Chapter 6 #2
“Well, I showered.” I give a slight chuckle.
I know he can tell it isn’t genuine. It’s all the energy I have for this conversation right now.
I look at my parents, who both give me a curious look.
I’m grateful when they both turn back to their conversation with Dan.
I know I told Liv I would try, but sitting here with Sam, it just feels impossible to untangle my broken heart and be the friend I should be to him.
Ethan would be disappointed in me right now. I feel the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes and try to shift my mind away from Ethan and the realization that he isn’t going to eat breakfast with us this morning. My mind was waiting for him to show up.
I turn to my breakfast to distract me. While I eat—mostly pushing the food around my plate—the rest of the group discusses floral arrangements and funeral plans. I provide my feedback when asked but otherwise keep my focus on the food on my plate.
By the time I finish eating, the group is split into three. My parents will go to the funeral home and get everything sorted there. Dan will return to the law firm to begin the probate and review Ethan’s life insurance policy.
Which leaves Sam and me to go to the florist. I don’t have any idea why the group was split this way because, truthfully, I heard the words, but they just wouldn’t register in my brain.
We all stand from the table and clear our dishes. I say goodbye to my parents and head out to the street where Dan’s SUV is parked. We decided to drop Dan off at the office, and Sam would drive his dad’s SUV to the florist.
I would have offered to drive my car, but the thought of driving is the last thing I want to do. I know Dan could tell when he suggested this arrangement.
I get in the back seat and look around, noticing how clean it is. There doesn’t seem to be a speck of dirt anywhere.
“Hey, Dad, would you mind stopping at the coffee shop down the street before we drop you off?”
He couldn’t be asking this for me. Could he?
Sam was never a big coffee person, but I am. When we were in college, we had a running joke that I would go anywhere as long as coffee or food was involved.
“Yeah, sure, kid.” I grin at Dan’s use of the word “kid” because not only is Sam 29 and not a kid by age, but he’s also clearly adult-sized—at six feet, three inches, he’s taller than a lot of adult men.
Dan starts up his SUV and pulls away from my parents’ house. His favorite country music station plays through the speakers. The music is quiet but still loud enough that I recognize the song I can’t name: “whiskey for my men and beer for my horses.”
I see Dan looking at me from the rearview mirror, inquiring, before I realize I just snorted. Sam turns around in the front seat, waiting for me to speak.
“This song.” I shake my head. “I never understood why someone would give beer to horses. It almost seems like animal abuse.”
Dan chuckles softly, his gaze returning to the road. Sam’s face cracks with a big smile that shows off the dimple in his left cheek.
“Beer can actually calm horses down, but I don’t think the song is about the beer.
” Sam’s voice is filled with humor—he’s holding back a laugh.
“The song is about taking justice into their own hands, and I think the reference to beer just means they are taking care of their traveling companions, including the horses.”
“Hmm,” is my only response as I stare out the window, not really seeing anything.
Once we have our drinks from the coffee shop drive-thru, the car fills with silence as we make our way to the law firm. It’s about a fifteen-minute drive, and I lean back, resigned to the quiet, slowly sipping on my vanilla latte.
Just as I close my eyes, I hear Dan speak up, “How are you doing, Kat?” His voice is gentle, but I sense a small amount of hesitation.
Dan has never really done well when people cry. When I was a pre-teen, he teased me about something I can’t even remember, but it made me cry. I remember Dan getting this look of sheer panic as he shouted for my parents. “Shit, I made her cry. What do I do?”
I look at him for a moment trying to unravel my thoughts. I’m at a loss for words to explain how I’m doing, and I certainly don’t want to open the can of worms that is my relationship with his son.
“I’m not sure,” I finally say. “None of this feels real.” I stare out the window again.
“It still feels like Ethan will call me at any moment.” I close my eyes and breathe.
“It doesn’t feel real.” My voice is too quiet.
“I just talked to him yesterday morning. We talked about work and a case I needed help with. Did I even say I loved him before we hung up? I can’t stop thinking about that.
” I didn’t mean to say the last part out loud, but talking to Dan always feels comfortable.
I don’t even realize tears are streaming down my face until Sam reaches back, handing me a tissue. Leave it to Dan to be prepared and carry tissues in his car.
I expect Sam to pull his hand back after I take the tissue. But he surprises me by taking my hand in his. I have to lean forward a little for us to reach, but his hand is comforting.
“Ethan knew how much you loved him. While I am sure you told him, even if you didn’t, there was no doubt in his mind.
” Dan’s voice is strong and assured, and it somehow makes me feel better.
Sam rubs his thumb along the back of my hand.
“You two have always been inseparable,” Dan continues.
“Even during those awkward teenage years when you were both trying to figure out your individuality, he would have done anything for you.”
“Thanks.” That's all I can get out as I sniffle and try to compose myself again.
Sam squeezes my hand gently, reminding me he’s there. I don’t know how long this will last, but I can’t imagine being without him. I can’t imagine having to do this without Sam. Maybe Liv is right. Maybe I need to try to be friends with him again.
“When Sam’s mom died, I remember feeling the same way. Like it wasn’t real, I mean.” Dan looks sad whenever he talks about Carrie. “Even at the funeral, it felt like we were just pretending.”
I was eight when Sam’s mom died. Sam and Ethan were ten.
All I know about Carrie is what I hear from others.
But she seemed like a great woman. She grew up a couple of houses down from Mom.
They were instant best friends. Carrie and Mom did everything together.
They attended college together, went to law school with Dad and Dan, and started working at the same law firm.
They even discussed opening a bakery together, which they eventually did, leaving the law firm they disliked.
Their friendship reminds me of how Liv and I are—besties from the first moment our eyes connected. Ride or die.
To this day, Mom celebrates Carrie’s birthday and donates clothes, shoes, and toiletries to the local women’s shelter in her honor. I think briefly that I want to do something for Ethan, too.
“It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later, when the mailbox was overflowing, that it hit me that she wasn’t coming back.” Dan chuckles softly, but it isn’t a real laugh. It’s the one he makes when he’s feeling uncomfortable.
“I never thought about the bills. They just got paid.” His voice lowers, “Your mom always paid them.” He looks at Sam, and I know Dan is embarrassed by this confession.
“Hell, I rarely even got the mail out of the box unless I was waiting on a package.” He chuckles his awkward chuckle again. I just watch him waiting for him to continue the story.
“There was so much mail that the postal worker knocked on the door to hand it to me instead of leaving it in the box. I sat down at the table that evening and started going through everything.”
He glances in the rearview mirror again and then looks over at Sam.
Dan’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. He focuses back on the road and continues, “Do you know how dumb I felt at that moment? I’m a lawyer and a damn good one.
But I had a stack of bills I didn’t know how to pay and another heap of mail I couldn’t figure out what to do with.
” He shrugs, resigned. “All I’m saying is, it takes time. ”
Dan parks at the curb in front of his office. It’s only when Sam releases my hand to get out of the SUV that I realize he never let go. His hand felt like an extension of my own. The loss feels devastating.
Sam gets out of the SUV, opens my door, and closes it once I've gotten out of the backseat before he walks around and gets into the driver’s seat.
Before I can get into the front seat, Dan reaches for my hand and gives it a light squeeze.
“It’s going to take time, but the one thing you need to remember is how much Ethan knew you loved him. No matter what. He knew.”
“Thanks,” I choke out. Dan offers me a grimace smile before walking into the building.
Sam and I are quiet as he drives us to the florist. I silently wish he would reach for my hand again. I know I won’t do it myself. I couldn’t handle his rejection.
We spend the next hour choosing flowers. I never knew how many different arrangements were needed, one for on top of the casket, one for the entrance, one or two on stands by the casket. There were so many options that it felt like my head was swimming.
What would Ethan like? Does it matter if he would have liked them? Will my parents like them? Is that more important than what Ethan would like?
I'm feeling overwhelmed, as though I'm slowly spinning out.
I keep getting stuck trying to decide, only for Sam to provide his thoughts on what Ethan would like. Sam’s constant help reminds me of all the times that he helped me while we were in Seattle.
No matter what, he was always there, always present, always offering advice or just simply listening.
Now that we’ve chosen everything, I fill out the necessary paperwork and provide the date of the funeral—this Saturday.
When we get back to my parents’ house, Sam walks me to the door.
“I need to help my dad with some things tomorrow, but—” he hesitates, his expression is tight. “I’d like to spend some time with you this week, if you’d be up for it.”
My heart doesn’t hesitate in thumping its approval because this man has built a permanent home there. I’m nervous to let him back in. My heart wins out. “Ok. I would like that.”
The smile he gives me makes my knees feel weak, and it takes everything in me to keep standing.
“Good. I’ll call you?”
“Yeah. OK.”
He steps forward, pulls me into a brief hug—so brief I don’t have the chance to wrap my arms around his waist—and kisses the top of my head before walking away. I stand there stunned that he just kissed me and watch him walk back to his dad’s SUV.