Chapter Twenty-Two
“At least you love me,” whispered Samantha as she kissed the top of Ginny’s furry head and squeezed her tightly against her chest. Ginny was the most patient cat Samantha had ever owned.
Even Garfield, her childhood cat, who was big and ginger and resembled his name, hadn’t tolerated the amount of love she was giving Ginny.
“You’re the only one who truly gets me and loves me regardless—”
“Hey,” interrupted Matty. He was sitting on the sofa watching the football game with his feet crossed at the ankles and his arm behind his head. “I love you. I thought we’ve established this.”
She placed Ginny back onto the dining room chair where she had slept soundly moments before Samantha had woken her up and headed to the living room.
Clouds were beginning to roll in outside.
They looked dark and gloomy. Rain clouds, she hoped.
The last time it rained was a few weeks ago.
Not only would rain be good for the soil, but for Samantha, too.
It would make it tremendously easier to mourn, and she was doing plenty of mourning at the moment.
Every day she mourned for Angel, the relationship that could’ve been, and for the only hobby that had truly given her peace.
“So, what did Angel say?” asked Matty absentmindedly while he flicked the channels, moving from football to a fishing show to an old episode of America’s Next Top Model. He hesitated briefly when Tyra Banks walked onto the screen and then flicked the channel back to football. How very manly of him.
“Nothing,” said Samantha and sat down on the floor, crossing her legs before she bent forward and flattened her spine. “I dropped the almonds on her doorstep and came back home. I didn’t want to wait for Angel. That wasn’t the point of the gift. It was a goodbye gift.”
“So, you just left it there?” he asked, flabbergasted.
With a flick of both legs, Matty used a great deal of momentum to sit up, before he frowned and tossed his hands questioningly in the air.
“Have you gone mad, Sam? That ten pounds of almonds cost you like seventy dollars. You should be saving up money, not throwing it away.”
“I’m sure the package is fine,” said Samantha, although she wasn’t quite sure now. What if Angel decided to work later than her shift? What if someone had walked past and seen the box and thought, ‘I could probably steal that and get away with it?’
Shit.
It was just like her to be so irresponsible, to leave a package outside of someone’s door without thinking of the consequences.
Even the safest neighborhoods had break-ins.
That was just the world they were living in at the moment.
And wasn’t that the reason Angel had broken things off with her, Samantha’s carelessness?
If only there was a pill that she could swallow that made her instantly responsible.
She’d give all her savings for a pill like that.
“Well, I hope so,” said Matty, and stood up.
“For your sake.” He walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge, taking out leftover lasagna from last night and dished it onto a plate.
The ting of the microwave sounded, followed by a humming noise.
In just a short few days, Matty had made himself extremely welcome at Samantha’s house.
Mi casa es su casa, she had said, but hadn’t expected him to take it so literally.
Not that she minded, she enjoyed the noise.
Her grandmother always used to say that a quiet house was a lonely house.
“What’s for dinner?” asked Matty with a mouthful of food. “I was thinking that if you didn’t feel like making something tonight, we could grab some takeaway pizzas.”
There was a sudden knock on the door.
Both their heads darted in the direction of it.
Where Samantha was sitting, the view of the top step was obstructed by the curtains. However, the driveway was not, and she would surely have seen—and heard—if someone had parked in her driveway.
“Expecting someone, Matty?” asked Samantha. She certainly hadn’t invited anyone over for a visit. At the moment, she was mourning in peace—with the exception of Matty, of course. “Maybe a girlfriend you haven’t informed yet that you’re living here and not there,” she pointed toward his house.
“Nope,” he shook his head. “I’m on a detox. A babe detox. It’s going pretty well, actually. It’s been what, three days since I last slept with someone, and I think I can pull it off for another week… two if I work really hard.”
“Not possible,” joked Samantha as she got to her feet and ambled toward the door.
If it was a Girl Scout selling cookies, she would buy at least six boxes of Thin Mints and Tagalongs, especially since Matty was eating her out of the house.
She could barely keep up with his sweet tooth.
“The only reason you’re on a hiatus is because you don’t have a house at the moment. ”
Without peering through the peephole, Samantha unlocked the door and swung it open.
Angel was standing on the bottom step.
She was in jeans and a white T-shirt, and her honey-blonde hair was tied in a glossy ponytail behind her head. Above her, the sky was looking ominous. The clouds were dark grey in parts and charcoal in others. If it didn’t rain, everyone in Huntington Beach would surely be disappointed.
“Hi,” said Angel.
Samantha lost her words.
“Is this a bad time?”
The words hung in the air, just beyond Samantha’s grasp. She just stood there, dumbfounded, her hand on the door and her jaw slack.
“I can come back another time,” Angel offered, taking a step back.
“No!” blurted Samantha. The last thing she wanted was to see Angel leave.
It would be like reliving that other day all over again when Angel had reprimanded her like she was some low life criminal, an arsonist. The anger in Angel’s eyes, in her face, had been so sharp and painful to look at, that seeing her now, with a gentle smile on her face, was like the freshest breath of summer air.
“Please come in. It looks like it’s going to rain.”
Giving a quick glance up, Angel’s brows furrowed, as if she hadn’t noticed the grey clouds darkening with each passing minute. She smiled and stepped into the house.
“I’m just leaving,” smiled Matty as he strode into the hallway with his surfboard already held under his arm. “I’ve been waiting for something or someone to force me out the door to the beach all day.”
The surf was terrible. Samantha knew this because Matty had complained about it this morning, but at least he was good at making himself scarce, especially since Samantha had expected him to stay and act like a fly on a wall.
Matty stopped when he reached the front door and gave a small nod in Angel’s direction. “Thanks for saving my house. And just so you know, Sam won’t be setting any more fires. She’s given up on fire dancing. Even donated the stuff to—”
“Matt,” interjected Samantha. “It’s fine.”
“Alright then, I’ll bring pizza home after my surf.” He kissed Samantha on the cheek and jogged out, taking a left to where his car was parked in his driveway.
“Wait a few minutes before you swim with a full stomach,” called Samantha after him, acting like a mom. Although she most certainly wasn’t near ready to be an actual mother. “And don’t be the idiot who surfs in a thunderstorm.”
He waved and when she closed the door behind him, Samantha experienced the strange sensation of being strangled—not literally, of course. But it felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if Angel standing in front of her looking like an actual angel was taking all of her air.
The only reason for such a feeling was fear.
And Samantha was terrified. She was scared that Angel had come only to finalize the breakup, to make it real, since the other day was a mess of faces and words and flames. She was here, at Samantha’s house, to firmly and politely say that things could never work between them.
The fine glimmer of hope Samantha was holding onto over the last two days was fading.
She had first thought that maybe Angel hadn’t meant what she had said.
Maybe Angel was still processing things.
Maybe she just needed some time, some space, and Samantha was prepared to give her all the space she needed.
Yet, at this very moment, while a faint pitter-patter of rain began on the roof, Samantha knew that Angel wasn’t here to kiss and make up, but rather she was here to smudge that tiny glimmer of hope.
“Did you get the package?” asked Samantha when it looked as though Angel wasn’t going to say anything. Or maybe she was still working out the kinks of her formal break-up speech.
“Ten pounds of almonds,” smiled Angel. “I did. Thank you.”
Samantha smiled again. She’d offer her tea, but she didn’t have the right flavor. Break-up tea should taste bitter to the tongue.
“Good.”
“There’s something we need to talk about.”
There it was. The dreaded conversation.
“What do you want to talk about?”
Angel looked around the space, and her gaze landed on Ginny sleeping soundly and unaware that her mother was going through a crisis. Angel didn’t reply.
The rain grew louder. Through the window, Samantha could see the drops falling down and could even smell that fresh earthy aroma formed when rain fell on dry soil.
“Can we sit down?” asked Angel after an excruciatingly long minute.
“We can go to the living room,” offered Samantha softly. “You know the way.”
Samantha followed Angel into the living room and sat down on the sofa opposite her.
The formality of the visit was unnerving.
Instead of sitting with her legs folded like origami on the sofa cushion, Samantha was sitting like a lady to one side with her right leg crossed over the left and her palms flat on her knees.
“Look, Sam. First, I want to—”
But Samantha couldn’t just sit there and listen to the polite explanation of why Angel thought it best to break up with her.
There was too much tension in the air. The noose around her neck was tightening with every second.
The conversation was like a plaster cast that needed to be ripped off.
Fast and efficient. “Can you please just get it over with?” said Samantha coldly.
“Just say why you came here. It’s fine. I’m a big girl.
Just say it out loud so that I can move on. ”
“Get what over with? asked Angel, her brows deeply furrowed.
“The whole speech about how things could’ve worked out between us if I wasn’t such a loose cannon, so reckless and irresponsible, and how you can’t be with someone like me,” uttered Samantha.
“We’re polar opposites and it won’t ever work because I’ll just end up driving you mad, and you’re so amazing and fucking beautiful and you deserve to be with someone who doesn’t make you worry all the time, someone who isn’t going to set fires to gardens, someone who isn’t me.
You deserve a person in your life who you can count on, rely on…
trust. You deserve everything, Angel. And I can only give you half of what you deserve.
Maybe not even that much…” Samantha hadn’t even realized that she was standing.
Taking a deep breath in, she plopped back onto the sofa and felt tears build up behind her eyes.
“And that’s why you’re here, to tell me that you don’t ever want to see me again because the last time you said it, you were angry and adrenaline-fueled and about to dive into a fire, and the one thing I’ve learned about you, is that you’re the type of person who makes decisions with a clear head. Am I right?”
Angel was up and kneeling at Samantha’s feet in a second. Her hands were clinging onto Samantha’s, and the edges of her lips quirked into a big, beautiful smile. “The only thing I want to say to you is… I love you.”