You've Reached Sam(41)

We are no longer talking about Audrey.

“Maybe you’re right. It was only a thought.”

We reach the corner that splits our path home. A hedge of white roses peeks over a fence beside us.

“Sorry to kill the mood again,” Oliver says.

“It’s alright. I get it.”

“Thanks for seeing the movie with me.”

“I’m glad I went.”

Before we part ways, Oliver notices the roses. He leans forward to touch one.

“Careful,” I say. “It might bite.”

He smiles as he plucks a rose from the hedge. For a second, I think he might give it to me. But he doesn’t. He just holds on to it.

“Heading home then?” I ask.

“Eventually,” he says. “Have to make a stop somewhere first.”

“Where?”

“Nowhere special.”

We say our good-byes. Back at home, I get started on schoolwork. I do as much as I can for the rest of the night, but it’s hard to focus. I can’t stop thinking about what Oliver said. About how you can’t have two endings to something. About how you could have multiple versions of someone, but only one can be the original. Maybe Oliver’s right. I don’t want a different version of Sam. I want the one I lost. The one I’m still somehow connected to, even though it’s only his voice over the phone.

I wish I could call Sam right now, but I know I shouldn’t. As much as I miss talking to him, I have a hundred things to focus on—schoolwork, graduation, getting my life back together. We have a phone call planned for tomorrow. He said he has another surprise for me. I fall asleep late, wondering where we’re going to meet next.





CHAPTER NINE

Sam’s voice comes to me in my sleep. It fills the crevices of my mind.

“Where are you, Julie …

… why can’t I find you?”

A lamp above me flickers on. I’m standing in a soft glow of light, surrounded by darkness. I can’t see anything around me. I can’t hear anything, except the buzzing of the lamp above my head. There’s a suitcase beside me. When mist moves across my shoes, I realize I’m dreaming again. A part of me is trying to wake up. The other part is curious to see a different ending.

And then my phone rings, as expected.

I feel around my pockets, but nothing’s there. I don’t know where my phone is. How am I supposed to answer?

The phone keeps ringing. I can’t tell where it’s coming from. I feel around the floor in case I dropped it.

Where is it? I’m running out of time.

Suddenly, a surge of light zooms through the darkness, blasting cold air at me, and my heart jolts. I rise up in time to see taillights, the sputter of smoke from a muffler, and the vanishing silhouette of a truck.

My throat closes as I stand there, watching. I know exactly where it’s heading. And I need to get there first. I have to get to Sam before it’s too late.

The suitcase falls over as I rush into the darkness, racing after the taillights. But it’s too fast for me. I’ll never reach it in time. Then I notice something. A rope tied to the back of the truck. I seize it at once, grabbing hold of it tight.

It’s a guitar string! I pull it with all my strength, digging my feet into the ground. The string tenses in my grip as the truck stalls in the distance, honking furiously, its taillights flashing violently. This isn’t superhuman strength. It’s the strength born out of fear and desperation.

When I feel the ground softening beneath me, I glance down and see water rising up to my knees. But I keep on pulling with everything I have until water reaches my waist, and my feet feel like they’re about to slip. The truck keeps honking, and I keep pulling and pulling the guitar string—until finally it breaks, and I go crashing back into my bed.

I wake up crying in the middle of the night. Since I can’t go back to sleep, I call Sam, hoping he picks up. As soon as he does, I ask if that was him trying to reach me in my dream. If it was him trying to send me a message.

“I’m sorry, Jules … but that wasn’t me. It was only a dream.”

“Are you sure?” I say hopefully. “Maybe my dreams are another place we can find each other.”

“I wish that could be true. But I think we’re connected only through our phones.”

Only through our phones.

My lip trembles. “It felt so real, though, Sam. It felt like … I had another chance, you know?”

“Another chance at what?”

I don’t answer this. I’m afraid to know what he’ll think. I’m afraid he’ll tell me what I don’t want to hear. Not right now.

Sam exhales. “It’s just a dream, Jules. You should try to get some rest, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow. I have another surprise for you.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Whenever I call Sam out of the blue, our conversation doesn’t last long.

It always takes him a while to pick up, and when he does, his voice sometimes fades in and out, like he’s moving around, searching for a signal.

I’m not sure why this is. If we want to keep a strong connection, I’ve learned we have to plan out our calls and make them at the right time and place. Even though I’m allowed to call whenever I need him, Sam says I have to be cautious about how often I make the calls. I think about this. Is there a limited number of calls we have left? Are we running out? I wish I knew how this all worked.