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He stands in the middle of the room, eyeing me. Maybe lashing out wasn’t such a bad idea. I’ve tried to be understanding and to stay composed, but I can’t do this anymore. Each dismissal is stripping away any shred of hope I have left.
We stand staring at one another, locked in a standoff. Just when I think I’ve gotten through to him, he tears down my optimism by being the cynical bastard he’s become.
The room is filled with slow, loud clapping, as Sam sarcastically applauds my attempts to have him see how his behavior is hurting me. “Finally, we agree on something.” I shake my head, not understanding. He happily clarifies, “I want nothing to do with you, either.”
Tears fill my eyes, my heart breaking all over again. “Why are you being so mean? What have I done to you?”
“I’m not being mean. This is me,” he affirms, jabbing his thumb into his chest. “Get used to it.”
I clasp onto his wrist, shaking my head. “No, this isn’t you.”
“Yes, it is,” he snarls, yanking his arm out from my desperate grip. “Forget the Samuel you thought you knew because that person is dead.”
“No,” I whisper, tears spilling down my cheeks. “That’s not true. I l-love you.”
“You’re pathetic,” he cruelly spits, marching forward and backing me up until I slam into the door. “You’re in love with a ghost! The sooner you get that through that thick head of yours, the better it’ll be for the both of us.”
I press my palms flat to the wood grain, turning my cheek, enraged. But I withhold my anger. “I’ll never give up on you, Sam. No matter how hard you push, I’ll push back twice as hard. I wasn’t raised a quitter. You’re still the same man who proposed to me, who loved me more than life itself. You’re just lost in...”
But he doesn’t let me finish. “Are you even listening to yourself? Lost? I’m not fucking lost. You’re the one who’s lost in a fantasyland.” He grabs my left wrist and waves my floppy hand in front of my face. “Take this off. It was my grandmother’s, not yours,” he says, referring to my engagement ring. “This is embarrassing because I will never marry you.”
“What? No,” I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut.
He drops my arm, like touching me will pollute him somehow. “Get out of my way. I’m done with this conversation.”
I stagger to the side, unsure if my legs will hold me up. He storms past me, uncaring that I’m hurt beyond belief. But that hurt quickly transforms into utter rage. I’m done being treated like dirt. I was done being treated that way when I stopped being M.
Memories of my childhood come roaring to the surface and I visit a very dark place. A place I’ve kept locked away for years. My legs pound down the corridor as I chase after Sam, sniffing back my tears. He quickly turns, but I don’t give him a chance to speak.
“How dare you!” I slap him so hard across the cheek, I’m almost certain I can hear his teeth rattle in his mouth. The sound is satisfying. “You know what? If it’s so bad being here, then you can leave!” I point to the door. “You don’t want to be here, and honestly, I don’t want you here if you’re going to act this way. Saxon was right about you.”
His eyes narrow into slits as he rubs his reddening cheek. “I bet Saxon just loves being the good guy. It’s a nice change from being a screw up.”
“He isnota screw up. You take that back!” I’m quick to jump to his defense, which has Sam’s mouth parting in insight.
“It is true,” he ambiguously reveals. “I thought I was dreaming.”
“What are you talking about? Dreaming about what?”
Before he has a chance to answer my questions, Saxon barges through the front door, his eyes darting between Sam and I. Sam’s mouth tips up into a secretive smile, one I’m not privy to.
“What’s going on here?” Saxon doesn’t conceal his rage. “Well?” he presses when we remain mute.
“I’m going out,” Sam declares, my speech falling on deaf ears.
“Are you all right, Lucy?” Saxon asks, his eyes searching my face frantically.
I nod unconvincingly. “What did you say to her?” he asks, glaring at Samuel.
Sam raises his hands in mock surrender. “She’s the one who did all the talking.” Why do I feel like there is a hidden message behind his words? “Don’t wait up,” Sam mocks, pushing past Saxon’s unmoving frame.
“Sam, if you walk out that door…don’t bother coming back.” I can’t believe I’m giving him an ultimatum because I know which path he’ll choose.
When he stops dead in his tracks however, a breath hitches in my throat. Has he changed this mind?
Seconds feel like minutes as I anxiously wait for his reply.
With his back turned, he cruelly says, “Well, in that case…give Saxon your ring. I’ll make sure Mom gets it.” And with that he slams the door shut behind him.
