Say You'll Remember Me(80)

I was going to facilitate whatever was needed. Food, errands, chores. Anything to make her life better, easier, gentler.

I kissed her softly and she closed her eyes.

“How much did it cost for you to get here?” she asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

She looked at me. “Tell me.”

“The only seats left were first class.”

She grimaced.

“There was another cheaper seat on Christmas, but we’re getting snow and I was worried the flight would be canceled and I wouldn’t be able to get here until next week,” I said.

“Xavier…”

“I know,” I said quietly.

It was all gone. Every penny I’d made over the last month working at the ER, plus another hundred and fourteen dollars on top of it. Gone.

I was grateful that the money was there when I’d needed it. Better than putting an emergency visit on a card. But I felt deflated and exhausted knowing that I was back to zero.

She must have seen the weariness on my face. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“You look really tired.”

“I am really tired,” I admitted.

She studied me. “I feel like this relationship is killing you.”

“Don’t say that—”

“No, I’m serious. You shouldn’t be working seven days a week.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” I said. “It’s difficult and I hate it. But it is what it is.”

We slipped into silence.

“If you had the power to erase every memory you have of me so you didn’t know what you were missing, would you do it?” she asked.

“No, I wouldn’t do it,” I said without even thinking about it.

“Why?”

“Because life wouldn’t be worth living if I didn’t remember you.”

She looked like she didn’t believe me. “But it’s so hard though,” she said.

“Would you erase the memories of your grandma so you wouldn’t feel the way you feel right now?”

“No.”

“Some things are worth remembering, Samantha. No matter how much they hurt.”

I watched her swallow. “I’m glad she got to meet you before she died,” she said. “I’m glad you got to meet her, so when I talk about her, you remember her.”

I was glad too.

She peered up at me and put a hand on my cheek. “Look at this beard. My winter boy.” The corners of her mouth fell. “I feel like I’m seeing your life in slides,” she said, her voice a little sad. “I see you and it’s a five-o’clock shadow. Then it’s a goatee. Then it’s a full beard. And I’m not there for any of it. It just jumps ahead weeks and months and you’re different every time I see you.”

“Do you want me to shave it?”

“No. I want you to be with me all the time. I want to see you so much, I don’t notice the little changes.” She peered at me. “You are my favorite person. Did you know that?”

The words hit me unexpectedly, but I kept my face flat the way I always did.

“You’re my favorite person too,” I said quietly.

“Even when I’m trying to compliment you, you turn it back on me. You are a wonderful human, Xavier. I hope you know that. I hope you hear me when I say it. You are so selfless. Hard working. Generous. Gentle. You’re smart and patient. And I saw everything you did for us today. We all did.”

The words filled me up. For once I let them.

“You make me want to be that way. You make me want to be everything,” I said. “Funny enough to make you laugh, successful enough to take care of you. Sexy enough that you can’t keep your hands off me.”

“Well, you are definitely that.”

I took a deep breath.

“Normally I wouldn’t believe anything nice someone said to me,” I said quietly. “But it must be true or I wouldn’t have you.”

She was looking at me the way she looked at mustard. And I vowed that I would be the kind of man who deserved that for the rest of my life.





36





SAMANTHA


WE WERE AT the dinner after the funeral. It was January 2. Xavier had been here nine days.

After a lot of back and forth, we decided to wait until after the holidays for Grandma’s service. Her brother couldn’t get here on such short notice. The extra time gave us a chance to pull together a really nice event. We’d had a digital photo collage, and all the out-of-town cousins were able to make it. Tristan dressed her in her favorite pink pantsuit. It was about as perfect of a send-off as we could hope for.

I was a mess. For a hundred different reasons.

Grandma was gone. Xavier was leaving.

The only thing that had held me together this past week was iced coffee, Xavier, and dry shampoo. I didn’t know what state I’d be in if he weren’t here, but I was about to find out because his flight home was tonight.

He had been the backbone of my family the last nine days.

I think a lot of the same principles of taking care of animals transferred to taking care of grieving people because he was really good at it. His strategy mostly involved feeding everyone and being Xavier. His calm, steady presence defused more blowups than I could count. He had this way of redirecting people when they were anxious or testy, the human equivalent of throwing a tennis ball and giving out treats.