Be My Friday Night (2 page)

It was the night before Sam left for college. Otto was in Grover for a week before he was going back to school as well. He'd closed up the pizzeria and had offered to walk her down the street before she turned up the hill toward her parents' house. He'd told her about his antics with his friends backpacking in Europe that summer. He was just in town for the week to say hello to Zelda before he went back to school. Sam was enraptured. She wished she could fly away to Europe. Go on an adventure with Holly. Her best friend was usually lip-locked with Ethan Cooke, but she'd probably make an exception for Europe.

Sam and Otto stopped at the foot of the hill.

"It sounds wonderful," said Sam. Even now, she can remember how embarrassed she felt about her gushing, how sweetly sincere she sounded in the moment. Otto had a way of getting this out of her.

Otto nodded.

"It was pretty great."

He looked down at her. Sam couldn't help but get caught in his gaze.

"Sam, have fun at school. Study hard and all that, but have fun too," said Otto. The words rushed out of his mouth. Sam found she was hanging on every word and wasn't even quite sure why.

He leaned in. Sam did too. His face was so close.

Sam reached out her arms and embraced Otto in an awkward hug. She felt Otto's body jolt in surprise. He outstretched his arms and pulled her into his chest. He held her for a few seconds before holding her shoulders at arms' length. There was a sad look in his eye.

"You're going to be great," he said.

Sam whispered a thank you, and he walked away. She made her way up the hill trying to figure out what had just happened. All the feelings, all the analyzing, it was tucked away by the next day as a curious memory when Sam embarked on her first escape from Grover.

* * *

S
am shook her head
. Just because she'd had a crush on Otto as a kid, it didn’t mean she needed to get knock-kneed now. Sam had long ago vowed never to date, or really look twice, at anyone who made their life in Grover.

Her home town was nestled in the eastern hills of San Diego County.  It was a place for people who didn’t want to leave Southern California’s weather, but who didn’t want anything remotely cosmopolitan in their lives. It was quaint and historic, close to the mountains, and the desert.

Grover was a sanctuary for its citizens.  Sam had always found the slow pace suffocating. Her future plans didn’t include Grover.  Why had she thought living here for a while would be a good idea as she waited to hear back from jobs?  

Layla had talked her into this. She’d convinced Sam it'd be a good job until Sam was offered her dream professor job.  She'd argued Sam didn't have time to find a short term position anywhere else. In Grover, she'd be put on the substitute teaching list in two seconds flat.

It might have seemed like a good job to Layla. Being an English teacher at the high school was her dream job. Plus, she'd always been better with kids.

Sam stopped stacking papers. She’d completely forgotten about Layla. She’d left her best friend alone in a classroom full of rabid teenagers. Layla was good with kids, but those teenagers had been wild.  

Sam lunged at the phone on her new desk.  It was a large black clunker covered in buttons and color coded lights.  Three of the lights were blinking.  

She picked up the receiver.  Her finger hovered over the number keys.  She had no idea how to work an office phone.  The way her day was going she could possibly end up on the school intercom.   

“Having trouble with the voicemail?” said a voice.

Sam’s head shot up.  A man with a white beard raised his eyebrows.  

Phil, the janitor, was judging her.

Sam prayed Phil had no recollection of her as a student at Grover High.  The twinkle in his eye unfortunately told her otherwise.  After all, she was a Henry.  

“Ah, no, I was just looking for a classroom phone number,” she said.

“Which classroom?” said Phil.

“Room 17,” said Sam.

Phil held out his hand.  Sam looked down the hall to see if anyone was watching. She handed him the receiver.  Phil put it to his ear. He struck three buttons.  

“Room 17,” she heard Layla’s husky voice on the end of the line.  

“Hello Layla,” said Phil.  

Sam strained to listen for the cries of rabid teenagers.  Phil gave her a look. She hunched back into her desk chair. Besides Layla’s voice asking Phil how he was doing, there seemed to be no sounds of mutinous students.    

“I was just helping Principal Harrison’s new secretary dial the number for Room 17.  What are you up to in Mrs. Davenport’s class?  Heard she had a bad case of the flu,” said Phil.

Sam heard Layla make a muffled reply.  Phil said something about how the new secretary could use the phone, but she had needed a little help.

Phil’s tone quietly teased Sam’s lack of technological know-how.  Sam crossed her arms. She swiveled side to side in her chair, and scowled.  

Phil nodded in understanding at something Layla said.  He hit the speakerphone button, as if daring Sam to talk to Layla.  Sam gasped.  She smacked her hand over her mouth and shot Phil a look.  

“Phil, what does the new secretary look like?” Layla said.  

She sounded calm, too calm.  Especially for someone who had corralled a class of freshman and been switched to speaker phone without notice.  

Sam frowned as Phil gave her a quick once over.  He put his hand to his beard as if seriously regarding Layla’s request.  

“She’s very pretty.  Unfortunately she has all her wonderful, wild, dark hair pulled back.  Actually now that I think about it, she reminds me of the first Henry girl.”

“Really?  Well, I want to come up and introduce myself.  Could you come downstairs and watch Room 17 for me?  They’re watching a movie,” said Layla.

Sam cursed under her breath. Phil and Layla exchanged good-byes. So much for feminism; she had just acquired a job as a secretary, and now Phil was describing her physical attributes.  

Phil placed the receiver back in its cradle.      

“Layla will be up in a few.  It was nice to see you again Samantha, or should I say Dr. Henry?” he said.

Sam opened her mouth to retort, but Phil turned his back to her and made his way down the hall toward the stairwell.  

Sam let out a breath.  

The red light on the phone was still blinking.  She opened the desk drawer and searched for the manual. Hopefully this was something she could fix.

“
S
am
, what the hell happened between you jumping ship on Cindy’s class to you becoming Otto’s new secretary? Oh man, wait till Holly hears about this,” said Layla, referring to Holly O’Malley, Sam’s hometown best friend since kindergarten. Holly was the art teacher at Grover High.

Sam looked up from the faded phone manual she’d found.  Finally something had been where it was supposed to be.  Unfortunately, it was written in a style meant to make life difficult.  

Layla Carey had her crimped hair pulled back in a low braid framed with a thin headband.  Her latte face, sprinkled with playful freckles, wore a concerned frown.  

“Otto and I made sort of a, er, a deal,” said Sam.  

Layla raised her eyebrows. She kept her huge jade eyes on Sam.  

Layla’s peridot eyes and her golden brown skin always seemed ethereal to Sam.  Layla belonged in an Art Deco painting, wearing a flowing Grecian gown, her hair blowing behind her.   

Sam swallowed.  She suddenly wanted a cup of coffee.  To her left, a glass coffeepot shone like a beacon on the avocado Formica counter in the kitchenette parallel to her desk.  She slid out of her chair and beelined for the coffeepot.  Layla followed her.

“Well thanks dearie, I’d love a cup. Also, I’d love to hear what happened between you and Otto,” she said.

“Well, after I found you I guess I kind of had a panic attack,” said Sam.  

“You mean you had another panic attack.  You were having one when you came into my classroom,” said Layla.  Her voice softened with concern.

Sam opened cabinets in search of coffee supplies.  

“I found myself here, and Otto saw me. He figured I could be his office assistant until I find a job as a professor,” said Sam

“Interesting. Well Casey did jump the coop the other day. Are you sure about doing this until you leave?” Layla said.

“Why not? It’s something to do until I hear back from schools,” Sam said. She hit the start button on the coffeemaker.

Layla held up her hands as if getting ready to list the reasons why substitute teachers weren’t supposed to abandon their classrooms and suddenly become secretaries, especially if said substitute teacher didn't have the best organization skills. Sam could also imagine what Layla would say about particularly being Otto’s secretary. Both only children, Otto and Layla had become like brother and sister. Layla was protective of Otto the same way she was protective of Sam. She’d mentioned in the past how Otto would ask about Sam. Layla had hinted there was something more to his well wishes than pure friendliness.

Sam realized the coffeemaker hadn’t turned on with the first hit of the button.  She frantically hit the start button over and over until the green light lit up. Layla pressed her lips together and said nothing. Sam could see the shift in Layla’s eyes from being the practical friend she usually prided herself on being.

“It’s okay.  You’re fresh out of grad school and aren’t prepared for teenagers who hate school.  It’s not even fair.  Of course they ate you alive.  Also, rent’s due in two weeks.  I really don’t care what you do as long as you can pay your half,” she said.

The coffee began to percolate.  Sam placed two mugs on the counter, one shaped like an owl with ceramic ruffled feathers while the other, bright red, had Wonder Woman’s “W” blazoned across the front.

Sam began to search the utensil drawer for spoons.

“I mean, I could always get a job at Cat’s Corner again, or I could become a stripper. I've secretly always wanted to be a stripper,” said Sam, picking two spoons out of the drawer, examining each in the light for cleanliness.  

Layla flinched. They both remembered the summer before their junior year in college waiting tables at Grover’s favorite brunch spot.  

Layla had worried she’d have nowhere to go for summer break until Sam had off-handedly suggested she come with her to Grover for the summer.  They’d gotten jobs waiting tables.  Layla had fallen in love with the town of Grover. Once they’d returned to school she’d started plotting how to return as soon as possible.  

It had also been the summer the entire town had decided Sam was never going to make it as a career waitress.    

“Yes, you could always strip.  With your butt it’s definitely an option.  Have you heard back about the fellowship or any of the adjunct positions?” said Layla.  

Sam jumped at the finished pot of coffee, pulling it off the burner. She mumbled something about waiting a few weeks before hearing about any prospects.  She poured coffee into the mugs.

“So, I figure I can do this while I wait. I’m not going to say ‘how hard can it be’ because hard jobs always look incredibly simple, like substitute teaching. All I can say is so far, it’s been pretty calm up here. I like that,” Sam said.

Layla took a sip of coffee from her Wonder Woman mug.  She closed her eyes and let out a small moan of happiness.

“Don’t worry.  You can handle this. Otto really needs someone, so it’s a win-win for both of you,” she said.

She grinned to herself before taking another sip of coffee.  

“What?” said Sam.

Layla shook her head.

“Oh, just I remember Otto being here for a few weeks visiting Zelda when we worked at Cat’s Corner that one summer. He was always very happy to see you. He ordered a lot of French toast. That’s all. I would have liked to have seen the look on his face when he walked in on you wandering around his office,” said Layla.

Sam swatted at her friend.

“The coffee!” Layla said, clutching her mug.

“He seemed normal to me,” said Sam.

She wasn’t going to tell Layla about the way her stomach flipped when he walked into the office, or the warm look in Otto’s eyes when he saw her. Normally she’d tell Layla all the juicy details, but with Otto it seemed dangerous. As principal of the high school, Otto was now part of Grover’s fabric. Sam had been trying to rip herself away for years.

“I really should’ve gotten a job as an artist’s assistant or something else not in Grover,” said Sam. There was more distress in her voice than she’d intended.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” said Layla.

Sam hoisted her body up on the counter. She looked out the window overlooking the landscape around the school. The trees, dabbed with touches of gold, blew in the wind. The rocky hills on the edge of town seemed to shoot up from the ground, protecting Grover from the outside world.

Sam looked down at Layla.

“Thanks. I do love spending time with you and Holly. That’s why it's really awesome being here before I move somewhere for a job,” she said.

Layla patted Sam’s knee before looking up at the clock in the hallway.

“Sam, my class starts in a few minutes.  I called in a new sub to take over Cindy’s class for the rest of the day. I’m going to finish my prep during lunch, but I’ll see you at home,” Layla said.

Sam felt her stomach tighten again.  She was the reason Layla was going to be working during lunch.

“Layla, I’m so sorry I—” she started.  Layla held up a hand.

“Don’t worry about it babe,” Layla said.

She took another sip from her mug.

“This coffee's great.  Keep this up and I’ll be really sad when you leave here,” she said.

Sam laughed. She jumped off the counter.

“It is delicious. I learned how to make a decent brew when I worked at that art gallery during grad school summers.  Nothing there would’ve gotten done without really dark coffee.”  

"I remember you loved those summers. It was so much fun visiting you," said Layla.

She wrapped her arms around Sam for a quick, fierce hug.  

“It was pretty fabulous,” said Sam from over Layla’s shoulder.

“You’re going to be okay,” Layla said.

Sam put her forehead on Layla’s shoulder and nodded.

Mug in hand, Layla walked back to her class.  

Sam took a sip from her owl mug.  She shuffled the papers in front of her. The hall was quiet. The muffled voice of a teacher down the hall traveled to Sam’s ears. Besides the echoing sound, the air was still.

Sam savored the quiet. She didn't expect it to stay this way, but for now it was nice. She was on the clock, but there wasn't that nagging feeling in her stomach. It was the first time in her life things weren’t expected on a deadline. No dissertation to turn in, no articles to publish, and no impending pressure of turning those articles into a book.

No. For now, she just had to figure out how to organize Otto Harrison’s professional life. While she wasn’t thrilled it was Otto, there was a relief about her own name not being on the line.

So, what was next? Secretaries were organized, sane people.  Sam nodded to herself. It was time to get to work.