You've Reached Sam(27)

“So what’s it like at school?” Sam asks. “Is everything … different?”

“You mean, without you there?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess so,” I say. “I’ve only been back a few days. But I hate that you’re not there anymore. I don’t like sitting beside an empty chair, you know?”

“Are people talking about me?”

I think about this. “I don’t know. I don’t really talk to anyone.”

“Oh … Okay.”

There’s something in his voice. A note of sadness? “I’m sure people still think about you, though,” I add. “They have photos of you in the front office and in some of the hallways. I always see them when I come in.

People haven’t forgotten you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Sam says nothing. I wish I knew what he was thinking. As I sit there in silence, thinking about people from school, a question comes to me. “Are you talking to anyone else, Sam?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, on the phone. Like this.”

“No. Only you.”

“How come?”

Sam takes a moment. “You’re the only one who called me.”

I consider this. “Does that mean if someone else had called you, you would have picked up for them, too?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why is that?”

“Because our connection is different,” he says. “And maybe I was waiting for your call. In a way.”

“Could it be something else?” I ask.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” I say, suddenly thinking about it. “Maybe there’s something you’re supposed to tell me. Or maybe there’s something you need me to do…”

“Or maybe I wanted to pick up, and make sure you were okay,” Sam says. “Is that so hard to believe?”

I lean back against the bench and take this in. “How long do we have this for?”

“It won’t be forever. If that’s what you’re asking.”

I was afraid he would tell me this. I swallow hard. “So that means one day, you won’t pick up anymore?”

“Don’t worry. We would say good-bye first, okay? We’ll know when it’s going to happen before it does.”

“You won’t just leave again?”

“I promise, Julie. I’ll stay as long as I can.”

I shut my eyes for a moment and try to find comfort in this. I don’t ask Sam any more questions. I don’t want it to ruin this beautiful day. A breeze stirs petals along the grass. When I open my eyes, I look up through the branches and catch the sun glimmering like silver coins through the cherry blossoms.

“I wish you were here with me,” I whisper.

“I wish I were there, too.”

The sun has set by the time I get home. I was on the phone with Sam for so long, I lost track of the day. I wanted to call again once I got back to my room, but he said we should wait until tomorrow. This is probably for the best. Even though school is the last thing on my mind, I have so much work to catch up on. I’m so behind on all my readings, they’ve piled up on my desk. It’s a struggle to focus. I barely get through one chapter of my history book when a crack at the window jolts my head up. A second later, there’s another crack as a rock comes flying into the room, bouncing across the floor. I rush to the window and look out.

A tall figure moves across the driveway. A familiar one.

“Oliver? Is that you?”

Down below, Oliver stands in his letterman jacket, waving up at me.

“Hey—what’s up?”

I give him a look. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just passing by,” he says, shrugging casually. “Thought I’d say hi. Hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Oliver—you threw a rock at my window.”

“Right, my bad, that was totally rude of me…” he says, holding both hands in the air as if surrendering to something. He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“Do you need something?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No. Not at all. I mean, maybe. Sort of … Yes? I mean no. I mean—”

“Just spit it out.”

Oliver drops his shoulders and sighs. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to go on a walk or something.”

“Right now?”

“I mean, unless you’re busy.”

“Kind of.”

“Oh…”

I don’t think that was the answer he was expecting. He looks around in the dark, a bit flustered.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Oliver shrugs. “No, it’s okay. I guess I’ll head on home then…” He half turns, facing the street as if he’s about to head off. But he doesn’t. Instead, he just stands there frozen in this pose that looks like he’s about to leave. I wait a bit longer but nothing happens.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

He drops his head, looking miserable. “I really need someone to talk to,” he says.

I glance at the schoolwork on my desk and then back at Oliver. “Okay, fine. I’ll be right down. Just don’t make any more noise.”