I stared out into the blackness for a while and tried to process what Sam had said. He had felt like it was his fault too when his dad died. But what could he have done to stop a stroke?
It was different for me. There were a thousand things I could have done to change the outcome that day. I could have gotten up earlier that morning. I could have taken less time in the bathroom. I could have chosen not to deliberately annoy Logan. I could have looked up a second sooner in the car and seen the SUV barreling toward us. I could have warned my dad before it was too late.
If I’d done any of those things, my dad would still be alive.
But I knew Sam wouldn’t understand that or would try to talk me out of it, the way Dr. Schiff did whenever we touched on the topic. So instead, as I did with her, I changed the subject. “The anniversary is in three weeks,” I said. I looked out in the blackness of the night and tried to focus on one of the porch lights across the river. Sometimes, if I stared into the darkness long enough, I could see the shape of my dad’s face in the shadows, his familiar form coming out of the blackness. But not tonight.
“The anniversary of the accident?” Sam asked.
I nodded. “November fifteenth,” I said. “It’s weird thinking it’s been a whole year.”
Sam slipped his arm around my shoulder and scooted a little closer so that the sides of our bodies were pressed together. I should have felt nervous, or at least that tingly, anticipatory feeling of being with someone I really liked. But instead, all I could think about was my dad.
“You must miss him,” Sam said, his breath tickling my ear.
I nodded and he gave my shoulder a long squeeze, pulling me closer. “So much has changed,” I said. “I miss him more than I could even say. But I miss us, too. I miss my family. I miss being normal. I miss the sound of my little brother’s voice. I miss seeing my mom smile. I miss being able to feel happy, even for an instant, without feeling guilty.”
I paused, embarrassed, and looked at Sam. “I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I’ve never been able to talk to someone who understands before. I mean, I know other people whose parents have been sick or have had cancer or who have gotten divorced. And that’s really sad. But it’s not the same thing. Talking to you just makes me feel safe.”
Sam shifted, and I thought he was going to say something, but he didn’t. I settled back against his shoulder and gazed out at the river.
“Sometimes, I miss my dad so much it literally hurts,” I whispered. I wasn’t even sure I’d said the words aloud until I felt Sam’s arm tighten around me.
“I know,” he said. “Can I show you something?”
He led me back to the mural, to the far right side, and pointed up, above the heads of the paintings of himself and his mom and brother watching a baseball game. “See that rainbow?”
Sam had painted a sunny sky with only a few wisps of clouds. But in the middle of it, so faint that you had to strain to see it, there was the lightest wash of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple, all in an arching ribbon of translucent color.
“My uncle Joe died when I was ten. Cancer,” Sam continued. “We were all really close, so it was really tough on me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Sam shook his head. “No, it’s okay. But my point in telling you is that my dad used to say that anytime we could see a rainbow in the sky, that was Uncle Joe telling us he was all right.”
“A rainbow?” I asked.
Sam shrugged, embarrassed. “I know it sounds dumb.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I said gently. “But do you believe that? I mean, really believe it?”
“I didn’t at first. But you know, I started noticing that there were rainbows in the sky at the weirdest times. Like the afternoon my dad had his stroke. It wasn’t even rainy that day. But I swear, when we got to the hospital with the paramedics, I looked up, and there was this really faint rainbow in the sky.”
“Really?”
“Maybe it’s not as crazy as it sounds. I mean, if you believe in heaven and all.”
“I do,” I said simply. You had to believe in heaven when your dad died. The alternative, that your father’s soul simply vanished, was too awful to even consider.
“So what I meant was, I think maybe your dad’s been here all this time,” Sam said. “Maybe he does see you. You just haven’t known where to look for him.”
I nodded quickly. I was trying to fight a strange feeling welling up inside me. It almost felt like I was going to cry, but I hadn’t done that in almost a year. Not since that day in the cafeteria with Tali and Tatiana. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. But every time I felt like the tears should come, they didn’t. This was the closest I’d felt. My insides swam uncomfortably. I fought the feeling. I didn’t want to cry; I couldn’t afford to crack now, for so many reasons.