Chapter 55
Chapter Fifty-Five
WILL
Day Nineteen
Clothed, we eat in silence. Flavourful though the food is, I find it hard to chew, hard to swallow, sitting across from a silent Sam. He made me a coffee in silence, offered me salt and pepper in silence. When I make small conversation, he answers, but doesn’t engage.
My stupid fucking list.
Why the hell did I write such snobby thoughts?
Why did I think I needed someone in some high-strung profession that earned them lots of acclaim?
Because at the time, I thought that was what I wanted.
I thought that was what I was supposed to work towards.
I was thinking of others, and how they might react if I told them I was dating a university professor, or a lawyer, or a doctor, or someone who had studied for years to become something better.
I looked down on people like Sam without realising it, and I know that’s what has upset him.
It has to be. But he knows I want him, not Ollie. Doesn’t he?
‘Sam, are we going to talk?’
His cutlery clatters on the plate. ‘You don’t have to explain anything.’
‘But I can see it’s bothered you.’
‘Not at all.’
His tone is high, light, as if he’s trying to convince himself that there’s nothing wrong.
‘It’s a stupid list I made in therapy,’ I say. ‘I didn’t think anyone would ever see it.’
‘Cool.’
‘Sam, please.’
‘It’s fine, Will. I’m a barista and it doesn’t matter what I think.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘Finished?’ he asks.
Does he mean something more? I look at my half-eaten plate. As much as I’d like to eat, my stomach has shrunk, my mouth dry.
‘Yeah.’
He takes it, with his own, and heads to the kitchen.
I need to get this over and done with once and for all; Ollie has ruled my life for too long.
‘I came here and everything changed, Sam. I didn’t think it would go this way.
I met you, and I knew Ollie was wrong for me.
I knew my reasons for coming here were stupid, because you aren’t horrible, and you aren’t a stuck-up snob.
You are kind, and happy, and welcoming. You made me remember how easy life once was. You make me happy. Truly happy.’
Sam stops what he’s doing, water running into the sink. His arms splay either side of him, head bowed. My lips quiver and I fight back tears, trying not to let them overwhelm me. I can’t lose Sam. Not now.
‘I realise now that I wasn’t a nice person,’ I say. ‘I’ve been bitter and I’ve been selfish and I’ve been in my head all these years, making excuses for my behaviour. I’ve been sad, and I’ve been wallowing in that sadness. I’ve allowed misery to consume me.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Sam begins to say.
‘I’m talking about Ollie. I’m talking about how I’ve treated others.
How I’ve expected the world to give me gold when I hadn’t worked towards it.
When I wrote that list, I was writing it from a place of misinformation, I guess.
Coming here has made me see sense. It’s made me realise that I don’t need Ollie to be happy.
That I don’t even need you to be happy.’
He turns to me, and I stutter, as he wipes at his tears.
‘Sam, please don’t cry.’
‘It’s fine,’ he mutters.
‘You make me happy, but I’ve realised that to be happy I have to face a lot of the shit I haven’t allowed myself to face.
’ My own tears falling now. ‘I’ve realised that Ollie is a toxic boy who made me feel small.
I realised that I’ve been neglecting my friendships and that I let him have a hold on me. ’
‘Do you still love him?’
‘No.’
Sam sighs. ‘It’s okay if you do.’
‘Honestly, Sam, no,’ I say, again enunciating the word.
‘I thought I did. For three years, I’ve held on to the memory of him, to a version of him that no longer exists, and maybe never existed.
We’re different people now. We could never have whatever it was we once had.
This trip has been cathartic for me for many reasons.
One of them being that I realised I can finally walk away from him.
But also that I can let go of the old version of myself.
Become someone new. Put myself first, love myself.
I didn’t have the courage to do that before. ’
I get to my feet, joining Sam at the kitchen sink. He holds out his arms, and I press myself into him, bringing him tight to my body. He’s crying, and I’m crying, and I squeeze him so tight I’m surprised he doesn’t break.
‘I had to learn to let go,’ I whisper. ‘And by letting go, I make room for the new, the good. What I deserve.’
Sam rubs a hand over my back.
‘Have I upset you?’ I ask.
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’ I break away to look at him. ‘Because what I wrote is pretty shitty.’
‘Do you mean it?’ he asks. ‘Do you think I’m less because of what I do?’
I wipe his tears. ‘Absolutely not, Sam. Every day you inspire me. Every day you make me realise that you do what you want to do whenever you want to do it. You’re free, and you’ve made me learn how to be free.’
Sam bites his lip, his eyes red. ‘I’m not as inspiring as you might think.’
‘You’re perfect, Sam. Everything about you is perfect,’ I say. ‘I don’t need a high-flying man. I don’t need bells and whistles. I need you. You inspire me to be a better person.’
Sam closes his eyes, resting his forehead against mine. ‘Will…’
‘I’m sorry, Sam. So sorry.’
‘No apology needed,’ he says. ‘After last night’s high, I saw that and … wobbled.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘I’m here with you, every step of the way,’ he says, and the tears fall again, fresh and hot and humiliating. But healing, relaxing, needed.
As I face the darkness, as I face the new, Sam’s with me. I could do it alone, now I know that. But to be able to do it with Sam is what I want.