“I know, I know,” Alex agreed. “But it’s late, and you wasted all your playtime interviewing Sam.” She stood behind the girl and shooed her toward the door. “Come on. Pajamas. I’ll be up in five.”
Sophie stood, looking from Sam to her mother and back again. “Fine,” she said curtly, then turned and bounded up the stairs.
Both Sam and Alex watched her go, Alex with a wry smile on her face. “I swear, she gets sassier every day.”
Sam laughed. “She has a career in the CIA if she wants one. Maybe the FBI.”
“She’s been a bit intense since things with her father.” Alex looked down at her hands. “It hasn’t been easy on her.”
“I imagine not.” Sam was curious. She hesitated for a minute before her next sentence. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”
Alex looked up at her sharply. “I…” She struggled. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. “Sam, I…”
Whatever she was going to say, she didn’t have time to finish the sentence. “Mom!” Sophie’s voice cut in from upstairs. “It’s story time!”
Sam watched as Alex closed her eyes and slowly inhaled. “Will you stay?” Her eyes, when they met Sam’s, were pleading. “After I put her to bed, maybe we can have a drink on the patio and talk?”
Sam weighed her options. For years, all she wanted was answers to what had happened to them. Now, looking at the woman before her, Sam wasn’t sure she was ready for them. Being withAlex tonight felt warm and familiar. Sam worried that whatever came out of Alex’s mouth had the potential to ruin that.
“Mom!” Sophie yelled again, breaking the spell.
“Coming, honey!” Alex called back, still looking expectantly at Sam.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Sam was surprised by the words that came out of her mouth, but once she said them, she knew it was the right decision. “I should be getting home.”
Alex’s face fell. “Oh, okay,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment.
“You head up to Sophie,” Sam said. “I’ll say goodbye to your parents and see myself out.”
Alex looked at her for a moment. Then she came around the table. Before Sam could stop her, she pulled her close for a hug. Sam stiffened as she felt every piece of Alex’s body press into hers. If Alex sensed her discomfort, she did nothing to show it. Instead, she seemed to move closer. Her inhale picked up Alex’s familiar, comforting scent, forcing her body to relax. Eventually, she lifted her arms to hug Alex back, but it was already over. Alex’s arms were already sliding down the length of hers. When Alex reached her hands, she squeezed them gently and backed away. Her head was down, and she refused to meet Sam’s eyes as she turned and walked up the stairs.
Sam watched her go, unsure of what to do or say. When she heard a door click open upstairs, she sighed heavily and let her shoulders sag. She was tired. The night had been a lot to take in.
After stopping in the living room to say a quick good night to Alex’s parents, she got into her car and drove home.
The house was dark when she pulled into the drive, and for some reason, it was then that the finality of her mother’s passing chose to hit her like a punch to the gut. It came at the strangest times. At night, the house looked so stark and lonely, where it had seemed to embody her mother’s spirit before. Sam dreaded going inside. She dreaded beingalonein that house. Her mother wasn’t there. Shewould never be there again. She laid her head against the steering wheel as her body was racked with silent sobs.
Sam didn’t know how long she stayed that way. It could have been five minutes or five hours. When she heard her phone buzz, she lifted her head and looked blearily around her. Her neck hurt, and her eyes were swollen. She lifted the phone from the cup holder and saw that Alex had sent a text. She squinted at the screen, her eyes puffy from crying.
Thanks for coming tonight. Sleep tight.
Sam stared at the phone, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, several possible responses running through her head. But none of them seemed right for what had happened that day. She looked up from the phone to the empty house, trying to formulate a response. Finally, she thought better of it. She wasn’t yet sure where she wanted this revived relationship to go.
She flipped through her contacts and hit the button to FaceTime Jordan. She smiled when his handsome face filled the screen. Over his shoulder, she noticed someone else and wondered if he was on a date.
“Well?” he asked, shifting the phone.
“She said she was sorry.” Sam shrugged.
“She did what?” Jordan’s voice was incredulous. “Nadine-effing-Weaver actually apologized?” Jordan dramatically flung out his arms, dropping the phone, so that Sam got a nice view of the ceiling of wherever he was. “Well, we’re doomed. Hell has officially frozen over. Get your go bag ready.”
He was entertaining, Sam would give him that. “She even told me to bring you around next time I go over for Sunday dinner,” she said, fighting a smile at his reaction. “She wants to bury the hatchet.” At Jordan’s skeptical look, Sam held her hand up. “Those were her words, not mine.”
“Yeah, she’ll be burying that hatchet right in the back of my head,” Jordan quipped. “But what’s this about anext time?” he asked, making air quotes for emphasis.
Sam sighed. She knew this had been coming, yet she still wasn’t prepared to answer it. She hadn’t fully allowed herself to think about it, once again putting off processing the events of thenight. How could she explain it to Jordan? Being with the Weavers and having Sunday dinner just like they always had felt like a second coming home. With her mother gone, she had no one else to turn to. Yes, a few uncles were around, but they had never really cared for Sam. Their disapproval only grew after Sam had been outed. She didn’t really have anyone else.
“I don’t know, Jordan,” she said, honestly. “It was…nice.”
