Another quarter of it was gone by ten thirty.
Now it was two in the afternoon and only the dregs were left. I’d been so busy, I’d barely noticed if Sam was inundated by admirers (though I did notice many occasions he was chatting with people but just like him, he seemed to take this in stride). My house was empty save for Sam and my suitcases. I’d hired professional cleaners to come in on Monday and I’d given Mom power of attorney to close on the house for me, something that was happening on Thursday.
It had happened.
All that was Cooter and I was gone except for the dregs sitting on my lawn. I’d sifted through everything and there was nothing left. I’d even sold nearly all of my clothes except ones I’d bought in the months after he died and when I was on vacation.
I felt relief about this and it ran deep. I also felt a shimmer of elation. It was done. I could move on. Any memories I had were no longer physical, they were only in my head and those would fade.
That said, it was only a shimmer of elation because the answer to Paula’s question was no, I was not okay.
And I was not okay because Sam had broken his promise.
At first, I’d been patient and given him time. We were busy sorting through the stuff in the house, renting a small storage unit for anything I intended to keep and going on approximately three billion, four hundred and twenty-seven viewings with Paula (none of them fruitful, alas). Then there was hauling stuff to the storage unit, dinners at Mom and Dad’s, Paula and Rudy’s, Missy’s, Teri’s or meeting them at restaurants. There was also finding and hiring a cleaning firm. And working with Teri to arrange travel to North Carolina. And also Sam’s workouts and frequent telephone conversations with his crew of badasses and Ozzie.
But after awhile, the hard work was done and it was mostly waiting for the yard sale to happen sprinkled with an occasional (fruitless) viewing.
When we had time on our hands, Sam filled it. He did this by telling me he wanted to visit the places he’d frequented when he’d lived in Indianapolis.
I’d been surprised. I knew he lived in Indy for several years but I didn’t know he held any nostalgia for it.
This was because he hadn’t told me.
So we went to Eagle Creek Park where Sam said he would go and run, he liked it and he missed it though, luckily, he didn’t run when we went there but we did walk for over an hour. We drove around the Circle. We went to an Italian restaurant called Patrizio’s where, the minute Sam walked in, the owner (the aforementioned Patrizio) greeted him like a long lost son. Interspersed with his many duties running a popular but kind of hole in the wall restaurant, Patrizio hung at our table and I learned more about Sam from Patrizio than I did from Sam. But, again, all of it was fun, reminiscing, nothing meaty, nothing profound.
In other words, in our time in Indiana we did a lot, we were together almost constantly but what we did not do was talk as Sam promised we would.
He was no less attentive, no less gentlemanly, no less Sam which meant he was no less guarded.
And that was what it was. I’d figured it out. And I’d figured it out not after the first time I gently attempted to steer our conversation to him, his intensity about me and where that was coming from, his history, his heart and had been just as gently rebuffed. Nor did I figure it out after the second time I, a little less gently, tried to approach him and was again gently rebuffed.
No, it was the last time, last night, after we’d had sex, were cuddling and murmuring about nothing important when I’d tried to move it to stuff that was important and was not gently rebuffed.
And I did this by cautiously and gently (I thought) asking about his brother Ben.
“Don’t, Kia. Yeah?” Sam had said, his until then soft murmur suddenly holding an edge.
“Don’t?” I asked carefully.
“Don’t,” Sam confirmed.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t push it.”
I pulled in breath then asked, “Push what?”
Sam didn’t answer.
No.
What he did was lift up and twist, coldly dislodging me from where I was lounging on his chest. Then he turned off the light. Then he settled in bed with his back to me.
Yes, that was what he did. He gave me nothing and then he completely shut me out.
After the shock wore off (and this took awhile), I rolled to my back, cuddled Memphis and stared at the ceiling, feeling a pain stabbing close to my heart.