Young Writers Society

Withdrawal Symptoms



When Grandma Jill died, the only person who seemed to understand Miki’s pain was Sam: a married friend, and cousin of her ex-boyfriend. Just two years ago Sam’s mother had died. And for him then, there was no one around to help him ease the pain, so Sam knew all too well the feelings of hurt, confusion and guilt that Miki was undoubtedly experiencing: the withdrawal symptoms.
But, while grieving may lead to acceptance, and pain may lead to pleasure and security, Miki must decide the role she plays in a life that seems purely scripted.


















She did not have to look at him to know that he was looking at her.
She was gazing out the window at the tropical scenery, while the evening breeze softly blew her bronze strands.
She only turned her head when she felt his hand on her thigh. He smiled at her, and Miki felt butterflies.
“I love spending time with you,” he said.
Miki’s breath stuck in her lungs, and she had to tell herself to breathe. Why was he being like this? Gosh, She hardly understood him.
When he laughed, she asked, suspiciously, “What’s so funny?”
He glanced at her. “You”, he said, returning his hand to the steering wheel. “It was so funny.” He laughed again, and Miki ceased an image of him kissing her from creeping into her mind.
“How do you get your eyebrows to do that? I can never get mine to do it right.”
“I don’t know.” Miki shrugged. “I just do it.”
He chuckled again, and squeezed her thigh.
“But I really mean what I said, Miki,” he said quietly. “Even the other part that you told me not to say.”
Miki shifted the brown handbag on her lap. He was now pulling into her road. In about a minute she’d be in her room and away from him. Away from him and his wonderful scent. Away from him and his wonderful smile.
“I mean everything I tell you,” he was saying. “I just wish things were different, you know.”
Fifty more seconds, Miki thought.
“But if they were, I probably won’t have met you. I won’t have known what it truly felt like to be really happy, or to—just for a moment—forget about everything and everyone else.”
Thirty nine.
“Mik, all I do is think about you. I can’t stop thinking about you. When I wake up, the first thing I do is wonder whether you slept well. Then I think about your smile, and then I wish that I could be with you every day. I don’t know, Mik. Your smile...it gets me through the entire day, you know. And if, for some reason, something goes wrong, I just think of you in my arms and all the crazy, bad things just seem to disappear”—he glanced at her—“ and they don’t bother me at all.”
Miki nibbled on her finger nails. Eight. Eight more seconds.
He eased the Chevy over the asphalt driveway. Two more.
The car’s engine purred softly; he removed his hands from the steering wheel.
He turned to her and took her hands in his. The heat from his touch shocked Miki mildly. “I know you don’t like me saying it,” he said quietly. “But Mik, I love you. And I really—“
Miki thought about the baby-blue walled bedroom that was hers with the sitting nook. Sometimes when she was upset she’d sit on the plush seat and write in the spiralled book her grandmother gave her before she died.
She was vaguely aware of Sam pulling something from his pockets.
“Mik,” she heard him say. “Would you marry me?”
Tonight Miki would sit in the nook and write in her book.





One
The day her grandmother died, Miki was in psychology 151 and barely paying attention.
The lecturer, Mr. Allen, was droning on about Freud and Maslow, and Miki Walters could not have told you right away what topic the class was doing. Her phone inbox was full with messages from Nick that needed replies. She was surprised at how quickly she and Nick just seemed to mesh, but she was happy that they did too.
That evening when she had called home from campus and she was told that the cancer had finally claimed her grandmother’s life, Miki had thrown up in the booth—the last one in the left corner—in Garretson Hall. It had only taken her half an hour to get her things packed. And in less than forty-five minutes she was staring at the green door to her house, shaking uncontrollably.
Of course the doctors had told her family that Grandma Jill would eventually succumb to the cancer in her lungs, but Miki and everyone else had strong hopes that their loving, sweet, caring Jill would pull through; that she would live at least for another year.
On the day of the funeral, Miki smiled with everyone who greeted her, and accepted condolences when they were given, all the while waiting for her grandmother to get up from the box that confined her and fuss about Miki’s dress being too short(which it wasn’t) and too tight(which it wasn’t either). But after the church service and after the last flowers were placed on the coffin, Miki grew suspicious that her grandmother was not going to scold her about her dress. In fact, realization threw a low punch to her gut; she was never going to see her grandmother again. Ever. The earth had come and swallowed her up without asking questions—but not before that malicious cancer had stifled her breath.



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“Hey, you need a ride?”
Miki turned to the guy sitting behind the wheel of a mauve Chevy. He was easing onto the corner as she was stepping out from the Public library building.
“Nah,” Miki said. “I prefer walking with all these books weighting me down till I look like I should be ringing a big ole bell in Notre Dame.”
The guy behind the wheel laughed and shook his head. “Just get in.”
Miki smiled and did as she was told. Once in the car, she tossed her book-laden backpack onto the backseat.
“So, Miki, how you been?” Sam asked, his dark eyes shining like pebbles, after he moved from the curb. Sam was Miki’s ex-boyfriend’s cousin.
Miki thought about his question for a moment. How has she been? She hadn’t a clue. She supposed she was functioning okay—well, at least physically. Mentally, now that was another story, but this did not stop her from saying, “I’ve been great!” She smiled big too. “And you?”
Sam rubbed the left side of his temple with a finger, and sighed in response.
Miki buckled the seatbelt and leaned against the seat. “Things not going well at home?” she asked, one eyebrow cocked. Miki had heard a couple things from a couple people. Sam sighed again, but ended it, this time, with a low groan.
He glanced at her. “So, where are you going?” he asked. “Where can I take you?”
Miki looked at her watch and told him where she really wanted to go was home, but that her mom had her friend’s kids over at the house and that the two boys got on her nerves, so she would take it by the cafe in Strafton. “If,” she added, “you could make it there.”
Sam nodded. “Sure.” When a corner came, he took it, only to come upon a red light. While he waited, Sam seized the moment to regard Miki, noting a couple differences. He had always thought her hair was black, but it seemed like the colour hadn’t been hers. The soft copper shade it now was reminded him of a warm day in the country. He also noticed that her eyes didn’t seem to reflect any happiness when she had smiled at him. When the light changed, he asked, “How’ve you been keeping with, um, the death and all?”
Miki was thinking about how much cash she had in her denim pockets when she heard the word, death. Suddenly, she had a sinking feeling within the cavity of her chest and the pit of her stomach as well. Grandma Jill... Miki looked out the window at a passing bus with only three passengers seated inside. “I’m uh...I’m...” She began. She exhaled, and then shook her head. “Sam, I don’t wanna talk about this.”
Grandma Jill had passed two month ago, but Miki still felt that sickly blow whenever she heard her grandmother’s name or thought about death.
Sam ducked his head. “Look, Miki, I’m sorry,” he said, sounding apologetic. “I mean, I should have known better.” He glanced at her and saw her nibbling at her lower lip, no doubt in an attempt to hold in the pain. He knew too well about holding things in. Sam started to feel helpless. He started to feel two other familiar feelings too: pain and loss.
Sam switched on the CD player, and the track with one of his favourite songs came on. As it played, he noticed that Miki had ceased biting her lips. But her face now looked pinched. He wished he could have done more for her than just dropping her off at the cafe.
Like what? Sam asked himself silently. What more can you possibly do, Powell?




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When Nick called her at 12 am and told her to meet him outside, she stuffed her legs into a pair of jeans and left the house. This weekend she was staying at her parents’.
“Where are we off to?” She asked, buckling her seat belt.
“Wished I was taking you to Paris,” Nick said, smiling and speeding away, “but I can’t right now, so instead, we’re just gonna chill at the park.”
Estern Park was only three miles from her mother’s house, with a small lake and a couple green wooden park benches—some in the areas that were well lit at night.
They sat on a bench closest to the water, hand in hand, while Miki talked about the latest assignment she had gotten for her Natural Sciences course. “I can’t wait to start it.” She said. “I’ve got so many ideas on what to do with the poster. We got like thirty topics to choose from. I so know I’m getting an A for this one...”
Nick chuckled and squeezed her hand softly. “I love it when you get excited about something,” he told her. “Your eyes light up and your face gets so pink. It’s real cute.”
Miki blushed and looked away, but he reached over and brought her face towards him, so she was staring into his golden eyes, his two hands cupping her cheeks. Giggling slightly, she removed his hands. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Nick smirked, and cocked a brow. “Like how?” He secretly enjoyed Miki’s behaviour when she was nervous. She replied with the answer he knew she would have: “hmmm, nothing”, and all he could’ve done not to jump her bones right there on the bench was to tell her how he really felt about her.
“Mik,” he began.
But Miki was too quick for him. “Please don’t say it.”
“Wha-why?”
Miki looked out at the lake. “If you’re going to tell me you think you love me, then don’t.” She looked at him, and before he could scowl, she added, “I prefer you say you like me a lot or something.” Miki wrung her fingers. “See, I don’t want this to be another...thing where love is being used so often it’s being taken for granted.”
“But Mik,” Nick was saying, “I’m not taking love for granted. I—’’
Miki shook her head wildly. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.” She looked down at her lap. “I-I just mean that, well, I like you but I want to make sure—we should make sure—that we mean it. Love isn’t just a four letter word we should use ‘cus it sounds nice...”
“I know what you mean, sweetie.” Nick pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “I feel the same way you do. And I know love is not something to toy with either, but it is love that I truly feel for you even though you want it to be like.”
Miki sighed and rest her head on his shoulder.
For a couple of minutes, they sat in silence and listened to the night, Miki taking in his sandalwood aroma. She could have stayed like that all night, but then Nick said, “Come on; let’s get you back to my mother-in-law.”
Miki giggled, and allowed him to pull her off the bench and lead her towards the car.










Two

Sam couldn’t sleep at all. He’d close his eyes and tried thinking about nothing, and though this seemed to put him on his way to the Land of Fog, he was all too aware of the rather annoying voice in his head that kept telling him he was awake and not fooling himself.
Looking away from the ceiling, he sighed and swung his feet from the bed, getting out and not caring whether he woke Vanessa, who slept with her back facing him. He grabbed his cell phone from beneath his pillow and headed to the kitchen. Maybe a snack might help.
The microwave glowed 3:10 in the dark kitchen before Sam switched on the light. So it was that late. He was awake from since 11. Lately he was having trouble sleeping and it showed in his energy levels during the day. Sam was uncertain why he couldn’t sleep at nights, which resulted in his inability to stay awake during the day, but then again, maybe he did know. After all he did work four jobs, and also attended college part time.
Sam sighed again and pulled open the door of the refrigerator. It’s way too much for a twenty-eight-year-old who doesn’t have any kids, Sam thought. Why do I do it? What’s the point?
Grabbing a leftover chicken sandwich, and without heating it, Sam went into the small living room and sat down on the sofa. He bit into his sandwich and flipped open his cell. After scrolling through four hundred and fifty numbers in his contacts, and not finding anyone important enough or tolerant enough to consider calling, Sam snapped the phone shut. Damn, Powell. It’s three in the morning. Everyone’s sleeping.
Sam threw the phone to his side and picked up the remote. With a click the TV came on, and he made a face at what he saw. Lifetime Movie Network...ugh. The channel with the movies where the guys are always the evil ones.




.......................................................................................................................................

“Vrrrrrrrp...Vrrrrrrrp....”
“No,” Miki mumbled. “Lemme alone” Stop calling me. I don’t want to get up now. “Ughaaah.”
Through half-squinted eyes, Miki pressed the green button. “What?” She barked into the phone.
Anyone who called and woke her up from a perfectly good sleep and dream was undeserving of pleasantries. In fact they should be glad she even answered. Anyone with half a brain knew better than to wake Miki Walters on a Saturday morning. Even her mom knew that.

“Miki, wake up, you lazy bum”, came the reply. “We have to go to the mall to buy my dress for Cameron’s graduation.”
So it was Angela James, best friend and at this moment—total enemy.
“Mall?” Miki asked, rolling unto her back. “Did I ever agree to this?”
“Yes, you did. On Thursday.”
“Really.”
“Ugh, yes. Jeez, just get your lazy butt of your bed and hurry before someone buys it. It was the only one!”
“Mmm,” Miki said, with her eyes closed. “I hear ya.”
“Hurry up,” Angela said again, before hanging up.
Miki smirked and pulled the covers over head. Mall, please. More like sleep. In seconds she was sleeping again, until—vrrrrrp-vrrrrrp...
Annoyed, Miki kicked back the comforter. Ok, I’m up. I’m up and out of bed, Angie...ughhhhaah.



.............................................................................................................................................................................

“Hey, Sam!”
Miki was sitting at one of the tables in the food court of the mall, and had spotted Sam three tables away. When he saw her he waved and came over.
“Hey, you.” Sam smiled. “How are you doing?”
“I’m alright. You?”
Miki watched as Sam made a so-so gesture. “There’s been better days,” he replied. “So,” Sam glanced around, “you hanging by yourself today? Cool.”
Miki laughed. “Yeah, right. I’d never come here by myself.” Sam raised a brow, and she added, “It’ll be way too boring. I’m here with my friend, Angie.” Miki motioned towards the long line over at Pizza Hut. “She’s gone to get food.”
Sam nodded. “Ok.” He patted her hand with the thick paperback he was holding. “Being your own company’s good sometimes, you know.” he told her.
Miki’s eyes grew wide. “Wait!” She pointed at the novel. “Lol, is that a Star Trek book?”
Sam’s features spilt into a grin. “Um, yep.”
“Dude, Star Trek’s for nerds. You like that?”
Sam wasn’t offended. “Well,” he said, “I guess I am a nerd, but shhhh”—he looked around quickly—“please don’t tell anyone.”
“Ok, if you don’t want me to,” Miki said, and laughed so loudly attention was directed to her table.
Sam waited till she finished laughing, before he said, “You look beautiful when you laugh.”
Miki’s throat went dry. Huh? She stared into dark eyes and caught something that made her uneasy.
“Um...hello?”
Miki blinked. “Oh, Angie,” she said turning, “this is Sam.” She smiled. “And Sam this is Angie, my best friend, aka getterer of food.”
Sam smiled, and the sides of his eyes crinkled. He stretched a hand. “Nice to meet you, Angie.” Then he turned to Miki. “Hey, Miki, well I’ll see you around, alright? Hope you have fun.”
“’K, Sam, take care.”
As soon as he left, Angie punched Miki. “Who was that? He’s nice. Nice smile. Good-looking.”
Miki rubbed her shoulder. “What? That’s Dylan’s cousin,” She said, grimacing.
Angie pushed dark curly hair behind her ears. “He’s cousin to your ex? Waow! Maybe you should’ve gone out with this one instead. He’s way cuter.”
“You’re crazy.” Miki pulled off a pepperoni and ate it. “He’s married.”



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Miki was lying on the sofa in the dark house, going through memory by memory (starting from the earliest she could remember) of her grandmother, while trying to suppress the ones of her father that intervened. Unlike Grandma Jill, Stephen Walters was alive, but he just wasn’t in Miki’s life. He made it clear he didn’t want to be in her or her mom’s.
In her back-pocket, her phone vibrated, making her start for a moment. After she retrieved it she looked at its face: One new message. She flipped it open and pressed read, already knowing that it was from Nick.
I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, yesterday
The message wasn’t from her boyfriend, but from Sam. Miki pressed the reply button and wrote:
No biggie. Aprently Miki Walters doesn’t kno how 2 accept a compliment. Saying thnx nw tho.
Ps-Srry 4 calln u nerd.
Instantly another message came in.
; )
Miki’s forehead creased as she stared at the wink. She texted:
How’s your wife?
It was after five minutes that Miki realized she was waiting for a response she wasn’t going to get.
“Hmm...'Kay then,” Miki said, and snapped her phone shut.



..........................................................................................................................................................................
Miki sat waiting for Nick at the bus stop. And she was upset.
School was starting in thirty-five minutes and he wasn’t anywhere in sight. Groaning, Miki pulled out a notebook and flipped through it. She might as well read in the mean time.
In fifteen minutes Miki already knew the four Sociological perspectives and could’ve spit them out like a rapper would spit rhymes. She closed the book and looked around. “Where is he?” She sighed and was about to call him again, when a car’s horn blew. Finally. Miki looked up and saw a Chevy. No Honda.
The window scrolled down and Sam’s dark-chocolate face poked out. “Waiting for the bus?” he asked, smiling. Then he looked at his watch. “Sometimes they run late.”
Miki shook her head. “Nah, it’s not the bus that’s late.” She couldn’t hide her irritation.
Sam nodded knowingly. Concerned, he asked, “What time you have to go for?”
Miki shrugged. “Eight.”
“Mmm,” Sam said. “You called?” He saw her shoulders droop in response, so he asked, “What you gonna do?” His fingers tapped the steering wheel.
Not for the second time Miki searched the streets for Nick, but, just like the other times, he was nowhere in sight. Picking up her backpack, Miki said, “Oh, well since you’re here, I’ll take a lift, if you don’t mind.”
You’re in so much trouble, Nick Braithwaite, Miki thought, as she got into Sam’s car.







Three

It happened in her Comparative Literature class.
She should’ve seen it coming, but as usual her mind was far. The class was supposed to read a new book: The Tragedy of Macbeth. And if Miki had gone through the book, she would’ve known what Mrs. Brown was now about to discuss.
D-E-A-T-H.
The five lettered word that Miki came to hate. She was doodling in her notebook, when she heard it: a whisper uttered from dying, cracked pale lips. Death. She pressed down with the pencil so hard the point broke. The burn, now rising, was competing with against blood in her veins. Death.
Horrors. Miki had loved horror and thriller movies. She always thought that death in those films fascinated her; amused her, even. The gory ones were the best, along with the slashers. The graphic, bloody deaths never ignited one ounce of fear in Miki (unless she wanted it to, especially if she was next to a guy she liked). Usually, she was purely unscathed. But Miki knew now that there was nothing funny about death. Death was not a director’s still-life shot of an amateur actress’s bloody face and bulging eyes. It wasn’t something you sat down to watch with your mouth stuffed with popcorn, and your greasy hand clutching the remote. Death was serious as the cancer that devoured her grandmother’s life. Death was unforgiving and sadistic. Death happened to people you loved and who loved you as well.
“Macbeth kills Duncan, the king of Scotland,” Mrs. Brown was saying, “and attempts to hide it. Then in a fit of rage he murders the guards who came upon Duncan’s corpse. Afterwards, Macbeth uses his power to put the entire Mcduff’s castle to death because—“
Someone from the second row yelled, “Gross!”
Miki had thrown up all over her doodled notebook page.



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At lunch time, Sam stopped by his cousin’s garage in town.
Dylan Powell was working under the hood of a Mitsubishi pick-up, when Sam came beside him.
“Hey,” Sam said. “What’s up?”
Dylan grimaced. "Got plenty to do, and dunno what’s wrong with this bloody truck.” He paused to wipe sweat from his face, and subsequently added grease to his forehead. “It’s Carol’s dad’s.”
Sam nodded. Carol was Dylan’s girlfriend. Carol was also two other guy’s girlfriend, but that wasn’t the reason for Sam’s visit. He stuck his hands into his pockets. “I have a favour to ask.”
Dylan kept working on the truck.
“I’ve got class later, and Vanessa finishes at six.” He watched Dylan shrug, and knew what his cousin would say before he said it but, even so, Sam didn’t let his hope fall.
“I’m really busy here, man. And I don’t think I’ll get away to do that later.” He turned to Sam and cocked a sweaty brow. “Why can’t she take a taxi?”
Sam bowed his head. Just once he wished Dylan would say he’ll do Sam a favour—without bitching. Gosh, Sam was Dylan’s cousin, almost like a goddamned brother, and there were so many things he did for Dylan (not that he was counting, anyway), and would do for Dylan in the future.
“Look, man,” Dylan was saying, “I’m sorry you had to come all the way down here and ask only to hear no, man. But really, I can’t do it.” His attention went back to the vehicle. “Besides, Carol wants me to take her to the movies, anyway.”
Sam sighed and kicked a small stone, sending it skidding across the garage floor.
“You shoulda call, man. Save you the trouble.”
Sam kept his tone even. “You never answer your phone.”
“Sure I do.”
Sam shook his head. “You never answer my calls.”
For a moment he stood there, and when it was clear that the conversation was over he returned to his car. Vanessa would have to take a taxi. But he’ll never hear the bloody end of it, if she did.




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Sam was having a nightmare. It would have been a pleasant dream, if only the ending had not reflected that of the harsh reality that occured two years ago.
He was dreaming of his mother. And in his dream she was wearing the blue cotton sweater he had bought her. Her hair was plaited in a single shiny braid that hung to her waist, and she was smiling the way she did when she was happy: head slightly cocked to the side, eyes shining, features split into a grin--one that defied the actual size of her mouth. Her hands were outstretched--waiting for him to take them--all the while smiling her beatutiful smile. Tears had wet Sam's face, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. "Oh, my son," she said, beginning to cry herself. "My baby..."
After what seemed a lifetime, his mother was the first to pull away from the embrace. She blotted the corners of her eyes with a a folded white kerchief that emanated a flowery fragance. Rose Gardenia, Sam thought. The perfume she'd always look for and and purchased in stores. The only thing she would spend extravagantly for. She sniffed and pocketed the kerchief, then gripped his hand and steered him towards a bench.
"Tell me," she was saying, as they sat, "how are you? And how is your sister?" She covered his hand with hers, and Sam, overwhelmed by this moment stuttered as he told her that he wasn't doing so well actually, that his life seemed to be ripping at the edges. This made his mother frown, and Sam scolded himself silently. "But," he quickly said, "Sandra is doing great at school. She got a scholarship to attend Archibald Academy."
Sam had watched the spectacle that he thought was his mother's happiness; she gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth and shook her head from side to side. He watched as tears spilled unto her flushed cheeks. Sometimes when his mother was overjoyed she cried. But, as she stood quickly and doubled over, clutching her abdomen, Sam knew something was wrong. Concerned, he touched her shoulders, and attempted to help her stand up right. But he stopped when he noticed the blood.
It was splotched all over the front of her sweater, making it seem like the blue fabric was used to daub red paint of a surface. She was making choking sounds, and Sam felt like his heart was being squeezed in the angry fist of a giant when he saw the blood trickling down her chin. No, no, not trickling-- gushing. And she was choking and gagging and crouching and lowering closer to the ground. Closer to death...
He awoke with tears on his face, his hand clutching the left side of his chest.
Mama....



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Miki was bummed that Nick would be away for the weekend. She wondered what she’ll do tomorrow—tomorrow night especially. After all it would be Saturday.
There was a movie, starring Adam Sandler, which she did not mind going to see, but she knew she would not go to CinemaPlex by her lonesome. Not that she didn’t like her own company. As a matter, she didn’t mind being by herself, but never when there’s a crowd, or in social venues. She was afraid of appearing lonely and pathetic, while everyone else had company and laughed and enjoyed themselves.
Miki shook her head at the thought. Hmmm…who would go with her? Well, there was Angie…Nah, Angie would want to see a horror, and Miki was currently not into horrors. Who else? Wow, you don’t have much choices, girl. I suppose I could ask Cheri, Miki thought, but then she laughed. Her roommate was into hardcore metal music and had twelve piercings—in only one ear. Cheri wasn’t the type to watch a comedy, or at least act civilized in a movie theater (this Miki knew, because she had been to the movies with Cheri a couple times). Besides, Cheri was probably getting high this minute, and would be so tomorrow at some party, someplace.
“Oh, well,” Miki mumbled, “…whatever. I’ll just finish the book I’m reading.” She sighed and flopped down on her dorm room bunk bed, then opened her laptop and clicked on the eBook icon. But, before she immersed herself in the book, she checked to see who was online. A couple persons from her various classes’ statuses were green. People like her, with nothing to do and no plans? She scrolled the list and noticed that Sam’s icon was green. She clicked on his picture and when the chat window opened up, she typed in its space: Hi there, what’s up? Before she blinked the words, just here, sup with you? popped up.
Miki says: I’m just here, as well.
Sam says: What are your plans for the weekend?
Miki says: Hmmm…don’t have any plans  Wanted to go to the movies, but don’t have anyone to go with.
And she wondered why she stated that.
Sam says: Oh? How come/
*?
Miki says: Bf’s not arnd for weekend.
Once again, she wondered why she was divulging information.
Sam says: Hmmm, okay.
What movie did you want to c?
Miki says: Go fish
With Adam Sandler
A pause.
Sam says: Dunno that movie. It’s new?
Miki says: Yep. Seen the trailer…looks real funny.
Sam says:
You know, I make a great movie date
For a moment, Miki is unsure as to what he is implying.
Miki says: Ok
Um…
Are you suggesting something here?
Sam says: You said you don’t have anyone to go with. The movie sounds great…and you seem to like it…and I don’t have any plans myself.
Miki says: Oh, um…wouldn’t it be a problem?
Sam says: You mean with Vanessa?
He didn’t wait for a reply.
No
And as an afterthought, he added:
It’s just a movie, anyway. Never gotten licks for going out with friends
Miki sent, lol, and thought about going with Sam to CinemaPlex. What if people who knew them both saw them together? What would they think?
Sam was saying, so what do you say?
Miki felt a tad uneasy. The fact that he was married made something as simple as going to the movies, risky. What if his wife saw them? What ideas would she have? As if he sensed what she was thinking, he said: It’ll be harmless.
Yes, Miki acquiesced silently, it’ll be harmless. Come on. Besides, you are both friends, anyway. And he has someone and you have Nick, so…
Miki says: K, cool.
Alright.
Sam says: Sweet. So, what time I pick you up?
Hesitation.
Miki says: It starts at 8
so…
She was calculating the time it’ll take to get to Cadrell and then to the cinema. But it seemed Sam was doing the same thing. He was saying: so 7 good?
Miki says: Yeah…that’s about good.
Sam says: K. So you like popcorn, candy, nuggets, potato chips?
Miki says: Hmmm…what if I say I like all?
Sam says: No problem 
Miki says: Dude, I’m kidding. I don’t want all…popcorn’ll do fine.
And water
Sam says: Cool
So it’s a date.
Miki says: Yep…
See you later.



………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

During the movie, Miki had received a call from Nick, which turned into a missed call due to her phone being on the silent profile.
Miki had had fun. Sam had actually made her laugh harder than Adam Sandler himself. He talked to her during the entire movie, too—something she had not minded since she was known for doing this as well. (But it was something Nick would’ve minded a great deal.) Nick believed that a movie was supposed to be watched and enjoyed—by keeping quiet and following the plot closely—while holding hands. Of course Miki thought that this was edging too close to insanity! Maybe it would’ve made sense if they were about sixty-something. But they were both twenty. Which was incentive for laughing the loudest, and talking, and imitating the characters and predicting their lines, before the actors and actresses could even utter them. Sam had even playfully poked her in the rib a couple of times, emitting squeals, when the film slowed down. And he was a complete gentleman as well—not that Nick wasn’t. As soon as he’d reached on campus, he had exited the car and rushed around the other side of the Chevy to open the door for her. And didn’t miss a beat in telling her that she looked beautiful. Miki had rightfully blushed, despite herself. Sam’s compliment had elicited a stirring within her—a stirring that could only be caused by anxiety and simply the effects of being paid a compliment.
“I had a great time,” Miki had said when they had reached the campus.
Sam smiled. “I told you I make an amazing date.”
Miki laughed and exited the car. “Did I doubt you?” she asked.
Sam shook his head in response, and then smiled. “You be safe, Miki Walters.”
“Yeah,” she replied, “I will. And you too.”
She started heading to her dorm in the north side of the campus, and was aware that Sam was still in the same spot. What was he doing? Miki waited until she reached the grass in the center of the quadrangle, before turning around. Yep, his car was still there. She waved quickly, before turning back around and headed to her dorm.
Once in her room she kicked off her flats, and checked her cell. One missed call from Nick. S soon as she changed she’d call him. There were two messages as well: one from voicemail and one from…Sam. She pressed read.
Just wanted to make sure you crossed safely. Have a good night, Miki Walters







Three

“Can’t believe you’re dating him.”
They were both sitting at a table outside a café around lunch time on Monday.
As usual, Angie was being herself: making every minor event or information into a balloon that had no air limitation.
“Angie,” Miki said, annoyance creeping into her voice,”I told you it was not the kind of date you think it was, and that I am not dating Sam.” Miki sipped her glass of water. “Told you he has a wife and we just hung out—as friends.” She stared at her friend. And when the girl’s mouth started to move, she said quickly, “It was harmless and that was all.” She emphasized the last word.
Angie cracked a grin around her straw before slurping her drink through it. She paused, then ducked her head and made her grin wider. “What you think his madam would say?”
Miki scoffed. Madam? Sometimes, Angie could be so…
“She’ll have nothing to say, ‘cus nothing happened, Angie. It was just a movie.” Miki sipped her water again. “You go there with guys you don’t date.”
Miki watched Angie’s shoulders slump. Finally. There was no juice here for her friend anymore. But Angie switched gears.
“Hey,” she said, “I didn’t tell you what I did, did I?” Without waiting for a reply she delved right into her story about the weekend—not forgetting one bit of detail.