Читать книгу Something About Sammy - Blaine Sims - Страница 9

On October 11^th, Sandra and I got together for dinner after leaving Rusty’s. It was the first we accompanied each other outside the place.

We made plans several weeks before for a home-cooked meal and to watch a musical DVD at my apartment. I invited her to join me and others in December to see the group live in Bluewater Springs.

I pulled out the stops. With Stouffer's brand Manicotti as the main entrée, I splurged on shrimp cocktail, salad, and Hors D’oeuvre. I purchased essential items for the presentation. I shelled out close to $100.00 for this at-home-dinner for two.

The following night, Allison served me my first beer.

“How was the dinner date?” she asked.

“It was nice,” I replied. “We had a good time.”

Sammy boisterously joined the conversation.

“Andrei got laid,” he said in a sing-song manner. “Andrei got laid.”

Subsequent to our first, we enjoyed two additional dinner dates and partook in dancing after the third. None of the other couples mistook us for Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

Given the fact Allison became inquisitive, I shared the feelings I held for Sammy. Out of character, my private person demeanor changed. I kept personal issues inside for years, with those I’ve known for decades and hold close, more with strangers.

I didn’t know Allison. At first, I didn’t mention the sexual attraction. I told her I cared for him as a person, and of his importance to me and that he reminded me in ways of my son. A short while after an incident, I bared my soul and spilled the beans.

Toward the end of October, Allison and I exchanged the usual pleasantries.

“Little Samuel is barred.” A wave of shock and dread swarmed me.

A wave of shock and dread swarmed me.

“Why?” I asked.

She proceeded to say he destroyed an amusement machine. She alluded his friends egged him on but emphasized he held sole liability. I looked and saw the device missing.

She continued Cynthia, the owner, informed him he could come back if he reimbursed her for the damages, and he could pay installments of $50 a week.

She mentioned he wouldn’t accept accountability. I decided to talk with Cynthia, and pay for the damage, so he could return to the place he found comfort.

Cynthia arrived and I got her to the side.

“I heard Sammy was a bad boy,” I said.

“Yes, he did a bad thing,” she replied.

She confirmed if she received reimbursement, he’d be able to resume his visits. At the time, I didn’t have any idea what it amounted to, but I couldn’t spare money at the moment. A few days passed with me crestfallen. I missed him.

One day, Allison announced she felt the same.

“I miss Samuel,” she said.

My eyes welled with tears, and I fought to keep the floodgate from bursting. Minutes later, Sandra entered.

“It’s odd not seeing Sammy here,” she said.

Once again, I struggled to keep from erupting in an onslaught of sobs.

The days turned in to a week. I talked to another bartender, Melissa. I asked her how much Sammy owed. She wasn’t sure but called Cynthia. After getting off the phone, she advised me it totaled $300.

Stunned, I told her I had the delirious impression it amounted to fifty dollars. She stated she started a “Go Fund Me,” and confided Doug, a friend of his, told her he’d contribute $100.

I decided to put in $100, and the next time Melissa worked, I gave it to her. She handed me a handwritten receipt. Another week passed.

Allison asked select others.

“How’s the fundraiser for Sammy going?” she asked Flora, another friend of his.

I got impatient and dismayed.

“Look, I don’t want him to know, but I gave $100,” I said. “Why is no one else contributing?”

“I won’t because he denies he’s responsible,” Allison said. “Why are you doing this?”

Flora responded she cuts his hair for free, and she couldn’t afford to contribute. She commented it was generous of me to have helped.

“He appreciates it,” she said.

Who told him?

More time passed, and one Saturday, I asked Melissa what amount remained. She checked her records.

“Well, Doug put in $40,” she said. “We need another $100.”

I withdrew cash from the ATM. She gave me another receipt.

“I’ve done my part,” I said. “Now, do yours. Get in touch with Cynthia and tell her Sammy paid his debt.”

I remarked that several months before, Sammy did not show one day. Allison and I said we hoped he wasn’t in trouble.

“I pray I don’t have to bail him out of jail,” I said. “How odd. I thought I might have to bail him out of jail. I never thought I’d have to bail him in a bar.”

The next day, a Sunday, I clocked in with Allison as soon as she unlocked the door. “Here comes Samuel,” she shouted. “He’s allowed back.”

As he approached, I commented: “You’re late!!”

“By three weeks!” he replied.

He spoke to Allison.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Well, I’ve missed you,” he replied. “And I’ve missed you, too, Andrei.”

“Welcome back,” I said.

A short while later, it started — “Do You Think I’m Sexy?”

Several days after, I divulged my attraction to him to Allison. She had the air of being receptive and accepting. She didn’t react with shock, but understanding.

No change in the association between Sammy and me occurred after I confided in her. She talks with Sammy and is far closer to him. Numerous times in the past, I listened to her say, “I love him to death but …”

I didn’t stop with her. I began to express my feelings to others. I spoke with Sandra, Jack, and Sammy’s friend, Doug. As with Allison, no one reacted with outward astonishment, shock, or surprise. I tasted acceptance and understanding. What an idiot of me.