Miss Me When I'm Gone

chapter 44



“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam demanded. “We could’ve gone together. We could’ve shared the driving.”

I slipped my shampoo into my canvas bag. “Because I knew you had that thing with your boss this weekend. You’ve been talking about it for weeks.”

“I can’t get out of it,” he said, pulling himself up on the bed next to my bag.

“I know. That’s what I’m trying to explain. That’s why I didn’t ask. But I really need to go this weekend.”

Sam watched me as I waddled around the room, looking for my one pair of maternity tights.

“I’ve made several appointments to talk to various people. And my time when I can travel is really running out.”

“How about you postpone it just till next weekend? We could make it into, like, a babymoon.”

I straightened and looked up from my packing.

“A babymoon, Sam?”

“Yeah, it’s when the new parents go away for a romantic trip before—”

“I know what it is. I’m just surprised to hear you say it. Trust me. Emerson, New Hampshire, is not a very romantic place.”

Sam was silent.

“Besides, I think that babymoon thing is for yuppie parents, you know?” I reassured him.

“That’s not what we are?”

I slapped one more shirt into my bag and zipped it up. “God, I hope not. Don’t even joke about that.”

“Wow, Jamie. What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” I repeated. “What’s wrong with me?”

I was, on some level, only pretending to be offended by the question. Because it was actually a reasonable one. I just didn’t know how to answer it.

“Nothing is wrong with me. One of my best friends died six weeks ago and I need to do this for her. How’s that?”

“Do you need to do it right now? Do you need to do it this weekend? Is that really what Gretchen would have wanted?”

I rolled my eyes at the second question. I never liked this assumption—that once someone died, “what they would’ve wanted” suddenly becomes sensible, altruistic, knowable. I wasn’t sure Gretchen’s desires had ever been any of those things.

“How about this,” I said, taking Sam’s hand. “I’ll do this trip this weekend. Then next weekend, not a word about Gretchen’s book. We’ll go away together for a night, maybe to that bed-and-breakfast we liked in the Berkshires? Something like that. Make it a real break for both of us.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s not necessary. It’s not about me needing a vacation. And I would never ask you to stop talking about Gretchen.”

Sam stood up and picked up my bag for me. “If you need to do this, I can’t ask you to stay. I guess I should let you go now if you don’t want to be driving in the dark.”

We walked down to the front door together. I said nothing, as Sam’s resignation was making me feel terrible—no less resolved, but terrible nonetheless.

“Promise me you’ll call as soon as you get there?” he said after he’d tossed my bag into my backseat.

“Promise,” I said, kissing him.