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Surprisingly, she sighs deeply and turns to me. “Fuck it, this is about me. And Peter. Not that anything is going on between us anymore.”
I don’t say anything as I wait for her to continue.
“I just need to hear a third party’s opinion on this. Maybe I missed something.”
"You have my attention," I say.
"Okay. So, I didn’t want to go out with Peter in the first place but he was persistent. And it didn't seem like a big deal."
"Okay," I say.
"Then we started going out and it became weird. Peter never picked up a single call in front of me. He was always excusing himself or taking calls in secret. No matter where we were. Sometimes he would just leave in the middle of dates or cancel them abruptly. There were times he didn't even have the courtesy to tell me until it was too late. Then he started acting up when they found Sheila, so I asked for a break from the relationship just so we could figure out where we stand. The next thing I see is him grinding someone on Instagram live. So, that's my story. What do you think?” She looks at me.
What do I think? I'm thinking about a lot of things. For starters, she should never have gone on a date with Peter in the first place.
I remember a few months before Sheila left, Peter started visiting more often, even without any official reason. I figured they were dating and Sheila confirmed it, but the next thing I heard was that they’d broken up. Then they got back together again. Then they broke up and decided to be friends. And I know for sure that Peter was seeing another girl during that period. I’d seen him at a restaurant with a blonde that wasn't Sheila. Though he'd claimed it was a business meeting, it was obvious it wasn't.
I almost say all this to Sam but I check myself. It would only give her more to worry about and I wouldn’t be honoring Sheila’s memory if I did that.
“Hmm, well,” I start, “I’d say you’re right to question what happened. A lot of things don’t add up from what you’ve told me and I’m sure Peter wouldn’t be forthcoming with details if you asked him.”
“Not funny,” Sam says with a straight face.
"I'm sorry, that was insensitive," I apologize. "I'm on your side but at the same time, I don't want to be biased and judge him from what you've told me.”
"I understand." She sighs. "I just feel like Peter played me from the beginning."
I don’t know what to say to that, seeing her open herself like this. I wanted to hug her and hold her head to my chest but that would probably be too forward.
I go for an awkward pat on her shoulder that leaves me feeling useless. “I understand why you’ll feel like that." To be honest, Sam, he doesn’t deserve one bit of you
I hear loud cooing sounds from a couple gaining fast ground behind us. I turn out of curiosity, wondering how they’re able to show PDA and walk at such a pace without missing a beat. I feel like I'd been struck when I see that the guy in the woman's embrace is Peter. That cheeky lout.
I try to block Sam's view of them with my body but by how her breath hitches, I figure that she’s already seen them.
Peter does not even pretend not to see us as they walk past us. “Hey, Pastor. Good morning.” He nods at Sam and doesn’t wait for a response from me before he’s all over the woman by his side again.
Sam and I stop walking until they’re way ahead of us.
Sam doesn't seem bothered by the encounter but I can’t tell what she’s truly feeling.
Plagued by my conscience, I tell her about Peter's on and off relationship with Sheila.
"I think I suspected there was something between them the first time I saw them together. Why didn't Peter tell me, though?" she asks.
It’s a rhetorical question so I don't answer.
“Do you know the girl with him now?” she asks, staring daggers at their fast-disappearing backs.
"Never seen her before," I answer truthfully. "Hey, we don't have to finish the walk, you know. We could go back to the hotel if you want."
"No, I'm fine," Sam says. I can almost see her steeling her spine and strengthening her resolve. "I won't let him ruin my day."
Sam looks as if she wants to tell me something she thinks is important. As I look at her face and wait, I can tell when she discards the idea.
Instead, she says, "I'm glad I could talk to you like this. It means a lot to me."
“You can talk to me anytime, Sam,” I tell her. “I’ll always listen.”
I let out a puff of breath as she suddenly hugs me.
The fact that she barely reaches the middle of my chest doesn't go past me. How can one person be so strong and so small at the same time? I stand there awkwardly for a beat as I debate patting her on the head or wrapping my arms around her.
Drawing her closer could be too inappropriate so I pat her head like a child instead.
