You've Reached Sam (45)

There is a long silence as Sam takes this in. He doesn’t say anything during or after but I feel him there on the phone, listening. I’m surprised he even let me say all of this. I don’t know if that was what he expected to hear, but he asked for the truth.

The rest of the night is like this. I lie there in the fields, on the phone with him for what feels like forever. We don’t say anything else. We just quietly live in this imaginary world where everything I wish for is still a beautiful possibility.





CHAPTER TEN


When I wake up in the morning, something is different. I sense the warmth of someone beside me. But when my hand moves across the sheets to find them, no one is there. It’s only me again. I rub my eyes until the walls of my bedroom come into focus. Streaks of light glimmer across the ceiling like sunlight on water. If it wasn’t for the thin window curtain, I wouldn’t know it was daylight out. It’s one of those mornings where you don’t know how much time has passed since you fell asleep. Hours or days, I’m not sure. I have to check the clock on my phone to orient myself for the day. It’s Saturday. 9:14 in the morning. None of this seems right, but there’s no point in arguing with it.

I sit up on the bed, and glance around the room. The chair at my desk is turned to face me, Sam’s shirt still hanging behind it. Sometimes, I like to pretend he’s in the bathroom, or grabbing some water downstairs, and is about to come back. Anytime now. It makes me feel less alone when we’re not on the phone together. I stretch my arms toward the ceiling. Sometimes my hair gets tangled in my sleep, so I run my fingers through to straighten it out. The smell of barley comes through, and I remember. The golden fields. Was that really last night? If I close my eyes, I can see it again. It’s strange to be back in my room with nothing but the memory of it. Like waking up from a dream, and having no one there to talk about it with.

Another world, another life, another thing to keep to myself.

I couldn’t sleep well. I had the same dream where I’m back at the bus station, looking for Sam again. It wasn’t quite as bad this time, but I’m still a bit shaken from it. I wish I could talk to someone about the dreams. Someone besides Sam, I mean. After everything I said to him last night, I don’t want to give him more to worry about. There are things I should probably keep inside.

I stay curled in bed until a third alarm goes off, reminding me to start the day. My mother left me half a pot of coffee downstairs. I finish two cups and a bowl of cereal. An hour later, I meet Oliver outside on the porch. He texted me this morning, inviting me on another walk. But we have a different destination this time. It’s Oliver’s idea. I wasn’t sure about it at first, but I said yes anyway. We’re on our way to Sam’s grave.

The clouds are out this afternoon. Oliver and I take the long route to avoid the crowds in town. When I tell him I’ve never visited Sam’s grave before, he doesn’t judge me. Maybe he already guessed this. Maybe he understands why I’m afraid to see it. As memorial hill rises into view, my stomach turns to knots. A few steps before we reach the iron gates, something stops me. Just like before …

Oliver looks back. “You alright there?”

“I just need a second—” I don’t know what else to say. I stare at the iron bars of the opened gate, wondering if this is a mistake. Don’t be scared, Julie. That’s not Sam up there. He’s still with you. You haven’t lost him yet.

“It’ll be okay. Here…” Oliver holds out a hand. “We’re going in together.”

I take a deep breath, squeezing his hand tight. Together we pass under the gates, and make our way up the hill. Oliver leads me through grass lined with grave markers and pinwheels. I step around them carefully, out of respect. I would have never been able to find Sam’s grave on my own. The grass seems to go on forever, spreading in every direction. It isn’t until Oliver stops and releases my hand that I realize we’re here. He steps around the stone marker, letting me see it better.

SAMUEL OBAYASHI

My body goes still. I read it to myself a few times.

He never liked the name Samuel. He would have wanted it to say Sam.

Sunflowers bloom from the vase in the center of the stone. They look fresh and beautiful, as if someone recently brought them here. A petal has fallen over his name, so I kneel down to brush it off. Then I notice something else in the vase.

A single white rose sticks out of the sunflowers. I touch it gently. It takes me a second to remember. “Is this one from you?” I ask Oliver.

“Yeah…”

My mind flashes back to that night we saw the movie together. “So this is where you went after…”

“I stopped by.”

I look at him. “How often do you come here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Oliver shrugs. “Maybe too often.”

I take a few steps back and stare at the grass. The space beneath the gravestone. Is that where Sam is supposed to be? I imagine him sleeping peacefully down there, because I can’t picture him dead. This is surreal. I was just on the phone with him. I swallow hard and look at Oliver. “Should I … say something? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…”

“You don’t have to. We can just hang out here for a little while.”

We sit on the grass together. The air feels eerily still, as if the wind doesn’t reach this place. I haven’t felt a single breeze since we entered. The trees around us are as inanimate as if they’re made of stone. I keep glancing over my shoulder. We seem to be the only two out here this afternoon.