Stan
“I’m ready,” Samantha announced, standing in the open double doors of the garage, arms crossed.
On a creeper under the engine compartment of the jacked up primer gray 1968 Dodge Charger R/T, “Yep,” Stan acknowledged, pulling himself out from under the car. Sitting up on the creeper, he grabbed a grease rag and wiped his hands and looked up at her, “You seem chipper,” he commented with a smile.
Returning the smile, Samantha nodded.
Getting to his feet, he nodded back. It was good to see her more in tune with her usual self. The odd behavior from the other night, the morose delusion Oliver was gone or lost to her seemed to be a vague memory in the past. It would be good for her to get out. In the ten or so years Stan had been with her, almost like clockwork, she would get together with a gaggle of her former sorority sisters and they would go on some kind of trip. This year they were going to Whistler up in Canada, apparently within the context of supporting the UBC chapter of their sorority in Vancouver, British Columbia.
Tossing the grimy cloth rag onto the workbench, he walked toward Sam, “Did you get everything in the van or do you need a hand?” he asked.
“A hand would be good,” she replied.
“I’ve been thinking while you and the hens are away jeopardizing international relations with our polite neighbors to the north, I would drive down and spend the weekend with Oliver, do a little male bonding,” Stan advised, chuckling.
“Ah, have you checked with him yet?” she asked, ascending the stairs to the house and pulling open the screen door.
“Not yet, figured I’d run it passed you first,” he replied, stepping through the door and picking up Samantha’s suitcase and carryon.
“I think you should check with him first, I mean what with school and new friends and all, he might have already made some plans,” she countered, closing the door as Stan stepped back through with the luggage.
“Good point,” he replied, stepping down and walking toward the minivan. “I wouldn’t want to cramp his style just in case, you know what I mean,” he added, winking.
Samantha shook her head, “No matter how old they get, boys will be boys,” she scoffed.
“True story, at heart there is a little part of every man that never grows up. It’s why you girls love us so, figure you can train that little boy to be at your beck and call,” Stan retorted playfully, putting Sam’s luggage into the van.
“You have no idea,” she replied, voice trailing away wistfully.
“Oh I think I do and I also think that’s what got you all bound up the other day. We both saw how that little cunt Sarah messed with Oliver’s head and twisted him inside out. Now that he’s in a huge school surrounded by a swarm of females, you’re worried some gorgeous little vixen is going to wrap him around her baby finger,” he said, placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Listen, he’s a good kid with a great big heart and it’s only natural to worry that he’s going to get hurt. He’s tougher than you give him credit for,” he finished, pulling her into a hug.
Disengaging from Stan, Sam turned away, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. Oliver was not hers anymore. In truth, he never had been. She had only been a surrogate for the sisterhood. It did not diminish the love she felt for him and the fate she knew was coming to him.
“It’s okay, go and enjoy yourself with your friends and I’m sure this will all pass,” Stan assured, closing up the van.
A sharp laugh escaped her lips and she shook her head. Feeling all maudlin and mopey when she herself was only moments away from going on a trip to participate in the exact same thing and share in the energy of another sister’s sacrificial progeny. How many times had she given herself to the ‘swoon’? Seven? This would be eight. She understood at once the meaning of hypocritical irony as it applied to the manifestation of emotion she was feeling.
Frowning, “What?” he inquired.
Sam shook her head again, “No you’re right. I’m sure all my misgivings will be forgotten once I’m with my sisters,” she replied. There was no pulling Oliver back from the brink, any more than she would cancel her trip. Collecting her purse, she climbed into the passenger seat of the van.
The ride out to the airport was quiet, which suited Stan. At the airport, a quick hug and kiss and she and a handful of the ’girls’ were off.
Returning to the van, Stan pulled out his cell phone, sending Sam an affirmation to enjoy herself and that what happens in another country stays there. He did not expect a response and none was forthcoming.
Tucking the phone away, he buckled up and started up the Grand Caravan. Pausing a moment, he pulled the phone back out and fired off another text, this one to Oliver. “Your mom is off and out on the prowl with the rest of her cougar pack, what do you think about me coming down that way for a couple of days on the long weekend?”
Stan’s phone lit up almost immediately, “That would be great. I can’t wait for you to meet Sersei,” came the reply.
“Sersei? Is she cute?” he typed back.
A slight fuzzy of a girl dressed in a tight pink t-shirt arrived. Stan got the vibe it had the look of one of those photos a dude sneaks when he thinks the girl is not looking.
Fuzzy or not, Stan let out a slow whistle, shaking his head and muttering, “Sweet Jesus.” Cute was an understatement, this girl could stop a clock. Big ole breasts aside, there was something in the girl’s big soft eyes so innocent and blue.