If Opposites Attract, Then We Were Meant to Be
"Some Days She Feels Like Dying..."
Hey readers just to let you know the title should be "Some Days She Feels Like Dying, She Gets So Sick Of Crying". I tried to fix it but it won't fit so just imagine it okay. Thanks for reading!
Much Love,
Sam<3
*** Ana’s P.O.V. ***
Sam didn’t say a word the whole drive back. She dropped us off at our houses and headed home, hopefully she was alright.
*** Sam’s P.O.V. ***
“Hey Catch,” I mumbled, giving him a quick pat on the head as he excitedly squirmed all over the place. I dropped my keys onto the table and dragged my stuff up to my room. I stared and read the post-it note that was stuck to my door.
Dear Sammy,
Sorry I couldn’t be there for your long awaited arrival! I left some of those cheese ravioli things you like on the counter in case you’re hungry. See ya at ten!
Love,
Dad
Well that was better for me; it gave me a chance to get together some things to fake sick. All I want to do is lie in bed and watch crummy soap operas and tragic romance movies that are totally cheesy. I figure I can do that till college and then I can become someone Billie Joe can never find.
I entered my room and collapsed onto the bed. Tucking myself under the covers I heard my stomach rumbling again. Ignore it, I thought wanting to waste away like a dying flower. How on earth can someone just move on after something like this? Why did he act like he liked me? I rolled over hearing Catcher’s paws pounding on the wood as he padded through the halls, his toenails clicking. He was probably looking for that gorilla chew toy that he likes so much. I wish I was a dog, I would be so happy to have people give me food and love, letting me roam where ever, getting spoiled, and all I would have to do in return would be to eat, sleep, and appreciate. Life would be good if I was a dog; I wouldn’t have to worry about all the stuff that I do stress-out over.
I wonder if that Jared guy got home okay. I know I brought him but it would be comforting to know that all that happened to him was that he got a major hang over. Maybe he’s going to get clean now too! That only could raise my spirits by like a fraction of one percent, that’s how bad I feel.
I know your just dying to hear every last detail…yeah right! All I did was sleep. I didn’t move a muscle (well maybe I did while I was asleep I don’t know).
*** Eric’s P.O.V. ***
“Sammy! I’m home!” I yelled as I burst through the front door. Catcher came barreling through the foyer to give me a big wet kiss but no sign of Sam.
“Sam?” I called again. Not a sound. I walked into the kitchen and saw the Lean Cuisine sitting exactly where I had left it, untouched, soggy, but untouched. I wonder if she’s even here, I thought.
With Catcher at my side we scrambled up the stairs to Sam’s room. The note I had left was gone. I knocked but there was no answer. Quietly I opened the door and saw her nestled under the covers of her bed sound asleep, her suitcase and duffel bag had been thrown onto the floor next to her closet. Silently I sat on the end of the bed and leaned over her to give her a light kiss on her forehead. She didn’t stir so I just smiled and decided to let her sleep in peace.
*** Sam’s P.O.V. ***
I woke up at eight o’clock in the morning. I had literally slept the day away. Feeling weak I got out of bed slowly and stretched. I took a shower and returned to my bed. I watched some novellas, which I barely understood. They speak Spanish so fast and I only speak with my grandmother, who speaks it slowly, sharply yes, but still at a rate I can understand I guess. My dad came up and brought me some veggie soup. He checked my temperature which came out a one hundred thanks to a hot water bottle concealed under me t-shirt.
I actually ate the food because I hadn’t eaten in like three whole days. It was so good! As I drained the bowl I felt the wave of guilt.
The heat of the meal made me tired again so I went back to sleep…
*** Eric’s P.O.V. ***
I went back upstairs to check on Sam. He plate was empty but she was fast asleep. She sighed and rolled onto her other side when I picked up the tray of food, her deep even breaths made the whole room seem like a peaceful haven safe from the world. I wanted so badly to go jump on her bed and wake her up demanding that she tell me every last detail of her trip. I guess this is why she thinks I’m a child, maybe her mom and brother’s death made her feel like she needed to grow-up fast and take care of me. It makes me very depressed to think of the things that my little girl matured too fast to enjoy. Green Day, Billie Joe, Mike and Trè are good for her I think. They showed her how to live a little; I think that’s why I didn’t hesitate to let her hang out with them.
I took the tray downstairs and washed them. I was so bored! I had taken Catcher on a walk, cleaned the garage, gone to work, and watched mindless television shows, I just didn’t know what to do with myself when Sammy was sick or gone. I like to talk to her; she just knows where I’m coming from. I’m glad she’s my daughter. Sometimes when I look at her I see the exact image of her mother, dark hair, pale skin, piercing blue eyes, it was almost like seeing a ghost. My son had looked more like me tall build, brown eyes, easily-tanned skin. Sam called him my Mini-me. That always got me to smile. I don’t exactly know how much she remembers of her long since dead family but I hope they are good memories, fond things she would want to hold onto. When the accident happened she was very upset. I had to take her to have psychiatric evaluations, and meet with shrinks to help her cope, it was a mess. One of the worst days of my life had been when I overheard some of my work colleagues talking about how I had a “disturbed nine year old” and how they thought I should “ship her off to some asylum and get her out my hair”. How could someone think that way? I mean I possibly love her more now because I want to protect her from that kind of hurt again.
“Dad?” Sam’s voice was hoarse as she called from the hallway.
“Sammy? What are you doing out of bed you should be resting, you’re sick remember?” I laughed giving her a big bear hug. I frowned when I let go. “Have you been eating alright? You’re awfully thin Sam.” I asked worriedly.
“Yeah dad. I don’t know why I’m so thin lately, maybe it’s all the exercise I’ve been getting and the first couple of days I was sick I wasn’t, I didn’t have much of an appetite. I was kind of nauseas.” She coughed to clear her coarse throat. “Daddy is there any lemons? I was going to make some hot lemonade for my throat.” She choked, going into a coughing fit.
“I’ll get it for you sweetheart. Are you sure your okay?” I said towards her back as she walked back up the stairs.
“I’m fine, thanks dad!” she waved a hand as if to say “no worries”. I hope she’s telling the truth, because I was a little afraid to hug her bone-thin frail body and that thought scared me to death!
*** Billie’s P.O.V. ***
Man for some reason I keep feeling bad. I really love Adie (I know that’s kinda fast to say but its true) but Sam is the one I keep thinking about. I wrote a couple of songs, one I wrote the night we left Minnesota. It’s about being so far away from 80 but I just don’t know anymore. My head is all mixed up. I just don’t know. I haven’t talked to Sam since she left, I call Adie every day. Is it wrong to love the qualities of both young women?
Much Love,
Sam<3
*** Ana’s P.O.V. ***
Sam didn’t say a word the whole drive back. She dropped us off at our houses and headed home, hopefully she was alright.
*** Sam’s P.O.V. ***
“Hey Catch,” I mumbled, giving him a quick pat on the head as he excitedly squirmed all over the place. I dropped my keys onto the table and dragged my stuff up to my room. I stared and read the post-it note that was stuck to my door.
Dear Sammy,
Sorry I couldn’t be there for your long awaited arrival! I left some of those cheese ravioli things you like on the counter in case you’re hungry. See ya at ten!
Love,
Dad
Well that was better for me; it gave me a chance to get together some things to fake sick. All I want to do is lie in bed and watch crummy soap operas and tragic romance movies that are totally cheesy. I figure I can do that till college and then I can become someone Billie Joe can never find.
I entered my room and collapsed onto the bed. Tucking myself under the covers I heard my stomach rumbling again. Ignore it, I thought wanting to waste away like a dying flower. How on earth can someone just move on after something like this? Why did he act like he liked me? I rolled over hearing Catcher’s paws pounding on the wood as he padded through the halls, his toenails clicking. He was probably looking for that gorilla chew toy that he likes so much. I wish I was a dog, I would be so happy to have people give me food and love, letting me roam where ever, getting spoiled, and all I would have to do in return would be to eat, sleep, and appreciate. Life would be good if I was a dog; I wouldn’t have to worry about all the stuff that I do stress-out over.
I wonder if that Jared guy got home okay. I know I brought him but it would be comforting to know that all that happened to him was that he got a major hang over. Maybe he’s going to get clean now too! That only could raise my spirits by like a fraction of one percent, that’s how bad I feel.
I know your just dying to hear every last detail…yeah right! All I did was sleep. I didn’t move a muscle (well maybe I did while I was asleep I don’t know).
*** Eric’s P.O.V. ***
“Sammy! I’m home!” I yelled as I burst through the front door. Catcher came barreling through the foyer to give me a big wet kiss but no sign of Sam.
“Sam?” I called again. Not a sound. I walked into the kitchen and saw the Lean Cuisine sitting exactly where I had left it, untouched, soggy, but untouched. I wonder if she’s even here, I thought.
With Catcher at my side we scrambled up the stairs to Sam’s room. The note I had left was gone. I knocked but there was no answer. Quietly I opened the door and saw her nestled under the covers of her bed sound asleep, her suitcase and duffel bag had been thrown onto the floor next to her closet. Silently I sat on the end of the bed and leaned over her to give her a light kiss on her forehead. She didn’t stir so I just smiled and decided to let her sleep in peace.
*** Sam’s P.O.V. ***
I woke up at eight o’clock in the morning. I had literally slept the day away. Feeling weak I got out of bed slowly and stretched. I took a shower and returned to my bed. I watched some novellas, which I barely understood. They speak Spanish so fast and I only speak with my grandmother, who speaks it slowly, sharply yes, but still at a rate I can understand I guess. My dad came up and brought me some veggie soup. He checked my temperature which came out a one hundred thanks to a hot water bottle concealed under me t-shirt.
I actually ate the food because I hadn’t eaten in like three whole days. It was so good! As I drained the bowl I felt the wave of guilt.
The heat of the meal made me tired again so I went back to sleep…
*** Eric’s P.O.V. ***
I went back upstairs to check on Sam. He plate was empty but she was fast asleep. She sighed and rolled onto her other side when I picked up the tray of food, her deep even breaths made the whole room seem like a peaceful haven safe from the world. I wanted so badly to go jump on her bed and wake her up demanding that she tell me every last detail of her trip. I guess this is why she thinks I’m a child, maybe her mom and brother’s death made her feel like she needed to grow-up fast and take care of me. It makes me very depressed to think of the things that my little girl matured too fast to enjoy. Green Day, Billie Joe, Mike and Trè are good for her I think. They showed her how to live a little; I think that’s why I didn’t hesitate to let her hang out with them.
I took the tray downstairs and washed them. I was so bored! I had taken Catcher on a walk, cleaned the garage, gone to work, and watched mindless television shows, I just didn’t know what to do with myself when Sammy was sick or gone. I like to talk to her; she just knows where I’m coming from. I’m glad she’s my daughter. Sometimes when I look at her I see the exact image of her mother, dark hair, pale skin, piercing blue eyes, it was almost like seeing a ghost. My son had looked more like me tall build, brown eyes, easily-tanned skin. Sam called him my Mini-me. That always got me to smile. I don’t exactly know how much she remembers of her long since dead family but I hope they are good memories, fond things she would want to hold onto. When the accident happened she was very upset. I had to take her to have psychiatric evaluations, and meet with shrinks to help her cope, it was a mess. One of the worst days of my life had been when I overheard some of my work colleagues talking about how I had a “disturbed nine year old” and how they thought I should “ship her off to some asylum and get her out my hair”. How could someone think that way? I mean I possibly love her more now because I want to protect her from that kind of hurt again.
“Dad?” Sam’s voice was hoarse as she called from the hallway.
“Sammy? What are you doing out of bed you should be resting, you’re sick remember?” I laughed giving her a big bear hug. I frowned when I let go. “Have you been eating alright? You’re awfully thin Sam.” I asked worriedly.
“Yeah dad. I don’t know why I’m so thin lately, maybe it’s all the exercise I’ve been getting and the first couple of days I was sick I wasn’t, I didn’t have much of an appetite. I was kind of nauseas.” She coughed to clear her coarse throat. “Daddy is there any lemons? I was going to make some hot lemonade for my throat.” She choked, going into a coughing fit.
“I’ll get it for you sweetheart. Are you sure your okay?” I said towards her back as she walked back up the stairs.
“I’m fine, thanks dad!” she waved a hand as if to say “no worries”. I hope she’s telling the truth, because I was a little afraid to hug her bone-thin frail body and that thought scared me to death!
*** Billie’s P.O.V. ***
Man for some reason I keep feeling bad. I really love Adie (I know that’s kinda fast to say but its true) but Sam is the one I keep thinking about. I wrote a couple of songs, one I wrote the night we left Minnesota. It’s about being so far away from 80 but I just don’t know anymore. My head is all mixed up. I just don’t know. I haven’t talked to Sam since she left, I call Adie every day. Is it wrong to love the qualities of both young women?