There was that incorrect, correct thing again.
“But I have this on me every day. Usually, the EDC community are guys with concealed firearms and flashlights, which I think is dumb since we have phones with a flashlight function. . . .” Penny trailed off. Sam had wondered why chicks had such big bags. He figured it was their makeup, not soft cases filled with doomsday rations and zip ties of varying length.
“Snacks are important,” he said. “And you can never have enough plastic cables.”
“Are you making fun of me?” she asked.
“No.” He shook his head vehemently and took another handful of cashews. “Not at all. I respect the shit out of it. Your EDC is saving my ass.”
She had a small scar above her left eyebrow and he wanted to ask about it. Maybe she’d had some bizarre things go down in her life. It would explain her whole style.
“Did everything sound all underwater?” she asked after a second. Her lips were wiped clean, and Sam noticed they looked better without all that gunk on them.
“Underwater?”
“When you were passing out.”
“Yeah, muffled.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“My girlfriend’s pregnant,” he said suddenly, startling himself.
Penny tilted her head.
“Well, she’s my ex.”
“Whoa,” she breathed.
“Yeah. I still love her though.”
“Ugh.”
“She cheated on me.”
The confessions wouldn’t stop. He wanted to show his gratitude for the ride and the snack and the not making him feel like a headcase when it was clear that he was. Except at no point did his vocal cords just step in line and say thank you.
“Wow,” she said
Penny’s fingers inched toward his. Sam thought for a fleeting moment that she would hold his hand, but instead she went for a couple cashews and was extra careful to avoid touching him.
“The first one is the worst. By a lot,” she said, crunching. Sam wasn’t sure if she was talking about panic attacks or pregnant ex-girlfriends. Not that it mattered.
PENNY.
On the drive back Penny snuck glances at Sam. His eyes were closed. Penny couldn’t believe Sam had told her about his girlfriend, MzLolaXO. And that MzLolaXO was pregnant! Jude would lose it when she found out. Penny could only imagine what Dr. Greene had to say about it in their weekly Skype therapy calls. Penny couldn’t get enough of how bizarre the sessions were. Literally their last one had been about boundary issues while Penny was in the room trying to do her homework.
Sam’s slight chest rose and fell. She wondered for a second if she could lift him if she needed to.
“Take me back to House.
“Please,” he said then, catching himself.
Penny fought the urge to check his temperature. Maybe this was more than a panic attack. He was so vulnerable. She knew she should be keeping her eyes on the road, but the way his Adam’s apple bobbed was mesmerizing. It was as if something were struggling to get out. She just wanted to reach over and stroke it. Just once. Or lick it. God, what was wrong with her?
“I don’t know where you live,” she said, forcing an even tone and changing lanes. Maybe she’d get to see where he slept.
“Not my house—House, where I work,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“There’s no food at home,” he explained, his eyes still closed. Penny was enjoying that she could survey him with unsupervised access.
“How are you going to get home after that?”
“I’ll figure it out,” he said.
She wanted to press him. He had no business driving. Plus, she wasn’t sure if the MzLolaXO predicament meant she’d be helping him out or not.
Sam opened his eyes. Penny froze.
“Why don’t you want to be a documentarian anymore?” she asked abruptly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Penny had been dying to ask since that first day. She wanted to know what made him quit movies to bake. Or barista, or whatever it was exactly that he did now. Curiosity fizzed in her head, but she restrained herself. Penny knew she had a habit of jumping all over the place in conversations without warning. Her mom called it “speaking Penny.” Nobody but Penny spoke it fluently.
It’s just that Penny didn’t know a lot of documentaries beyond the one about the tightrope walker guy and the sushi guy and the one about Sea World, and she certainly didn’t personally know any documentarians. She was willing to bet Sam’s would be good. Honestly, between the panic attack and the pregnant ex-girlfriend, if Sam were making a movie out of his own life, Penny would watch the hell out of it.
SAM.
When they pulled up in front of House Sam felt as if he’d left weeks ago. He couldn’t wait to strip off his clothes and collapse into bed.
“Thanks,” Sam said, unbuckling his seat belt. He considered leaning over and hugging her. Not that he was a hugger or anything. But when he turned to say good-bye, she eyed him warily, as if she’d burst into flames if he did.
“Do you live far?” Her brows were furrowed and the scar was white again, as if it were pissed at him.
“Nope,” he said.
“Want me to get Jude to bring you anything?”
“That’s okay,” he said, attempting a smile. “Actually, do you mind not telling her that we bumped into each other?”
Penny cocked her head. “You want me not to tell her about seeing you or everything that followed?”
“Both,” he asserted. “I don’t want her to worry.” The last thing he needed was Jude knowing that his life was a stereotypical redneck mess.
“Um,” she said, frowning slightly. “Sure.” Penny gave him her “incorrect response” look again.
“I just really need to get some rest.”
She nodded.
“Thanks again,” he said, and opened the car door. “For everything.” He got out and steadied himself.
“Wait!” Sam heard the pop of a door. Penny waved her phone at him from the passenger side.
“What’s your number?” she asked. Her face was bright red. “So you have mine. For emergencies.”
He told it to her.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
“Got it,” he said.
“Okay.”
Penny reached over and slammed the door. “Text me when you get home?”
“Yes, Mom, I’ll text you when I get home.”
She scowled then, which made him smile.
“Sorry. I promise I will. I’ll get some food and go straight home and into bed. And I will call you because you are now my official emergency contact.” Sam turned to go.
“Wait!” shouted Penny again through the window. He turned around.
“Isn’t the whole concept of an emergency contact that you’re too dead to call them?”
Sam laughed. She had a point.
“Don’t forget!” she called out before driving away. He pulled out his phone.
The text read:
This is penny
He smiled, trudged up the stairs, and immediately fell asleep in his clothes for the next ten hours.
? ? ?
When Sam woke up he had a pounding headache. He stuck his head under the bathroom faucet and chugged until he thought he was going to be sick. He checked his phone. Almost two a.m.
No calls from Lorraine. Or texts. In fact, the last thing he got was “This is penny.”
Crap. Penny. Penny who he’d promised to hit up ten hours ago. He felt awful.
Still, it was way too late to text someone. Or was it? From what little he knew of her, she seemed the type to wait up. He was embarrassed about his panic experience—he remained reluctant to label it a full-on attack—but it was way worse to make her worry.
Ugh. Why was he so worthless?
He saved her number as “Penny Emergency” and texted her one word: Home
Penny’s text bubble popped up immediately with the little ellipses. Then it disappeared. Then it popped up again. Only to be deleted again.
Finally, she wrote back:
ok
Sam wondered if she was angry with him.
He texted her again:
I’m sorry. Fell asleep She texted:
Sleep’s the best. HUGE FAN.
Hard to do it when your emergency contact’s dead so . . .
Shit. She was pissed. Still, he smiled. Was he her emergency contact too? Maybe nobody knew how emergency contacts worked.
Sry
Srsly
TY!
I’m a dick
ugh
Good night