Devon Hartford - Reckless

After Samantha said goodbye to her parents, she stared at me with watery eyes.

“Agápi mou,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

She reached out to hug me.

I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tight. “That was total bullshit.”

“What am I gonna do?” she said, panicked.

“It’s okay, agápi mou. We’ll figure it out.”

“I need to look for a job. Right now.” She looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear.

It was the saddest thing I’d ever seen, like her whole world was gone. My heart was breaking as her fear escalated. I don’t think I’d seen this much fear on her face even on the day we’d met, the day I’d punched out that fat dude screaming at her.

Right now, she looked scared to death.

Samantha pulled free from my arms, like I wasn’t able to protect her or comfort her. She rushed over to her book bag and yanked on her laptop. The computer was caught inside the bag. She panicked and pulled harder, but what she needed to do was relax. The laptop didn’t budge. “I can’t get it out!”

I kneeled down and put a hand on hers. “Relax, agápi mou.”

She looked at me, a mixture of hope and doubt in her eyes.

“You know that saying ‘easy does it’? It applies in situations like this most of all.”

“Huh?”

“Stop pulling so hard.”

She relaxed her grip on the computer.

I peeled back the corner of the book bag gently. “Now try it.”

She slid the laptop free. Her hands shook. She sat down on the couch, flipped the computer open, and fired it up. “I have to look for a job. Right now. I’ve only got enough money to last till the end of the month. Then I’m out.” Her hands clenched into fists over and over. You’d think she’d just been told her world was ending.

Maybe she had.

My guts twisted as I watched the growing horror on her face. She was freaking out. I couldn’t deal with it. “Samantha, you don’t need to worry about this. I’ve got money. How much do you need?”

“Oh, I couldn’t take your money, Christos.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be right.”

“You took your parents money, why can’t you take mine?”

She paused, eyes darting around the room uncertainly. “That’s different. They’re my parents.”

“And I’m your boyfriend. I’ve got more than enough money to help you out.”

“No, Christos, I just couldn’t.”

“Samantha, please try to understand my side of things. I’m sitting here watching you freak out because your parents suddenly fucked you over. You’re feeling betrayed. Right?”

“I don’t know what the word is for what I’m feeling right now, Christos. But it’s terrible. It’s like they’re trying to control me. They’re not listening to me, to what I want. They never ask, they just issue orders.”

I had to clamp down because I really wanted to go off on her parents right now. I wanted to snag her phone, dial her parents, and tell them they were fucked up bungholes. But I didn’t think that would help the situation any.

“Samantha, I’m listening to you. I can bail you out of this situation.” I winced when I said the word bail. That was my problem, not hers. Samantha’s seemed manageable. All she needed was some extra cash. That, I had.

What I didn’t have was a bottle with a genie waiting to grant me three wishes, one of which would be to make my trial go away. Not gonna happen. But I could fix Samantha’s money situation. I could be her genie, even if I didn’t have one of my own. I smiled at her. “Samantha, my money is your money. Just say the word, and poof! Your problems are solved.”

“Oh, Christos. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. But I feel like I need to do this myself. Otherwise, I’ll feel beholden to you. I can’t take your money.”

“What do you mean, beholden?”

“I don’t know. I just have to do this myself.” Her eyes glazed over.

She wasn’t getting it. You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t make it drink. And you weren’t supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth, either. Sam was doing both. I couldn’t blame her. She had too many horses and too many problems all at once.

All because Samantha wasn’t thinking rationally. Her fear was driving all her thoughts like wild horses. See? Too many fucking horses.

I shook my head and sighed while she searched online job websites.

“My parents didn’t say they’d stop helping with tuition,” she said to herself. “Just rent. I can figure that out. There’s jobs. I’ll go to career services tomorrow and see what I can find. I’m sure I can figure this out.”

Yeah, she wasn’t talking to me. She was just thinking out loud.

I tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes were wild, like those god damn horses again. She didn’t even realize I was in the room with her, willing and able to help her through this.

She was oblivious to my presence.

There was nothing more I could do but give her time, enough space, and be there if she fell.

I heaved another sigh.

It hurt that she didn’t want my help, like I was somehow a bad person waiting to take advantage of her. But I couldn’t force my help on her, no matter how easily I could solve her money problems.

Man, that sucked.

“Samantha, if it gets to be too much,” I reassured, “let me know. I’m here for you, agápi mou. No matter what.”

I don’t think she’d heard me.

I needed a drink.

SAMANTHA

Needless to say, I slept like crap that night. I couldn’t stop thinking about finding a job. Christos had left after an hour. I only had the one computer, so there wasn’t much he could do in the way of helping me job hunt.

I had searched around the internet for hours, trying to find something, but had no luck. I would look on campus for a work-study job today between classes, but feared there’d be none left this late in the academic year. If that happened, I’d try looking in my neighborhood for a restaurant job, a coffee shop, anything.

I did my best not to think about it.

My only class that morning was Oil Painting with Romeo and Kamiko. I had to buy supplies at the campus bookstore before class. I picked out the paints, brushes, palette, canvases, and other supplies and took them to the register.

The total was $147.38.

My money was going to be gone in two weeks at this rate.

I walked toward the Visual Arts building with my bag of supplies. When I’d walked this route to Life Drawing for the first time three months ago, I’d been full of hope. Now I was full of dread. I had to find a job. That was all I could think about. My lack of money.

How was I going to concentrate on painting? Or my other classes?

“There goes Poor House,” Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse giggled.

Great. That was all I needed.

Two hobots stood next to her on the pathway. All three of them held cups of designer coffee from Toasted Roast. I’d already cut daily coffee from my budget.

I ignored her and kept walking.

“She lowers thrift-store chic to a whole new low, don’t you guys think?” Tiffany asked her minions.

“Totally,” they chorused.

“She makes bargain-basement look bad,” one said.

I had a moment to think about how Tiffany’s yacht probably cost more than four years of college tuition for fifty kids. Whatever. Envying her wealth wouldn’t help me find a job. I didn’t have time for her childish insults anymore.

“Grow up, Tiffany,” I said, never looking back.

I made it to the painting studio shortly after.

People were already setting up at the easels. I found a space next to Romeo and Kamiko.

“Hey guys,” I said. I was so happy to see them. “What are we going to paint this quarter to top all the nude models in Life Drawing last term? A live sex show?” I joked, trying to force myself into a better mood.

“I wish,” Romeo said. He gestured toward the center of the room. A waist-high pedestal had a square of black cloth draped diagonally over it. A wooden bowl of fruit sat on top.

“A still life,” Kamiko said. “Fruit is way easier than people.”

“But not nearly as interesting,” I said.

“Wait and see. Dealing with mixing paint and working with brushes will offer a bunch of new challenges. You’ll be glad you’re just painting apples and grapes.”

“I agree with Sam,” Romeo said thoughtfully. “I preferred painting people. Especially fully-nude Christos. But there is a huge banana in the fruit bowl. It’s about the right size, wouldn’t you say, Sam?”

My cheeks glowed red. “Romeo!”

“Relax, Sam,” Romeo said dismissively. “We’ve all seen what’s in Christos’ fruit basket more than once. But we have no expertise in the fully erect department. For that, I turn to you for corroborative evidence. Can you describe his manana to us?” He arched an eyebrow while pretending to hold a microphone in front of me like he was a news reporter.

Kamiko gawked at both of us.

“No!” I blurted.

“No, you won’t describe it,” Romeo said, “or no, you haven’t peeled it?”

“Uhhhh…” Why did I feel guilty all of a sudden?

Kamiko snorted laughter. “Romeo, even I know you don’t peel them.”

“If they have a foreskin, you do,” Romeo said plainly.

“It’s not the same kind of peeling,” Kamiko corrected. “It’s more like pulling down the wrapper on a freezer pop.

I grimaced. “This conversation has officially become uber disgusting.”

Romeo frowned. “Wait a second, Kamiko, how do you know so much about mansicle wrappers?”