Heart Bones(33)

“Dad, stop!”

Sara appears and I look at her pleadingly for help. She runs over and tries to grab my father’s other arm, but he’s got Samson by the throat now.

“He was helping me!” I yell. “Let go of him!”

This prompts my father to release some of the pressure around Samson’s throat, but he doesn’t let go. Samson has blood running from his nose. I’m sure he could fight back, but he isn’t. He’s just shaking his head, staring at my father wide-eyed. “I wasn’t—she got stung by a jellyfish. I was helping her.”

My father looks over his shoulder, searching for me. When we lock eyes, I nod vigorously. “He’s telling you the truth. He was spraying vinegar on my leg.”

“But I heard you say...” My father closes his eyes when he realizes it truly was a misunderstanding. He exhales deeply. “Shit.” He releases Samson.

There’s blood running all the way down Samson’s neck now.

My father puts his hands on his hips and tries to catch his breath for a few seconds. Then he motions for Samson to follow him. “Come inside,” he mutters. “I think I broke your nose.”





TWELVE


Samson is leaning against the guest bathroom counter holding a rag to his nose to stop the bleeding. I’m sitting on a heat compress in the dry bathtub. The bathroom door is slightly ajar, and even though Alana and my father are down the hall, we can hear every word they’re saying.

“He’s going to sue us,” my father says.

Samson laughs quietly. “I’m not going to sue him,” he whispers.

“He’s not going to sue us,” Alana says.

“You don’t know that. We barely know him and I broke his nose,” my father says.

Samson looks at me. “It’s not broken. He doesn’t hit that hard.”

I laugh.

“I’m confused,” I hear Alana say. “Why did you hit him?”

“They were in the outdoor shower. I thought he was—”

“We can hear you!” I yell. I don’t want him to finish that sentence. This is already too embarrassing.

My father walks to the bathroom and opens the door all the way. “Are you on birth control?”

Oh, my God.

Alana tries pulling him out of the bathroom. “Not in front of the boy, Brian.”

Samson pulls the rag from his nose and narrows his eyes at me. “The boy?” he whispers.

At least he has a good sense of humor about this.

“Maybe you should go,” I suggest. “This is getting too embarrassing.”

Samson nods, but my father is back in the doorway. “I’m not saying you aren’t allowed to have sex. You’re almost an adult. I just want you to be safe about it.”

“I am an adult. There’s nothing almost about it,” I say.

Samson is standing near my father, but my father is blocking the entire doorway as he speaks to me. He doesn’t notice Samson attempting to squeeze by him to escape.

“This is my only way out,” Samson says to my dad, pointing over his shoulder. “Please let me out.”

My father realizes he’s blocking him and quickly steps aside. “Sorry about your nose.”

Samson nods and then leaves. I wish I could escape, but I’m pretty sure there are tentacles still embedded in my leg and it hurts to move.

My father returns his attention back to me. “Alana can take you to get on the pill if you aren’t already on it.”

“We aren’t…Samson and I aren’t…never mind.” I push myself out of the tub and stand up. “This is a really intense conversation and my thigh feels like it’s melting off my body. Can we please do this later?”

They both nod, but my father follows after me. “Ask Sara. We’re very open about this stuff if you ever want to talk about it.”

“I’m aware of that now. Thank you,” I say, heading up the stairs to my room.

Wow. So this is what it’s like to have involved parents? I’m not sure I like it.

I walk straight to my bedroom window and watch as Samson enters his house. He turns on his kitchen light and then he leans over the counter and folds in on himself, pressing his forehead to the granite. He’s gripping the back of his neck with his hands.

I don’t know what to think of that. Is that a sign of regret? Or is he just overwhelmed because he got punched twice and refused to fight back? The way he’s reacting right now fills me with so many questions. Questions I know he won’t likely answer. He’s a vault and I really wish I had a key.

Or some explosives.

I want an excuse to go over there so I can get a closer look at him and see what it is exactly that’s bothering him so much. I need to know if it’s because he almost kissed me.

Would he try it again if I gave him the chance?

I want to give him the chance. I want that kiss almost as much as I don’t.

I do have his memory card. I could take it back to him. I haven’t looked at the pictures yet, though. I really want to see them before I give it back to him.

Sara has a computer in her bedroom, so I fish the memory card out of my backpack and go to Sara’s computer.

I wait several minutes for all of the images to load. There are a lot of them. The first ones to load are all pictures of nature. All things he said he takes pictures of. Countless sunrises and sunsets. Pictures of the beach. But they aren’t necessarily pretty pictures. They’re soothingly sad. Most of them are taken with the focus zoomed in on something random, like a piece of trash floating in the water, or seaweed piled up on the sand.