You've Reached Sam (82)

“I guess you’re right,” I say. “It just wasn’t part of the plan. None of this was…” Getting rejected from Reed. Having to stay in Ellensburg. Losing Sam.

“Plans don’t always work out how we expect them to.”

“I’m learning that…” I say, resting my head against the window. “Don’t put too much effort into things. You’ll only end up being disappointed.”

“That’s a bit pessimistic,” my mother says. “Sure, life ends up more complicated than we want. But you figure it out.”

I sigh. “You’d think at least one thing would work out, though,” I say. “Sometimes I wish I could skip a few years into the future to see where I end up. So I don’t waste all this time planning things out, only to have none of it go right.”

“That’s not a way to live life,” my mother says, her hands gripping the wheel. “Always worrying about what comes next, instead of living in the moment. I see this in a lot of my students. And I’m seeing it in you…” She looks at me. “You’re living ahead of yourself, Julie. Making decisions, and wanting things done, only to set up the future.”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

“Life will pass right by you,” she says, her eyes focused on the road. “And you end up missing the little things, the moments you don’t think matter—but they do. Moments that make you forget about everything else. Just like with your writing,” she adds out of nowhere. “You don’t write to get to the end. You write because you enjoy doing it. You write and don’t want it to end. Does that make some sense?”

“I guess so…” I think about this. But what if I don’t like the moment I’m living in?

When we finally pull into the parking lot, my mother shuts off the car and leans back in her seat. Her fingers tap against the wheel. “Is there anything else on your mind?” she asks after some silence. “You know you can always talk to me.”

I stare out the window again. It’s been a while since I opened up to her. About what’s really going on in my life. Maybe it’s time I change that. “It’s Sam…” I tell her. “I’m still thinking about him. About how he won’t get to finish school or graduate with us, you know? I mean, how am I supposed to think about college and the rest of my life, when his was cut so short? I know it’s not good for me. But I keep wishing he was still here.”

My mother turns to me, and runs a hand through my hair. “I do, too,” she says softly. “And I wish I knew what to say to make things better, or at least tell you how to go through this, Julie. But the truth is, no one experiences grief the same way, and we all come out of it differently. It’s okay to wish for those things, and even imagine him here with you. Because those moments inside our heads are just as real as anything else.” She taps her forehead. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise…”

I look at her, my head slightly titled, wondering what she means. For a second, I almost ask if she knows about the calls, but I don’t. “I know I have to say good-bye soon,” I say. “But I don’t think I can let him go.”

My mother nods silently. Before we leave the car, she wipes a tear from my eye, and whispers, “Then you shouldn’t. You should keep him with you. Help him live on somehow.”



* * *



My mother’s words stay with me for the rest of the week. I try not to stress too much about things that haven’t happened yet, and try to enjoy my final days as a senior. Oliver brings me and Jay to a party near the lake on Saturday, and the three of us go hiking the next morning. Mika got accepted after being waitlisted at Emory University, and will be moving to Atlanta at the end of the summer. Even though I’m so thrilled for her, I hate that we’ll be so far away from one another. But she says she’ll come back for Thanksgiving and Christmas break, and I promise to visit her once I save up some money. At least Oliver will be studying at Central with me. We went through the course catalog the other day, looking for classes to take together. Maybe it won’t be so bad there. Especially if I get into the screenwriting class. I email Professor Guilford, and he tells me to show up the first day, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed. And my mother’s right. I can still transfer after two years if my grades are good enough. I could even apply to Reed College again. I have to stay cautiously optimistic.



* * *





* * *



It is the night of graduation. Blue and white balloons float along the chain-link fence of our football field as families file into the bleachers of the stadium. My mom and dad are sitting together somewhere in the middle of the crowd with Tristan and Mr. Lee. The band is in full uniform, playing a mess of unrecognizable songs so loud it’s hard to hear anything else. After they finish with what I believe is the national anthem, the ceremony begins with a performance from our choir, featuring a beautiful solo from Yuki. I stand up on my chair and cheer her name at the end. A few speeches are made, the music changes, and it’s time to for us to walk. Oliver was supposed to walk with Sam, so the school lets him stand in between me and Mika as we march, arms linked, toward the stage. Beneath each of our gowns is something that belongs to Sam, in memory of him. Oliver is wearing the plaid shirt, Mika one of his sweaters, and me his Radiohead T-shirt. Maybe it’s all in my head, but it feels like the crowd cheers the loudest for us.