hadn't paid his tab and didn't say goodbye to anyone.
The next morning, I checked his Facebook page and discovered he unfriended and blocked me. I sent an email.
“I'm sorry, Sammy.,” I began. “Nobody affected me in the manner in which you have, and I didn't know how to manage it.”
“It's finished and I won't trouble you any longer,” I continued. “Much obliged for giving me the main satisfaction since I moved here. I want you to enjoy all life offers.”
“You self-induced this onto yourself,” he responded. “Keep my name out of your mouth, or we’re going to have problems. You already slandered it. I won’t accept that. I’m sorry, but not in a million years. You did this to yourself. I refuse to accept any fault.”
“I never blamed you,” I returned. “This was my fault. I'm sorry I hurt you.”
Although I never slandered his name, and never spoke negative or derogatory statements to anyone, anywhere.
“You don’t know what he’s been told,” Angel mentioned.
I don’t delude myself into thinking it may have made things different, but regret I didn’t touch on this. The fact I didn’t know what bull crap he got fed by whom, but never slandered his name.
An annoyance concerning his reaction and belief is he’s naïve to think others don’t talk about him. I’m referring to his so-called friends who gossip and state details of his conversations and antics.
They are the ones who have communicated negative utterances, not me. I never referred to him as “idiot boy” as Allison has. I never stated, “Samuel has mental issues,” as I’ve heard a friend of his declare.
It was Allison who, when I mentioned she was more familiar with his friends than me, declared, “Those aren’t his friends. They’re just drinking acquaintances. How many paid to get him back?”
I’d gone from Heaven to Hell in 20 days. Heaven, the day of his 26th birthday, November 13th, when I received those three hugs to hell, December 3rd, when it fell apart. I shall drift into deep slumber and meet once more with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
Chapter Eight
The month of December proved difficult with the loss of Sammy’s friendship.
As much as I wanted to look at him, I couldn’t bring myself. I took pleasure in his presence but bore no happiness inside. Discomfited, I drank beer and stared at the television in a catatonic state, seldom speaking.
On Saturday, December 15th, I headed to Rusty’s late in the afternoon. The concert date arrived. The game-plan included Sandra and Victor meeting me around 6:00–6:30 pm. The week earlier, I invited Victor to join us as I purchased an extra ticket. His exhilaration became apparent the minute I told him.
I arrived at 6:00 pm. Sammy and crew were present. Sandra showed next, and Victor rolled in at 6:30 pm. Sandra advised me she wasn’t going to ride with us as she didn’t want to sit and wait an hour for the show to start. I gave her a ticket.
Victor gulped a drink, and we left. I wanted to arrive early. We met with Angel, her Mom, and her Mom’s friend Lily outside the venue. We proceeded inside and to our seats.
The concert turned out excellent, but I didn’t enjoy it as much as past ones. My frame of mind prevented me. The best part of the evening was seeing Angel, as she acknowledged my anguish and comforted me.
Afterward, Victor and I stopped at Rusty’s. The two staff members on duty hustled to keep up, being a Saturday night and after 10:00 pm. Much to my surprise, Sammy stayed late. He often mentioned, “You'll never see me here after ten at night.” He departed not long after.
December 18th, the Christmas Party took place. Sandra and Jack were present. Available seating was scarce. Sammy showed and seated himself at the bar but transferred to a table when his clique entered. A seat remained available, to my right, when Robert marched in. As usual, we did not converse other than to say “hi” I didn’t eat the food laid out buffet style.
The Friday before Christmas, the 21st, the activity and level of partying intensified. The joint bustled with regulars and a few individuals I didn’t recognize. A younger guy who I saw a few times in the past stood next to Flora. He projected a boisterous voice. To the right, one seat remained.
“Samuel’s getting off early,” Flora said after looking at her phone.
“I didn’t know Samuel can get off, let alone early,” the guy cracked.
“Oh, his boss let him off,” he added. “Samuel should go with him. I understand his boss swings that way, and it would be good for Samuel. He’s told me the guy’s loaded.”
Sammy entered and sat with Flora. A lot of conversation and this guy calling out Allison’s name for different reasons took place.
Annoyance filled Allison’s face, her mouth in a scowl. The minutes ticked away. I don’t know what preceded it, but Sammy spoke
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