(draft of first chapter of book i am currently writing)
You could say Sam was a strange person. Although in my eyes, he wasn’t. He was my older brother. He liked volleyball, lemonade made with brown sugar, and the color orange. He hated cooking. Whenever it snowed for the first time every year, he’d jump around the front yard in his underwear, singing random words. We were the bits and pieces of each other. He had our moms green eyes, but his more like a wild jungle. Same brown hair, but his more choppy and short. Same pale, pale, pale, skin, but he had more freckles. I was always jealous of his gap teeth. I’ve never met a mind quite like his before. I’ve never seen anyone dream like him before. He was Sam; inconceivable and brilliant.
But how can someone like him change so drastically? I ask myself the same question, as I see him standing before me. The early morning’s golden light shined behind him in that camouflaged uniform. His blouse’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing scar tissue in unexpected places. He wasn’t smiling. A pit formed in my stomach, knowing that he hadn’t in a long time, either.
“Sammy,” I said, opening my arms.
“Hey, Willa,” He said, embracing me. He smelled like Dove’s Original Soap and laundry detergent. I thought about that bottle of blue cologne sitting on his dresser in his room upstairs, collecting dust.
“Why don’t you go upstairs?” Mom asked, patting Sam’s back. “Get changed and you and Willa can go get breakfast.” He let go and made a path up the stairs, not saying a word. I watched him, until I couldn’t even see his shadow.
“Something’s wrong,” I said, looking back at my parents. My father, stereotypically reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, didn’t bat an eye. My mother sighed.
“He’s just not used to being home after two years,” Mom said, leaning against the dining room table. “Give him time, he’ll adjust.”
I thought about her words as I sat in the passenger seat of the car as Sam anxiously flipped through stations. Welcome back to The Talk Box!- Panic 96.7- Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends- Until I heard a click.
“Never anything good on the radio,” Sam joked, putting his hands on the wheel. They were rough and tan.
"Mhmm," I hummed. I didn't know what to talk about. I wondered so many things about him. I wondered who he met out there, and if he had made any friends. I wondered what food he ate, and if he missed Mom's lemonade. I wondered how cold the two winters were that he spent there, and if he'd seen anyone get shot. I wondered what he saw out there, I wondered how he felt.
"Man, I haven't really driven a car like this in forever," He said, smoothing his hands over the light coloured leather steering wheel. "Forgot how much I missed the simple life."
“I wonder how pissed Lizzie is going to be when she finds out we left without her,” I said, turning my head to the window. Lizzie, the youngest of the Brown siblings, had somewhat of an attitude problem. Not your normal teenage attitude, like this kid was mean.
“I feel sort of bad, but I know she’s gonna rake up an attitude the entire time,” Sam said. “Love her to death, of course. Jesus.”
“Well when you go back I’ll be stuck here with her,” I groaned. There was an unhinged amount of silence after that sentence. I wondered if I messed up by saying that. He probably didn’t want to go back, and I reminded him in a horrible way of how he’ll have to. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he spoke first.
“You don’t know?” He asked.
“Know what?” I asked.
“That I’m not going back,”
I didn’t know that there was a kind of relief that could make your eyes sting and your throat feel like it’s about to close. Maybe this was an allergic reaction to good news, I wouldn’t of known. I leaned my head back and let out a slow exhale.
“When did you decide this?” I asked, squinting at him through my blurred vision. He turned his chin to me, not taking his eyes off the road. I knew he didn’t know how to respond. I wish I knew how to keep my mouth shut.
“Well,” He paused. “It wasn’t an easy one. I originally was going for four years, like I planned out to. But as you know, life chooses its paths, and you don’t really get a choice but to follow it.” I didn’t get what he meant, like I always used to. Maybe he was more grown up than I thought. He just turned 20 recently, while I felt stuck at 17. My eyes drifted back to the side window and we passed Scoops o’ Joy.
"Remember when Dad would walk us to Scoops o' Joy?" I asked, running my fingers across the window pane.
"And Liz would always get some weird flavor she didn't like and would scream her head off?" Sam grinned. "God, everyone would stare as she sobbed over Dad's shoulder.""That happened like three times," I said. We pulled into a curbside parking spot and got out. Amparo's used to be a house that got turned into this family owned restaurant. Sam and I only went for the shrimp and grits and the beignets. My flip flops scraped against the old sidewalk and up those old carpeted stairs.
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