In All the Wrong Places

Chapter 1: Beginnings On a bright January morning in the first year of the twenty-first century, Samantha Thomas came out the side door of the Presbyterian church, glad to be out in the fresh air and sunshine of the Florida morning. Jesus Christ, Sam thought, what’s up with the music in church? Are they actually trying to put us to sleep? At forty-four, Sam wasn’t sure why she still came to church, except it seemed like something a parent should do with her kids. Her two children, Emily and Dax, burst out of the side door—twelve-year-old Dax a head taller than his older sister. Dax looked like his father, tall and slim, but with Sam’s silky light brown hair. Both kids had deep brown eyes, their dad’s olive skin, and mouths full of shiny metal braces. Emily, an eighth-grader struggling to keep her cool and not strangle her pest of a brother, twisted her long hair up into a knot with a scrunchy she had on her wrist, complaining loudly, “Let’s go, Mom. I need to check my email. Moron here tied up the computer all morning!” Sam, listening with half an ear, spotted Barry Potocki across the courtyard. Barry of the long hair and peace sign pendant—Barry whose daughter was friends with Emily, and whose ex-wife used to be friends with Sam. She had seen him at the hospital where she worked as a marketing specialist; Barry worked in Computer Services. He seemed like a decent guy, and certainly non-threatening. Sam was in a weird place as far as men were concerned—basically sure she was a lesbian, although it was a struggle to admit this even to herself. Sam certainly didn’t want to be attracted to women; she had a pretty clear idea of the drama that would result from anyone in her family finding out. And Sam still held on to a faint glimmer of hope it was at least possible to be happy with “the right guy.” Being openly gay was out of the question among the upper middle class in her small southern town, and the possibility of acquiring a pleasant companion was reason enough to chat with Barry. Barry was talking to one of what Sam called the “forty-ish preppie moms”—pleasant enough, but not really on Sam’s wavelength. She watched him from across the courtyard for a moment; thinking how he wasn’t really handsome in a conventional way, but there was a combination of kindness and strength in his face that appealed to her. His curly white hair was barely caught in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Sam walked over to join him. “Hi, Barry…heard from Chelsea lately?” Chelsea, Emily’s age, was in a treatment facility in another state, struggling with an eating disorder. Barry self-consciously tucked an escaped strand of hair behind his ear. “Sam. What a pleasant surprise. I thought I saw you in the service. Emily did an excellent job with the responsive reading.” He paused. “Chelsea’s doing okay, but she misses home, and her friends, and her dance classes. She’s had a rough time.” Sam realized Barry seemed genuinely pleased she had come over to talk. He shifted the angle of his body in her direction, giving Sam the slightest hint he might be flirting with her. “Emily mentioned she heard from some of her friends at school Chels was improving…she’s in Texas, right?” Barry touched her lightly on the arm; that, too, might have been a flirting gesture. But Sam was a bit out of practice with the dating game and didn’t trust her own judgment. “Texas, right. It’s a top-notch facility. Chelsea actually is doing better; she might even get to come home this summer. I just got back from a visit out there; that’s why I trimmed my hair a bit: to fit in with their conception of what a concerned dad should look like.” A rueful grin, and a pause… Sam smiled at him. “Well, it’ll grow again.” An awkward silence ensued, broken by Dax hurling himself into space and landing between his mom and Barry. “Mom, Emily is gonna have a stroke if we don’t get out of here. Let’s go. I promised Chris I’d come over by one.” Sam shot Barry a “you know kids” look. “Okay, well…good to see you. Keep me posted about Chelsea…she’s a good kid.” “Thanks…see ya at work maybe…” He acted like he might say more, giving Sam an intense look for a brief moment before turning to go. On the way home in the car, Dax blurted out, “Mom…do you like Mr. Potocki? I think he’s kinda cool. Too bad he cut off his ponytail.” “Well, sure, I like him…I mean, you know…what do you mean?” Emily chimed in, “He means, do you like him?” “Okay, that’s enough, you guys. Can you even remember the last time I had a date? It’s not really in the picture, okay?” Both kids quieted down. It had been a long time since their mom had gone out with any man…it really wasn’t in the picture…but it wasn’t something they usually thought about. There was a contemplative silence in the car all the way home. * * * * The next day at work, Sam sat at her desk tapping a pencil on the desktop and debating the relative merits of calling Barry. Maybe an email? He obviously was interested, even though the concept of “dating” seemed a little weird at this point in Sam’s life. But, what harm could it do? If nothing else, it would be cool to have a friend who liked to talk about books and the arts and current events—something besides the boring details of life in Smalltown USA. Okay, here goes. She wrote, Hi, Barry. Good to see you at church yesterday—so glad Chelsea is doing better. I thought maybe we could get together for lunch sometime—people who still wear peace signs in the 21st Century should stick together! Give me a call—555-3487. Sam Send. Before the day was out, she got a reply, casual, but definitely encouraging. Sam smiled in spite of herself. And they made a date. So…the following Wednesday, Sam stood at the front entrance to Chili’s, waiting for Barry to meet her for lunch. Even though Sam told herself it was no big deal, she had to admit she was a bit nervous. Too bad it was the middle of the work day; a glass of wine would’ve helped her get through the first awkward moments. But when Barry arrived, Sam realized it would be okay; this was a person she could talk to and be comfortable with. They were directed to a table; Sam and Barry both smiled as they glanced across at each other. The lunch date turned out to be quite relaxed and friendly. Barry was pleasant, intelligent, and entertaining. Apparently, he was known around the office as the “king of bad puns,” and he shared this talent with Sam. She found herself thinking of Barry as a friend, someone she hoped to see again. Before lunch was over, he brought up a second date: a classical guitar concert at church on Sunday afternoon. Sam accepted the invitation, thinking it was kind of cute he seemed to have a second date idea already planned. When the server brought the check, Sam reached for the cash she had in her pocket, but Barry beat her to it. “Just this once,” he said. “Next time, we’ll split. Okay?” What could she say? “Of course, thanks. It was fun.”