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Saxon has been gone three days. He wanted to check on the garage and ensure things were running smoothly without him. From the brief conversations I’ve overheard, business is going well. I can’t help but feel responsible that he’s here and not there, but I’m selfish, and am glad he’s stayed.
“I’ll just have to do until he gets back,” I tease, hoping to lighten the mood.
He smiles, but it’s forced.
Sam has made no secret of the fact that he’d rather be going home with his mom and dad than me. But Sophia, Dr. Kepler, and Sam’s parents agreed for things to go back to ‘normal’ he was to return home and fall back into his usual routine. But I wasn’t so sure.
“C’mon, babe.” I bite my lip, the slip making us both feel uncomfortable. Sam thankfully doesn’t say anything and stands.
Time freezes as he reaches out and slips the duffle from my shoulder. It’s the first contact we’ve made in weeks and my heart sings at the connection. He however remains untouched as he peers around the room sadly. I suppose this was the first new memory he made, and leaving it behind and venturing into the unknown is a scary feeling. Especially venturing into the unknown with a stranger.
I stand off to the side, giving him the space to say goodbye.
After a few moments of silence, he turns to me. “Okay, let’s go.” Those words should be filled with hope, promise, and joy. Instead, they’re filled with dread.
We walk down the corridor and into the elevator, feet apart. To onlookers, we must appear to be complete strangers. Sam doesn’t look at me, nor does he appear excited to be leaving. Regardless of his apathy, I’m ecstatic to have him home.
It’s been nice having Saxon stay in the guest room, as the thought of going home to an empty house depresses me more than I care to admit. The thought has me wondering if Sam will be comfortable sharing our bed with me. I’ve been too preoccupied in ensuring he indeed was leaving this hospital with me, I skimmed over the minor details like whether or not he’ll want his own room for the time being.
I want him to remember me, rememberus, but I don’t want to cram it down his throat.
In a way, we’re sharing a bed for the first time and I don’t want things to get any weirder. I can’t handle any more weirdness.
The bright sun warms my Vitamin D deficient skin thanks to being cooped up inside for weeks. Both Sam and I are outdoorsy kind of people and being contained within those four walls was making me go a little stir crazy. I’m happy to finally be free.
Sam follows closely beside me, oblivious to what car I drive. Slipping the keys from my pocket, I sound the alarm on our silver Jeep.
The lights blink once in sync with Sam’s eyes. “You own a Jeep?”
Opening up the door, I shake my head. “No, you do.”
His mouth pops open.
“Welcome home, honey,” I quip, unable to help myself as I get into the car.
I know I shouldn’t be making jokes, but it’s something I would usually say. And Sophia did say I wasn’t to walk on eggshells around him. I was to act normal, as that normalcy was going to help Sam settle in. But I don’t want him thinking I’m not taking this seriously.
But when Sam gets in a second later, a small smile touching his cheeks, I’m so glad I went with my gut. It’s the best sight I’ve seen since the night he kissed me on the forehead, said, “Tomorrow you’ll officially be mine,” and beamed like he was the luckiest man alive.
He buckles up, the smile still present as he runs his fingers over the leather interior.
I don’t make a fuss and start the car, feeling a little more optimistic than a minute ago. We drive in silence, the soft humming of the talk radio filling the air. The silence isn’t uncomfortable however, as from the corner of my eye, I see Sam taking in the sights and sounds around him. This is no doubt all so much for him, as I don’t know what he remembers, and what is all new to him.
“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing over briefly before focusing back on the road.
“I think so,” he replies a moment later. “I just…I think I remember where we are?”
I almost sideswipe an oncoming car.
Quickly correcting, I swallow down my hysteria and ask, “You do? What do you remember?”
“I…” he pauses. “Up ahead is Paulo’s, right?”
“Yes!” I reply, unable to contain my excitement.
“Their pizza is the bomb,” we both say at the same time.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, my hands shaking as I grip the steering wheel. That is their infamous catchphrase.
