Page 114 of The Chain House

Sam leafed through them, knowing, except for SCAD, that he’d not applied to any of these colleges. So why did his father have them? Although Jennifer had gone to SCAD. He turned toward the open door and called out her name. She was working in the kitchen, and Carl was going through the hallway closet. It didn’t surprise Sam to see Carl come into the bedroom along with Jennifer. Even though Sam and Jennifer had gotten close in the past weeks, close enough to definitely say they were dating, he often wondered if he’d ever get as close to her as Carl seemed to be.

“What is it, Sammy?” Jennifer had begun calling him Sammy, for whatever reason, inside the hospital, when for nearly forty-eight hours, they weren’t sure if he’d make it, before bam, one morning, his eyes had popped open and he’d asked for some oatmeal, and Carl, at his bedside, had wiped his tears and told Jennifer, beside him, Now that’s the fuck. That’s the fucking fuckity fuck, right there, Sammy boy.

So maybe that’s where it started.

Sammy.

And he liked it.

He waved the two of them over. Still self-conscious of his scars, Sam turned his good side toward Jennifer, even though two nights ago she’d kissed the scars on his neck, and then his cheek, and the one that had put a permanent dimple at the top corner of his lip.

Carl had his phone out. “Check it,” he said, showing them his screen. “Look who’s running for President.”

“Governor Hawthorne?” Sam asked.

“Nope,” Carl said. “Beth.”

Jennifer said, “Even better. We need her.” And then to Sam, “What’s up?”

Before showing her the shoe box and what was in it, he asked, “Where did Markie go to college?”

“Markie from the closet?” she asked.

“How many Markies do you know?” Carl asked.

She flipped Carl the middle finger without looking at him. “Centre College, why?”

“And Iris?”

“Virginia.”

Sam swallowed hard. “And Peter, he went to UK?”

“Yeah,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s this about?”

He showed her the shoe box. “Found this.” He showed her the brochures. “Found these.”

“Why would he have them?” Jennifer asked.

“He obviously never lost track of any of you,” Sam said.

“Oh damn,” Carl said. “What if it’s more than that?”

“More than what?” Jennifer asked.

“I don’t know,” Carl said, thinking out loud. “But …”

“But what, Carl?”

“You said yourself, Jennifer, that your family … they were great and all, like really great … your parents, but …”

“Get to the point, dork.”

“You were poor as fuck,” Carl said. “So how did your parents pay for SCAD?”

“Financial aid,” she said quickly, defensively, and at the same time had her phone to her ear and they could hear it ringing. When a woman’s voice answered, Jennifer said, “Hey, Mom. Quick question, how did you and Dad afford SCAD, really? Don’t mess with me.”

Her mother stammered, “We just … you know … made ends meet.”