Chapter Text
“Hey, Mak.” She heard Sam call from the kitchen.
Sammun-Mak couldn’t help the cautious steps she took through the doorway, spotting Sam sitting at the tiny round table that was barely tall enough for him to fit his legs under. The kitchen itself was already small, with the cramped feeling made worse by the chaotic clutter of dishes Sam and Max left laying around on every countertop. Sam claimed that eventually at some point they would maybe consider getting around to renovating the house, and the first thing on the docket would be making the kitchen larger.
“You called?” She asked as she stepped up to the table. She placed her hands on the back of one of the chairs across from Sam, but made no move to sit.
Now she could see the small pair of reading glasses that he wore as he wrote in a journal of some kind.
“Yeah, I just had a quick question for you,” he paused for a second as he quickly finished writing. As she looked closer, she could see that the pages were numbered with… dates?
“When’s your birthday?”
Sammun-Mak relaxed at the question. Why did she feel so tense in the first place? “Is that all? A rather simple question, really, it’s…”
The LED screen blinked a couple times. She paused, as if frozen, as she attempted to reach for something that wasn’t there.
It was no secret that Sammun-Mak’s memory was more than spotty. The things she remembered about her time in ancient Egypt were few and far between, and what she did remember were less than pleasant memories of a long-ago tyrant. Nevertheless, she was quick to write down any pieces that came to her in a small journal that Sam and Max’s friend Sybil gifted her.
She remembered that she had a birthday. She remembered that for several years, they were not a time of joy, but a time of mourning. She remembered when she finally had her birthdays back to herself, after she became pharaoh. She remembered when several nearby cities and towns arrived at the palace to celebrate her, and see the newly built pyramid made in her honor. She remembered briefly telling Sam about it, all that time ago back in the museum.
So then, why couldn’t she remember the date?
“We can make one up for you, if you want.”
She was broken out of her thoughts, only staring in stunned silence at Sam for a few moments.
“Pardon?”
Sam’s smile widened momentarily. “I keep telling you that you don’t have to be so formal, y’know. But yeah, if you don’t remember then we can just pick a random date, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Sammun-Mak frowned slightly, watching Sam’s face for some kind of sign that he was messing with her. She thought it odd to claim some other day as your day of birth. That was the whole point of birthdays, was it not? It wouldn’t be a ‘birth day’ otherwise.
“It’s not breaking any rules or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. But look who you’re talking to. It’s not like Max and I have ever cared about rules.”
She hummed thoughtfully, glancing away momentarily. “Well, if it wouldn’t hurt…”
She glanced back at Sam. The canine constantly seemed to radiate kindness and… security. He asked for trust rather than forcing it upon her. He smiled so kindly. If he held out a hand, he would patiently wait for her to take it. He allowed her to move at her own pace. And though she couldn’t feel it, if Sam reached out a hand and she took it, she could feel it. The warmth. The patience. The sincerity. It was all so foreign to her. Who was the last person who felt like this towards her?
Sam picked the journal up, flipping through its pages for a moment. It looked much smaller in his hands. “How’s June 22nd sound? It’s only a few months away.”
“I suppose that’s… fine.” She was almost hoping for Sam to pick a date and for it to awaken something in her, or something. That Sam would conveniently pick the same date her actual birthday was on and she would remember it when he spoke it aloud. Perhaps she’d been watching too many cartoons. It sounded like a cliche that would be present in one of those.
He quickly scribbled something down on the journal’s pages before shutting it. “That’s all I needed.”
Sammun-Mak only watched as he got up from the too small table. As he walked past her to leave, he reached towards her and patted the top of her head. A gesture she still wasn’t quite used to. And yet it seemed like second nature to Sam.
She continued to stare at the exit of the kitchen, where Sam had just left. She was sure she would’ve figured out his motives by now. Yet every interaction with him only left her more confused. Just what did he have to gain from all this? Sammun-Mak swore to herself that she would figure it out soon enough.