A silence.
“That’s nice … For both of you.”
I turn my head to the side, trying to read his tone. “Both of us? I haven’t accomplished anything. I barely have an idea for a story.”
“You still have time, though. To write it. And leave something behind. I wish I did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I wish I had time to finish things, too, you know? Leave on mark on the world or something…”
“What did you want to finish?”
Sam lets out a breath. “It doesn’t really matter anymore, Jules … There’s no point in talking about it.”
“But Sam—”
“Please. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
An ache of guilt goes through me. I thought sharing this would make him happy. I’m writing a story about us, after all. I didn’t expect this to bring up feelings he won’t even talk about. So I change the subject, just as he asked.
“I saw Oliver today. He really misses you.”
“Oliver?” Sam’s voice brightens at the name. “I’ve been thinking about him lately. How has he been?”
“He brings you flowers,” I tell him. “I found out he sits by your grave sometimes, to keep you company. He really is a great friend.”
“We were best friends. Since forever.”
“He said he loves you…” I say.
“I love him, too. He knows that.”
For a second, I think about asking him what he means. Ask whether or not there was something more to them than I knew. But I decide not to, because maybe it shouldn’t matter. At least, not anymore.
Sam asks, “Is this the first time you’ve seen him since?”
“No,” I say. “We’ve seen each other a few times, actually. We even saw a movie the other day. It was a musical. It happened out of the blue.”
“I always told you. You guys have a lot more in common than you know.”
“I’m realizing that. Guess I should have listened sooner.”
“Does that mean you’re friends now?”
“I think so. At least, I’m hopeful about it.”
“I’m glad you guys finally gave each other a chance,” Sam says.
I’m glad we did, too. If only it didn’t take losing you for it to happen.
Rain continues to tap against the patio roof. I’ll have to head back inside soon. Before I do, there’s a question I want to ask. Something that’s been burning in my mind for the past few days.
“What is it?” Sam asks.
“It’s about our calls. About having to keep this a secret. I was wondering, what would happen if I told someone?”
“If I’m honest, Julie,” Sam says. “I’m not completely sure. But I have this feeling it might affect our connection.”
I think about this. “Is there a chance nothing would happen?”
“Maybe,” he says. “I guess we won’t know until it does. But there’s a chance it could break our connection forever. I’m not sure if we should risk it.”
I swallow hard. The thought of this sends a chill through me.
“Then I won’t tell anyone. I’ll keep this a secret. I don’t want to lose you. Not this soon.”
“I don’t want to lose you, either.”
A bright light flashes in the sky, followed by the sound of a distant rumble.
“What was that?” Sam asks.
“I think a storm is coming.”
“Lightning?”
“Sounds like it.”
When you live along the Cascade Range, occasional lightning storms are the only things that bring some life to the sleeping towns.
“I wish I could see,” Sam says.
“They sound far away.”
Another flash of lightning goes off, rupturing the sky for a split second.
“Remind me what they look like?” he asks.
“Like little cracks in the universe. And another world is peeking through.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what they are.”
“And maybe you’re on the other side.”
Another flash, another rumble.
“Can I listen?” Sam asks.
I put the phone on speaker and hold it up.
We listen to the storm for a long time.
Another flash, another rumble.
“You’re right,” he says, “It does sound far away.”
I stay there with him, on the phone, all the way until the storm ends.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A few days pass without any bad dreams, but I still wake up with the same empty feeling. Like there’s a hole in my chest. I don’t know what’s wrong or how to explain it. The feeling seems to come whenever I get off the phone with Sam and find myself alone again. It’s like this void inside me that I can’t seem to fill up. I wish I could send Sam a text, or see our call history on the phone, so I can remind myself it’s real. Because sometimes I’m still not sure. Maybe that’s where the hole is coming from.