* * *
I arrive at the bus station late Monday afternoon. My mom is still teaching a class at the university, so I have to wait a few hours before she can pick me up. I rest my bag on the floor and check my phone. Now that I’m back in Ellensburg, my calls with Sam should be working again. It’s been ten days since we last spoke. It’s the longest I haven’t heard from him since he first picked up the phone. Ever since our connection broke, Sam and I have been planning our calls several days in advance, one call at a time. Our next one happens to be today. I have the date marked down in my notebook. I was going to wait until I was back in my room, but after being away so long, I can’t wait to hear from him again.
There’s a new notification on my phone. An email from a name that sounds familiar. I open the email and read it first.
Dear Julie, Apologies it took so long to get back to you. Spent the morning listening to the songs you sent me. I have to be honest with you. A few of the tracks were fantastic. Sam was a talented musician. He really knew his way around a melody. That’s a gift that’s hard to come by. And I wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t true. He was really something special. Again, I’m sorry to hear what happened. A very sad loss.
Anyway, I went ahead and forwarded your email to Gary and a few others from the band （since I know you two are big fans）。 Hope you don’t mind. I’ll let you know if they get back to me. They’re gonna love knowing you all came from the same hometown.
Hope things stay well. Feel free to reach out anytime.
Take care,
Marcus
I barely contain a gasp as I read the email over again. Marcus Graham, the manager of the Screaming Trees. The man I met at Tristan’s screening. I never really expected a response when I wrote to him after the festival. I can’t believe he remembers me! More importantly, he loved Sam’s music! He said he was talented!
I have to call Sam. I have to tell him right now.
My hands shake with excitement as I make the call. As usual, I hold my breath when the phone begins to ring. It takes a while, but eventually he answers.
“It feels like it’s been forever,” Sam says. “I missed you.”
His voice fills me with warmth. Like sunlight streaming into a room.
“I missed you, too,” I say. “You won’t believe what just happened. Do you remember Marcus Graham? The manager of the Screaming Trees?”
“Sure, what about him?”
“I met him at the film festival a few weeks ago. I sent him some of your music. He just emailed me back. I have to read this to you…”
I read him the email. My voice rises at the parts where Marcus says he loved the songs, how talented he said Sam was, and how he forwarded everything to the others in the band. “Can you believe it, Sam? He said he sent it to Gary! That must mean he sent it to Mark, too. What if they’re listening to it right now? Oh my god … what if they’re talking about you! I wonder what song they like best…”
Sam is quiet as he takes this in.
“What do you think? Say something!”
“Why didn’t you tell me you sent him my music?” Sam asks.
“Because I wasn’t sure if I’d get a response,” I say. “I didn’t know if he would actually listen to it.”
“But I thought I told you not to do this.”
I go quiet for a moment, surprised by his response. “It’s not like I went looking for him. It sort of happened in the moment. Why are you mad at me? Sam—it’s the Screaming Trees. Marcus Graham said you’re—”
“It doesn’t matter what he said,” Sam interrupts me. “Why are you still doing this, Julie? We talked about this. And yet you’re still holding on to my music and my life when I told you there’s no point anymore. Why can’t you accept the fact that—”
“That what—you’re dead?”
A silence. I swallow hard, waiting for his response. When I sense there isn’t going to be one, I continue, my voice sharper. “I have accepted it. I accepted it a while ago.”
“It doesn’t seem that way,” Sam says. “It seems like you’re stuck on this idea that I might be coming back or something. Ever since we started talking again, it’s like you can’t seem to let me go anymore. And I’m just worried—”
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” I say back, suddenly furious. “And let me remind you, you’re the one who picked up the phone in the first place.”