Huntley Fitzpatrick Quotes

Dressed-up Cass is like a creature from another planet. One I want to colonize.

When I turn back to Jase, he's again beaming at me. "You're nice." He sounds pleased, as if he hadn't expected this aspect of my personality.

You're walking along on this path, dazzled by how perfect it is, how great you feel, and then just a few forks in the road and you are lost in a place so bad you never could have imagined it.

The Man of Steel never rests. Or maybe that's Jose the yard boy. I get my alter egos confused.

This is Sailor Supergirl," George says. "She knows all about black holes.

Jase props himself up on an elbow, looking at me for a minute without saying anything. His face gets an unreadable expression, and I wish I could take back walking over.
Then he observes, "I'm guessing that's a uniform."
Crap. I'd forgotten I was still wearing it.

I cannot help but wonder if any parents ever actually schedule in adolescent drama on their day planners. Looks like a slow week, Sarah. I guess I can pencil in your eating disorder.

Instead of what a betrayal it is to be lied to, how rare and wonderful it is when two human beings can tell each other the truth.

You could have mentioned that this kid never sleeps,"
Tim calls from the living room. We go in to find him slumped in the easy chair next to the pulled-out sofa bed. Andy's sprawled out on the bed, long tan legs in a V, George gathered in her arms. Duff, still in his clothes, lies across the bottom, Harry curled in a ball on the pillow under Andy's outstretched leg. Safety, as much as could be found, must have lain in numbers.Patsy's fingering Tim's nose and pulling on his bottom lip, her eyes wide-blue open.
"Sorry, man," Jase says. "She's usually good to go at bedtime."
"Do you have any idea how many times I've read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie to this kid? That is one fucked-up story. How is that a book for babies?"
Jase laughs.
"I thought it was about babysitting."
"Hell no, it's addiction. That friggin' mouse is never satisfied. You give him one thing, he wants something else, and then he asks for more and on and on and on. Fucked up. Patsy liked it, though. Fifty thousand times."
Tim yawns, and Patsy snuggles more comfortably onto his chest, grabbing a handful of shirt.
"So what's doin'?"
We tell him what we know - nothing - then put the baby in her crib. She glowers, angry and bewildered for a moment, then grabs her five pacifiers, closes her eyes with a look of fierce concentration, and falls very deeply asleep.

Do you know how many times I've read "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" to this kid? That is one fucked-up story. How is that a book for babies?

No words for a long time. Which is fine, because even the most important ones
I love you. I'm sorry. Forgive me? I'm here
are only stand-ins for what you can say better without talking at all.

Everything you say makes sense, sir. I guess it's logical. But with all due respect, you're out of your fucking mind. Come on, Sam. Let's go home.

I love you too, my Sam.

What's up with this sudden obsession with Jakes physique? He shoots me a look that asks: Is he measuring me for a coffin?

I remember ... watching that separation of sea and sky ... and for the first time I realize that none of us are seeing the same thing. That all our horizons end in different places.

God, I wish, for the millionth time, that I could be like her and Nic, so sure of what they have, what they want. That I didn't always feel jangly, restless, primed to jump off a bridge and let the current carry me away.

So now you've met my mother,' I say to Jase that night, leaning back on the roof.
'I sure have. That was awesome. And completely uncomfortable.

If what I want is a little less big, less noble than what he wants... does that make me the loser?

I'll just sit back here and perform a few of the more acrobatic positions in the Kama Sutra. By myself, sadly.

Mom. He didn't do drugs. I've told you that before. He was just weird.

Could this guy sound a little less like a fortune cookie on acid?

My hand is stroking the back of Nan's head, my mind racing with every possible scenario. Daniel announced he's gay. Daniel has Erectile Dysfunction. Daniel confessed to being a vampire and not being able to have sex with her because he might kill her.

I don't know. I didn't have that choice. But I know what's happening now. And I'm choosing to stay with you.

Why do all the hot girls want the jocks and the good boys? We losers are the ones that need you.

I've got a surprise." Jase opens the door of the van for me a couple days later. I haven't seen Tim or Nan since the incident at the B&T, and I'm secretly glad for a break from the drama.
I slide into the van, my sneakers crunching into a crumpled pile of magazines, an empty Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup, various Poland Spring and Gatorade bottles, and lots of unidentifiable snack wrappers. Alice and her Bug are evidently still at work.
"A surprise, for me?" I ask, intrigued.
"Well, it's for me, but you too, kind of. I mean, it's something I want you to see."
This sounds a little unnerving. "Is it a body part?" I ask.
Jase rolls his eyes. "No. Jeez. I hope I'd be smoother than that."
I laugh. "Okay. Just checking.

Hey, he says again, sitting down next to me as though he knows me well. Need rescuing?

This boy. Eyes on my face again, little smile lurking, just barely parenthesizing the corners of his lips. He lifts his eyebrows, waiting. And willing to. However long.

I finally get that sometimes we hold on to something - a person, a resentment, a regret, an idea of who we are - because we don't know what to reach for next. That what we've done before is what we have to do again. That there are only re-dos and no do-overs. And maybe ... maybe I know better than that.

Think about how it looks, Samantha. Not just how it feels. Make smart choices. Always consider consequences.

But Ma, I have the power to save her!"
-TIM

It'd be good if you'd stop apologizing right about now." "It's about all I've got to fix things.

Guys hate anticipation. That's why we all write about satisfaction. Why we never wrap presents. I notice you wrapped mine."
"I thought it was because you're all too cheap to buy wrapping paper. Or too clueless to find it in the store."
"There's that. But honestly, you go to the trouble of getting someone a present, something you think they'd like - why hide it and make them work for it? It's coy.

That prickling feeling when something's not right. That calm feeling when it is.

Just so you know, Alice's nurse's uniform is a pair of green scrubs. She looks like Gumby.

Put down the Technicolor ones. No freaking way."
"But blue's my favorite color," I say, batting my eyelashes at him.
"Put them down.

Looks out over the water, the ocean that changes and never changes. Horizons that seem like endings but only bend farther into the sky, curving into something new, beginning all over again.

Maybe she's a gymnast with superior muscle control."
"She'd have to be in Cirque de Soleil to manage this.

I scoop a clattering cascade of green apple Jelly Bellys into the white paper bag and remember when we were seven. I got stung by a jellyfish. Tim cried because his mother, and mine, wouldn't let him pee on my leg, which he'd heard was an antidote to the sting.

It's a good idea to keep your eye on the guys who think they know the one true path. They might just mow you down if you're in their way.

Jase glances up to smile at me. Don't worry, Sam. It's just us.

How could Clay have said all that, smooth as Kentucky bourbon, and Mom just sitting there as if she'd already drunk the bottle...

Mines!" Patsy shouts, pointing at Tim. He goes to her, rumples her scanty hair.
"See, hot Alice? Even the very young feel the pull of my magnetism. It's like an irresistible urge, a force like gravity, or - "
"Poop!

I would so much rather be with someone who cared about what he was doing than someone who knew what he was doing.

You can do better than that." He loops his arms around my waist and pulls me to him.
"Where are your gloves?"
"Better than that too." He drops a kiss on my collarbone. "Good to see you, Cass. I dreamed about you, Cass ... Feel free to improvise."
"Aren't you supposed to be wearing those work gloves? When you're working? Because otherwise your poor hands won't ... "
Gah. I sound like Mom, or the school nurse.
I'm no good at this.
Luckily, Cass is good enough for both of us. "I missed you, Gwen. It's good to see you, Gwen. I dreamed about you, Gwen. Yeah, haven't gotten around to the gloves. More important things to focus on. Want me to tell you what they are?

It's only been a few weeks and somehow I seem to have gotten far from shore.

No bikinis on a first date." He nods. "I'm sure that's a rule. Or should be. For my sisters anyway.

He reaches for a few strands of my hair, twining them around his finger. "You busy later?"
"I was supposed to go to a meet-and-greet in Fairport with Mom, but I told her I needed to study for SATs."
"She believed this? It's summer, Sam."
"Nan's got me signed up for this crazy prep simulation. And . . . I might have told Mom when she was a little distracted."
"But not intentionally, of course."
"Of course not," I say.
"So if I were to come see you after eight, you'd be studying."
"Absolutely. But I might want a . . . study buddy. Because I might be grappling with some really tough problems."
"Grappling, huh?"
"Tussling with," I say. "Wrestling. Handling."
"Gotcha. Sounds like I should bring protective gear to study with you." Jase grins at me.
"You're pretty tough. You'll be fine.

I feel completely embarrassed and remember the lock on the door and think: He knows, he knows, it shows, shows completely.
"He's out back," Mr. Garret tells me mildly, "unpacking shipments." Then he returns to the papers.
I feel compelled to explain myself. "I just thought I'd come by. Before babysitting. You, know, at your house. Just to say hi. So . . . I'm going to do that now. Jase's in back, then? I'll just say hi."
I'm so suave.
I can hear the ripping sound of the box cutter before I even open the rear door to find Jase with a huge stack of cardboard boxes. His back's to me and suddenly I'm as shy with him as I was with his father.
This is silly.
Brushing through my embarrassment, I walk up, put my hand on his shoulder.
He straightens up with a wide grin. "Am I glad to see you!"
"Oh, really?"
"Really. I thought you were Dad telling me I was messing up again. I've been a disaster all day. Kept knocking things over. Paint cans, our garden display. He finally sent me out here when I knocked over a ladder. I think I'm a little preoccupied."
"Maybe you should have gotten more sleep," I offer.
"No way," he says. Then we just gaze at each other for a long moment.
For some reason, I expect him to look different, the way I expected I would myself in the mirror this morning . . . I thought I would come across richer, fuller, as happy outside as I was inside, but the only thing that showed was my lips puffy from kisses. J

Being a politician is a lot like being an alcoholic in denial.

He has the kind of Southern accent that makes you think of melting butter on biscuits, and porch swings.

I guess I like things that take time and attention. More worthwhile that way.

There's an opening at Mom's campaign," I say. "She needs all the help she can get
now that she's totally distracted by Clay Tucker."
"Who the hell's Clay Tucker?"
"The ... " Nan lowers her voice, even though all she says is: " ... younger man
Samantha's mother's dating."
"Your ma's dating?" Tim looks shocked. "I thought she pretty much confined herself
to a vibrator and the shower nozzle since your dad screwed her over.

Resolution: Just don't be so afraid.
You will take chances.
You will find your way.
You will lose opportunities. You will find luck.
You will lose your heart.
He will give you his.
That? You get to keep.

Fanning out the possibilities in front of me like paint chips - How lovely this would look on your future!

But here's the truth: In movies, it's never half so lovely as it is here and now with Jase.

Everyone who makes a mistake isn't doomed to be an asshole forever.

Our house contains all that's high-end and high-tech and shiny clean. And three people who would rather be somewhere else.

It's as though I don't make a ripple as I drop off the face of the earth.

Maybe if I can just sleep for a hundred years, I'll wake up in a better story.

God, I hate it when people even say there are types, like people come in flavors.

George gives me a smile, the same dazzling sweet smile as his big brother, although, at this point, with green teeth. "I might marry you," he allows. "Do you want a big family?"
I start to cough and feel a hand pat my back.
"George, it's usually better to discuss this kind of thing with your pants on." Jase drops boxer shorts at George's feet, then sets Patsy on the ground next to him.
She's wearing a pink sunsuit and has one of those little ponytails that make one sprout of hair stick straight up on top all chubby arms and bowed legs. She's, what, one now?
"Dat?" she demands, pointing to me a bit belligerently.
"Dat is Samantha," Jase says. "Apparently soon to be your sister-in-law." He cocks an eyebrow. "You and George move fast."
"We talked astronauts," I explain ...

Um. So ... Are we going to study?"
Jase slides his thumbs behind my ears, rubbing the hollow at their base. He's only inches from my face, still looking into my eyes. "You bet. I'm studying you.

The worst thing about being a blonde is that your entire body blushes - ears, throat, everything. Impossible to overlook.

They say you never know what you would do in a hypothetical situation. We'd all like to think we'd be one of the people who gave up their lifejackets and waved a stoic good-bye from the slanting deck of the titanic, someone who jumped in front of a bullet for a stranger, or turned and raced back up the stairs of one of the towers, in search of someone who needed help rather than our own security. But you just don't know for sure if, when things fall apart, you'll think safety first, or if safety will be the last thing on your mind.

Did you know that in space it's very, very cold? And there's no oxygen? And if an astronaut fell out of a shuttle without his suit he'd die right away?"
I'm a fast learner. "But that would never happen. Because astronauts are really, really careful."
George gives me a smile, the same dazzling sweet smile as his big brother, although at this point, with green teeth. "I might marry you," he allows. "Do you want a big family?

Grace Reed: the bride at every wedding, the corpse at every wake.

I never felt with her the way I feel whenever I even catch sight of you.

You need to come with a goddamn YouTube instructional video.

I like eggs and bacon," George tells me. "But" - his face clouds - "do you know that bacon is" - tears leap to his eyes - "Wilbur?

Is it? All I know is that I can't seem to stop - this - or slow it down. Or remember exactly why that's what I want.

Maybe thinking any one person can show up and give you all you need is as much of a delusion as thinking you can find truth in a bottle. Maybe you can just find what you need in little pieces, in people who show up for one crucial moment
or a whole chain of them
even if they can't solve it all. Maybe this is the secret of big families, like the Garretts ... and like AA. People's strengths can take their turn. There can be more of us than there is trouble.

Do you have any idea how many times I've read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie to this kid? That is one fucked-up story. How is that a book for babies?"
Jase laughs.
"I thought it was about babysitting."
"Hell no, it's addiction. That friggin' mouse is never satisfied. You give him one thing, he wants something else, and then he asks for more and on and on and on. Fucked up.

You have to kiss me," I find myself saying.
"Yeah." He leans closer. "I do.

Tim Mason. The human equivalent of C-4.

Well, Samantha ... you were introduced to this guy. It went downhill from there. That might make it justifiable homicide. From time to time, I've wanted to kill people I knew even less well ... strangers in supermarkets.
Am I on my roof with a psychopath?

So here we are, in the family planning aisle with a cart full of sports drinks and our hands full of . . . "Trojans, Ramses, Magnum . . . Jeez, these are worse than names for muscle cars," Jase observes, sliding his finger along the display.
"They do sound sorta, well, forceful." I flip over the box I'm holding to read the instructions.
Jase glances up to smile at me. "Don't worry, Sam. It's just us."
"I don't get what half these descriptions mean . . . What's a vibrating ring?"
"Sounds like the part that breaks on the washing machine. What's extra-sensitive? That sounds like how we describe George."
I'm giggling. "Okay, would that be better or worse than 'ultimate feeling' - and look - there's 'shared pleasure' condoms and 'her pleasure' condoms. But there's no 'his pleasure.'"
"I'm pretty sure that comes with the territory," Jase says dryly. "Put down those Technicolor ones. No freaking way."
"But blue's my favorite color," I say, batting my eyelashes at him.
"Put them down. The glow-in-the-dark ones too. Jesus. Why do they even make those?"
"For the visually impaired?" I ask, reshelving the boxes.
We move to the checkout line. "Enjoy the rest of your evening," the clerk calls as we leave.
"Do you think he knew?" I ask.
"You're blushing again," Jase mutters absently. "Did who know what?"
"The sales guy. Why we were buying these?"
A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "Of course not. I'm sure it never

I return to the sprinklers and sit down. George plunks down next to me. "Did you know that a bird-eating tarantula is as big as your hand?"
"Jase doesn't have one of those, does he?"
George gives me his sunniest smile. "No. He useta have a reg'lar tarantula named Agnes, but she" - his voice drops mournfully - "died."
"I'm sure she's in tarantula heaven now," I assure him hastily, shuddering to think what that might look like.
Mrs. Garret's van pulls in behind the motorcycle, disgorging what I assume are Duff and Andy, both red-faced and windblown. Judging by their life jackets, they've been at sailing camp.
George and Harry, my loyal fans, rave to their mother about my accomplishments, while Patsy immediately bursts into tears, points an accusing finger at her mother, and wails, "Boob."
"It was her first word." Mrs. Garret takes her from me, heedless of Patsy's damp swimsuit. "There's one for the baby book.

If there were an Olympics for kidding yourself, I'd take home the gold.

I've been sober nearly two months, but I have yet to go cold turkey on assholicism.

When she's worried Vivien gives herself pedicures and facials. Nic lifts weights. I bake. So, Vivien ends up looking more glamourous. Nic gets fitter. And I just get fat.

Blood may be thicker than chlorine, but hormones seem to scramble the equation.

All the things that stay the same... and everything that's changed.

The Garretts were my bedtime story, long before I ever thought I'd be part of the story myself.

Making love. I've cringed every time Hester used those words. So off and awkward and unrelated to what actually goes on between two bodies. You make breakfast, you make time, you make the team. Love? Not so much. But I get it now. Like making fire. Not rubbing two sticks together to pull something out of thin air. More like finally being able, knowing enough, to warm your hands at something you built, stick by stick.

The right thing to do is so easy to see when you're seventeen years old and don't have to make any big decisions. When you know that no matter what you do, someone will take care of you and fix everything. But when you're grown up, the world is not that black and white, and the right thing doesn't a tidy little arrow pointing to it.

And the way he does look at me makes me feel absolutely beautiful.

Who are these people, and why do they think their own opinions are the only right ones?

He's so easy to forgive. No sins at all. Not like my mom. Not like me.