“I can look through them, if you want me to,” I say.
Sam doesn’t hear me. “Why would they pack my things up so soon…” he says more to himself than to me. “I haven’t been gone that long, have I?”
“You know, I can’t speak for your parents … but sometimes, it’s just hard to look at these things,” I try to explain.
“I guess so…”
I turn on the desk lamp to see the room better. The boxes are half filled with Sam’s clothes, books, CDs and record collection, and rolled-up posters—so many things I thought I’d never see again. I suddenly remember the things I threw out this morning. Here they are right in front of me. Sam’s Radiohead T-shirt. His Mariners hat he bought when we were in Seattle, even though he knows nothing about baseball. It all still smells like him. For a second, I forget what I’m even looking for.
“Did you find it yet?” Sam asks again.
I open another box. This one’s full of recording equipment. Sam must have spent the last six months saving up for this microphone. He always talked about recording his own music. I told him I’d help him with lyrics. Sam wanted to be a musician. He wanted his song to play on the radio someday. He wanted to make it in the world. Now he’ll never get the chance.
I find the gift eventually. It’s wrapped with magazine pages and filled with tissue. It’s heavier than I expected.
“What is it?”
“Just open it, Jules.”
I tear it open, letting the wrapping paper fall to the rug. It takes me a second to realize what this is.
“Wait a second…” I turn it over in my hand, trying to make sense of what I’m holding. The winged bookend. The same one I threw out this morning. But it can’t be. “Sam … where did you get this?”
“At the antique shop. It’s the other half you were missing.”
I examine it closely. He’s right—this isn’t the same one I kept in my room. It’s the long-lost half we couldn’t find. “But, I thought someone bought it by the time we came back.”
“That was me.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s the surprise,” Sam says with a laugh. “I went back and got the other piece for you. I let you think it was gone. That way, it would be more special when you finally get to put them together. When the wings are complete. It’s pretty romantic, right?”
Except I don’t have the other wing anymore. Because I threw it out, and now the two pieces will never be reunited. I can’t believe I ruined his gift. I ruined everything.
“I was expecting a big reaction,” Sam says, noticing my silence. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t, it’s only, I—” I swallow hard. “I don’t have the other piece anymore, Sam.”
“Did you lose it?”
I clench his bookend. “No … I threw it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I threw everything out,” I tell him. “All of your stuff. I couldn’t look at it anymore. I was trying to forget you. I’m so sorry, Sam.”
Silence fills his room. I know he’s hurt by this, so I tell him, “I tried to get them back. But it was too late. Everything was already gone. I know, I’m terrible. I’m sorry—”
“You’re not terrible,” Sam says. “Don’t say that. I’m not mad at you, okay?”
My eyes water again. “But I ruined your gift…”
“You didn’t ruin anything. You can still keep it. It’ll be like before.”
Before. What does he mean by that? There’s no going back there anymore. “But the rest of your things are still gone. I’ll never get those back again…”
Sam thinks about this. “Well, how about you take something else of mine? Anything you want from my room.”
I had already thought of this. But I was afraid to ask. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. Anything at all,” he says. “I want you to have it.”
I keep him on the phone as I go through the boxes again. This is so strange, a complete reversal of what I was doing this morning. I take the Radiohead T-shirt and a few other little things—a guitar pick, band bracelets, the hat he bought on his trip to Tokyo. Then I head to the closet, and slide it open. There are still some clothes hanging, but I find it immediately. There it is, his oversized plaid button-down shirt. Sam wore it almost every day, regardless of the season. I guess even his parents couldn’t throw it away.