Something in the Water

Sam has invited me over for lunch, and I'm actually looking forward to it. I didn't sleep well - again - and I've thought about calling Ben to apologize.

Then I realized he should be apologizing to me, so I dismiss that idea.

When I enter Sam's kitchen, I'm immediately reminded of Sara. The last time we cooked in here together was months ago, but I'd always called it Sara's kitchen. Not Sam's.

I shake away those thoughts. "Hey, Sam."

He glances up from his elaborate setup of peanut butter, strawberry jelly, and a loaf of bread. "Shh," He whispers. "Do not interrupt the Culinary Genius."

"Why are you making peanut butter and jelly? You eat it everyday all week long."

Sam sighs, like my voice causes him pain. "Sully, are you deaf? I need silence to focus!" He waves a butter knife at me.

I fold my arms and purse my lips, watching him carefully smear his sandwich together. Once he places the top slice of bread on his triple decker, he grins in delight.

"A masterpiece." He exclaims.

I walk to his side of the counter and push him aside. "Don't flatter yourself." I pull out two slices of bread and steal the knife from him. "Nothing beats a simple PB&J."

He ignores me. "Did you get to see Ben last night?"

"Oh, yes." I grumble. "This time, we only lasted five minutes before we couldn't look at eachother anymore."

"Ben's fault, or yours?"

I want to say Ben right away, but I know it can't just be his fault. "I don't know, both?"

Sam pats my back a few times, but leaves his hand there. "You're both already acting like an old married couple, and you're not even married."

I frown, because he's right. "It's getting worse. I don't know what to do anymore." A sneaky hormone-driven tear drops onto my cheek. I wipe it quickly.

Sam pretends he doesn't notice. "What happened?"

My sigh is shaky. "I swear I could feel the baby moving last night, and when I told Ben, he said it was only bubbles. And now I'm thinking maybe it was just bubbles, because I don't think anyone else would care as much as Ben would." I stop myself after that. Sam doesn't need to listen to me complain.

"Ben's just trying to do the right thing." He slowly drops his hand from my back. "But it's not right to treat you like you mean nothing."

I give him a tiny smile. "I guess I should just talk to him."

"Why don't you?"

"It's more complicated than that." I say quietly. I don't expect him to understand, but I'm glad he listens to my complaining.

Sam waits for me to finish assembling my own masterpiece. I look up when I'm done, but he's staring at me.

"What?"

"You have peanut butter on your nose."

I touch the back of my hand to my nose. "Where?"

He flicks his finger over my nose, and I can't miss the blob of peanut butter that came with it. "There." He smirks at me.

"So we're playing that game?" I swipe it off and stick it to his forearm.

Sam sighs again, but this time it's as if he feels sorry for me. "Retaliation only means one thing."

I'm actually a bit nervous. "What's that?"

My eyes widen and I freeze when he swiftly pulls a spoon out of the drawer without taking his eyes off of me. He sticks it in the peanut butter and holds the loaded weapon high over his head. "War."

I cringe, preparing to be coated in peanut butter.

"What the hell are you doing?" We both redirect our attention to Sara, standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Peanut butter fight." Sam says shamelessly.

She grunts in disapproval. "What are you, five?"

Sam sets the peanut butter down safely on the counter. He looks down at me and pulls his lips in a line. He's not aggressive at all, so he lets Sara scold him. He always has, but it's never bothered me until now.

I need make sure I avoid direct eye contact with Sara, so I stay focused on Sam. He starts to gather the ingredients, so I offer to help.

"Emma?"

I wonder if I've imagined her calling my name. I force myself to look upwards and our eyes meet for the first time in weeks. "Yes?"

She breaks the connection just as fast, and starts watching Sam clean up. "Can I talk to you, please?"

Sam stops cleaning to observe the situation. He decides that Sara probably won't kill me, and shoots me an encouraging look of permission.

I nod to Sara and follow her up the stairs to her bedroom. It feels so foreign, even though I've been up and down these stairs hundreds of times. I don't feel as comfortable as I used to. Sara's room has been overwhelmingly pink for as long as I can remember, and the fact that it's still the same makes me feel a little better.

She doesn't beat around the bush. "What do you think you're doing?"

I try to comprehend what the harsh lines in her smooth forehead mean, regarding her question. I thought she was finally ready to apologize, or at least accept me. "What?"

She kicks her bedroom door closed. "Sam." She says.

I shake my head. "What about him? He's been a good friend, something you probably wouldn't understand." I add in a hint of my frustration with her.

Sara rolls her lips in the same frustration. "All of the things you're doing, like in school, at the lunch table, and in my kitchen? All of that needs to stop."

I know where she's going with this. She doesn't want Sam to be my friend, because she doesn't want to be my friend. She's being selfish, and I don't have any sympathy anymore. I completely ignore her, like she's been ignoring me, and walk past her towards the door.

"Don't you get it?" She calls after me. "Or are you too blinded by your fifteen minutes of fame to see it?"

"See what?"

"He's falling in love with you, Emma!" Sara stands right in my way, capturing my attention. "And you're wrongly leading him on!"

It sounds so unrealistic that I laugh a little. "No, he isn't. We're friends. Maybe you would see that if you sat with us at lunch now and again."

"I know my brother." She says simply. "I need you to stop flirting with him before you do more damage than you already have."

"I'm not flirting with him." I want it to sound confident, but it doesn't. I can't pretend that I haven't caught myself looking at him in ways that I shouldn't, but I'm not in love with him. I can't be.

Sara waves her hands in the air. "Whatever you call it, it's sending him the wrong message."

I hold my stomach with both hands. "I'm not going to stop being his friend."

"Then stop making him like you so much." She thinks about what she's said, and chuckles at it. "It's sort of impossible. If you weren't pregnant with his best friend's baby, he'd probably be all over you."

I'm distracted, playing back all the time Sam and I have spent together since the day he saved me in the hallway. Have I been leading him on? Yes, though I hate to admit it. But I've enjoyed his company, especially in the past few weeks while Ben was being brainwashed by my father. I don't want that to go away.

I anchor my fingers in my hair and groan. "You know, I'm starting to think that all of this isn't worth it. I'm losing Ben, I'm losing my parents, I'm losing Sam," I wait for her attention. "I've already lost you. Who am I going to have left when the baby gets here?"

She looks guilty, but I don't know if that was my goal. "Don't talk like that." She says.

"Ben's right." I realize. "He knew all along that we had to be realistic. I need to start facing the facts."

I start to leave again, but she catches me by the wrist. "I can't let you walk out like this."

I gently slip her hand away. "I have to go talk to my dad."

. . . . . . . .

I march right into the Evaluation Center like I own the place. The front secretary recognizes me.

"Where's my dad?" I ask her urgently.

She flips through the hologram in front of her. "He's in his office for ten minutes before his next -"

"Perfect." I take a left and head down the endless hallway.

I barge into his office without requesting permission. Conveniently, Mom is here as well.

"Emma?" They both ask in synchronization.

"I know exactly what's going on here." I point a finger accusingly at my father. "You're brainwashing Ben on purpose, aren't you?"

Dad doesn't look as surprised as Mom, and it's all the answer I need.

"You're trying to break him so that he turns into one of you. You want him on your side, not mine. You're trying to take him away from me so we don't pass the Evaluation!"

"Alright, Emma, would you listen to yourself?" Dad stands himself up to approach me.

"I wish I listened to myself before now." I retort, adrenaline still pumping through my veins. "You know I'm right."

Dad gives Mom the subtle hint to give us some privacy. She hesitates, but clears the room. Dad leans on the edge of his desk to reach the same eye level as me.

"I don't want Ben working here anymore." I say openly. "Get him a job at the hospital, with me."

Dad shakes his head, like I'm his naive little daughter asking where babies come from. As if I didn't already know! "I'm afraid you don't have a say in that, sweetheart."

"But you do!" I remind him. "Talk to our Evaluator, get him to change it. I can't deal with this anymore."

He's very blunt. "I'm sorry, but there isn't anything I can do."

The door to Dad's office opens behind me, and I expect Mom to be interrupting. I turn and find the man of the hour, trying not to struggle with his stack of handhelds. It infuriates me that they're making him work on a Saturday.

He only spots me after the door is closed. "What are you doing here?"

I'm still riding my adrenaline rush when I steal the stack and practically throw them at my father. I give Dad one final look that says I'm not finished here, and proceed to drag Ben out of the room with me.

He calls after me, as does Mom, but I keep walking, pulling Ben by the lapel of his coat.

"What's going on?"

I keep going, my eyes locked on the target of the exit.

"Slow down. Where are we going?"

I manuever through the traffic of the hall without answering.

"Emma, stop!" He tries to skid on his heels, but I'm stronger. I turn my head back once to show him the wild look in my eyes. He gives himself in to me after that. "At least tell me where we're going."

"Are your parents home?"

He thinks for a second. "I don't know, probably. Why?"

I let the conniving smirk spread across my face. "Then we're going to my house."

I'm grateful he doesn't ask anymore questions on the way home, because I'd probably give it away. I've come up with the solution to fix my problem with Ben, and I've been waiting four months for it. I want to surprise him before he has time to think about it.

It starts to drizzle rain when we get inside, and I immediately lead him to my room. I push him in first, but leave the door open behind me since no one is home.

"We're going to get in trouble." He tells me. "This isn't right, I shouldn't have left with you."

I have to be careful now. I don't want to scare him off. "That's why you needed to leave."

He's too concerned to even realize we have the whole afternoon alone in my bedroom. "I can't stay long, so tell me what's wrong."

I take a quick, deep breath for moral support. I form my hands around the shape of his neck and try to create the deepest and most passionate kiss I can come up with. I put in everything I have, and then step away.

His eyes gradually flutter open, and his gulp is audible. "What was that for?"

"I want my Ben back," I lift the collar of his stupid blue coat and force it off of him, tossing it across the room. "And I can only think of one way to do it."

He's still trying to connect the dots when I kiss him again, my fingers unknotting his tie. He doesn't catch on until I unbutton half of the buttons on his shirt.

"Em," He mumbles weakly against my lips. I can't help but be proud of myself.

I resort to just tugging the shirt over his head and throwing it in the direction of his coat. I allow my fingers to trickle back down his bare chest, in which he invites me into another hungry kiss.

It isn't long before he's fighting me for dominance, his warm hands teasing my waistline. It feels like it used to, before I ever had thoughts of being pregnant. Carefree, intimate, and absolutely perfect.

It's then that I know I've won, and that Ben is mine again.