'You can't fight it,' Sam said.
'It's okay,' Shannon said shakily. 'I'll work.'
'You don't have to --'
'I want to.' She stood, hurried off, into her bedroom.
'Sam?' Ginny said.
Samantha stood, would not look at her. 'I have to work,' she said. 'It's going to be a busy day.'
'So how did it go?' Bill asked.
'It didn't.'
'Then we'll force them to quit. Or at least we'll force Shannon.'
_They'll come after her. They'll find her. They'll make her work._
Ginny shook her head. 'I don't think it's a good idea,' she said quietly.
'Why not?'
She told him about what Sam had said, the implied threat.
'So unless we're planning to move somewhere else, I think it's safer to let them work there. It's not causing any real problems. They work at cash registers, sell things, pick up their paychecks. But if they pulled out . . .'
She let the thought trail off.
'There'd be trouble,' he finished for her.
She nodded.
'I thought Shannon wanted to quit.'
'She changed her mind.'
He laughed harshly. 'Jesus. Employment by intimidation. What's this world coming to?'
She put an arm around his shoulder, rested her chin on the top of his head. 'I don't know,' she said. '1 really don't know.'
2
Sam dropped the bombshell after dinner.
'I'm not going to college,' she said.
Bill looked over at Ginny. It was obvious that this was the first time she'd heard these words as well, and he could see the anger settle upon her face. 'What do you mean, you're not going to college?' she demanded.
'I'm in the management program now. They're sending me off to the corporate headquarters in Dallas for training. It's a two-week program, and after that, I'll be back in Juniper. The Store already found me a house over on Elm, and it's rent-free. They pay for everything. I can move in this weekend.'
They were all stunned. Even Shannon was silent, and they looked dumbly at each other while Samantha smiled brightly.
'I know I was planning to go to college, but this is a great opportunity.'
Ginny was the first to find her voice. 'A great opportunity? Assistant manager of a discount store in Juniper? You can be anything you want. With your grades and your brains, if you graduate with even a bachelor's degree, you can write your own ticket. You can get a job anywhere, with any company. You can get a job like your father's, work at home.'
Bill heard the hurt in her voice. Neither of them had ever imagined that their daughters would not go to college. It had never even been considered an option. Ginny, in particular, had had high hopes for both Sam and Shannon, and he could see from the expression on her features that she felt betrayed.
'College is a great experience,' Ginny continued gamely. 'Not just a learning experience but . . . a social experience. It's where you get a chance to grow, to learn things about yourself, to find out who you really are and what you want from life.'
'But there's no reason for me to go,' Sam said. 'I don't need to 'find myself,' and I already know what I want from life. I want to be on The Store's management team.'
Silence again. Shannon shifted uncomfortably in her seat, would not meet anyone's eyes. She stared down at her plate, pushing her rice with a fork.
Ginny looked to Bill for help.
'The Store will always be here,' he said. 'And you can always come back to it. But this is your only chance to go to college. These are the only scholarships you'll get.'
'I know.'
'And once you get caught up in the rat race, you won't go back to school.
You might tell yourself that college will always be there and you can enroll later if you want to, but the truth is that that very seldom happens. If you don't go now, you won't go.'
'I don't need to go.'
'We didn't raise you to be a dummy.'
'I'm not a dummy,' Sam said defensively.
'Then prove it. Go to school.'
'I don't need to.'
'Everyone needs to.'
Sam stood. 'The fact is, Dad, college _will_ always be there. I _can_ go anytime I want. But this position won't stay open forever. If I don't take it, someone else may get it. And they may stay until they retire. This is a once-in a-lifetime chance. And if I don't like it or it doesn't work out' -- she shrugged. -- 'I'll go to college.'
'So you want to move out?'
Samantha nodded, barely able to hide her excitement or keep the smile off her face.
'Over my dead body,' he said.
Her smile faltered. 'Dad --'
'Yes,' he said. 'I'm your dad. And I'm telling you that you can't do this.'
'I'm eighteen, and I can do what I want.'
'Bill,' Ginny warned.
He ignored her. 'Once you move out, you can't move back. Even if they fire you.' Ginny stood, threw down her napkin. 'Bill!'
'What?'
'You are over the line!'
'It is a little harsh, Dad,' Shannon said.
Sam was smiling again. She looked around the table, beamed at them. 'It may take a little getting used to,' she said. 'But don't worry. It'll be great.'
She looked like a fucking Moonie, he thought. Like some brainwashed bimbo who'd been captured by a cult.
He turned away from her, unable to look at his daughter and contain his rage. He had always considered himself a pacifist, had never really harbored or entertained any violent thoughts or desires -- not even in regard to his enemies -- but his feelings toward The Store and its minions were invariably revenge fantasies, tinged with violence. And never more so than now. He imagined beating the shit out of Mr. Lamb and Mr. Keyes, physically injuring them, and the aggressiveness of his thoughts disturbed him. He wasn't sure where these thoughts had come from, or why he was stooping to The Store's base level of discourse, but he wanted to hurt those sons of bitches.
Especially for what they'd done to his daughter.
His daughters?
He glanced toward Shannon. No, he thought thankfully.
At least not yet.
He did not help Sam move out of the house. Ginny did, Shannon did, Sam's friends did, but he remained in his office, in front of his computer, pretending to work, as they carried the furniture and boxes out of her bedroom. He knew how he was behaving -- and he hated himself for it -- but he could think of no other way of demonstrating to her the depth of his disapproval.
It was ironic, really. He had always felt nothing but disgust for those hard-hearted fathers who kicked their children out of the house for some minor transgression, who disowned their own children and refused to see them or talk to them. He'd always thought those fathers stupid and shortsighted. What disagreement could possibly be so serious that it was worth jeopardizing the relationship between a parent and a child?
