iRegret
Synopsis: Hindsight is always 20/20...
Pairing: Carly/Sam
Disclaimer: I own iCarly...wait a minute, I don't...this "Magic '8' ball" is a rip-off!
Rated: "T"
Genre: Romance/Angst
Reviews: Much Appreciated
Current Muse: Against All Odds (Phil Collins)
The gray afternoon sky clung to Seattle like a grungy T-shirt, hugging every sinew of its rooftops, adhering to every street lamp and park bench. Rain seemed imminent, but I barely noticed...
…standing in front of my mother's grave, at the Madison Street Memorial Cemetery.
It was only about three weeks ago, on March twenty-first, the anniversary of our mother's passing, that Spencer and I brought Sam here. It hadn't occurred to me that she'd actually want to come, and so I was surprised when she immediately accepted our invitation.
Being here has always been so hard for both Spencer and me...we had cried in each others' arms, as always, and, eventually, I felt behind me for Sam, wanting to pull her close to us, and to hold her, too...but she wasn't there.
When I let go of Spencer and looked around, at first I wasn't sure where she had wandered off to, but then I saw her kneeling on the ground, several rows away, in front of a tiny headstone.
I walked around to where she was, and looked down.
Edward Nicholas Hines. He had only been four. He had passed away less than two years ago, but his grave had been completely neglected, an eyesore, among so many neatly manicured sites.
Then I watched Sam, world-class slacker, on her knees, silently struggling to pull weeds out of the semi-frozen earth, and, in that moment, I realized that I loved her...more than I ever knew it was possible to love another human being.
I already knew how she felt about me. For the past year or so, when we'd watch TV, I'd often look down and see her hand lying between us, on the couch, palm up, but I never touched it. For so many reasons...no, that's not true...only out of fear.
Later that evening, after we'd returned from the cemetery, while we sat watching Girly Cow in my living room, I looked between us for her hand, and didn't see it...but then again, I didn't expect to...I knew she'd given up...months ago.
Reaching over to her knee, I took her hand between both my own, gently pulled it toward me, and held it in my lap...and then I moved closer to where she sat, and rested my head on her shoulder. She didn't acknowledge what I'd done in any way, but I sneaked a look at her face, and on it was a expression of complete rapture...almost like she'd seen the face of God.
I sat holding her hand, trembling, waiting for it to feel weird...like my schoolmates (who always called gays 'faggots' and 'freaks'), had made me believe it would...but it didn't...it felt good...unbelievably good, actually...and, eventually, I relaxed against her.
Two hours later, extremely nervous, and waiting again for it to feel weird, I lay my palm against her cheek, and gave her a little peck goodnight...our first lip-to-lip contact...ever, and it still felt okay...very okay, I realized, trying to calm the swooping sensation in my stomach. She didn't ask for more, or say anything at all about it...but she was smiling broadly, almost non-stop, for several days to come.
Two days later I was at Kingston Jewelers, buying her birthday present.
The Seattle Arcadia Mall has four jewelry stores, but she never passed this one without stopping...always looking at only one thing: the fourteen carat gold double-heart ring, displayed in the lower left-hand corner of the front window. She never asked to try it on...Sam never had money for jewelry (or much else, for that matter)...but it was obvious that she loved it.
I had our initials engraved on the ring, had it gift wrapped, and then I hid it in my bottom dresser drawer, waiting for her birthday, April seventeenth. That's when I was going to give it to her, and tell her everything: how much I loved her, and how much I wanted us to be together.
But two days later, we were fighting through Fleck and Dave, and then three days later, we were fighting on the window washers' platform.
She had risked her life to save mine...and I had let go of her. I swear I didn't mean to...but I lost my grip on her ankle and found myself holding a black and white checkered Van sneaker, as she went over the edge, and out of my life...forever...without making a sound.
The funeral was four days later. Spencer told me...since he had hit her with the rope...that it was all his fault...not mine...but I was inconsolable.
As I stood, three weeks ago, watching Sam kneeling on the damp ground, unselfishly tending to the grave of a complete stranger, I never dreamed that, less than a month later, she'd be buried here...less than two hundred feet away.
There was no question of trying to return the ring...not because it had been engraved...but as a reminder. I would keep it, always, to remind myself not to be such a complete screw-up...ever again.
This afternoon Freddie showed up at my place with his huge binder of iCarly ideas...asking if we could plan one final show...a memorial service for Sam. I hadn't been in the studio since she had passed, and couldn't bear to even think about it, and I just freaked out completely, before slamming the front door in his face.
I have to apologize...but not today...I just can't...
Oh, God...I'm such a screw-up! I've lost one best friend, and now I'm alienating the other. What's wrong with me?
So here it is, her birthday, and I'm at the cemetery, and I'm not sure why...what could I possibly do or say now that will make any difference? Still, I feel like I owe it to her to be here.
I had a long monologue with my mother at her plot, trying to delay visiting Sam for as long as possible...I hadn't been over there since the funeral.
Finally I couldn't think of any more excuses, so I said goodbye to my mom, and slowly walked over to where Sam had been buried.
As I rounded the corner of her row...I saw him.
He had been kneeling, laying a large bouquet of tiny blue flowers against a headstone, here at the end of the row, right in front of me. I'm the worst judge of age, but estimate that he was in his late twenties, tall, with a handsome face...darker than most of us paler Seattle residents...with tears on it.
Getting to his feet, I heard him exhale, shakily, as he wiped his eyes, roughly, on the sleeve of his navy blue pea jacket.
Suddenly, he saw me looking at him, and stared back in surprise. I felt terrible, having intruded on such a private moment. "I-I'm so sorry! I was just...uh..."
He ran a hand through his dark hair, and then shook his head. "It's okay," he said, moving a little to one side, and gesturing with his hand.
Accepting the invitation, I walked over and stood next to him, and then looked down.
Emily Rebecca Cutty. She had only been twenty-six.
I smiled when I saw the flowers. "Forget-me-nots."
"Yeah...they were her favorite..."
"Who was she?"
"My wife."
"I'm sorry...was it unexpected...or...had she been ill?"
He shuffled his feet. "Um, no...this past November...there was...an armed robbery at my house, while I was at work...maybe if I'd been at home...I could have...I should have been home. I usually only book day trips on the boat, but I took a request for an overnight party. They never caught the person who..." his voice trailed off.
I was stunned...My God, why was life so incredibly unfair? To find the person you love, only to have them taken from you...so soon...and in such a terrible way?
I started to sniffle. He glanced over at me, then unbuttoned his pea jacket, reached inside, and pressed something into my hand. I looked down at it...a clean, white linen handkerchief, with a blue border, with 'TLC' neatly embroidered, in blue.
He saw me looking at his monogram. "Thomas Leonard Cutty...after my father. You can call me Tom...and you are...?"
"Carly...Carly Shay. Do you live here in Seattle, Tom?"
"Yes. I run a fishing charter between here and Bainbridge Island, across the bay."
I tried to smile. "Well, that explains the tan."
He looked around the cemetery, and then back at me. "So...are you here visiting your grandparents?"
"No I just went to see my mom, she's over there..."
He nodded.
"...and now I'm going to...to...," I tried, hard, but I just couldn't say it. Giving up, I sobbed into his handkerchief, and pointed, to a spot farther down the row.
Without a word, he followed me, and we stood in front of her headstone.
Samantha Joy Puckett. She had only been seventeen.
"Who was she?"
"She...she was my Sam," I answered simply.
"You mean...like your girlfriend?" He asked so kindly, without the slightest trace of judgment, that I looked up into his dark brown eyes and admitted to him what I'd never admitted to anyone, myself included.
"She was supposed to be...we both wanted her to be...but then I completely screwed it up."
I braced myself, dreading the next question...how could I ever explain what had happened? But then I saw him looking down, at the recent date of her passing, and I knew he wouldn't ask me...he was too kind.
He nodded, and we both stood looking at each other, without speaking.
"Tom...," I began, "...h-how do you..." my voice trailed off, but he knew what I was asking.
He looked at me for a long moment before answering. "I...I believe that we all were put here for our spiritual development. Like, if you want to develop your muscles, you have to put stress on them...you know...run, or lift weights, or whatever..."
I nodded.
"...well, likewise, I believe...that...the stress of the challenges we have to face while we're here makes us stronger...and, hopefully, more loving and compassionate toward others."
"It's still horrible."
He shrugged. "The lesson is always worth all the cost."
I didn't know exactly what he meant by that...or how to answer him.
We both were silent for a long time. Finally, he asked, "Can I show you something?" and held out his hand.
I took it.
It was a bit rough, which you'd expect from a commercial fisherman...but as I glanced at it I saw that his nails were clean, and neatly trimmed. He had recently had a haircut, was clean-shaven, and, even though the cuffs of his khakis were slightly frayed at the bottoms, they were spotless and pressed. He had obviously made an effort before coming to see Emily.
The row of burial plots where we were standing borders on the older section of the cemetery, which dates from the late 1800's. I had never been in that area before, but, as he led me toward it, I saw that the monuments there were ornate, and incredibly beautiful. I followed him around a tall, black granite obelisk, and then I saw it.
And it took my breath away.
At our feet was a very old, massive, white marble slab, resting directly upon the earth. I couldn't read the name or date...not because of the moss that was growing on it...but because of the sturdy, twisted oak tree that was growing through it.
He smiled. "I sometimes come to look at this...when I'm really missing her. To remind myself...that something beautiful can come from something awful."
I knew he was trying to cheer me up...and I appreciated it...but I just couldn't agree...not in my case. I was being taught a lesson, but why wasn't I going to be allowed to try to repair the damage? I was never going to see her, talk to her, or hold her again...ever.
"Carly?" I looked up into his kind brown eyes as he said. "I'm really sorry about Sam...I wish the two of you had been given more time."
I nodded and looked down, staring at his salt-stained Top-siders, until they became a blur...and I started to shake, and then cry, uncontrollably.
He held out his arms. "Come here."
I'd never hugged a complete stranger before, but I moved toward him without any hesitation, and stood, with my face against the rough surface of his jacket, as I sobbed, "Why? Why did this have to happen?"
"Carly, it's going to be okay..."
"No it's not...not now...not ever!"
"Listen to me...God knows what's best for us, even if sometimes we don't understand..."
I didn't want to listen anymore. "No! He's taken her away from me...I thought He loved us!"
"He does. I struggle with this, too...every day. We have to have faith..."
"I want Sam!"
I felt his hands on my shoulders and, looking up, I saw him looking down, directly into my eyes. "Carly...listen to me..."
But I couldn't listen...not anymore. I threw my arms around his waist, resting my forehead on his chest, half-crying, half-screaming her name. "Sam...SAM...oh, God...oh, please...S-A-AAMMM!"
I felt his rough palm against my cheek. "Carly...Carly...shh...things have a way of working themselves out...it's going to be okay..."
It wasn't. Ever. I kept crying her name, pushing my face inside his jacket, against his mallard-green CUTTY FISHING - PACIFIC NORTHWEST TOURS T-shirt...
"Carly..." I felt his gentle hands, still on my shoulders, pulling my face away from his mallard-green CUTTLEFISH, INC. - PACIFIC NORTHWEST TOUR T-shirt...
"Carls, hey...hey...I'm here..." I heard his groggy voice, and I felt him give my shoulders a little shake...
...and then...in the dim light of the darkened room, I saw her face, looking out from beneath her messy blond bangs...
...and I knew, at that moment, that I had completely lost my mind. "No...NO! NO! This is a hallucination...I'm going to blink and find myself standing back there with Tom, a complete stranger who's forgiven me...even though I never can...why did I screw it up? I didn't want to screw it up! Oh,God, why...Why...WHY?"
"Who's Tom?"
"Why, God?" I begged, watching as her face dissolved in front of me, just like I'd predicted it would, blurred by my tears. " At least tell me why!"
"Carly...it's okay..."
I was bawling. "No...it's never going to be okay...never again!"
Suddenly, I felt my T-shirt being dragged up around my shoulders, and, then, a bare, softly-rounded chest being pressed against mine. "What? Who?"
And found myself staring into her confused blue eyes. "Now that I have your attention!"
"Sam...SAM?"
"Did you have a bad dream?"
"Sam...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to let go of you...I swear it! It should have been me who died..."
Suddenly, I felt a hand close around my wrist...and then my open palm was resting against her naked chest...over her heart.
"W-what are you doing?"
She pressed my hand against her. "Does this feel like a cold corpse to you?"
"Sam? But...you...I...we..."
"Carls, I'm a little tired...but I'm not dead!"
I couldn't stop crying and shaking. She grabbed hold of my upper arms, and looked into my face.
"I'm here, Cupcake...we both are. We're both okay."
I looked over her shoulder and saw my desk chair, with my pink plaid jumper draped over it, and her brown cargo pants on top of that.
And then I remembered...
...how horrible I had just been to her.
How tonight, after the terrible things I'd said, and, after we both had almost died, how I'd laid over here, at the far edge of my side of the bed...and how I had turned my back to her...without speaking...still too selfish to say all the things I should have...and how I had listened to the soft sobs, muffled by her pillow, before I went to sleep...fully aware of how badly she was hurting... and, still, I said and did nothing!
No more being a screw-up! No More!
Suddenly my hands were in her hair. "Sam..."
...and her palms were on my cheeks.
"...Sam I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I don't ever want to fight with you again...not like that...not ever!"
"No, Carls...I'm sorry..."
"...and for waiting so long to apologize..."
"No...I was a complete..."
"Sam...I hate myself for the things I said to you!"
"No, I'm the screw up! I'm so sorry, Carls...I promise it'll never happen again...I swear I'm going to change..."
I threw my arms around her neck and sobbed, "Don't you dare! Don't you understand that you being who you are is why I love you so much?"
Then her arms were around my neck, and her nose was touching mine, and her voice was shaking as she said, "Look at me."
I did.
"Carly Shay...you and I are both through with being stupid...agreed?"
"I agree...I'm so sorry."
She started to cry. "I'm so sorry...never again...I promise...okay?"
"Never Again! Sam...I love you so..."
She cut me off with a kiss, then hung her head and sobbed.
"Shh...it's okay...stop crying." I was surprised that she did...immediately...
...but, then I realized why...
...she was looking down at us...and blushing furiously.
"Oh, God...oh, Carls...I'm so sorry...what was I thinking!" and I felt her hands on my T-shirt, trying to pull it back down.
I moved her hands away, and then lay down with her, gently moving her head onto my bare chest, directly over my heart, before pulling the covers over us both.
"C-carls, I...love you..."
"I know, Sam...and I love you...so incredibly much."
I felt her arms around me...she was still shaking. "Are-are we...are we all better now?"
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Shh...yes...," I whispered, "...close your eyes..."
Eventually she relaxed against me, and her breathing grew even, and finally I lifted my gaze from where she lay. Through my window I could see the illuminated clock tower of The Barclay Hotel, directly across the street. Eleven-forty-three pm. It's dim light was shining into my bedroom, and, as I looked to the far side of it...at the bottom drawer of my dresser, suddenly, I realized...
...tomorrow is the seventeenth.
Epilogue:
Around seven-thirty am I opened my eyes to a blond forest. Moving her hair out of the way, I looked down and smiled; she had fallen asleep right where I'd left her, and I felt her warm breath softly rippling across my chest.
I reached down and gently caressed her bare back and, to my surprise, she woke up. Immediately. It's unprecedented to see Sam stir...before noon...on a Saturday morning.
Silently, she smiled up at me, before planting a kiss on my chest, then she raised herself up, and (finally) pulled both our shirts down.
"Good Morning." I leaned down and kissed her, and watched as her face lit up...
...but then, suddenly, she looked wary as she asked, "Um...are you okay?"
"I'm very okay...how about you?"
"Extremely. Carls?"
"Yes?"
"Will you be my girlfriend?" So direct...so lovable...so Sam!
"I thought I already was."
Smiling, she crawled up me, toward the pillow, and tangled her hands in my hair. "I love you so much."
"I know...have I mentioned that I love you right back...every bit as much?"
After pulling back from our kiss, she wrapped her arms around me, and hugged me so hard that I thought I felt my spine crack.
"Sam...can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Um...uh..."
"Go ahead...whatever it is, I promise not to get mad...no matter what you say."
"It's not that...it's...it's..."
"Yes?"
It was so hard to ask her...I thought she might laugh at me. But she didn't. Instead she looked at me with a solemn face, then got up, without a word, and walked to my closet. After looking around inside for a minute, she pulled out my forest green garment bag, and I wanted to hug her and never let go.
Opening the bag, she removed the only item inside it...a white, oxford button-down shirt, that I always keep clean, starched, and pressed for her...even though she seldom wears it. Aside from the odd occasion when she's forced into a pageant dress or bridesmaid's dress, Samantha Puckett doesn't dress up. Ever. Seeing her pull her one dress shirt out of the closet made me realize how seriously she took this.
Less than two hours later, after showers, breakfast, and a short bus ride, we were walking through the cemetery gates, toward my mom's grave. Sam reached over, through the misty April morning sunlight between us, and took my hand.
It was surreal to be here, after what had happened last night; and I was grateful that she had listened, with a straight face, when I had told her...everything.
"Sam...the whole thing seemed so real."
She nodded, giving my hand a squeeze.
I paused, turning to face her. "Do you think I'm weird for doing this?"
"Of course not...I can understand why you'd want to tell her...first."
When we approached the grave, Sam stood a little behind me, as I walked up and caressed my mother's headstone.
"Mom, remember when I was a little girl and you told me that someday I would meet someone who would make my head spin, and make my heart race, with only a glance? Well, you were right...you're always right. I've fallen hopelessly, completely, in love...with Sam. This morning she asked me to be her girlfriend...and I said yes.
"You always had the incredible gift of looking through a person's exterior...straight to the essence of who they really are...so, even though you never got to meet Sam, I know you would have loved her.
"We're here because we wanted you to know...before anyone else."
Sam took a step forward. "Mrs. Shay...I love Carly...and I'll always be so grateful to you...thank you so much for giving her to the world...to all of us."
She saw me rubbing my eyes, and put her arms around my neck. "Hey."
I looked up.
"I'm sure you want to have a moment alone with her."
I nodded, and let her kiss my forehead. Then I watched as she walked over to Edward's little grave, and knelt down in front of it.
Turning back to the plot in front of me, I was silent for a long time. Finally, choosing my words carefully, I said, "Mom, recently, I did some really reckless stuff...I risked my life outside a 14th story window, I put Sam in danger, I fought over something incredibly stupid, and I almost threw away one of the most valuable gifts God has ever given me. And I regret it all...deeply. You know that I've always tried to make you...and Him...proud of me. I'm sorry that I've fallen so short...I promise to try harder...much harder... from now on...
"...I have to go soon...today's Sam's birthday, and I got her a really special ring, and I can't wait to give it to..."
"Carls...hey, Carls...come here!" Sam called.
"Mom I love you...I'll talk to you again...soon."
Turning away, I hurried over to Edward's grave, but I didn't see Sam...
"No, Carls...over here!" and I saw where she was standing, about four rows away.
As I approached, I noticed the expression on her face...
...but it wasn't until I walked around the corner that I saw the name on the headstone...and the bouquet of blue forget-me-nots lying against it...