"I'm in the car with you. Alone. And I'm not panicking. I'm not even scared," I admit, unable to keep the self-satisfaction out of my voice. In fact, I sound downright boastful.
Sam continues to glance between me and the road. "Was that trigger specific to me? Or guys? Or being alone with anyone?" he asks.
"Guys. Men. Being alone with a guy in general is... well I haven't been in almost a year, anyway. Except for you, obviously. But in a car... I never thought I'd be able to do it again, to be honest. Not ever," I admit, wondering why I feel so compelled to answer him when he asks me a question, even an inherently personal one.
Sam considers my words, then nods. "It's the safe word. See? I told you it would work. You're comfortable because you know if I do something to bug you all you have to do is say one word and I'll back off."
I think about his explanation and determine that while the safe word has definitely helped in the way he's described, it really worked more as a facilitator than anything. Because while I may not have had "calculus" to say before, I still had "no" and "stop" and all the others, and I know better than anyone that with the wrong person, no word, safe or otherwise, is worth a damn.
"It's not just the safe word and you know it," I whisper.
We stop at a red light and Sam looks at me intently. "Like I said, you're stronger than you think you are, Ror."
I shrug and look away as the light turns green, and Sam's eyes return to the road and he drives on. I'm still not sure he's right about that.
"Are you coming to Andrew's tomorrow night? I think it's gonna be a smaller thing, not a big party." He changes the subject.
"No, I can't. My mom's friend is coming to visit and we're going out to dinner." One of her closest friends from childhood is coming out from the city and my mom is really looking forward to it. Even though she works in Manhattan, my mother rarely has time to do anything social. She usually even works through lunch or has to meet with clients.
"You and your mom are pretty close, huh? I mean you're always saying you have to have dinner with her..."
He's right. I do have dinner with her most week nights, and I've used this as an excuse many times to avoid social invitations. "We're all each other has," I shrug. "She gave up her whole life for me. I'm the reason they got divorced - my parents I mean. The least I can do is have dinner with her."
"We have that in common then," Sam says quietly after a pregnant pause.
I turn to him, perplexed.
"My dad left because of me, too."
I shake my head. "No, I mean it literally. I'm the only reason they broke up. It was completely my fault. She was on my side, he wasn't. She gave up her career, her home, her marriage, all of it, just to get me the fuck out of there."
Sam stops at another red light and turns his whole body toward me. He licks his bottom lip, unwittingly distracting me. He has fascinating lips. Full. Pink. I blink a few times to stop these wayward thoughts about someone who is supposed to be my friend.
"The last time my dad hit my mom, he broke her nose. I was thirteen. Big for my age. For the first time, I hit him back. A lot. And then I told him to pack his shit and to leave, and if he ever came back the whole town would know what a piece of shit he was, including the cops." Sam's voice is deathly quiet. "So yeah, he left because of me. I'm the reason they got divorced."
I swallow nervously. I'm struck by Sam's confession that his father was physically abusive to his mom. Elaine seems so normal, so put together. I would never have pegged her for a victim. It also kind of explains a little more about Bits. Her seeking out an older guy to date, and her extreme reaction when he abandoned her.God,it all must have been so hard on her. And on Sam, too. I wonder how many times he had to witness his own father hurt his mom, and he was only a child.
"I'm so sorry," I murmur.
Sam shakes his head. "Don't be. We're better off without him," he echoes my own words back to me.
I nod. I'm still reeling from the fact that Sam is confiding in me. I've spent so much time feeling like I was a burden to him, and wondering what he's getting out of this friendship at all. Like when he told me about Bits, this confession about his father gives me a chance to be there for him. To give something back to him.
"Can I ask you something, Ror?" he asks quietly. I look at him warily, but nod. "Did your dad... hurt you?"
I take a deep breath and shake my head. "Not in the way you're thinking."
"How then?"
I'm silent for a few moments. The car is in park, in the middle of the street, empty on a weeknight. "He didn't protect me. He didn't help me. Heblamedme..."
"Didn't protect you from who, Rory? Blamed you for what?"
I glare at Sam. I don't know how we got here. He knows so much, but he also knows nothing at all, and I'm not sure Iwanthim to know. Once he does, he'll look at me differently, that's a fact. So what if he's already deduced that I'm a victim ofsomething?He probably thinks someone hit me, like his dad did to his mom. And I think it'd be best to let him think that.
"Calculus," I whisper, blinking through the blur of welled tears. Sam looks hurt, and I don't know if he's upset that I still won't confide in him or upsetforme.
Suddenly the sound of a car horn blares from behind us. The light has turned green and we didn't notice. Wordlessly, Sam shifts gears and resumes driving me home.
