Part 3

The sky was dark by the time that Dad and Sam home. I could hear the sound of Dad slamming the car door from the living room, and instantly felt my toes begin to tingle. Sam was finally home! My body started shaking. It usually does that whenever I am overwhelmed by some intense emotion. At that moment it felt as if I was being injected with an emotion overdose. Anxiety, excitement, elation, fear, all of it just rushing through my veins and making my body freak out. I hated the way that I felt, but I loved what was causing it.

Dad walked into the house a few moments later, just as I was making my way to the door. He probably didn’t bother to help Sam with his belongings (not that anyone would actually expect him to help). I don’t know why Dad was in such a rush to get inside our two-story house. The only things waiting for him were the second half of a football game that he had had to miss in order to retrieve Sam and Mom’s slightly above average cooking. Tonight we would all be lucky enough to enjoy dry but not inedible turkey with a side of bland mashed potatoes and undercooked broccoli.

Did I say above average? Hm. I have a habit of making my family sound better than they actually are.

Without acknowledging my father’s presence I slipped past the behemoth and through the cracked door that he had graciously left open for Sam. My brother was still by the car, unpacking the last of his bags, looking rather pleased that Dad had decided against staying around to help out.

“Sammy!”

Like a bolt of lightning striking an oblivious tree, I pounced upon Sam with the passion and force of a long lost lover being reunited with his soul mate. I know that sounds weird, but it’s how I felt. Sam was a long lost love. He was the only person that I truly did love in some form or another. I was practically trembling with excitement and sheer joy at feeling Sam’s body against my own and could not help but clutch at Sam’s blazer as if it was the Holy Grail. “Sammy,” I panted, smiling a wide, trusting grin at my brother. “I missed you.”

“Seriously? I never would have fucking guessed, kiddo. Come on, get off. People are gonna think we’re boyfriends you keep holding onto me like that. And don’t call me Sammy.” Sam paused, groaning as he saw the look of instantaneous pain in my eyes. Sam knew that the smallest word could make me flip out for no apparent reason. But Sam knew me better than that, knew that in the time that he was away I hadn’t changed it all. There was always a reason for being upset. If I got upset it wasn’t because I was being ridiculous, I wasn’t being silly. I cared about Sam’s opinion of me. That’s why I was so sensitive. Sam noticed the glazing of my eyes and the frown on my face. He could probably feel it, too, just like I did. “Don’t do that. Fuck, Si. You know I missed you, too, all right? Help me get my stuff you fucking pansy.”

As if an emotional flip had been switched, the smile reappeared in both my face and eyes and I lept at the opportunity to carry Sam’s belongings, grabbing the two largest bags and pulling them toward the house. I hoped that Sam was pleased with my efforts to help him. I could hear Sam grab the last and smallest of the bags from the ground and close the car door. His footsteps echoed my own. The large white door into our parents’ house seemed like a duel entrance to heaven and hell. Sammy stopped in his tracks for just a moment. I stopped when I heard him halt and turned toward him, watching him stare. I wondered what he was thinking about. Sometimes with Sam it was impossible to tell.

“Sammy? Come with me.” The sound of my voice pulled Sam from his momentary reverie.

“I’m coming, prince. I’m coming.” And he did. And it made me the happiest kid in the world.