Writing often helps me keep my mind off things. I brought a notebook with me. But how do you write when it’s hard to focus? Maybe if I sit here long enough, something will come to me. I touch my pen to a blank page and wait for the words to pour out. We don’t have spaces for creative writing at school, so I try to do it on my own time. You never get the chance to write what you want in class anyway. I understand you have to know the rules before you break them, but writing should bring you joy, right? I think teachers forget that. Sometimes, I forget that. I hope college will be a different experience.
I should be hearing back from colleges soon. Reed College is my top choice. It’s where my mother went. You would think that might help me in this situation. “I don’t have the greatest reputation there, so I wouldn’t mention me,” my mother warned. “When you’re old enough, I’ll tell you the story. Other than that, Portland is a wonderful city. You’ll love it there.” It doesn’t hurt that it’s only four hours away, so we won’t be too far from each other. I went through their course catalog the other day, and it’s full of creative writing classes, all taught by established writers from all over the world. I think I can be myself there, find out what I’m good at. Maybe I’ll end up writing a book for my creative thesis. But I’m thinking ahead of myself. I found out they need a writing sample from me. So even if I do get accepted to Reed, I might not make it into the program. I have some pieces of writing I could look through, but I’m worried none of them are good enough. I should work on something new. A strong sample that will impress them. But this last week has made it so hard to be creative. I can’t get Sam out of my head, no matter how hard I try. He won’t be there when I open my acceptance letter. He’ll never know if I get in.
An hour passes and the page remains blank. Maybe I should try reading instead, at least for inspiration. The yearbook sits beside me. I tried to leave it at the diner earlier, but the waitress followed me out and nearly threw it at my head. The cover is a tacky gray-and-blue design. I skim through some pages. Club and sport photos take up a good portion, but I skip through them entirely. Next are senior favorites, class clown and best friends, that I didn’t care to see who won. There were several people from our class who went around campaigning. A little embarrassing, if you ask me. The next section is senior portraits, but I don’t feel like looking through them. I skim all the way to the end until there’s nothing left but blank white pages for people to write in. And then I realize someone did, there on the second-to-last page. I guess Mika must have found time to sign it before she gave it to me. But then I look closer at the handwriting and notice it isn’t hers. No, it’s someone else’s. It takes me a second to recognize it. But that can’t be right.
Sam. It’s his handwriting, I know it. But how did he get ahold of this? When was he able to write to me? I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it. I shouldn’t read this, at least not right now when I’m trying so hard to forget. But I can’t help myself, my hands start to shake.
His voice fills my head.
Hey.
Just to make sure I beat everyone to it, I wanted to write in this first. I hope that’s some more proof of how much I’m in love with you. I still can’t believe it. How did three years go by so fast? It feels like yesterday I was sitting on the bus behind you trying to build the courage to say something. It’s crazy to think there was a time before we knew each other. A time before “Sam and Julie.” Or “Julie and Sam”? I’ll let you decide that one.
I know you can’t wait to leave this place, but I’m gonna miss it. I get it, though. Your ideas were always too big for a small town, and everyone here knows it. But I’m happy your path somehow made you stop in Ellensburg along the way. So you and I could meet each other. Maybe it was supposed to happen, you know? I feel like my life didn’t start until I met you, Julie. You’re the best thing to happen to this small town. To me. I realize it doesn’t matter where we’re going next, as long as we’re together.
I’ll be honest. I used to be scared of leaving home. Now I can’t wait to move on and make new memories with you. Just don’t forget the ones we made here. Especially when you make it big. And whatever happens, promise you won’t forget me, okay?
Anyway, I love you, Julie, and always will.
Yours forever,
Sam
Forever …
I shut the yearbook and stare out at the water as this sinks in.
A family of ducks has appeared on the other side of the lake. I watch them make tiny rings in the water, and listen to a breeze stir leaves from the branches behind me, as the full weight of Sam’s words echoes through me.
It’s been one week since Sam died. And in my attempt to move on, I’ve been trying to erase him from my life like a terrible memory. After everything we’ve been through together. I threw out all of his things. I skipped his funeral. And I never even said good-bye. In his death, Sam asked for only one thing, and that was for us to remember each other. Yet here I am trying so hard to forget.