That's Why God and Father Are Interchangable

"So… Your name," Bishop Jones said to Sam.

"Sam Evans," Sam said and cleared his throat.

"What is your relationship status with my daughter?" Mr. Jones wondered. Sam looked at Mercedes, unsure if she was able to admit the truth yet, but Mr. Jones retrieved his attention with, "I'm the one asking you the questions, Boy." Sam's eyebrows furrowed at the word and Mr. Jones chuckled. "Are your balls in her back pockets? Is that why you so eagerly kept reaching for them?"

Sam narrowed his eyes and answered clearly, "No. I'm just curious about why she seems so afraid of you, like you're anything other than a mortal man, just like me…" Bishop and Milzie both laughed at this.

"Just like you?" Milzie repeated, then shook her head, "Don't be ridiculous, little stripper boy," she said waving a hand at him.

"Mom…" Mercedes started, finally finding her voice when Sam was being insulted.

"Sam Evans," Sam corrected Milzie.

Milzie scoffed and pointed her finger at the table, "The only people besides you who will ever care or remember that name all have names that end in 'Evans,'"

"Mom!" Mercedes snapped and reached out to rub Sam's back, feeling how tense he was around her parents. She knew better than anyone the shit storm they were now in together.

"Let's not pretend," Milzie said and sat back folding her arms.

"Are you done, Milzie?" Bishop asked, with a raised eyebrow. "I do believe that I was having a talk with the boy. He was going to man up and answer my question, eventually. Or at least, I should hope he would. But, knowing Mercedes, this boy is just another mention on her long list of tremendous failures and dire mistakes."

"He's not," she said, softly. Sam looked at her and it broke his heart. She was trembling and it seriously looked like it took her all of the effort in the world not to fall apart, even from saying that one thing to the man. "He's the best decision I've ever made…"

Bishop dismissed her with, "Mercedes, I am not having this conversation with you. Silence yourself and let me talk to this boy."

"I'm a man," Sam said.

"Are you?" Bishop asked, amused. His hands were crossed on the table and his thumbs were circling each other. "Is it because you hit puberty? Because you have some job? Because the law allows you to drink and vote and buy a damn gun to shoot in the air from your pickup truck on the 4th of July?" He said the last part with a hick accent and Sam could tell he was mocking him, not that he was trying one bit to shield the disrespect.

"For all of those reasons and more, such as my behavior and response to you, right now. I am choosing to respect that for some reason, Mercedes cares what you think and maybe even loves you. So, I am a man choosing not to punch you in the face, which is what you deserve for how you're addressing me and for how you treat your daughter."

Bishop wasn't the least bit phased by Sam's words. He promptly replied, "Excellent choice. Don't let this slick suit fool you. I'd lay you out if you dared try it. Relationship status."

"I'm her man," Sam answered.

Bishop shook his head and now looked at Mercedes, disappointed, "Mercedes, now I'm speaking to you." She looked up from the spot on the table that had been reigning her in so that she wouldn't lose her mind. "I believe that you could have done better. I never hound you for your weight or what you do with your hair, like your mother does, because I know that you don't need extra to be beautiful. I didn't raise some nothing-to-offer white boy's whore."

"Whoa!" Sam said.

"If you're going to whore yourself out to some white boy, let him be worth something. Some redneck stripper isn't." The man continued. "I understand that pickings are slim. We are in Ohio. But, pickings have to be better than this. Has it gotten that bad for you that this was the best that you thought you could muster up? You need a do over." Milzie bit her lip to hold back the smile that wanted to break across her face. Tears were falling down her daughter's cheeks and it seemed improper to smile at such a time.

"Leave her alone!" Sam snapped.

The man ignored him and continued, "So help me God, if you think that you would ever have my approval of this. He's fondling you in public. You're probably having premarital sex. He probably has a disease from one of those filthy patrons from where he dances." She sobbed and sucked in her lip. "You just continue to be a disappointment."

"Let's go, Mermaid. I'm not gonna stand by and listen to him berate you like that. We're leaving," he told her parents, trying to take her hand so that he could help her to escape the verbal assault on her person.

"Mercedes Jones, if you get up and go, I will remember it in specific detail when this boy leaves you behind and you come crawling back to Daddy, to admit that you were wrong again and need help fixing your cascade of errors." She pulled her hand from Sam's and covered her face with her hands. "You need to hear everything that I have to say, because I need you to be able to refer back to it when you see the signs…"

Sam kneeled next to Mercedes and said, "Mermaid, you don't have to stay here and listen to this shit. And if I stay here any longer, my love for you ain't gonna keep me for flipping this table over on him."

"Don't," she said through her fingers.

"Mercedes, somebody who loves you isn't going to use your fears and your mistakes against you to keep you in a state of terror. Anybody who really loves you will try to soothe your fears and accept you despite your mistakes!"

"I can't…" She didn't even know what she was going to complete that sentence with: 'Accept that? Believe it? Trust you? Leave? Even move?'

Sam stared at her, heartbroken, because she didn't look like she was going to budge until the man told her that she could and he knew that there was only more venom waiting here for her. "How does he have you so brainwashed that he has control over you to make you feel like you have to endure what he's dishing out to you?"

"He's my dad," she said, sadly and looked at Sam, then at her father and wiped her eyes. "I'm listening."

Bishop wiped his mouth, tossed his napkin down on the table and reminded her, "You have an appointment at my office coming up. I will want a full report on your plan of action to improve this situation, when I see you next." He stood up, threw some money on the table and looked to Milzie. It was her turn to get up, now.

"We'll see you soon, Mercedes," she said. "You and I will have a spa day and you won't even think about this sad boy." She cupped her face and squeezed your cheeks. "Oh! We can get a gym membership. We'll take a week for ourselves before your new job at Bishop's office starts up. Mommy loves you." She gave her a kiss on the forehead, threw a disgusted glare in Sam's direction and made haste to head for the door.

Bishop finished off Mercedes with, "I long for the day that I will be able to actually say to you that it was a pleasure to catch up with you." He sighed and turned away, to meet up with his wife and leave.

"Mermaid…" Sam started, having no idea what to say next. They were worse than he thought. He felt bad that he'd even witnessed it, that she had obviously been subjected to it for her entire life, and to some extent, that he had pressured her to be open about their relationship. She was terrified of those people, and it was no wonder. He had just witnessed psychological warfare. Psychological warfare that had been used against her since she was a child, by people who were supposed to be her protectors. "Let's just…"

She grabbed her phone and started to call someone. "Mercedes," he said, pleading with her not to shut him out. He didn't know her routine for an attack, but she seemed to be letting what had just happened shut him off. He snatched her phone from her, seeing Quinn's name on it and hung up. "You don't need her. I've got you." He helped her up, "Let's go home, okay?"

"She understands," she said, softly.

"Well, okay, but… I don't have to understand. I love you, no matter what just happened."

Mercedes snuggled up in her blanket and barely laughed at the Invader Zim marathon. She didn't eat much of her breakfast. She didn't seem to want to be touched or held… Sam didn't really know what to do. When her phone rang, she didn't even move to answer it, but Sam, noticing Quinn's number picked it up for her. "Hey, we're watching an Invader Zim marathon and having breakfast," he said. Mercedes didn't even seem interested enough to ask him who was calling her phone or to pick with him about answering it.

"Did she accidentally butt-dial me earlier?" Quinn wondered.

"Maybe…" He glanced at Mercedes, then decided, "She probably needed to talk to you because we ran into Bishop and Milzie…"

"Oh, God… Is she okay?"

"No…" Mercedes hadn't even turned his way, at their mention, but he saw that a couple of fat new tears were rolling down her cheeks. "I don't know what to do…"

"Put her focus on you, instead of that."

"That doesn't seem helpful…"

"To Mercedes, they are a part of her life. They won't go away. They'll always be a part of her life. If they've done something to bother her, it's a new reminder to her that this is her life - a life where they can do this to her, whenever they want to. Give her something in her life to look at and to remind her that you're a part of her life, too… a good part that she actually was able to choose to have there. It'll make her feel better. Trust me. We've been doing this thing for each other for a long time. It's part of the reason that she's… well… she's the one that everyone brings their stuff to…"

"Okay, but… When it happens again? This is a temporary fix, Quinn. She looks catatonic, right now…"

"Well, yes it is a temporary fix. You've met those people. Only years of therapy and possibly medication would really fix that kind of shit. In fact, one of the best things about my life as a lawyer is that I can afford years of therapy and medication to deal with mine."

"They were so cruel, and I couldn't do anything to protect her," he said quietly and sadly.

"Well, the fact that you haven't thrown in the towel says a lot. I'm pretty sure that it does to her, too. Even if you can't tell, right now. She really loves your comics, by the way. I'll let you go, now."

Quinn hung up, slightly worried, but not too much. If there was one person that she trusted with Mercedes in a moment of Jones-induced sorrow, it was Sam. Still, she opened her agenda for the next day to see how soon she would be able to go physically check on her friend.

Sam set Mercedes' phone back on the table and gathered up some things from his desk. He hadn't really shown her much of this, but from what Quinn advised, maybe this might be a good start. "So, Mermaid… I wanted to show you what I've been working on for Jeremiah Stapp…" The quickness that she turned her head towards him startled him for a moment, but he sat down next to her and set his work down. "I have a few sketches, a story board…" He flipped the pages slowly, to give her enough time to see what he was showing her. "Do you think he'll like any of it?"

She blinked and looked at him, "Are you kidding? This is some of your best work!" She told him, excited for the chance for him to show this to her friend. She reached out to turn the pages, herself. "Who is this? A new character?" She asked, excitedly at the sketch, that looked a lot like her.

"No… That's you," he told her. She looked over at him with doe eyes. "I work on my work, then I work on you, to kinda remind myself never to get too busy with my own stuff to take some time out for you." She turned away and shuffled back into her snuggle spot. "What did I say wrong?"

"Nothing. I just feel really bad that you do that for me, when I'm not even around, and I… I didn't even defend you. I just let them say everything terrible…"

"Don't feel bad…" Sam crawled over to her and gathered her to himself. "It finally makes sense. And, actually, I feel better about us than I ever did before. Because, I know that it must take a lot, everyday for you to even be able to trust me, much less… how much you trust me and I just," he squeezed her, "Want us to not have to even dwell on any of that." He let go and looked at her, "Help me arrange my portfolios for Stapp?" She smiled softly and nodded her head, in agreement.

Bishop Jones was in his office when Mercedes came into the building, dressed casually, holding her purse in her hand. "Mercedes, you don't look like you're prepared for an interview."

"I'm not," she said and looked at the empty chair across from him, "May I sit down, so that we can talk?"

"We have an interview scheduled today, nothing more," he reminded her. "And you are not prepared for an interview."

"If it's going to be quick, then so be it... I can't do this, Dad. It's hard enough to have to deal with all of my so-called failures without constant reminders of where I might have gone wrong. I can't learn from my mistakes if they become weapons instead of lessons and you've always done that to me. I can't let you make Sam into a weapon against me. That's not to suggest that he's a mistake. It's just to say that IF he is, it's my right to make a mistake and come out stronger and better for it... and not your right to beat me down for it. So, thank you for the opportunity, but I am going to have to decline from the job offer. For the first time in a long time... I love myself. And, I can't do that and deal with you at the same time. That's my report to you. My plan of action."

Bishop sat with his hands on his desk, listening carefully to everything that she said, then glanced at his clock and resumed work. She cleared her throat, waited a moment, then got up to leave. "Thank you for coming in," he said. She froze at the door, waiting on the next words of attack from him, but instead, he informed her, "I have another interview scheduled. You may dismiss yourself."

She turned slowly and confessed, "I was expecting you to tell me what a terrible mistake I'm making for not working here."

"Why would I do that, when you just said that you can't deal with it? I have business to tend to. Begging someone who was only receiving an appointment out of charity wouldn't be reasonable. I have another interview. Good day."

"Good... day..." Mercedes walked out of the office, confused and expecting something at any moment to happen to destroy her life. But, she felt overwhelming relieved. She pulled out her phone and called Sam. "Hey, Sam-Monkey."

He chuckled and sleepily said, "Hey. Where'd you go?"

"Cleared some things up, but, I'm on my way back to you. Anything I can bring you?"

"You're all I need, Mermaid."

"I can do that."