Chapter 10
It would be a long time before the town recovered from this tragic event, but within three or four weeks, the people of Norway began to slip back into the daily routine of life. Samantha however, being as sensitive as she was, took the young boy's death especially hard. It wasn't that she knew him, or his family, but his sudden demise brought out her developing maternal instincts, displaying themselves as grief. By the middle of June, she was starting to recover her emotions and her head was beginning to clear. But with the cemetery still off limits, Samantha resorted to an area of woods at the eastern edge of town. Besides the need to be away from people, she needed a place where she could think. Soon to be entering her senior year her future was becoming an increasingly more important issue. The problem was that she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Her mother decided not to push her in any one direction, but suggested she attend the local community college for two years of Liberal Arts. Aside from the basic requirements, Samantha could take any classes she wanted and decide on a major later. But for now, she would try to enjoy the remainder of her summer vacation.
She made regular visits to the woods, trying not to stay too late for fear of an encounter with the coyotes that had previously stalked her and Henry. Samantha was nowhere near the cemetery, but one can never be too careful. Learning from her first, and hopefully last experience with gunfire, she kept her mother informed of her whereabouts in the woods, promising to be home by dinner. At some point, Henry caught up with her as she sat on an exposed rock just beyond the tree line. The sky was a light summer blue and the pines swayed gently in the warm breeze. Samantha knew that Henry, at some point, would look for her and informed his mother of their new 'hang out spot'. Not that she minded. Henry was beginning to grow on her ever since the events that took place in the cemetery. It is often the threats to ones’ mortality that create the strongest bonds, and both began to sense that their friendship was beginning to take a similar turn.
Henry sat on the ground across from her with a concerned expression.
“Hey,” he said.
His voice was quiet, reflecting an obvious degree of sensitivity.
“How ya' doing?”
With everything that had happened since the beginning of the summer, Henry had become concerned about how Samantha was coping. She let out a tired sigh.
“I don't know,” she replied.
A moment went by as she tried to gather her thoughts.
“I don't know why that whole thing with Eric hit me so hard and it isn't even about Eric. To be honest, I thought he was an asshole. I just can't imagine what that kid's family went through.”
Henry understood completely, but also realized the need to move on.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I can't even guess. I guess things like that don't really happen around here, huh?”
Samantha stared out into space, her mind drifting away from the moment, away from the emotions of the tragedy she had become so deeply connected to.
“Sam,” Henry continued.
Seeing the lost expression on her face, he had become even more concerned that she may be slipping into a place where escape could be difficult.
“Sam!”
Samantha took a sudden deep breath as her mind snapped back to the conversation.
“I'm...I'm sorry,” she said. “Fuck, what is wrong with me?”
Henry moved in closer, making eye contact in order to hold her attention.
“Sam, listen to me,” he said. “You had nothing to do with this.”
Samantha's eyes teared up as her emotions began to boil over.
“Then why do I feel so shitty about it?!” she yelled.
Henry was at a loss for any reasonable answer, yet there was one simple response. It wouldn't make things any better but it would be an explanation for her emotional attachment.
“Because, Sam,” he answered. “You're a nice person.”
No one had ever said this to her before, and hearing it forced a flood of tears to the surface. She reached towards Henry and throwing her arms around him, wept uncontrollably. Henry, acting on a reflex, brought his hands to her waist and cradled her gently. He immediately noticed the firmness of her waist, the curves of her hips, and the warmth of her body pressing against him. In his mind, he suddenly found himself at war with the need to be supportive, and the hormonal drive that plagues every teenage boy. He knew that Samantha would likely never take a romantic interest in him, but his developing masculinity had quickly risen up, and began screaming for fulfillment. However, he considered himself a committed friend and tried with great difficulty, to keep the tiger of puberty at bay. It was only when Samantha began to regain her emotional self-control that she felt Henry's arms slipping around her that she put her hands on his shoulders and gently backed away. Her reaction was no surprise to Henry but secretly he wished he could hold her forever.
“I'm sorry,” she began. “I didn't mean to...”
“It's okay,” Henry interrupted. “I guess that's what friends are for.”
He got to his feet and motioned Samantha to accompany him.
“You want to go for a walk?”
Samantha agreed and getting up from the ground, walked at Henry's side, going no place in particular. Given her emotional state, Henry thought it wise to direct her attention elsewhere, and a change of scenery might put her in a better place.
“I've got an idea,” he began. “We should go to the Victorian Mansion in Portland. I've read that it's haunted.”
Samantha had read similar stories of haunted lighthouses and other such places where tragedy had struck, leaving behind echoes of human pain and rage. But that day would not be one of adventure as Samantha was emotionally exhausted and her mood still in a state of gray.
“You know,” she began. “I think I'm just going to go home, maybe catch a nap. We can go to the mansion another time, right?”
Henry wasn't surprised at her response, and the tired look on her face further raised his concerns.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “But make sure you get something to eat, too. That might make you feel better.”
Her eyes teared up again, and as she wiped them away began to feel the dizzying effect of emotional exhaustion. She bent down and grabbed her knees, forcing the blood back into her head.
“I think that's a good idea,” she said.
She tipped her face up towards Henry.
“Could you walk me home?”
This was the first time he had seen her in such a weakened state, and normally saw her as a strong person, in spite of being somewhat lost.
Walking her home, Henry, several times, reminded her to slow down. After her emotional release as well as her episode of near fainting, the last thing he wanted was to scoop her up off the ground and with the cooling evening air, the walk home began to prompt her recovery. By the time she arrived home, Samantha was exhausted but otherwise fine. They approached the front door shortly after her mother turned on the light, illuminating the brick steps leading up to the house's modest front porch. With daylight slightly dimming, Samantha thought it just as well to be returning home early. She would eat a light dinner and retire to the basement for the relaxing effects of her mother's most recent purchase of Black Alaskan. But when life was beginning to overwhelm her she could always confide in her mother who, after witnessing years of death and human suffering, was more than equipped to act as sounding board. In her job as an intensive care nurse, she often saw people grieving for their loved ones, but she was not so accustomed to it that she had become jaded. She listened intently as Samantha poured out her grief, leaving her mother with the impression that she felt more of a connection to the boy's tragic demise than was healthy.
“Sam,” she began. “None of that had anything to do with you.”
Samantha had realized this from the very beginning but it was of little consolation.
“I know,” she replied. “But these things aren't supposed to happen.”
In spite of the soothing effects of the marijuana, Samantha once again, began to tear up.
“Sam,” her mother continued. “I see these things all the time and it's not fair, but that's just the way it is. You don't have to like it, but you have to accept it, or you're going to lose your mind.”
She went so far as to ask her if she wanted to see someone about it - perhaps a counselor or minister. But Samantha wasn't big on the idea of God and didn't see counseling as a cure for idealism. She was becoming an adult and would eventually resolve the evils of the world on her own.