ELLIE
The tour lasted all of five minutes. It wasn’t a big house. We ended up in the basement, where Sam’s teenage room was.
“They kept it exactly the way I left it.” He picked up a ceramic piggy bank. It clinked loudly as he shook it. “Right down to the pennies.”
“Wow.”
Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. I stayed safely leaning against the wall a few feet away from him.
“Cora and I shared a room when we were little. When I needed my own space, they moved me down here.”
Except his ‘room’ wasn’t really one. It was a small section of the big open space. The bed was shoved into the corner wall. Two bookshelves acted as room dividers, but they didn’t allow total privacy. On the other side was laundry, and stacked boxes and bins.
I knew not every child was fortunate enough to get their own room like Tommy and Henry. But with the way he grew up? Sam could have used a refuge. Some privacy curtains at the very least.
Sam leaned back on his arms. “So? What do you think, now that you’ve seen my childhood embarrassment?” He used a joking tone, but I could sense the seriousness in his question.
“I’m honored you let me see the real you,” I said, meaning it. Seeing Sam’s family home made a huge missing piece about him click into place. “I can see why you wanted to get the hell out of Dodge the soonest chance you got.” I smiled sadly. “And why you kept going.”
Sam’s Adam’s Apple bobbed, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded.
My heart didn’t just pinch anymore. It ached for him and that little boy who was just trying to please each of those messed up people out there.
Sam shifted so his elbows were resting on his knees. I had the sudden urge to pull him against me, to tell him it was okay to feel whatever he felt. Instead, I lowered myself onto the foot of the bed, as far away as possible while still sitting next to him.
“So…” I said, trying desperately to think of how to lighten the mood. “Where did Mrs. Higgenbottom live?”
If Sam had been drinking something, I think he would have spat it out.
He swiveled his face to me, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, did you just mention Mrs. Higgenbottom?”
I giggled. That was the name of the woman he’d said I reminded him of that night. The older divorcée all the neighborhood boys had talked about.
“I can’t believe you remembered that,” he said, his voice slightly stunned, but also a little—or a lot—delighted.
I was thrilled my subject change had worked. “How could I forget?”
Sam laughed, almost disbelievingly. “Her house was right there.” He pointed a thumb to the wall at the head of the bed.
“Right next door?”
“Oh fuck no. I’d probably have been arrested for someindecent crimes if that was the case.” At my raised eyebrow, he clarified, “Spying from my window. That’s about all I’d be brave enough for back then.” He smiled. “She was two houses down. But I could just see the edge of her pool from the top of our back steps.”
“How long did you spend out there? Be honest.”
“I forgot a lot of things outside in the summer.”
I laughed, tipping my head back.
Sam was still sitting with his elbows on his knees. He bent down sideways now, his brow furrowed, to scratch the back of his head. Then he rested his head in his hand, his fingers in his thick waves. “The thing is, Ellie, I could have sworn we agreed we weren’t going to talk about that night we spent together.”
My stomach plunged, my laughter from a moment ago a foolish echo in my ears. “That wasn’t speaking about it,” I protested.
He hesitated. “I guess not.”
But I wouldn’t have known about the neighbor if it weren’t for that night.
I swallowed. “You’re right. I didn’t think about it. I’m?—”
