Page 8 of The Backtrack
“You mean Cathy?” Sam hated correcting her grandma, especially when she knew it was her memory failing her, but she did so, just the same.
“Yes, Cathy, whatever her name is. I swear to God, she sends me a tin every Christmas and pretends like she isn’t torturing me. She thinks just because something is made with soy it’s a health food.” Her grandma took a bite so big she could barely chew through it, but managed to say, “Just one bite won’t hurt.”
Sam had gotten her sweet tooth from somewhere, after all. There was a substantial lull in conversation as Pearl chewed. Sam fidgeted with her hands and the momentary quiet brought back the questions she didn’t have answers for.What was Damon going to ask me? And whydoeshe look so good to me now?
“Did I hear something about you and Damon seeing each other again?” Pearl asked, as if reading her thoughts.
Sam shot her a knowing look; while her grandma may have been out of commission with her wrist, her hearing was certainly in perfect shape. Sam nudged off her shoes and flexed each foot until her toes cracked.
“I bet Damon didn’t know what hit him when he saw you,” Pearl tried again. “You used to wear fingerless gloves in the summer, but now you’re Pilot Barbie.”
“Those were very in style back then,” Sam attempted to defend herself. “It’s definitely been a long time.”
“Yes, it has.” Pearl’s tone was maybe a bit more chastising than she’d anticipated. But instead of further judgment, her grandma simply said, “I’m glad to have you home.”
If ever there was a time where she wished she could hit a pause button, Sam thought this would be a good one. Because while the sentiment was a simple one, it was impossible for Sam to easily echo the feeling back. She loved Pearl, but she wasn’t glad to be home, and she didn’t want to disappoint her grandma by pretending to be.
“I’m going to go unpack,” Sam sidestepped. She was going to unpack, all right. Not just her clothes, but the conversation with Damon and Grandma Pearl. Plenty of things to unpack all around.
Her grandma stared back, because they both knew Sam was just making an excuse to leave the room. But Pearl eventually gave a resigned sigh, reached for another praline and began to chew. Sam took the opportunity to hurry down the hall. She’d been back less than twenty-four hours and in that time she’d gotten flutters from her high school best friend and become her grandma’s caretaker. This wasn’t the fake vacation she’d signed up for!
She gladly closed her bedroom door as a text came in.
Rachel:
How many margaritas have you had?
What she wouldn’t give for a margarita—she’d bathe in one to cleanse the day from her mind. She flopped onto her bed, tossed the Furby to the floor and cuddled the Hello Kitty plush under her arm as she typed back.
Sam:
Not enough.
Rachel:
Are you at least wearing your
bikini top as a hat?
Sam snort-laughed. Rachel and Sam werenotparty girls. And she’d never been, if the “I Love Dolphins!” sticker on her dresser was any indication. But she appreciated the implication that she could be, and she wanted to delight her friend.
Sam:
I can tell you there’s no top in sight...
It was technically true.
Rachel:
omg topless Sam, the beach isn’t
ready!!!
Sam:
Who knew that a winky face could hide a scream? The truth was that her exhaustion was turning into a kind of sleepwalking, and if she didn’t close her eyes soon, she’d simply pass out. But then her gaze met the purple painted desk, where the silvery CD player stood out and almost glowed.
Music was something she and Damon had both loved. They’d analyze the lyrics, CD sleeves and music videos, and bond over which bands had sold out or stayed indie. Music had always been just theirs. Flying was her escape now, but she couldn’t exactly hop on a plane. So maybe this was fate giving her a small reprieve from her thoughts. How else to explain the timing?
