s been worried about a lot of stuff—apparently people have been coming into the hospital a lot more often with the flu, and it’s driving him crazy. Not to mention that he…” I figured she turned her head away here. “He’s not happy we’ve been meeting up, Anon. We actually got into a big fight about it last night. In his words, he’s scared for you, worried for you—he has no idea where you are or what you’re doing, but then you come and ‘sweep my mom off her feet.’” She exaggerated, doing air-quotes. She wasn’t mad, though. “It… it hurt me, to hear him say that. I trust you a lot, Anon, and I need him to trust you too. But you both just keep blowing each other off. It’s…” …I considered her words. Because of course I did. I always considered what she said—she always had really valuable advice. My advice was never that good, but hers? That shit? It really was. She was wise, mature, knew what she was doing. It was part of what I liked about her. Her maturity. But— “It’s honestly stressing me out a bit, too.” She chuckled. But then she sighed. “You… you don’t have to talk to Naser, Anon. And I really cannot force you to.” She whispered. “But just keep in mind that he cares, okay?” I stayed silent again. But I knew what I wanted to say. “Alright.” I nodded. “I’ll think about it.” “Thank you, Anon.” We continued our conversation for a few more minutes, before eventually signing off and deciding we’d just get ready for our brunch and talk more then. Thankfully, too, because I still had romance on the mind—with no way to actually speak about it without being a complete sperg. I needed to consider what I had to do a little bit before I actually tried. That was just logical. Though, I also needed to consider her words a bit. Maybe I’ll… maybe I’ll talk to Naser. But not soon. He… he still… ..I’ll get to it when I get to it. And before I knew it, I was shifting into first gear as I pulled into the parking lot, sighing as I did. I had to steel myself for this, man. This shit was gonna be ROUGH. Well, maybe? Maybe rough. Maybe she really did like me. Who knows. She probably didn’t, given I have no idea if she’s moved on from Ripley, but… what could I do other than try? That’s all I had left, really. The indomitable human spirit. So… let’s do this. I removed my keys from the ignition, put it in first, pushed in the emergency brake, and jumped out of the truck. A push of the keyfob later and I was ready to enter the Sutter Street Grill, which is where we had our first date, if you recall. A special spot. But God, a date. It wasn’t a date. None of these have been dates. Do I WISH they were dates? Yes. But I can’t get a confirmation on that, now can I? Oh whatever. YO mama. You bald-headed ass bitch… I pushed open the glass door, smiling when I saw Samantha wave me over. We were in our usual spot—a booth by the window, with a nice sunshine glare on the table. Not hot, but nice and warm. Toasty, as they say. Kept the coffee nice and warm. You know? As I took a seat, Samantha gave me a smile. “Hello, Anon. How are you today?” She asked. I sighed. I tried not to show how worried I was, but it was hard to keep it contained. “Hey Sam.” I smiled. It was fake, but hopefully it kept the secret. “Are you alright, Anon?” She asked, worry showing on her features. Fuck. God damn it. She already fucking knew. Of course she did. “Uhh…” I trailed off. “Let’s, uh, let’s talk about it after brunch, alright?” I chuckled. I needed to dodge it for as long as possible. Was I sweating? I was probably sweating. “Alright.” Sam nodded, understanding. “How’s work been, Anon?” She asked, changing the subject. “Ah, it’s—it’s been good.” I nodded, thankful for the conversation. “Finally got some good paychecks rolling in. I’m able to pay off my bills pretty well now, and I don’t really have to…” I trailed off. “Now that I’m not really spending money on booze, I can afford some more luxuries. I just bought myself a new PachyStation.” I smiled. “Oh, Anon! Good for you!” She grinned, and clapped her hands softly. “What games are you gonna play? Mario?” I chuckled. Oh, she was so innocent. But I figured I’d at least humor her. “Nah, not Mario. I was mostly going to play that new God of War game. I’ve always liked God of War,” I took a sip of the water that was on the table already. “But these new ones are kind of a different take on the series. I’d consider it kind of like… the God of Soy, while the original games were the God of War. But Ragnarok looks really good, so I figured I’d at least give it a shot.” I smiled. I’m sure she didn’t understand a word of what I just said, but who knows? I can always explain it if she asks. “Ah, God of War. That’s the one with the guy with the red skin, right?” She asked, also taking a sip of water. She had a straw—I didn’t. Haha. Ptero problems. “White skin with red tattoos, yeah.” I corrected. “Ahh!! Yes, yes. I know that game. I saw some commercials on TV for it.” She reminisced. “I like to put on some background noise while I cook, and I heard this loud guy talking about something-something God of War. But what was it you called it? The God of Soy?” She laughed, her tone mirthful. She was honestly such a sweet person. “I hardly believe a God can rule over something like soy. That’s a plant, Anon!” I blushed, but laughed all the same. “Ah, no—it’s just an expression!” I chuckled. “See, in the old games, that guy with the tattoos was..” I then went on to explain nearly the entirety of the God of War lore to an ever-present and ever-focused Samantha. She was so enraptured in it, too, and even asked questions sometimes—showing she was actually paying attention and taking in the information. I was around halfway through the third game when the food arrived, but neither of us really wanted to stop. She had actually urged me to continue, if you could believe it… That was just one more thing about Samantha. You could talk to her about ANYTHING and she’ll listen. Not just to respond, and sometimes not even because she’s interested—but because she just… she cares about you. She wants to make you feel listened to, heard, cared for. This ptero milf is such a fucking sweetheart, I don’t know if I can even consider her a milf anymore. Maybe… milc. Mother I’d like to cuddle. Haha. But… before I knew it, I had finished my rambling, and we were standing up to leave. It was nearing that time. I… I had to move. Samantha was going to leave. She was standing up. Or, she almost did. I had to stop her. “Hey, Samantha, wait.” I spoke. Fuck. I was nervous already. I couldn’t do this… “Hm?” She spoke, confused. She then sat back down. “Forget something?” She giggled. “Maybe Kratos had another kid?” “No, it’s…” I trailed off. Fuck. How can I do this. I looked at the ceiling, hoping it had the answers I was looking for. It obviously didn’t. But what the fuck can I do? Do I just tell her? Be honest? I can’t let my confession be an accident again. That’s embarrassing. But… God. What… …fuck. I think I just need to man up here. I can’t let myself be held back by my own head! Not anymore! I felt a pair of arms on my back, and a ptero kiss on my cheek. But… it wasn’t anyone. Nobody was there. But I knew what it meant. “Samantha, I…” I whispered. My hands were sweaty. But I needed to take this plunge. I had to say something... “I like you. A lot. I know you probably think I’m too young—“ I was starting to ramble. Not good. Spaghetti is falling, and my face is super hot. Is this what happens when I’m sober? “But I don’t think you’re too old for me. I… just…” I stopped rambling, and began to actually think about what I was saying. “I’ve had a lot of fun talking to you in these past few weeks, Sam. You’re cute, you’re nice, you like me, you support me… you’re amazing. You’re amazing in every way.” I looked down at the table in shame. “And I can understand if you just want to stay friends… but I had to say something. I couldn’t keep holding onto that. I had to be a fucking man, Samantha.” I choked. I wasn’t about to start crying, but fuck I was nervous… Samantha didn’t say anything at first, and I felt fear grip me. This was it. I had said too much, and now she was going to run away and leave me alone again. Naser would come to kick the shit out of me for breaking his mother’s heart, and I would end up drinking again, and die a slow death due to my complete liver neglige— Samantha grabbed my hand. I turned back up to face her, and took note of her glossy eyes. Fuck. Here we were again. Sitting at a bar and grill, Samantha crying. But this time it… was actually my fault. And I didn’t know what to do to fix it. Was this sad crying or happy crying? I couldn’t tell. The handholding could mean anything…. “Anon…” She whispered. Fuck. “I… I don’t..” I stayed silent. “I don’t know if I…” …she’s rejecting me. She doesn’t want to go on dates with me anymore. She doesn’t know… but that… she’s done with me. She never wants to see me again. “A-Alright, Samantha.” I whispered, and slowly stood up. I… I didn’t know what to do, other than leave her alone. I didn’t want to bother her with my bullshit anymore. “I’ll… I’ll uh…” “No, Anon, wait.” She muttered, and stood up as well. “No, Sam, it’s alright. I get it. You don’t… you don’t have to—“ “No, Anon!” She exclaimed, and huffed. “God damn it! I like you too!” …blare the alarms? Hello?? “Yo-You—what?!” I practically yelled. I’m sure we were getting weird looks from the restaurant-goers, but me and Sam had been in here so many times the owners knew us by name. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. But wait. Wait a full fucking minute. “Do… do you really?” I asked. I wasn’t sure. I… I didn’t know if I was ready for her to be sure. “Yes, Anon. I do.” She nodded, and wiped her eyes. She chuckled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to cry. It’s just…” She looked around the restaurant. At all the people staring at us. She blushed. “Let’s go outside, alright?” She spoke, and I nodded. Within five minutes, we were standing outside, away from the general public. We weren’t hiding in an alleyway or anything, but we weren’t chilling at the restaurant anymore. …Samantha began to speak again. “It’s… I don’t know if I can ever forget Ripley, Anon. We were in love for so many years.” She frowned. So… she.. was she… “But…” She spoke again, and I cut my own thought-process off. “I also know how much Lucy meant to you. And… if you’re able to let her go, then… I think I need to let go of Ripley, too.” “…so… does that..” I spoke softly. I had to be sure. She smiled, and then she wrapped her arms around my neck. Shortly thereafter, she pulled me in for a kiss. …It was everything I had hoped for, kissing Samantha. The entire world around us had fallen out of style, and it was just me and her. Me and Samantha. Her lips tasted like strawberries, and she smelled like vanilla. She was clearly experienced—having been married for so many years, she knew how to kiss. But she wasn’t pushing tongue. She wasn’t being sexy. We were kissing. Our first kiss, and it was full of… love. As all kisses should be. This wasn’t some fetish. This wasn’t me rebounding. This was… this was care. This was affection. This was… love. She pulled away after a few seconds, and gave a short sigh. “It’s been a while since I’ve kissed a human.” “Y-You’ve done it before?” I asked, still blushing from the kiss. God. I felt like a teenager. “Long, long ago, Nonny.” She giggled, and tapped me on the nose. Huh. Nonny. Not sure how I felt about the nickname, but it was cute. “Now come on. Let’s get going. If we spend all night frolicking out here, Naser will get worried.” …Naser. Naser. Fuck. I just kissed his mom. He was so pissed when I first started dating Fang, how the fuck is he gonna feel about me dating his MOM?! I’m only a year older than he is. Fuck. Shit. He’s gonna be so pissed… “He won’t be angry, Anon. I’ve talked about my feelings with him before. He’s allowed it. Just… as long as you promise not to break my heart.” She smiled. “Though, this morning was odd… I don’t know how he actually feels about it.” She looked down at the floor. “Oh no. I hope I’m not… I hope I don’t make him—“ “Sam.” I cut her off. “Hey.” I whispered. “…yeah?” She asked after a few moments. Oh fuck. I was supposed to speak. “We’ll… we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?” I smiled, quickly improvising something. “Naser won’t be mad. He’s a bro.” She looked down, still somewhat unconvinced. Damn it. Plan B. “Alright. How about this. He says not to break your heart?” She looked back up at me. “Er—Yeah?” She asked, somewhat confused. “Then…. never.” I whispered. “I will never break your heart.” She stayed silent for a few moments after that, and… I had to sit and realize how dumb whatever I just said was. What the hell, man. Why did I say that? That’s so— She then began to laugh. Not giggle, not chuckle, not snicker… laugh. She was laughing. “Oh gosh, Anon!” She snorted. “Bwahaha! Oh!” She continued. I felt kinda bad now. I had tried to make her feel better… “Oh, honey, I’m sorry for laughing… I just…” She sighed. “Phew! Anon. That’s… that’s so cheesy.” “I… sure, but..” She leaned in. “But I like cheesy.” She whispered, and then gave me another kiss. It didn’t last as long as the last one, but she chuckled as she pulled away. After that, me and Samantha kissed one last time, and then I sent her off. We would see each other again soon. We had a lot more in store for our future, after all. Our future… together. I looked back, and up at the sky. And I could… I could swear I saw a familiar ptero there. She… she wore her tan turtleneck, and gave me a smile. It’s okay, she mouthed. I smiled. It was okay. Everything… everything was gonna be okay. I sighed, content. I then pulled out my phone and I looked at the time. 4:00 PM. Not bad. I put my phone away after that. But then… I pulled it back out. …It’s okay. I went to my phone calls, and I dialed a number. It rang for a few seconds, and then.. “Hello?” I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. How to say it. This had been… so long in the making. What could I say? How could I explain myself? “…Anon?” The voice said again. He sounded on the verge of tears. I felt near there, too. It had been a while. Too long.. it had been too long. “…hey, Naser.” I choked. “What’s up?” [POST-NOTES] Awooga. Older woman. Thanks for reading! And shoutout IllAgain for the name of the cab driver. Read his story, Scars of Redemption. It’s pretty fye.