You've Reached Sam (55)

The sound of footsteps lets me know someone’s coming. Mika’s front door has multiple chains and locks. I listen from the other side as somebody undoes them, one after the other. The door cracks open.

Mika peeks at me through the length of a chain. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could talk,” I say.

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Mika says nothing. She just stares at me through the doorway.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

Mika considers this. Then she shuts the door on me, and I think the answer is no. But the last chain unlocks from inside, and the door opens again. Mika looks at me without a word before turning back inside. I take off my shoes and follow her into the hall.

Steam rises from the kettle as Mika goes to shut off the stove. I hang beneath the archway of the kitchen as she grabs a few things from the cupboards. I sense something different about the house. I sniff the air. Incense? It’s coming from the other room. Since Mika seems busy at the moment, I decide to follow the smell.

There is a wooden cabinet in the living room. On the middle shelf, whiffs of smoke rise from a silver bowl where the incense is burning. A beautiful bowl of fruit sits beside it. I noticed the cabinet the first time I came over to Mika’s house a few years ago. It’s always full of photographs. Portraits of people in Mika’s family whom I’ve never met. She once told me they were pictures of ancestors. She said it is a symbol of respect for the dead.

And then I see it. A picture of Sam that wasn’t there before. He’s smiling in his plaid shirt, a blue sky behind him. Something cold moves down my back, sending a shiver through me. I keep forgetting that to the rest of the world, he’s dead.

“It’s the best one I could find.”

I turn around. Mika is holding a tea tray.

“The picture,” she says. “My mom and I picked it. She said he looked handsome.”

I can’t seem to find words. I just stand there, staring at his photo.

Mika sets the tray down on the coffee table. “I was making tea before you got here,” she says.

We sit on the couch together. Mika lifts the teapot and pours me a cup without asking. I notice her left eye. It’s a little bruised. But not as bad as I’d expected.

“It’s chrysanthemum,” Mika says.

“Thank you.”

I blow on my tea. I can see Sam’s picture from where we’re sitting. It’s like he’s watching over us. I notice Mika looking at it, too.

“I wished they asked me for his picture,” she says.

“Who?”

“The school. I didn’t like the one they used in the paper. They should have asked me.”

I remember the article. It was his school photo. Sam would have hated it, too.

“The one you picked is perfect,” I tell her.

Mika nods. She takes a sip of tea.

“I’m sorry about your eye. How did that happen?”

“One of Taylor’s friends threw a purse at me when I wasn’t looking,” she says.

“I’m so sorry, Mika.”

“It was a cheap shot. But I’m okay.”

“I forgot to thank you earlier,” I say. “For sticking up for me.”

“I wasn’t doing it for you. I did it for Sam.”

I lower my gaze, unsure of what to say.

Mika blows on her tea and takes another sip. After a long silence, she says, “When I saw Taylor talk to you like that … I thought of him. I thought of what Sam would have done if he was there. He’s always better with his words than me, you know? That’s why everyone liked him better.

“Even though he’s gone…” she continues. “I keep expecting to see him again. Whenever someone comes through the door, I wonder if it’s going to be him. If it’s Sam. It’s those moments when I forget he’s gone and remember again, that I feel the most sad.” She stares into her tea. “I know you don’t like to talk about Sam, but I really miss him. I don’t know how people can let go so fast.”

“I haven’t let go,” I say.

“But you’re trying to.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true anymore.” That was me two weeks ago. Everything’s different now that I’m connected to Sam again. If only she knew this.

“It doesn’t matter anymore if you do,” Mika says, looking at Sam’s portrait again. “Sometimes, I wish I stopped thinking about him, too. I don’t care about the vigil. I don’t even care that you missed it. But you were so busy trying to forget him that you were willing to forget me. You forget there were three of us. It wasn’t just you and Sam. I was a part of that, too…” She pauses, and looks at her phone on the edge of the coffee table. “I know this will sound stupid, but I still read through our group messages. Between the three of us. I thought about sending something the other day, just to keep it alive, you know? So that it wouldn’t just end … But I couldn’t. Because I was scared neither of you would answer. And I don’t want to be alone in there—” Her voice breaks, sending a pain to my chest. I deleted our group chat. It never once occurred to me that I was deleting Mika, too. I want to say something to fix this, but I know there are no words good enough.