“I saw it,” I say. It’s an acceptance letter from Central Washington University. I already got the email a few days ago.
“Well what did it say?”
“I was accepted.”
My mother stares at me, beaming. “Julie, why didn’t you tell me? We should celebrate.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I say, twirling the pasta with my fork. “Everyone gets in there.” Central is not the most competitive. As long as you have decent enough grades, you get in. It’s the decision from Reed I’m still waiting on.
My mother watches me pick at my plate. “I know it isn’t your first choice, Julie…” she says. “But you should still be proud. Central Washington is a perfectly good school, even if you might not think so. I mean, I teach there, after all. Don’t write it off so fast.”
I look at her. “You’re right. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…” I sigh. “I don’t know if I want to spend another four years in Ellensburg. That wasn’t my original plan. That’s all.”
“That wasn’t any of our plans,” my mother says, maybe more to herself. The table goes quiet again. “But I get it … Things haven’t been so great around here. Especially recently. Especially for you.” She stares at the table for a moment, as if in thought. “Maybe it’s a bit selfish of me, wanting to have you around a little longer. I know you’re not going to be here forever, Julie. But … I was hoping we’d at least spend some time together before you graduated. Before you left.”
“I haven’t gone anywhere yet,” I say. “I’m still here.”
“I know…” she says, releasing a breath. “But I don’t get to see you too much. I know it isn’t your fault … but you’ve been hard to reach lately. This is the first time you and I sat down for dinner in two weeks. I just feel a little less … connected to you. But maybe that’s just me.”
I stare at my phone on the table, then back at my mom. Has it really been that long since we had dinner together? After Sam died, I brought my meals up to my room. And since we’ve been connected again, I been spending all my time with him. I was gone all day yesterday. And the day before. A wave of guilt hits me as I think of what to say. I used to talk to her about everything. But I can’t open up about Sam. I can’t tell her what’s happening. “I’m sorry,” is all I can say. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
“That’s alright,” my mother says, smiling a little. “We’re spending time together now. Thank you … for having dinner with me.”
I stare at my plate again, making a mental note to do this with her more often.
* * *
After dinner, I help clear the table and head upstairs. As much as I want to call Sam, I should catch up on schoolwork. I make some progress on an essay for Gill’s class that isn’t due until next week, and finish an art history assignment. My mind seems to have cleared up, and I find it easier to focus. Maybe it’s the crystal. Yuki said to always keep it with me, so I set it near Sam’s bookend I keep on my desk as I work. I like to look at it from time to time. It makes me feel protected.
Sam told me I could call him sometime tonight. Since we spent an entire day on the phone yesterday, tonight’s call can’t be too long. I don’t mind this. I want to hear his voice again, even if it’s only for a few minutes.
Since my mother is in one of her intense vacuuming modes, I decide to make the call outside on the porch. The rain sounds like tiny pebbles hitting the roof. During past rainstorms, Sam and I used to sit out here together, watching for lightning. From the looks of it, there might be some tonight. It’s a bit chilly out, so I put on his plaid shirt. I dial Sam’s number.
Every time his voice comes through the line, it’s as if time stops, just for us. “That sound…” He pauses to listen. “Where are you calling from?”
“Outside. On the porch step.”
“Missing the fresh air?”
I recall the fields from yesterday, and smile to myself. “Among other things,” I say. “And I just needed a break from my desk. Thought I would call you. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. I miss you infinity.”
Sam’s voice is warm against my ear. I wish things could stay like this. I wish we could talk forever.
“Tell me about your day,” he says. “How are things at the bookstore? How’s Mr. Lee?”