Then, Memphis in my arms, we watched him go back to the nightstand and tag his phone. Then we watched him shove it in his back pocket. Then we watched him haul up the bag by the strap and hook it on his shoulder. Then we watched him move to us.
Then I stood immobile as Memphis shook happily in my arms and Sam gave her a head rub. Then I stayed unmoving as his hand came up, wrapped around my jaw, he tipped my head back and kissed me hard and closed-mouthed.
Then he let me go and moved to the door.
He was leaving.
Just like that. He was leaving.
I moved then.
I turned to face the door and said softly, “I love you, Sam.”
He stopped and turned to me. I saw immediately that his face had changed. His features had been guarded, the shutters down, I was shut out.
Now his face was soft, his eyes warm and intense and his lips were tipped up.
He thought he still had me.
But it would be what he would do next that would tip the balance of my heart; he just didn’t know he was being tested.
He failed at the first hurdle by whispering, “Good.”
Instantly I asked, “Do you love me?”
The guard rose up, the shutters in his eyes slammed down and my heart split right in two.
He didn’t answer.
“Do you love me?” I repeated.
“Go home,” he whispered. “Be with your family. I’ll be in contact soon’s I can.”
“Do you love me?” I asked again.
“Soon’s I can, baby.”
I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t cry.
Maris was wrong.
It had happened.
Sam Cooper had broken my heart.
And Dad was wrong.
My heart didn’t guide me.
Not until it was too late.
When I had it under control, I said in a thick voice, “Be safe, honey.”
He jerked his chin up.
Then he disappeared.
Memphis yapped.
After long moments, I put my struggling dog down and she ran out the door after Sam as I heard the garage door going up.
I walked woodenly to Sam’s office.
I was sitting down at his desk when I heard the garage door going down.
I had the phonebook opened to movers by the time the hum of the gate stopped and I knew it had closed behind him.
*
Four days later…
The movers arrived late. They were only now just leaving.
I was pressed for time. The car that was taking me to the airport was going to be there in five minutes.
I was packed; Memphis’s crate was at the ready with my bags at the door.
I was standing at the kitchen island staring down at the note I wrote to Sam.
It said:
Sam,
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. The answer is all.
I hope you find someone who can accept the beauty you can give how you can give it.
I guess I’m just greedy.
I’ll always love you,
Kia
There was so much more to say. Then again, I wished I could find some way to make it shorter. It took four days to get the note to what it was; I didn’t have any more time so that would have to do.
I folded it, slipped it into the envelope, licked the flap and sealed it. Then I wrote Sam’s name on the front and set it on the island.
I did this deep breathing. I’d cried enough the last four days while avoiding Luci, letting the one call Sam made go to voicemail, making plans and packing. I couldn’t afford more tears. I had a trip ahead of me with Memphis in tow, I needed my wits about me and I needed energy. Tears were exhausting.
I turned to Memphis who was sitting on the floor beside me, unusually silent as she had been for the last four days. She sensed her Momma’s mood, she sensed her Momma didn’t want to talk and she was a good dog.
“Before you know it, sweetie, we’ll be home,” I whispered as I was about to bend to pick her up but I caught something out of the corner of my eye and focused on it.
Damn.
Skip.
Just like he did the one and only time he came calling, he barged right up to and through the two front doors.
I bent, picked up Memphis and met him in the living room.
“You and Sam movin’? What’s the deal?” he asked by way of greeting.
I had no idea why he was there but I knew he saw the moving van.
“Sam’s not moving, I am,” I told him, walking right by him to Memphis’s crate.
“Say again?” Skip asked my back.
I turned to him and repeated, “Sam’s not moving, I am.”
Skip scowled at me then he looked around the space before his eyes came back to me and he asked, “Where’s Sam?”
“I have no idea,” I whispered, bent to the crate and gently placed an unresisting Memphis in it.
“Shit,” I heard Skip whisper in return. This surprised me, Skip wasn’t the kind of man who whispered so after I hooked the gate on Memphis’s crate I straightened and turned to him. He didn’t delay when he caught my eyes. “Is he still doin’ that shit?” he asked quietly.
So Skip knew about “that shit”.
Whatever.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I don’t know what he’s doing. I don’t know where he is. All I know is one minute he was here, the next minute he was gone, off to locations unknown to do stuff unknown.”
“Kia –” Skip started and I shook my head.