Sam’s voice softens. “I’m sorry. I really thought that if I picked up, everything would be better. This is all my fault. I wish I could fix this.”
I take in a deep breath and say, “Please tell me what’s going on, Sam. Tell me why you picked up.”
There’s a long silence before he finally answers this. He says, “I wanted to give us a chance to say good-bye.”
I nearly crumble to the floor. There’s a lump in my throat that makes it almost impossible to speak as I fight back more tears. “But I never wanted to say good-bye,” I manage to get out.
“Then don’t. You don’t have to, okay? You don’t have to say it right now.”
I wipe my eyes and keep breathing.
“Listen,” Sam says after a moment. “How about this. Let me show you something. I think it’ll make you feel better, okay?” Before I ask what it is, he says, “Just trust me.”
Trust him. I don’t think Sam realizes how much trust I’m already giving him by staying on the phone. I don’t know what else to say so I say nothing at all. I stand there in silence beneath the light of the lamppost, as I hold on to Sam’s voice and tell myself everything is okay when I’m no longer sure what’s real and what isn’t anymore.
* * *
* * *
I take back what I said earlier about the lake. This is the last place I expected to end up tonight.
Sam’s driveway is empty of cars. Not a single light shines from the windows of the house. His family must be staying with relatives outside of town. I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Sam asked me to come get something he’s been meaning to give me. “Trust me,” he kept saying. There is a spare key taped beneath the mailbox, just like he told me. I find it and open the front door, hoping no one’s inside.
It’s too dark to see anything. The scent of flowers and incense overwhelms me. I step over his little brother’s shoes as I feel around for a switch. A single lamp flickers on and I look around. The living room is filled with flowers that are beginning to wilt. A beautiful wreath of chrysanthemums hangs near the mantel. This must all be for Sam.
Sam’s voice comes on the line. “Is anyone home?” he asks me.
“I don’t think so. It’s too quiet in here.”
“That’s weird. Where is everyone?”
“There are a bunch of flowers for you, though,” I tell him. “The house is full of them.”
“Flowers?” Sam repeats, a note of surprise in his voice. “Interesting … Are yours there, too?”
“Mine?”
I look around the room anyway. Knowing full well nothing here is from me. Not even a card. A knot of guilt forms in my chest, and I feel terrible again. “I don’t see them here,” is all I say.
“I’m sure my mom kept them somewhere else,” Sam says.
“Maybe…”
I don’t want to be in here anymore. So I take my shoes off and head upstairs. It’s so strange to be alone in the house. I tiptoe past his little brother James’s room, even though he isn’t there. Maybe it’s out of habit. Sam’s room is at the end of the hall. His door is covered with band logos and NASA stickers. The doorknob is cold to the touch. I take a deep breath before I twist it open.
I don’t need to turn on the light to know something is different. The curtain is drawn, giving me enough moonlight to see the boxes in the room. Some of the shelves have been cleaned. It looks like Sam’s parents have started to pack things, leaving only the bedsheets and the smell of him. I take another breath. I never thought I would be back here again.
“You still there?” Sam’s voice brings me back to him. “Sorry if my room’s a mess.” He always said this right before I came in.
“What am I looking for?”
“It should be somewhere on my desk,” Sam says. “I wrapped it up for you.”
I go through his desk. Behind the computer, under folders, in the drawers. But nothing’s there.
“Are you sure? Try the middle drawer again.”
“Nothing’s there, Sam,” I tell him. I glance around the room. “It might be in one of the boxes.”
“What boxes?”
I almost don’t want to tell him. “There are boxes in your room. I think your parents are packing things up.”
“Why would they do that?”
I give him a moment to think this through.
“Oh … Right. I guess I forgot for a second there.”