by Rachel Palmieri

Created on: June 09, 2009

That stupid silly bitch. The rolling hills were blanketed in a woven tapestry of gold, red and orange that seemed to suffocate him. The reek of burning fall leaves in the rural yards beyond the highway wafted through the cracked driver's side window mingling with his lit cigarette. He had just past mile marker 42 and would soon be taking the country road to a place that is both a sanctuary and a cell at once, Culver Military Academy. Sam had never felt so alone in his life. He passed the old familiar stone buildings of his boarding school carrying the weight of a million men. His grief overtook him. Mari found love and is marrying yah right! She is settling for money and a good name. Mari has called drunk and ranting enough times that Sam knows she doesn't love him. She loves the idea of him. She is just so grateful he is not Sam, not the man she loves to scorn, loves to denigrate. She invited Sam out of spite. Piper warned against coming to this wedding; but Sam never listened to Piper until it was too late.

She actually sent you an invitation how tacky! Piper's high voice was shrill through the headset.

We're friends.

She only calls when she's drunk! She only deigns to pick up the phone when she wants to prove to herself she is better than you. She doesn't expect you to show up. It's the 'proper thing' to invite you and she enjoys rubbing your face in it.

You're wrong, we're adults now.

Sam, Piper sighed into the phone, I've spoken to her she doesn't expect you'll show.

All the more reason to go.

Oh yah, cuz you're over it!

Sam arrived on campus at half past 10. He was early. From his parked car Sam could see the group of huddled students among the trees closest to the lake. Some things never change, he muttered to himself. No matter how many Truth ads the cigarette Nazis aired there would always be a group of kids that smoked out by the lake. The thought comforted him. The chapel's steeple loomed beyond the smokers and the parade field atop the hill. Sam mused about many Catholic masses he had slept through in this place as he made his way up the chapel steps two at a time. A memory sprang to life of the Super bowl Sunday sermon of 1997. Green Bay versus New England and Father Michael's stepped into the pulpit, blessed the Packers and sat right back down again. The entire service lasted 15 minutes and would have been shorter if the chorus director hadn't insisted on singing at least one hymn. Sam paused before

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