You've Reached Sam (68)

“What’s wrong with the Ferris wheel?”

“Nothing. It’s just a little high up, that’s all.”

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Then let’s go.”

The Ferris wheel somehow seems taller when you’re standing beneath it. We hand someone our tickets and step into our windowless gondola. Sam takes a few deep breaths. He’s a bit jittery all of a sudden. When we hear the mechanism coming to life and feel the Ferris wheel begin to move, Sam grabs my hand.

“Are you gonna be okay?” I ask.

“Yeah … totally fine…” He laughs a bit nervously.

The ground slowly disappears as we move toward the sky.

Sam takes another deep breath. I give his hand a squeeze.

“You know, I used to be afraid of heights, too,” I say.

“Really? And how did you get over it?”

The gondola shakes as we make our way back up for the second loop. Sam twitches in his seat.

“You have to close your eyes first,” I say, as I do this myself. “Are they closed?”

“Yeah.”

“Mine, too.”

“Okay. And then what?”

“And then you pretend you’re somewhere else,” I say. “Anywhere in the world that makes you forget where you are. It doesn’t even have to be a real place. It can be somewhere in your imagination.”

“Like from a daydream?”

“Exactly.”

The Ferris wheel continues to move. But it feels different with your eyes closed.

“So where are you?” I ask.

Sam takes a moment to think. “I’m in a new apartment … that you and I just moved into … and there’s a park right outside the window … and we have a record playing in the living room … and there are boxes everywhere that need unpacking…” He squeezes my hand. “Where are you?”

“I think I’m there, too,” I whisper.

I sense him smiling.

“I don’t want to open my eyes,” Sam says.

But the ride is about to come to its end. I can feel it. I squeeze my eyes tighter, hoping to stop time or at least slow it down. Because I don’t want to open mine, either. I don’t want to lose him. I want to keep them shut and live in this memory of us forever. I don’t want to open my eyes and see a world without Sam.

But sometimes you just wake up. No matter how hard you try not to.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


NOW

The breeze ruffles the blinds whenever a car passes by the house. I’m lying on the living room sofa with the television turned off, staring out the window. I haven’t left this spot in I don’t know how long. My phone has been buzzing with text messages all day. So I shut it off. It’s Sunday evening, the day after we released the lanterns. Everyone’s been trying to reach me, but I’m too embarrassed about what happened. I just want to stay wrapped up in my blanket for the rest of the weekend. That shouldn’t be too much to ask. Some silence from the world. My mother left me a cup of tea that’s gone cold on the coffee table, along with some fruit snacks and a candle that I just blew out. The smell of vanilla was giving me a headache.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said before she left the house. “There’s some brie in the fridge. Go easy on it.”

I finished the brie a few hours ago. I just woke up from a nap, and can’t seem to fall asleep again. Outside the window, the sky is a glowing amethyst, like the one my mom keeps on her nightstand. Through the blinds I watch the sky fade to the color of bruised skin as I hear the sound of sprinklers coming on on the lawns. Around six o’clock there’s a knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting any guests today, so I don’t bother answer it. But the knocking continues. I turn on my side, refusing to get up. Leave me alone. Then the lock clicks as someone opens the door.

I look up from the arm of the sofa as Mika appears in the living room.

She looks at me. Her voice is soft. “Hey. How have you been?”

I blink at her, wondering how she got in. “When did you get a key?”

“Your mom dropped it off. She said to check in on you at some point. Hope that’s okay.”

“I guess…”

I was hoping not to face her for a few days. I don’t want to talk about what came over me last night. Chasing after the lantern, as if it was Sam. Why can’t we pretend it didn’t happen? Spare me the intervention.

There are wrappers all over the coffee table, spilling to the carpet. “I wasn’t expecting company. Sorry it’s a mess.”

“That’s alright,” Mika says. “I should have called first.” She checks her phone and looks at me. “You know, the film festival is about to start soon. Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Because I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just not in the mood,” I say. I pull the blanket up, hoping she takes the hint.

“You’re really gonna do that to Tristan?” Mika asks. She stands there, watching me pretend to sleep. “He’s probably waiting for you. Have you even checked your phone?”

“It’s not a big deal. He’ll understand.”