Grown Up

It wasn't the rain that woke him up. And it wasn't the police sirens down the street or the bickering couple downstairs- he was used to that. It was the quiet knock on the door that woke Sammy up at a few minutes after midnight, according to the Sandman clock on the table beside his bed. Sam sat up, rubbing at the eye boogers trapped inside his eye sockets, grateful for the light provided by his night light. At six years old, it was an embarrassment to still be afraid of the dark, but that didn't mean he was going to sleep without his trusty Green Lanturn night-light or his Spiderman bed sheets. After all, if they could save the world the bad guys, surely they could protect him too.

Sammy heard his mom shuffling towards the door, where the knocking was continuing. He crawled out of bed and tiptoed to his bedroom door, (accidentally stepping on his Batman action figure), and opened it a crack so he could peer outside. His mom was unlocking the front door of the apartment, but keeping the safety chain firmly in place. She adjusted the bathrobe she was wearing before opening the door as far as the chain would allow.

"Who's there?" Sammy heard her call. Her voice was still kind of funny after waking up.

"It's me," a man's voice answered, after a pause. The shower continued drizzling to fill in the silence afterwards.

Sammy's mother froze. Slowly, her hand reached out and skimmed along the wall, until it found the light switch for the bulb outside. She flicked it, and the area outside the apartment was dimly lit, revealing a sheepish looking man staring at the ground. The man was just a little too short and his hair was just a little too long- it clung to his head, a damp enclosure hiding his face.

Neither of the grown-ups said anything for a while. Sam wondered why his mom looked so mad. She only looked like that when she put him in time-out. But wasn't the man too old for that? Or was time-out one of those things you were never too old for? Sammy hoped not.

"What do you want?" Sam's mommy finally growled. Her cheeks were a furious red, like the color of Superman's cape. "Don't the words restraining order mean anything to you?"

The man looked up through the wet strands of his hair. "Don't be like that Jessie," he mumbled. "I don't want trouble."

"It's Jessica to you," Sam's mom hissed. "And if this is about money, you can forget it."

Sammy curled his toes, trying to warm them. He had been wearing his X-Men socks when he'd fallen asleep, but they had mysteriously disappeared— probably lost somewhere in his covers. He was cold and tired, but he didn't want to go back to bed. He opened his door a little wider and leaned out a bit. The hinges squeaked, but his mother didn't notice.

"No, no! It's not like that," the strange man replied quickly. He held up one hand palm out, the other one sliding into his soaked brown hair.

Sam's mom tilted her chin back. "What is it like then?"

The man looked down again, shuffling his feet nervously. "I just… need a place to stay. Only for tonight. I'll be gone in the morning- I promise."

"Why don't you just go to a hotel?"

Sammy felt a yawn creeping up his throat. He forced it back down; if his mom caught him, she'd send him to bed.

"I- I'm broke," the stranger answered. Sam's mother stiffened. The raindrops increased their pace. The two adults stood there, facing each other off like a pair of toddlers squabbling over whose turn it was to go down the slide.

"Spent it all on your crack?" she sneered. "Or are you on something new now?"

The man suddenly seemed to inflate- he stood up taller, looking up at Sam's mom properly for the first time. "No drugs. I've been clean for three and a half months," he declared.

'Clean?' Sammy wondered. The man's clothes were filled with holes and his face was dirty. He didn't look like he'd had a bath in weeks. Sam had taken a bath last Thursday- he was clean.

"Congratulations," Sam's mom said dryly. "So why are you broke then?"

The man's confidence shrank again, shoulders drooping. "I… still have some debts. Tommy took everything. And I still owe him."

Sam's mother didn't say a word. The whine of a police car crumbled the silence like the Incredible Hulk smashing a wall and the odd man flinched before continuing.

"And… I don't have anyone else. You're the only person I know for miles," the stranger added reluctantly.

"You are not going to stay here when Tommy is hunting for your skin," Sam's mom snapped. "Forget it."

"I'll be gone before you wake up, I swear," the man pleaded. "Please Jessie? Just tonight, that's all I'm asking. Please?"

"No! I've got my son to think about."

A weird look crossed the man's face, something Sammy couldn't figure out. "How old is he now?" he asked softly.

Sam's mom clenched the doorknob. It squeaked horribly in protest. "He turned six a few weeks ago, not that it matters to you."

The man blinked, looking sad all of a sudden, like a dog that had been kicked one too many times. "I'm sorry, you know," he muttered. "I didn't mean for… that to happen."

Sammy's mother laughed, but Sammy didn't see what was so funny. "Oh, you didn't mean to? You never mean to, do you? But it still happens. Face it- you're entire life has been a huge pile of 'I didn't mean to's'. Grow up."

The man stared at his shoes. He shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm trying, Jessie, I swear. But it's hard."

Sammy's mom stared at the sad man standing in the rain for a while. After a bit, her eyes softened. "Fine," she said curtly. "Just for tonight, though. I better not see you in the morning."

The man's face lit up like Sammy's did on Christmas morning and he stuttered thank you's over and over as Sam's mother released the safety chain and opened the door the full way. The odd man stumbled inside and his shoes squeaked awkwardly on the linoleum.

As Sammy's mother turned, Sam tried to closed his door, but his mother caught him before he could safely shut it. "Sammy," she scolded. "You're supposed to be in bed."

Sam's head dropped to look at his bare feet. His toes were pink from the cold. "I woke up," he mumbled pathetically.

The stranger's face wore a funny expression. "You… you named him Sam?" he stammered in disbelief.

Sammy's mom's face turned red again, but this time she wasn't mad- she looked embarrassed. Like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar before dinner. "Yeah," she answered softly.

"My real name's Samuel," Sammy told the man. His mom had always instructed him not to speak to strangers, but since his mother was here, he figured it was okay.

The man smiled. "My name is Samuel too."

"Really?"

Sammy's mom cleared her throat. "Sammy, you need to go back to bed."

"Why?" Sam whined.

"Because it's late. Now, go on."

Sammy huffed and reluctantly trudged back into his bedroom. He crawled back under the Spiderman covers, but didn't close his eyes even though he was tired. Instead he strained his ears, trying to listen beyond the rain and the sirens and the arguing neighbors.

"He's got your face," Sam heard the man say to his mom. "And your hair."

Sammy's mother sighed. "But he's got your eyes. Everyone says that he's got your eyes."

'That's weird,' Sammy thought, his eyelids losing the battle to stay awake. 'Don't these eyes belong to me?'

His Green Lanturn night-light flickered off and Sammy was left in the dark. And he wasn't afraid. Because after all, what was there to be afraid of in the dark?