Samantha entered high school. Now, her life was filled with papers, essays, and stress. On the weekends, she found some peace, when she wasn't doing homework. Grandma Mae would take her to the beach or the park. They'd go on walks with Aberham, play tourist, and other enjoyable things. Samantha juggled her time with her Grandmother with her schoolwork and time with Aberham expertly.

One day, a tranquil and calm Saturday morning, with the sun passing through the windows and pacifying the house, the phone rang. Samantha was home alone, Grandma Mae out shopping while Samantha worked on an essay at the kitchen table. She sat up as the ring of the phone penetrated the still silence. Carefully, she stood and walked to the phone. It was the house phone, so it had a small screen where it showed the number of whoever was calling. The number Samantha saw caused her to stiffen for a second, staring at the number. She inhaled and picked up the phone, answering it. She put it to her ear and spoke. 

"Hello, Samantha Rivens speaking." She said, speaking out of muscle memory from training on how to speak while on the phone- thanks, Grandma Mae.

"Samantha, how good to hear from you!" The voice chirped overenthusiastically. It was her mother. Samantha grimaced, remembering the awkward family dinners they had every few months. 

"And to you too!" Samantha said, trying to sound thrilled by her mother calling. 

"Well, I was calling to let you know that your father and I are meeting with you at the Garden Bistro for lunch next Sunday. You know the one, on Third Street?" 

Samantha glared at the wall. Of course.  Her mother would call, demanding that Samantha meet up with them. It'd be planned out, no matter that Samantha was busy. "Of course, Mother. I'll be there. 12:30?" She asked, trying to take the ropes into her hands. 

"No, 1:00." Her mother said. "On the dot, got it?" 

"Yes ma'am," Samantha said. "Love you, goodbye." 

She hung up before her mother, eager to end the conversation. She leaned against the counter put her head in her hands. Her mother would act like she was going to come back, then be as distant as the sun was from the stars. Samantha was over it, but she hated acting as if she was the loving daughter they expected, always ready to pull for their love. In truth, she no longer needed it. She no longer craved it. All she needed was Grandma Mae and Aberham. And herself. That was it. Why should she care about people who were to busy for her?

When Grandma Mae came in with bags in her arms, Samantha snapped back to reality, rushing to take them. 

"Hello, Grandma Mae!" Samantha said, taking the bags and kissing her grandmother on the cheek. She put the bags on the counter.

"Are there more bags in the car?" She asked. Grandma Mae shook her head. 

"Help me put these away." Grandma Mae smiled. She could tell something was wrong with her Sammy. What it was, she wasn't sure. She watched at Samantha put away the frozen things, then the fridge things. 

"Is something wrong, honey?" Grandma Mae finally piped up. Samantha held herself with her shoulders hunched. She straightened herself as she looked at Grandma Mae. 

"My mother called. I'm meeting her on Sunday." Samantha said. Grandma Mae sighed, pulling her granddaughter close. 

"It'll be okay... It's only for lunch." She said, fighting down the irritation she felt toward her daughter-in-law. How could she stress Samantha like this? Be so aloof, then try to act like a mother for one hour- maybe two? It was sickening.

Samantha stood at the curb, staring at the door of The Garden Bistro. She was on time. Inhaling, her eyes remained on the ground. Her mother was in there, sitting up straight, holding herself like a queen. Her father was beside her, and they were waiting. Samantha knew the drill all too well. She smoothed her skirt down, looking at herself in the reflection of the glass door. Her black hair was pulled into an updo, twisted and pinned until she found it hard to move her head. Her sweater was replaced with a green dress that made her eyes pop. Her feet ached from the pinching shoes she was forced to wear.  

A wave of anxiety came over her as she stepped inside. She didn't want to, she didn't want to. She calmed herself down and looked at the host.

"Hi."

“Hello, table for one?” The woman asked her. Samantha shook her head, telling her that she was here with the Rivens. The woman led her to the table where her parents stood. Samantha sat down. 

“Hello, Mother. Hello, Father.” 

“Hello, Samantha. My, you’ve grown!” Her father commented. “Seems like only yesterday you were a little thing, bouncing around with your pigtails!” 

Samantha bit her lip, noting that she never once wore pigtails in her life. Instead, she nodded. “How have you been, how are your studies?” Her mother wanted to know. 

“They have been well. I am getting good grades and my work is always finished on time.” Samantha felt a wiggle of longing. To be a proper family. 

“Good. How is your Grandmother?” Her father asked.

"Grandma Mae is good. She just learned how to make some...fancy type of desert. I can't remember the name," Samantha admitted with a smile.

The rest of the lunch passed in a blur. She walked out, hugging her parents goodbye before taking off down the street to Aberham’s. She couldn’t stand it. The fact that she could tell they thought of these meetings as a formality. Something to show, Look, we’re good people. A show. Samantha broke into a run, feeling angry passion bloom in her chest. After what seemed like only moments of running, she found herself at Aberham’s front door. She knocked, trying to push her emotions down into the bottom of her chest.

His mother opened the door, a warm smile on her face. “Sammy!” She exclaimed fondly. “What a wonderful surprise! Does Mae know you're coming?" 

"Hi, Mrs. Delilah! Yeah, Grandma knows I'm here." She reassured the woman. Delilah let her in, leading her to the kitchen where oranges sat in a porcelain bowl on the table. Samantha took one, peeling it as Delilah began to talk. 

After a bit of time, Aberham came in. Samantha guessed he just got out of the shower, noting his wet hair. He joined in on the conversation. Hours past and before Samantha realized it, it was dinner. 

“Aberham, help me set the table.” Delilah chirped. 

“Yes, ma’am!” Aberham said, jumping up and taking some plates. Samantha leaned back, content. Aberham always knew how to fix things...