41 Samantha
41
SAMANTHA
M Y DOOR FLEW open.
“Get up,” Tristan said.
I groaned into my pillow. “Be so freaking for real right now, Tristan. WHY. It’s Saturday.”
“I don’t give a shit. Move.”
I pushed up my eye mask to glare at him, standing in my doorway. “It’s one of my only days I don’t have to watch Mom!”
“Get up . I’m your fairy godfather. I’m granting you a wish.”
“Tristan, I don’t have the energy for this.”
He yanked my blankets off.
I shot up. “What is your problem?!”
“I’m sick of your face. I’m sick of your mopey attitude. I bought you a ticket to go see your boyfriend.”
I blinked at him. “You… you bought me a ticket? For when?”
“Now. The flight leaves at nine.”
The speed at which I moved off that bed would have impressed professional track stars. I tore around my room throwing clothing suitable for the arctic tundra into my bag. “When do I come back?”
“Tuesday.”
“Who’s watching Mom?” I asked, jumping to get my minus twenty-five-degree snow boots off the top shelf in the closet.
“All of us. Hurry up, you’ll miss your flight and that will seriously piss me off.”
I’d get to see Xavier today.
I felt like I’d just been zinged back to life. Shocked alive, wound up, and set north.
I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth, dumped my makeup into my purse to do on the plane, and we left.
Xavier didn’t pick up when I called. It was 8:00 a.m. in Minnesota. He was probably knocked out from NyQuil or pure exhaustion or a mixture of both. Let it be a surprise then when I showed up to take care of him.
I’d compartmentalized the repressed guilt and despair of not being there while he was sick because there was nothing I could do about it and now the relief of knowing I was going to see him in a few hours made me want to burst into tears.
I was going to kiss every inch of his fevered face. I was going to make him soup and watch him sleep and hand him his antibiotics with a cup of hot tea with honey and lemon.
I’d needed this so badly.
I smiled the whole way there.
When the plane landed in Minnesota, all my delayed texts came through. He was up now. There were several from him asking where I was. I called while we taxied.
“Hey, where are you?” he asked. He still sounded terrible.
“You won’t believe it if I tell you…” I bit my lip.
He paused. “Where?”
“Minnesota. About forty-five minutes from being at your house. The plane is taxiing. Tristan bought me a ticket and they’re covering for me with Mom until Tuesday.”
I beamed, waiting for the excited reply.
What I got was silence.
“Samantha…”
My face fell at the tone.
“I’m at your apartment. I’m sitting on your bed.”