2: Poor Sam
Originally emailed on Sept. 18, 1997
You're probably curious to know how Sam took his parents' ultimatum about money. He howled to me like a kid whose licorice has been stolen, particularly the part about being written out of the will. "I can understand them cutting me off now," he said, "but I just don't see why they have to take my inheritance away."
I said, "They're concerned about the boys, Sam." At that point, the boys in question, who had been eating their dinner, figured out I was talking to their dad and began clamoring for the phone. I said, "Daddy will talk to you before you go to bed; this is for grown-ups." And then to Sam, "Loosely defined."
Sam said, "Lou, don't get all gleeful at my expense."
I said, "I'm sorry, honey, but you brought your troubles on yourself. Your parents are such a soft touch that if you'd been just a little subtle about wanting their money they'd have kept an open pipeline and poured the greenbacks into your waiting hands. But instead you strut around and blow your own income, which is not small I happen to know, and act like you're entitled to theirs. What do you expect them to do?"
Sam said, "It's not my fault I never have enough money."
I said, "Sam, I'm raising the kids on the pittance I earn as a receptionist, student loans, and the child support your father, who did not father these children, has been paying, which I know is gonna dry up now that you're responsible for it again, which cuts my monthly income in half. Don't you tell me about money trouble."
Sam said, "I am going to tell you about money trouble. Do you know how much I put into my condo every month? Between the mortgage and association fees it's almost $1300. You know what my car payment is? $850. Plus insurance, which is no laughing matter on a Beamer. That's more than half my monthly income right there, while you're living mortgage-free in a house you bought with the equity I built in our old house, and driving the Toyota I bought for you, which was paid off two years ago. I cannot afford the $936 a month you and the fucking court seem to think you're entitled to."
I said, "Sam, I have no sympathy for a man whose car payment is a hundred bucks more than my monthly take-home pay. Sell the BMW, buy a Chevy, and take care of your children."
Sam said, "Christ, Louella, I can't drive a Chevy. I've got to keep up appearances with clients. I drive a Chevy and I don't look like I'm worth the fees I'm charging."
I said, "Sam, you are not worth a plugged nickel, and that's the God's honest truth. Tell you what, I'll see you in court and you can tell it to the judge," and on that string of cliches I hung up. Little Sam said to me, "Didn't Daddy want to talk to us before bed?" I thought, "Damn it, I wasn't going to fight with Sam in front of the kids anymore," but I said, "Oh, that was my fault, sweetie, I forgot. Tell you what, let's call him right back. You can ask him what you all are going to be doing this weekend. Mark, you go get on the extension in my room."
Mark ran up the stairs, yelling, "Don't you dial, Spam-head! I get to dial!" Sam yelled, "You do not, pig-head!" Mark yelled, "You can't dial, I bet you don't even remember Dad's number!" Sam yelled, "Pig-head! Pig-head!" Both grabbed phones and the war of the touch-tones began. Afraid of the bill if they somehow managed to dial Guam, I said, "Sammy, Sammy, let's let Mark dial this time, and you can sit on my lap while you talk to your dad."
So I sat in a kitchen chair with Sammy on my lap while Sam asked the boys about school, and whether they were being good. They asked him about the weekend, and he made the usual excuses. "My job's real hard, fellas, and I'll be working day and night. It wouldn't be much fun for you."
Sammy was disappointed, as usual, but it never lasts long with him. In the bath he said, "If we don't go see Dad I'll bet Grandma [he meant Miriam, who is technically Harriet's grandma] will take us to see a dog show if we ask. She took us before. She says when I'm a little bigger I can teach Hot Rod to do all kinds of neat things and we can win ribbons. Do you think I can do that, Mom? Wouldn't that be cool? Flopsy has ribbons. She's so cool. Grandma's real old but she's cool. Don't you think she's cool, Mom? She's not really my Grandma but she lets me call her that. You don't think my real grandma will be mad? She's pretty cool, too. But she doesn't have a dog. But when she came to stay we swimmed in the pool every day. I can swim so good. Don't I swim good, Mom?"
I said, "You swam every day, Sammy. Now show me how good you can hold your breath while I rinse your hair," and I dunked him under the water. It's all the same to Sam; nothing ever gets him down. But Mark frets, and when I was putting him to bed, he said, "Dad's not real interested in seeing us, is he?"
I said, "He is, Mark. He just doesn't think he has time. He thinks his job is real important."
Mark said, "More important than us?"
I said, "I'm sure he wouldn't put it that way. He loves you a lot, I know."
Mark said, "Do you think anything is more important than us?"
I said, "You know what, sweetheart, I don't. And that's the God's honest truth."
© Copyright 1997-2001 Su Penn. Design by David Dierauer.
