I sit cross-legged, my back up against the gravestone, my head tilted back so that I can see the stars.
“Last week, Jackson told me he wanted to kiss me. I immediately thought of you, of course. I had to explain to him that he couldn’t kiss me because I’m his babysitter. He didn’t believe that was actually why and accused me of having a boyfriend and that was why I wouldn’t kiss him. I don’t know where a nine-year-old gets these ideas.” I turn towards the granite, expecting Sam’s amused expression but stop myself. It is so hard to remember that he isn’t right next to him.
I pinch my eyes closed, conjuring up his face, but it is so much harder than it used to be. I know he is fading and it terrifies me.
“You were the last person I kissed, you’d be happy to know. Or maybe it’s just sad. But it’s your fault, you ruined me. You ruined me and then you left me.”
“Snow makes me think of you,” I continue after a moment. “I’m sure you remember that day. God, it was snowing so much. Remember how you wouldn’t stop complaining? But it was a good day, wasn’t it? It was a good day,” I muse, sinking down into the memory.
“It’s snowing like balls!” Sam and Zach’s friend Peter exclaimed, peering out the glass front doors of the school.
“Is that even a real expression?” Sam said skeptically, but he, too, glanced outside at the snowflakes falling like rocks.
Peter ignored him and looked at me as if suddenly realizing my presence. “Where’s Zach?” He asked. If Peter had his way, I would never be hanging around him when I was with Zach he couldn’t complain. When I wasn’t, Peter always demanded a reason.
“He has hockey,” I replied automatically.
“In this weather?” Peter asked. In truth, I’d never actually verified with Zach that he did still have hockey but I wasn’t about to ask.
“I assume so,” I said, playing dumb, even though it was unlikely that any after school activities would still be on.
Peter moved on, probably deciding that he didn’t really care, “And where are you two going?”
“I’m giving her a ride home. She obviously can’t walk today,” Sam explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Peter raised his eyebrows, glancing back and forth between us. “Well,” he finally said, “I hope you two have a ball.”
“Pete, I think you have an unhealthy preoccupation with balls,” Sam said before we walked out into the storm. There was no exaggeration as to how hard it really was snowing. If Sam said anything, I didn’t hear him, the wind roared through my ears and snowflakes stung my cheeks as we darted to his car.
The windshield wipers swiped ferociously ahead of us, just barely moving the snow caking onto the windshield. “Are you sure you can drive alright?” I asked. “It’s kind of hard to see.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said, but even so the car began to slip off the road. He gripped the wheel tighter and slowed down.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go too far,” I continued.
He pulled over and looked at me, “Well, where should we go then.” Anywhere near the school was off limits, but in this weather anywhere not near the school was impossible. I started to frown, thinking that maybe Sam really would just be driving me home.
He studied my face, “What about one of our houses?” I started to object, as much as I wanted to spend the afternoon with Sam I couldn’t bear having him in my house. But he continued, “You could come over. My dad works.”
I was actually nervous as we pulled into Sam’s driveway. I’d never seen his house before and the way he talked about it made me think of this dark, lonely place. It was surprisingly charming, a blue split level, with a big lawn now covered with a sheet of snow. Crystalized trees framed the house and I couldn’t help but imagine this place in the spring time, full of life.
“Home sweet home,” Sam muttered sarcastically, swinging open the door. We stepped into the small entrance hallway and began to brush the snow off ourselves, I could feel the warmth rushing back into my cheeks and hands.
“Do you want something to eat?” Sam said, but before I could give an answer, a voice called from the other room.
“Sam? Is that you?” The voice was deep, a mans voice.
Sam tensed and moved slowly to an archway that I imagined led into the living room. “I thought you were at work.”
The voice answered, “I was but they told us to go home because of the weather. I thought you were at school.”
“It’s three o’clock,” Sam answered caustically. He turned towards me and gestured towards the kitchen, where I went, catching a glimpse of a figure lying on the couch with his feet up. A football game blared on the TV screen. I figured that it must be Craig, Sam’s brother. Sam didn’t talk about Craig much, only to say that I was lucky that I’m an only child.
“Whattya know, it is. That’s probably why I’m starving.” There was the sound of the couch creaking, of feet hitting the floor, as Sam followed me into the kitchen.
“Sorry,” he muttered, opening the fridge. “What would you like to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” I told him, watching Craig enter the kitchen groggily. Craig was shorter and wider than Sam but his mouth and nose were inherently similar. He was wearing only boxers and his beer belly protruded over his waist line. His arms and legs were thick as if there were muscle hidden under fat.
He saw me, “And who do we have here?” He asked. “Sammy, if I had known you were bringing over a girl, I would have been a little more presentable. Of course, some girls prefer what I’m wearing now.” He winked and shrunk behind the counter. Sam just scowled as he poured the drinks.
“In my defense,” Craig continued, “It’s not very often that my baby brother has a girl in the house. Who knew you had it in you.” He nudged Sam with his elbow in a mock-playful manner, a teasing grin on his face. Sam tore away from him towards the fridge, still silent, still scowling.
Now Craig turned to me, “Don’t worry, if you get too bored my room is right down the hall. I won’t blame you, you’ll have a much better time with me. And Sammy’s used to rejection, aren’t you Sammy?” He started to nudge Sam again, as he was handing me my glass of water.
“Fuck off, Craig,” Sam said, taking my wrist and dragging me out of the kitchen. As we left, Craig winked again, sending a chill down my spine.
Sam led me into his room which completely went against the plan I had formulated on the way here, to stay in his platonic living room. There was minimal sitting place in his bedroom, we realized, glancing between the bed and the single desk chair. Finally, he collapsed onto the floor, throwing down his backpack. I sat beside him, hesitantly.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, facing the floor.
“It’s okay,” I told him. He shook his head, as if to disagree. I reached for my bag and pulled out a binder. I had assumed that we would be watching TV but obviously that wasn’t happening. I took out a packet I had to read for history but Sam didn’t move. He just sat there, looking at the floor. “Seriously,” I said, moving towards him. “Don’t worry about it! Nobody has any control over there family, it‘s not something you can help.”
“I know,” he admitted. Then he said, “He thought you were my girlfriend.”
My chest tightened. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” I said instinctively, before instantly regretting it.
“So what are you saying? That it doesn’t matter that it seems like we are dating-”
“No-”
“-you still don’t want to date me?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then why won’t you break up with him?”
I will, I kept saying, I will soon, but I still couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t even justify it. Because I was nervous as to how Zach would react, because I didn’t have a reason I could admit to him, because being Zach’s girlfriend was a title I prided in having, because technically I hadn’t actually cheated on him... any or all of those reasons. I didn’t know.
“It’s like I don’t matter to you,” he said tersely, starting to stand up.
I grabbed his arm, pulled him towards me, “Of course you matter!” He started to pull away again but I dragged him back onto the floor. Before he could say anything else, I pressed my mouth to his. He softened, practically melting beneath me. I had my hands on his cheeks, grabbing for more. His hands found my back as he kissed me.
After what felt both like an eternity and far shorter than I would have liked, we separated. My breath came in short, quick gasps and I couldn’t find my voice.
“I love you,” he said simply. And after a moment, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to be able to say that.”
I dissolved onto the floor beside him, my breath coming rapidly. I couldn’t gather my thoughts. Part of me couldn’t believe I had just done that but, God knows I’ve been wanting to do it for a long time. One thing I did know for sure was that I would be able to respond to him with the one blaring thought in my head, “I love you, too,” I said and his fingers intwined with mine.
He leaned over and kissed my jaw bone, my neck, my lips, my cheeks. I didn’t move, just let him come towards me, let his hands settle on my lower back. It felt so good, yet so fragile, dangerous. His lips met mine and I kissed him, again. Slower, less frantic than the first time. Perfect.
With no warning, the door swung open, only to get stopped by Sam’s backpack with a thud. Craig stood in the doorway, a phone in his hand. He glanced between me and Sam, who had flung off me at the sound like I’d burned him.
“Dad says he’s going to be home late and we are on our own for dinner,” Craig said, expressionless, before closing the door as abruptly as he’d opened it. Sam and I looked at each other, both of us still startled by the interruption. His expression was so shocked, it was almost comical. I laughed. His mouth opened into a smile and suddenly he was laughing, too. God, it felt good to laugh together.
I smile, my head still tilted upwards to the stars. “I don’t even know what was so funny about it,” I say. “Yet it still makes me smile.”
“I wish I’d been able to express myself better, you know. I don’t think you really ever knew how much you meant to me. I was just so scared and confused. There were times when I just wanted to get in your car and drive to Canada or Florida or California or some place so that we wouldn’t have to deal with all that shit and it could just be us. You probably wouldn’t believe it, because I was so good at hiding it and acting like all I wanted was a friend.”
“I still think about it. I still think about every single word you said to me that day. I wish I could have fixed it. Even then I was scared. I knew you were wrong, my feelings for Zach weren’t even in the same universe as my feelings for you, I knew that, but I didn’t know how to convey that to you. You were so angry.”
I heard what you did. He’s my friend, you didn’t think he would tell me when he kissed you. He really thinks he has a shot at winning you back. How is that supposed to make me feel?
I pinch my eyes closed. I don’t want to remember this; the last conversation we’d ever had.
For weeks I’ve had to listen to him mope about you and how he doesn’t understand why you ended it. It makes me feel this awful, twisted guilt, especially because the only comfort is that I have you all to myself.
Was it all a lie? Are you going to go behind my back with him now? Is this all some vicious cycle?
I don’t know how I am supposed to believe you.
My eyes start to well up, this was the memory I tried to avoid. I screwed up so badly. “I wish you could understand that that was never my intention. I didn’t kiss him back. I shoved him away. I told him to forget about it. You wouldn’t believe me then? Do you believe me now?”
Case, I love you too much. I don’t know what to do.
“Those were your last words, you know. The last thing you ever said to me. I didn’t even have a chance to say them back because you were gone so fast. I never got the chance to apologize, to explain. You were gone so fast.”
My eyes blurred as I tried desperately to focus on my math homework. The pencil trembled in my hand. What he said wasn’t true. I wasn’t playing games. I groaned, pressing my face into my hands.
I had to make this better. I would show him, anyway I could, how much he really matters. I lifted up my phone, opened up to our last conversation. It was from yesterday, we had been talking about this commercial on TV. Yesterday seemed like years ago, yesterday he wasn’t mad at me.
i cant live without you
I typed the letters carefully, stared at the blinking cursor as my eyes teared up. But no, this wasn’t the way to make it up to him, theres no way I can express my feelings in a text. I put my phone down on the table without deleting the message and went into the kitchen to get something to eat.
I came back with a box of crackers and sat back down in front of my notebook. Sam had legal in the morning, I would go there first and talk to him. It would be fine. I would be late to French if I had to.
I stared at the triangle on the paper although I had no idea how to solve for the third side and it was hard enough to focus already. Do I use sine? Cosine?
Suddenly, my phone buzzed and I practically leapt out of my seat when I saw the name. Superman.
My stomach did flips as I opened my phone, it’s as if the text couldn’t load fast enough, but as I began to read I could feel confusion wash over me.
hi casey? its craig. i have sams fone b/c he got in a accident. u mite want 2come 2the hospktal b/c i think he wud want u2.
I stared at the words, unable to comprehend. Craig was texting me? With Sam’s phone? Accident? What sort of accident? It didn’t make sense but I knew I had to get to the hospital. Craig wouldn’t have said so if it wasn’t important.
My body felt sluggish as I walked around the house, trying to figure out how I could get to the hospital. My mother was out getting her hair done and going out to eat with the rest of her divorced women friends. She’d gotten a ride, though, and the car was still in the driveway. My eyes landed on the keys.
Physically, I could drive. Legally, not so much. I’d gotten my Learners Permit a couple months ago but I still had a couple months before I could get my license. I reread the text again, my hands shaking so hard the words blurred. I pressed end so that the message disappeared, making way for the draft I had started earlier, i cant live without you.
Without another thought, I grabbed the keys and burst out the door. My whole body was shaking as the I put the car into reverse, pulling out of the driveway and onto the neighbors lawn. Shit. But I kept going, switching into drive now and roaring down the street. I tried not to imagine what kind of accident Sam had gotten into, I tried not to imagine him lying in a hospital bed. I focused on driving.
I burst through the automatic double doors of the hospital and found myself in the shockingly calm waiting room. I’d half expected Craig to be there, waiting to lead me to the emergency room where I would apologize to Sam and will him to live. But the waiting room was empty except for an old man with a tube attached to his arm and a round women sitting behind the receptionist desk.
“Can I help you?” She asked me.
I turned towards her, “I, uh, need to see Sam Cowden. I think, uh, I think he got into an accident?”
She raised her eyebrows skeptically, as she began to type things into the computer, “And your name?”
“Casey Morino.”
She shook her head. It hadn’t occurred to me that they wouldn’t let me see him. “I’m sorry but we can’t allow non-family visitors at this time.”
I started to object frantically, “No! I need to! I need to see him!”
“I’m sorry-” But I wasn’t listening to her anymore, I couldn’t just not see him. I tore away from the desk, looking for a sign that would lead me to the emergency room. That’s where he would be, right?
I must have looked lost because the first doctor I passed asked me, “Can I help you find something?” She was young and she had the motherly face of a women who had not yet had children but was destined to. I felt slightly comforted by her, maybe she would help me.
“I’m looking for Sam Cowden,” I explained. “He’s probably in the emergency room, he got into an accident or something, he’s seventeen, about this tall-” I motioned with my hand, “-he’s probably with his brother or something...” I trailed off, unsure of what other information I could give.
She nodded once she was sure I was done, “I know who you are talking about, came in about 45 minutes ago.”
I could feel myself fill with excitement, “So could you tell me-”
But then her face darkened, her eyes met mine, so sympathetic that it scared me. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said, “But your friend Sam didn’t make it.”
Didn’t make it? What does that mean, didn’t make it? The doctor said something about sitting down, something else I didn’t hear because the room started to spin and my ears started to buzz. Didn’t make it? The doctor started guiding me towards a chair, right next to the old man. I looked at him, I looked at the doctor, the receptionist, all alive.
I wanted to say something, to deny it because it couldn’t be true, what does she mean, didn’t make it. I wanted an explanation. I opened my mouth to argue but before I could say a word I got sick all over the floor.
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