You've Reached Sam (74)

I turn to see his arm disappear through a slit in the back of the tent. How did I not realize who he was? No wonder he was so curious about my interest in the band. As I watch him leave, a sudden thought occurs to me. I need to talk to him again. This is my only chance.

I leave Tristan with his friends and rush out of the tent to find him. It’s incredible how much sound the canvas can block from the outside. The cold shift from the night air sends a shiver through me, making my ears pop.

“Wait!” I shout from behind him.

The man stops walking. He turns around, looking for the voice. It’s only the two of us out here. He adjusts his glasses. “Something the matter?” he asks.

It takes me a second to think of what to say. “I’m sorry! For not recognizing you earlier.”

“No worries,” he says with a chuckle. “You won’t be the last.”

“My boyfriend. He would have loved to have met you. He’s a really big fan,” I say. “His name is Sam.”

“You mentioned him. Too bad he couldn’t make it,” he says, turning to leave.

I step forward. “He’s a musician, too,” I go on. “He plays the guitar, and even writes his own music. You guys really inspired him.”

“That’s nice, kid.”

I reach into my bag. “I have one of his CDs,” I say. “It would mean a lot if you listened to it.” Once I find the CD, I hold it out to him. “Some of the songs aren’t finished. But he’s really talented.”

The man puts his hands up. “Sorry, kid. But I make it a rule not to take unsolicited music. Industry policy.”

I step forward, holding the CD out closer. “Please, just listen to it. It would mean so much to him.”

He waves a hand in the air. “I said I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Please—”

“Have a good rest of your night,” he says firmly, and walks off.

I stand there with my arm hanging in the air, as a cold night chill sends a shiver through me, and I feel my entire body begin to shake.

I can’t let this chance slip away. I have to stop him. I have to do this for Sam. But the man is about to walk off forever.

“He’s dead!” I gasp. The words rip through my throat. “He’s dead!” When I realize what I’m actually saying, I can’t contain myself. “That’s why he couldn’t make it. That’s why he isn’t here. Because he died. He died few weeks ago—”

Tears form behind my eyes as my throat swells up. It’s been a long time since I heard myself say anything like this. Maybe because I stopped believing it.

The man stops walking. He turns around and looks at me. There’s a silence before he says something. “His name was Sam, you said?”

I nod silently as I wipe my cheeks with my hands, trying to stop myself from crying.

“And he played the guitar?”

“Yes,” I say through a cracked voice.

He steps toward me, holding out a hand. “Alright then. I’ll take a listen.”

“Thank you so much.”

I hand him the CD. But he can’t even take it from me. My grip is too strong.

He looks at me. “Is something wrong?”

“I … I just realized this is the only copy I have,” I say. “I don’t have a lot of his things left.”

He lets go of the CD. “Tell you what, why don’t you email it to me,” he suggests. “That way, I won’t lose it and I can respond to you.” He takes out his wallet and hands me his card. “Take care now.”

I watch him disappear into the parking lot. I don’t head back inside. The CD is clenched tightly in my hands. I couldn’t even let it go. A stupid CD. Just like the lantern. I wanted to let go of everything but I can’t even let go of this. How am I supposed to let go of Sam?

There’s something on the ground. I glance down. It’s Tristan’s rose. I didn’t even notice I dropped it.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


The sound of a piano fills the room as I set the table. I smooth out the tablecloth, place down matching ceramic plates, and light a candle. Cardboard boxes are stacked side by side at my feet. I lift one to the counter as I continue unpacking. Silverware tied with twine, coffee mugs, and wooden spoons. At some point, the music changes without me noticing, to “Kiss the Rain” by Yiruma. His song sounds like drops of water falling softly on clay rooftops in the spring. As I touch the drawer handle, I feel someone there behind me. Familiar hands move along my waist, and the warmth from them makes me go still. Then a kiss on my neck as I shut my eyes …

“How about we take a break…” Sam whispers.

We just moved into our new apartment. The floorboards creak and iron pipes snake along the ceiling. Exactly how we imagined it. The place is unfurnished, a bit worn down, and in need of some renovations. But it’s full of potential. Just like us.

I touch his hands. “Sam, we’ve barely started. And there’s so much left to do.”

Sam kisses me on the neck again. “There’s nothing wrong with taking our time…”

The music continues to play. Outside the windows is nothing but clouds and clouds, like we’re suspended in the sky.

I turn around and take him in—dark eyes a shade lighter than his hair, slender lips that curve gently into a smile. I can’t help myself. I bring my hands up to touch his face so I can remember every detail. I take in the contrast of our skin, his golden cheeks against my pale fingers. As I run a hand through his soft wisps of hair, he pulls me in for a longer kiss, and my mind erases everything else in the world except us.