His eyes leave the television long enough to notice Marshal. Either he doesn’t notice our intertwined hands or he doesn’t care. “Marshal, how are you? How’re your folks? It’s been too long since we’ve seen George and Monica.”
“They’re good. I’ll tell them you said hi.”
Dad nods and points to the television. “Can you believe this? They’re going to vote her off the island. I just know it. One challenge and they’re throwing her out. I think Ralph, the guy with the bandana” —he points to the large screen— “should go. He’s a conniving bastard.” Before we can reply, Dad pounds the arm of his chair. “No! No! Don’t do it.”
I pull Marshal’s hand, tugging him toward the kitchen and saving him from my dad’s tirade.
“Samantha. Oh, Marshal,” my mom says, “what a surprise to see you.”
“Yes, what a surprise,” Jack says in a deadpan tone, his gaze flicking back and forth to our still-connected hands.
Taking a breath, I let go of Marshal’s hand and begin speaking, “Mom, Jack, we need to talk about the wedding.”
“We are,” Jack says.
“Look at this,” Mom says, pointing at the screen. “The RSVPs are starting to come in.” She looks down at the notebook in front of her where she’s written all the names.
“Mom, you know that you can print that list from the program.”
“Oh, this is easier. Here just look,” she says, handing me the notebook.
Writing each name isn’t easier, but now isn’t the time to try to convince her of that.
“No. It wasn’t her fault. It was that asshole Ralph.”
We all turn toward the living room at my dad’s outburst.
“Mom, about the wedding…” I try again.
“Samantha, let’s go out back and talk,” Jack suggests.
“No,” I answer curtly.
“Samantha Ann” —my mom narrows her eyes at me as she stands— “what's going on?”
I put down the notebook without reading the names and steel my shoulders. “Like I said, we need to talk.” I turn back to Jack. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“Samantha, I love you. I’ll be anywhere you are.”
Marshal, who’d been leaning against the wall, steps forward. “In the future that may be a little awkward.”
Jack snaps his head toward Marshal. “Again, Michaels, none of your business. Tell us why you’re here?”
“Damn it! They did it.” Dad rushes into the kitchen and reaches for the refrigerator handle. “Now I don’t know who’ll be next.”
“Paul,” Mom says, grabbing his arm and stopping his progress. “Stay in here. Sami has something we need to talk about.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Jack says.
Marshal takes another step toward me and puts his arm around my waist. “Yes, she does. Or I will.”
Mom takes a step back and covers her lips with her hand. “W-what is happening?”
“The wedding is off,” I say.
“No, Samantha, don’t do this.” Jack's tone is as pathetic as his flowers.
I narrow my gaze at Jack.
He speaks over the television coming from the other room. “I was keeping it a secret, but our honeymoon...a villa in the South of France is—”
“Jack,” I interrupt. “I don’t need a villa or France. I don’t need fancy restaurants and a big house in the suburbs in the right neighborhood with the right median income.”
He takes a step toward me. “It’s what I want to give you.”
I shake my head. “No. It’s what you want. I don’t want any of it.” I fight tears of frustration. “You want me to be someone I’m not. Little by little, you’ve been chipping away—”
“Sami,” Mom says, reaching out for my hand, “maybe it seems like too much right now—”
“I want to make all your dreams come true,” Jack says.
By screwing someone in my bed? I don’t say that. Instead, I straighten my shoulders and opt for a warning. “Jack, continue to talk and so will I. I’ll say more. Right now, I’m going with I’m the one who saw the light. I’m the one who is calling the wedding off. But I can easily change my story.”
Dad nods with his lips together. “Okay.” He smiles. “The wedding is off.” He turns to Mom. “I’ll let the boys know I’m free for golf.” He turns back to me. “Is there anything else you need to tell us?”
Turning toward him, I question what I just heard. “Aren’t you upset?”
“Not as upset as I am about Missy. I think that Ralph asshole is going to try to get rid of her next. I need to see the end of the show.”
“Paul, wait,” Mom says, stopping Dad’s retreat.
Jack reaches for my hand. Equally as quick, I shake my head