Excerpt:

“I’ve been loving you too long… to stop now.”
Otis crooned and Samantha swayed with Reggie, liltingly and seemingly with abandon. Then they fell in a dramatic heap onto other stuffed animals and pillows. Reggie flopped onto Mrs. Nab Nab, he looked ready for some serious lovin’, and the adults sitting at the couch with their beers and cigarettes started howling, one woman’s laugh sounded like cackling.

“Sammy! Your teddy bear wants to marry your doll, hey babe?” shouted her daddy, who was always teasing and laughing at the shy little girl with her menagerie of stuffed toys that took so much of her thoughts away from playing outside with other kids.
Samantha gasped.
“Reggie, you can’t marry Mrs. Nab Nab, she already got married!”

The adults laughed again, and someone shouted out to turn up the radio.
“Hey, that’s Fats! Gimme my thrill, turn that radio up!” the drunk man called out, and then sat back on the couch, his beer glass raised, eyes closed, waiting for the song to become louder.
So someone complied, and Blueberry Thrill floated through the smokey air in the dimly lit living room.

Samantha picked up Reggie the Bear and the other toys, intent on bringing them back to their box. With the exception of Red Dog, he stayed with her in her little hard bed.

She didn’t like much the parties and the noise, the people and the smells. She particularly didn’t like the stares that she got from some people. Or the grabs and drunk embraces that filled her with a panic when the person, usually some man, wouldn’t let go right away. She would struggle and wriggle and when free, she would dart quick as an arrow down the hall to the stairs and she would run up them to her bed room and she would shut her door. She would sit with her back against her door, and she would listen to the conversation and music and sometimes the shouting and things being thrown. She would strain her ears to hear if there were any foot steps following her.

The man she was avoiding tonight, because he kept looking thoughtfully at her, was her daddy’s new boss at the garage. Daddy said he was an asshole, always making him clean, clean, clean, as if he was some common janitor, and didn’t have his automotive ticket. He could be working on those rich peoples cars, make some good tips, but he has to clean.

Mommy said not to complain, or he’d be without a job,.
“Indians like us are doing pretty damned good, so don’t mess it up by whining. You think I wanna move back to that ugly hole?” her voice was clipped, icy.
You just don’t argue back at her when she starts sounding like she was ready to blow up. Which also happened. So her daddy just shook his head, no ma’am, ain’t gonna argue with you on that point.

His name was Mr. Stokes, and when he said hello to her, he bent down to her level, holding out his hand. She had looked to his bright blue eyes and her little hand shook slightly when she gave it.
“Hello Samantha. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, your father speaks of you and your brother all the time.”
She simply nodded, unsure of what to say. Nobody ever said hello, and nobody ever shook her hand. Usually when new people came around, she got her hair tussled and a directive to find them a beer, which she dutifully did.
“How old are you?” he asked with a smile.
“Nine.” she answered.
“Nine! You look a lot younger, I thought you were about six. I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay.” she mumbled. Nobody every apologized to her either.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, I like your daddy a whole lot.” Mr. Stokes straightened up, letting go of her hand and called to her daddy. “Hey Sam, I forgot to say, thanks for inviting me to your party, that’s mighty fine of you. It’s hard with the holidays here and I don’t know anyone. Thanks man.”
“Yeah, no problem. You’re more than welcome, hey. You’re a good boss.” Sam replied, with a big smile.
That must have gotten a little stuck in his throat, saying that.

Samantha had her stuffies in her arms, and she kicked the pillows and one blanket off to the side and started to the stairs.
“Where you going Princess?” asked Auntie Jeanie, in her slurred voice, even though she only drank two beers.
“I’m going to bed now.” she answered, shyly. Auntie Jeanie was nice, and she even smelled nice, her perfume and cigarettes blended nicely and when she opened her arms for a hug, Samantha willingly went to her, her hugs were warm and her ample arms and bosom were soft as a pillow. But Auntie Jeanie didn’t give big hugs, just gentle short hugs, that left Samantha wanting to climb into her lap to cuddle up. She never did though, she was too shy.
“Alright. Have a good sleep. I hope we don’t get too loud for you.”
“Oh she’s fine. All those sleepless nights she put me through, one night of partying isn’t going to hurt her!” sniffed her mother.
“Holy shit Ganna, you can’t fault a baby for waking up at night.” laughed Jeanie. She would always poke fun at her little sister’s white man mannerisms, called her fussy and prissy and a prude. They could get into some serious verbal altercations if there was enough booze present in their systems.

Samantha knew when to run. Legs and bottles were sprawled everywhere she looked, so she gingerly, but quickly, picked her way passed all the people and empties, making her way to the stairs.

“You only have her now, so why don’t you be grateful? Huh? You always picked on her, not very fair if you ask me.” Jeanie blithely tossed out.
The line was drawn, so early in the night. Samantha ran.