Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood.

And looked down one as far as I could.

—Robert Frost, "The Road Not Taken"

###

There were times when I lost a dream or two.

Found the trail, and at the end was you.

There's a path you take and a path not taken

The choice is up to you, My Friend.

—Larry Carlton, Blake Hunter, and Robert Kraft

###

As I pull into the driveway, I'm glad to see I timed this right. Sam's car is the only one here. Of course, she might've commuted with Mom and Grandma. But in her last letter, she said she's still just working one day a week in the city. The rest of the time, she's at home.

I didn't reply to her letter. I couldn't, and not just because I'm starting to use E-mail more than snail mail these days. I wanted to wait till we could talk in person, alone.

I park the car and give myself a moment to collect my thoughts, even though I've been thinking all the way from Cambridge. Then I sigh and get out. I climb the stairs and then do my iambic knock. I want her to know that it's me. She'll be surprised but less than if she opened the door and just saw me standing there.

There's no answer at first and I wonder if maybe she isn't home. I wait a minute and then turn to go. Then I hear the door open and her "Hey, Dweeb, you're a day early."

I turn back and smile. She's not quite the way I remember of course, but she's still her. "I bought a car."

"About time."

I had a car in high school but when I went off to MIT, there didn't seem any point in keeping it. Last summer Tony let me drive his Jeep, and of course Sam had her car.

"Yeah, well."

"So you drove all the way by yourself? Or did—?"

I know what she was going to say, but I deflect it for the moment. "Yeah, it wasn't too bad, just a few hours."

"I thought you were going to fly to New York, like last year."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to talk to you."

She crosses her arms, but defensively, not hostilely. "Me?"

"Yeah, can I come in?"

"Of course. But I just put Val down for a nap, so no loud music or shouting."

"OK."

Val. Valentina Marie Micelli-Thomopolous. She was born on Valentine's Day, ironically for a child conceived in a marriage that was in its last days, although Sam didn't know about either the break-up or the conception then. And Hank was thinking about leaving Sam but hadn't made up his mind yet. (You'd think it would've made him stay, but he's an idiot. About Sam anyway.) Val's middle name is for her late grandmother of course. Her last name is hyphenated because of the circumstances of her birth. The divorce was official by then, but Hank wouldn't let Val be just a Micelli and Sam refused to let her be just a Thomopolous. A compromise. Never mind that her initials make me think of "vomit."

"Can I see her?"

"About time," she mutters. I deserve that.

"I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "Never mind. Yeah, come on, meet your step-niece.

She leads me upstairs to her bedroom. There is no nursery here, since it wasn't exactly on Grandma's list when she redesigned the apartment a decade ago.

I try not to feel weird about going in there. When Sam and I were together, we did it in my bedroom, that one night and the morning after. I suppose if Grandma hadn't shown up, I might've been with Sam in here, although she did say she'd feel weird about it because of Hank.

He's been gone almost a year. Val is three months old. And, yeah, I'm meeting her for the first time.

I didn't plan for that. When I visited at Christmas, well, it was awkward of course, seeing Sam for the first time since the summer. When I left in early September, she was in her fourth month but not really showing. Her face was rounder I guess, but her stomach looked the same. She still had great legs.

It was a shock to see her in late December, even though I'd tried to prepare myself for it. She was in the eighth month and huge. I mean, she's petite, but she was a short, fat girl. She was still beautiful but she wasn't exactly sexy. Not repulsive, just, I don't know, motherly? And of course she wasn't in skimpy summer clothes but in winter maternity outfits. It was like she was Sam's long-lost older sister or something, not "my Sam."

And it hit more than it had in the summer, her life was all about the baby she was going to have. And I knew that that was how it should be, but I still felt like I'd lost something. Even though, yeah, she was pregnant when we had our fling. It's just she wasn't as pregnant.

But that wasn't why I didn't come to see her and the baby. Not in the hospital, and not when they came home to be spoiled by Tony.

She takes me over to the cradle, hand-made by Tony. I look down, and the sleeping little face is perfect.

"Sam," I whisper, "she's beautiful!"

"Yeah, luckily she takes after my side."

I manage not to laugh. Hank was, is, good-looking. The baby looks Mediterranean. I can see the Italian and Greek in her, even with the presumably brown eyes shut. The skin is olive as well as pink, and the bit of hair she has is dark brown.

"Come on." Sam leads me downstairs again. "So, is that why you're here? To meet her?"

"No, I could've done that later. When she's awake."

"So?" Her arms are crossed again.

"Can we sit down?"

She nods and takes a chair, so I sit on the end of the couch closest to her.

"I broke up with Susan," I blurt out.

"Oh. Then you drove alone."

"Yeah."

"Too bad. I mean, it's nice to have someone to share the driving."

"Right."

"When did you break up?"

"A couple weeks ago."

"Can I ask why?"

I take a deep breath before I answer, "Because I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Poor Susan."

"Sam."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want to know if you think about me."

She sighs. "Well, yeah, of course. But, look, Jonathan, my life is not in the same place it was a year ago."

"I hope not. A year ago you were shattered by Hank leaving you."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know."

"So what was wrong with Susan? She sounded perfect. Pretty, smart, hard-working, nerdy."

I laugh. "Yeah. No, there's nothing wrong with her. Well, she's not funny like you are, but most Business majors aren't."

"Right. But she has direction in her life, right? She knows what she wants to do. I thought that's what you were looking for."

"Yeah, I thought so, too. After, um, the craziness last summer, it was nice to be with someone less chaotic. No offence."

"None taken."

"And I was thinking maybe that was what I needed in my life. I was thinking about becoming a Business major, too."

"Yeah, that's what Angela said. But now you're not? Because you broke up with her?"

"No, it's more to do with something you said last year."

"Um, Jonathan, I said a lot of things."

"What you said about finding a major I'm passionate about. And I thought, well, I still love science. Money's nice but it's not exciting."

"Says the kid born with a silver spoon in his mouth."

"Susan also didn't have your incredible cynicism."

She laughs. "Thanks. So what kind of science?"

"That's one of the things I need to figure out this summer."

"Well, I really appreciate you telling me all this. About your break-up and your academic plans. We should have these talks more often."

"Sam, will you go out with me?"

"I can't leave Val when she's napping."

"I don't mean right this minute."

"You mean on a date?"

"Yeah."

"You want us to date? Like, officially, in public?"

"Well, we don't have to take out a notice in the paper, but yeah."

"You're crazy!"

"You could've just said you're not interested. You don't have to be rude about it."

She shakes her head. "Jonathan, I know we talked about it last year, but really? Tell Dad and Angela we want to be involved?"

"Sam, I can't sneak around with you again. It's not right. I want to be with you, but we have to be honest about it. Otherwise, it's not going to work."

"If Dad beats you to a bloody pulp, I don't think it'll work too well either."

"If we can get their permission, or blessing, or at least tolerance, would you go out with me?"

"Jonathan, if you can get Dad to let you take me out, I'll do the Hustle on the Staten Island ferry."

I grin. "OK. I'm holding you to that."

"Great. And you think your mom isn't going to be horrified?"

"No, not horrified. Surprised definitely. But she loves you."

"Well, Dad loves you, but that doesn't mean he wants you dating his precious only daughter."

"I've got all summer to work on this."

"When you're not figuring out your major."

"Right. And looking for a part-time job."

"Are you sure you're going to have time to date?"

"Hey, if a single working mother of a baby can, I certainly can."

"Jonathan, that's another thing. I'm no longer at the phase where it's hard for me to have free time enough to even shower, but Val is still taking up a lot of my time and energy, and I can't glam up for you. I'm not even sure if we can go out to the movies."

"You've got a VCR, right? We can rent."

"You're 19. Are you really sure you want to have quiet nights in? You're too young to settle down to a boring, domestic life."

"Let me decide that. And besides, I'll be with you, so how boring can it be?"

"You're really nice, you know that?"

"You could use a nice guy for a change."

She smiles. "Yeah, maybe I could." Then she sighs. "I kind of wish you hadn't brought this up though."

"Why's that?"

"Because I told myself that you'd moved on, and that that's how it should be. I was just your 'older woman.' A memory you'd always treasure and all that crap."

"Part of my crazy youth."

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe my crazy youth isn't quite over."

"Maybe not." She grins. "Maybe mine isn't either."

"I hope not. Sam, I really want to kiss you."

"I know, Dweeb. I want to kiss you, too, but let's leave it till we know we can move forward on this. Because you've stirred up a lot of buried feelings already, and we might have to bury them again, at least for awhile."

"OK." I'm disappointed but not surprised.

"So, um, how are we going about this? Do we work up to it? I mean, we can't tell them we slept together last year!"

"No, we definitely can't tell them that."

"Should we admit to kissing?"

"I'm not sure. It's probably best to limit it to we knew we had feelings but decided not to pursue it."

"Yeah, that's good. And it's not entirely a lie."

"Right. How about I bring it up when they come home?"

"OK. Do you want me there?"

"No, it's better if I do the first step on my own."
"You sure?"

"I'm sure. But be prepared for a lot of questions at the dinner table."

She chuckles. "OK."

"Well, I guess I should go."

"Hey, College Boy, don't I get to hug you?"

"Of course."

We both stand up and embrace. I'm a little taller than I was at Christmas, and she's a lot thinner, if not as thin as she was pre-pregnancy of course. It feels really good to have her in my arms again. I hope things work out so that I can hold her a lot this summer. And maybe beyond.

She lets go first. "See you at dinner."

"Yeah, unless I'm kicked out of the house."

"See, that's where I have an advantage. Angela can't evict me from this apartment because I have an adorable baby."

"Another example of how I failed to plan ahead."