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Opening my left eye a fraction of an inch, I found myself lying on my right side...
...facing my alarm clock.
...at 8:37 a.m.
With a wide smile, and full of anticipation for the day ahead, I rolled over onto my back and stretched out both of my arms as widely as I could. As I lowered them, my left hand landed on...
..a denim-covered thigh.
I jumped.
She laughed.
And I shoved my sweatshirt-covered Sam/pillow the rest of the way under the covers with astonishing speed; and then rolled onto my left side, to see her, sitting with her back against the headboard.
"Good morning, Cupcake!" she said, with alarmingly-uncharacteristic cheerfulness, considering the earliness of the hour.
"H-h-how l-long have you b-been here?" I demanded, "Or am-m I hallucinating? It's only 8:37 in the m-morning!"
"8:39," she corrected me, "and you're definitely awake."
As I stared at her, still doubting that I actually was conscious...
..she scooched over to where I was lying.
Leaning down until her face was inches from mine, she took hold of my left hand and brought it up to her right cheek. "See? It's the real deal!"
I raised both my hands and messed up her hair.
"Hey!" she protested...but then she smiled at me warmly. "So, how did you sleep?"
"Okay, but more importantly, how did you sleep?" I inquired, lowering my right hand from her hair to her forehead...
...which, thankfully, felt normal.
While balancing agilely on one hand and rearranging her hair with the other, she answered, "I slept like a rock...hauling all that furniture finally caught up with me. And while we're on the subject, Garth paid me for last night, and for the half-day I worked on Thursday; so everything today is on me...breakfast, lunch, both movies-"
"No!" I protested. "Just let me pay...like alw-"
"Carls...I insist! Is the Brittany Cafe okay for brunch?"
"But that place is so expensive!" I protested. "Why don't you save your mon-"
Her hand pressing gently across my mouth silenced me.
"No, Shay. End of story. Now, why don't you take a shower and get ready, while I go online and see what time the movies start?" she suggested, rolling away from me and settling back against the headboard once again.
I gave in. "Okay, if you really want to...but if you need something to tide you over until breakfast, I think I saw some Fat Cakes on the kitchen coun-"
She tore out of the room.
And I immediately yanked her sweatshirt off my pillow, and then hurried toward the bathroom.
When I returned twenty minutes later, she was back on my bed, hovering over my laptop. "Hmm...okay, Die Herd starts at 11:30, and Sheepless in Seattle starts at 3:30, so...brunch at 10 and lunch at 2?" she proposed.
"That sounds like a plan," I agreed.
I walked over to my dresser (while watching to confirm that her eyes were still riveted to the screen) ...
...and then...
...feeling way more than a little shy...
...I took my robe off and started to get dressed...
...while sneaking occasional, furtive looks in my mirror to see if she was sneaking peeks at me...
...but, if she was, I didn't catch her at it.
"Where do you want to have lunch?" I asked, deciding that it was only fair to let her pick the restaurant since she was paying.
She lifted her eyes and, to my slight disappointment, looked over at me...
...in a strictly G-rated sort of way...
...even though I was still only half-dressed...
...and, after thinking it over for a moment...
...she replied, "How about the Sunset Grill, over on King Street?"
"Okay," I agreed. "I love their burgers."
She nodded, and her eyes remained focused on my laptop, while I finished getting ready.
Less than five minutes later, I sat down on the bed and pulled on my boots...
...and then we put on our jackets...
...and took elevator downstairs.
As soon as we left my building, I looked up at the anchor-gray sky, an all-too-familiar sight here in Seattle; and hoped that it wasn't going to rain at all today, as we headed to the restaurant.
If I had to sum up the Brittany Cafe in three words, it would be: Overpriced Gourmet Bistro. Still, I love coming here because the food is fantastic.
It was my first visit with Sam.
After we had been shown to a table and the waiter had brought our drinks, she looked down at the menu that was lying in front of her.
"Just a reminder, Cupcake...I'm buying...so order whatever you want," she stated...
...before grabbing her glass of orange juice and draining it in one shot.
I didn't have to study the menu...
...I'd already made up my mind what I wanted: The house specialty.
It's what I always get.
The waiter returned. "Are you ready to order?"
Without speaking, Sam gestured toward me with both hands...
...and he turned in my direction.
"Eggs Benedict, please," I requested.
He made a note on his order pad. "O...kay, and you, Miss?" he asked, turning back to Sam.
"I'll have the same," she stated.
"All right then, two Eggs Ben-" he began...
...but she cut him off. "I'll also have pancakes...a broccoli/cheddar omelet...ham, bacon, and sausage...and a dessert menu, please."
His eyebrows disappeared up into his hair, and he scribbled down the rest of her order.
As he headed to the kitchen, I turned to Sam. "Open forum today...what would you like to talk about? Anything at all. What's on your mind?"
She thought it over for a moment. "I was just wondering...what's Spencer currently working on? I saw a big plastic tarp on the floor, near your living room stairway; and it had some kinda huge, weird white blob with twisted wire hangers sticking out of it in every direction, sitting in the middle of it."
I smiled. "Oh, that. Well, it's eventually going to be a nine-foot tall Easter Bunny, and he's making it out of plaster, laid over a wire armature. The Seattle Gallery Mall ordered it, to display in their main atrium. He has to deliver it by next Tuesday, so that gives him another nine days to finish it."
She nodded. "What color is it going to be?"
"Uh, I think he said the mall purchasing agent requested yellow."
Her jaw dropped. "Yellow? Are they out of their minds? Won't it look like it has hepatitis?"
"Maybe," I admitted. "What color do you suggest...red?"
She didn't need to reflect on that one. "Red? Nah...too unseasonably satanic."
I laughed. "Then what color do you think it should be?"
"Well, that all depends. Do you know if he's gonna-"
Her phone rang.
She fished it out of her pocket. "Hey, what's up? He did? You did? They did? Well, yeah...no, it's not a problem. When then? Okay, what about-? We do? But then, what about...yeah, sure. Okay, fine. Talk to you later."
She hung up. "Good news, Cupcake. I just found out that-"
At that moment, the waiter brought our food...
...and Sam stared at the four plates he set down in front of her...
...completely mesmerized...
...for about two seconds...
...before grabbing her fork...
...and tearing into her breakfast.
After about three minutes of focused, rapid shoveling...
...she looked up at me. "This is fantastic! I'd heard about this place, but it's even better than I imagined. How's yours? Is everything okay?"
"Great," I answered.
She smiled broadly.
That's really what made this particular meal so memorable: Sam's wide smile. On any given day, you could generally describe her expression as 'passive' or 'stony-faced' (unless she was in a rage), but today, once the pit in her stomach had been filled somewhat, she leaned back in her chair and began to eat at an almost human pace; while watching me eat my breakfast and apparently enjoying the sight very much, since she still smiled manically.
At first, I wasn't sure of the reason for this; but, finally, I realized why: She was happy to be taking me out and paying for me...
...for the first time ever.
And then, right after we had finished our entrees...
...she completely blew my mind.
She offered to share her dessert with me!
If that's not love, what is?
And, suddenly, my insides felt as warm and gooey as the huge piece of molten lava chocolate mousse cake that sat on the table between us.
A few short minutes later, as she carefully surveyed the empty plates on the table...
...making sure she hadn't missed anything...
...I spoke up. "Sam?"
She lifted her eyes to mine. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for breakfast. I really enjoyed it."
She smiled again.
As I held my breath in anticipation, desperately hoping to hear something affectionate...
...she opened her mouth to reply...
...and our waiter approached.
And she was distracted by what was in his hand.
Sam's arm was a blur as it shot forward and grabbed the check, approx. 0.8 seconds after it had hit the table.
"Can I at least leave the tip?" I offered.
"Don't even dream it!" she said ominously, digging into the right front pocket of her jeans.
While she slid some money (she wouldn't let me see how much) into the check holder...
...I got up from my chair...
...and looked out the window.
The sky was still overcast.
With a sigh, I turned...
...and to my surprise, I found Sam holding out my jacket for me.
Blushing, I turned back around and let her help me into it...
...and then...
..I leaned over toward the back of her chair...
...and grabbed her jacket.
Looking slightly embarrassed, she tried to take it from me.
I wouldn't let her.
And then...
...despite her protests...
...I reached out...
...put one hand on her shoulder..
...and turned her to face away from me.
The old Warwick theater, originally built in 1917, had been spared the wrecker's ball, and new Seattle had gradually grown up around it. The building's exterior was elaborately embellished, featuring cathedral-like stonework and numerous stained glass windows; and the high ceilings of its interior had been painted in the trompe l'oeil style;with each scene depicting a broad expanse of brightly-illuminated, blue sky, populated with smiling cherubs, whose strategically-bent knees tastefully hid their 'personals'. The rest of the theater's furnishings were lavishly accented with red velvet and artfully hand-carved, gilt-trimmed woodwork.
Overall, the ambiance of the place was elegant, yet intimate; since it had only three screens, unlike the twenty-four over at the Humonoplex.
The Warwick was located about six blocks from the Brittany Cafe, and just as we reached it, the skies opened...and you never saw such a downpour. As we quickly ducked under the marquee and headed for the ticket window, I felt Sam's hand grab mine as I, out of force of habit, reached for my wallet.
"No, Carls!"
I let her pay.
"Hey! Leave some for the other customers!" I advised...
...five minutes later, as Sam raided the concession stand (requesting, among other things, a triple dose of artery-hardening, genuine-artificial-imitation 'butter' on her Monster Bucket of popcorn).
Yuck.
Finally, thirty-two dollars later, she swept the heaping pile of candy she'd bought off the counter and into her backpack, and we walked toward the back of the building, to the sign over the entrance to Die Herd. Once the door had closed behind us, we were plunged into complete darkness, because the previews hadn't started yet, and for some reason, the aisle lights weren't lit. In fact, it was so black that I couldn't see if there were any customers in the seats...
...or even the seats themselves.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to accustom them to the darkness, but they snapped open seconds later, when Sam took my hand...
...and led me carefully down the steeply sloping aisle. About halfway to the front, she turned to her left, entered a row and pulled me in after her and, seconds later, I sat down...
...right on her lap.
"Hey! I paid for two seats...let's get our money's worth!" she reminded me.
"S-sorry," I replied, a little shook up from having sat on her.
Thankful that the theater was so dark, I hopped up, blushing profusely...
...and jumped when I felt her smack my butt.
Sam!"
She answered with a laugh...
...as I fumbled my way over into the seat next to hers.
"Popcorn?" she inquired...
...immediately shoving the bucket in my general direction in the darkness.
"No thanks," I replied...
...and settled back into my seat with a contented sigh; as I sat there in the inky blackness; happily listening to the far-off sound of muffled rain on the roof...
...and the nearby sound of enthusiastic munching and crunching coming from over on my left...
...until, maybe two minutes later, the screen lit up; subjecting us to the usual, boring warnings about fire exits...
...and about littering...
...and about cell phone use...
...ad nauseum.
By the flickering glow of the screen, I saw Sam set her nearly-empty popcorn bucket onto the seat to the left of her own.
Which reminds me: Whoever designed the Warwick did a fantastic job...
...except for the seats! The armrests are completely impractical. Even though there are two separate armrests side by side between each chair, they can only accommodate one arm at a time.
Anyway, since the ones on either side of me were both vacant, I settled both of my arms onto them.
Seconds later...
...Sam promptly and unceremoniously knocked my left one off...
...and her right arm took its place.
The nerve!
I was there first!
There was only one thing to do.
Without hesitation, I purposefully shoved her arm off, and settled my own arm back where it had been originally...
...but, less than five seconds later...
...it was back in my lap...
...where it had landed it when she'd pushed it off again...
...and her own arm was now back on the armrest...
..but not for long.
I flung it back at her and returned my arm to its rightful place...
...which it soon left again...
...possibly forever...
...since her own arm moved back, rapidly displacing mine...
...and her right hand clamped, with a death-grip, onto the front edge of the armrest...
...successfully resisting all my further attempts to move it...
...and, believe me, I did try!
Repeatedly!
Finally, with a sigh, I gave up.
And less than ten seconds later...
...her right hand was in my lap...
...searching determinedly...
...until she found my left wrist...
...and, taking hold of it...
...she gently lifted my arm...
...returning it to the armrest...
...and then, after giving my hand a squeeze...
...she left it there...
...and her hand returned to her own lap.
Once I had gotten over my confusion, and had successfully repressed the urge to smack her hand, hard, for being such a 'wise guy'...
..I toyed with the idea of pulling her arm back over onto the arm rest, and the two of us sharing it...
...which would give me the perfect excuse to hold her hand...
...but then I noticed that it was now holding the popcorn bucket...
...which was just as well...
...since I had no idea what she'd think of the idea...
...or how she'd react.
Anyway, the previews were starting.
I couldn't believe the first one...it was for the sequel to the movie we were about to watch (they'd wasted no time(!) Girly Cow: Udder Chaos! The trailer was kind of vague, but considering the scene with Girly Cow pole dancing in a strip club and the patrons stuffing dollar bills into her collar while ogling her uh, 'assets', it seemed to be very racy...
...even though it was rated 'G'.
The next trailer advertised an obviously-low budget rip-off, starring troubled, thieving, drugging, slutty, debauched, out-of-control psycho/celebrity, Lynn Z. Lowen, who was, apparently, desperately trying to revive her one-foot-in-the-grave-and-the-other-foot-on-a-banana-peel acting career. The title was Star Whores, and in it, Lynn Z. plays a hooker from outer space.
No thanks.
The next one was a sequel to the Academic Award-winning movie The King Speaks and was titled, Stutter Island: George VII vacations on Malta.
This was followed by Joan of Narc (hallucinatory drugs)...
...which was followed by Saving Ryan's Privates (don't ask)...
...and finally, a surreal, futuristic flick about alien-enforced population control: Sperminator.
I hope the Humungoplex reopens soon!
For the record, I was far from impressed with Die Herd, mainly because the entire movie was so incredibly violent...
...so of course Sam loved it.
Anyway, the best thing about watching a movie with Sam is that afterward we always review it in detail over lunch or dinner.
Two hours later, it was still pouring as we emerged from the theater, and, since neither of us had thought to bring an umbrella, we decided to skip walking six blocks to King Street's Sunset Grill. After a short consultation, we settled on pizza at Marioni's, which was just around the corner.
Thirty minutes later, after we had been shown to a table near the street and our food had arrived, I sat facing the window; dividing my time between eating and mopping pizza sauce off Sam's chin.
"Sho, whuddja thingk ob da moobie?" she asked, around a mouthful of Meatball Marinara Mushroom Mozzarella Mash-up.
I set my fork down. "Honestly?"
She nodded vigorously. "Yesh. Pershunmalry, I lubbed idd...amd can'd oooayte por duh sheekwul."
I took a deep breath. "Well, to tell you the truth, I thought it was rather...violent for a children's movie."
She took a long slurp of her lemonade while she pondered this...
...but then she shook her head. "Aw, kids see violence ten times worse than this on the news! All those terrorists and serial killers running around! If ZNN can show that junk, then we can have blood and guts in movies...where it's seriously needed for entertainment value!"
I pushed my empty plate to one side and rested my elbows on the table. "But, Sam, don't you think that Girly Cow joining a street gang sends the wrong message to kids?"
She looked back up from her pizza. "It wasn't her fault! She was forced to join! All she was doing was hailing a cab, but the Cud members thought she was flashing the secret Cud hoof signal, and that she already was one of them!"
"Well, yeah," I admitted, "but when they found out that she wasn't a member, they...uh...don't you think that her initiation into the gang was kind of...extreme?"
She stared at me in disbelief. "Not at all! If she hadn't joined, they would have killed her! When they took her back to their hideout, and she heard them planning their attack on the Cripps, they made her choose between joining and death. Let's face it, Carls...she already knew too much!"
She paused for a moment to reflect. "But then again, if I was sprayed from head to hoof with barbeque sauce, and then was forced to sit in a sauna for twelve hours, I'd probably crack too."
I nodded sagely. "Also, I thought that the steak house's 'bloodbath scene' at the end was a bit much."
"No, it wasn't!" she protested. "Don't you see, Carls; it was essential to the plot. If the rest of the Cuds hadn't been blown away, all twenty-seven of them, then she never would have been able to leave the gang...remember what they told her after her initiation: You're a Cud until you die!"
I decided to let her have the last word, mainly because I didn't want to take all the spark out of her debating abilities. I wanted her to be just as eager to discuss Sheepless in Seattle later this afternoon, since I was hoping that it would present an opportunity to gain some insight as to how she felt about gays...
...and, possibly, about me.
She lowered her gaze to the bowl of chocolate ice cream the waitress had just set on the table, and I looked past her, out the window...
...watching the pouring rain...
...wishing that we were back at my place...
...in my bed...
...under the covers.
Twenty minutes later, we had finished dessert, and, after I'd cleaned her up one last time, she paid...
...and then we ran around the corner, and back into the theater.
Even though the movie was a real tearjerker, I managed (with considerable effort) to keep my own emotions under control; not wanting to give anything away before I'd had a chance to hear Sam's perspective on it.
Two hours later, when the movie ended, it was still pouring(!), so we ran for cover over to the Canterbury Tea Shoppe, which was four doors down from The Warwick.
Once we had settled into a cozy table for two in the back corner, and had ordered hot chocolate and a heaping plate of Madeleines, I looked across at Sam, hoping she would start the ball rolling.
She didn't...
...so I sat in silence, contemplating the best way to begin our discussion.
Finally, I decided to be very businesslike in my observations, until I got a clue from her how she felt about the movie.
"Well," I began, "that certainly was, um...interesting."
She nodded.
"Uh, they included a lot of Seattle landmarks in the film," I continued.
"Yeah, even the Space Needle," she agreed.
"The musical score wasn't bad either," I added.
"Uh-huh."
Oh No! She's not contributing her fair share! This is gonna be brutal!
Trembling with apprehension, I continued. "So, the storyline was...pretty good."
"Yeah, it was," she agreed...
...and I breathed a bit easier. "What did you think of the mountain residents forcing Jake and Dennis to flee to the city?"
She paused for a moment. "You know...some people are just assholes," she stated flatly.
"Well, at least the people of Seattle didn't give them a hard time," I ventured.
She nodded. "That's true, but do you think it's because they didn't know Jake and Dennis were gay?"
I was stumped.
"You know, they weren't at all 'out'," she added.
"Yes," I admitted, "they weren't.
She leaned back in her chair, looking thoughtful. "I don't know how their neighbors would have reacted if they'd known about it."
I wrestled with my voice to keep it even as I replied, "Yeah, I guess some people stay in the closet all their lives...trying to hide from the hatred."
She nodded.
I flattened my palms against the tabletop in an effort to steady myself as I asked, "Sam, how do you think you'd react if you were in that situati-"
At that moment, her eyes left mine and looked past my shoulder...
...and latched onto the waiter, who was bringing our food.
For the next fifteen minutes, conversation was impossible...
...because Sam was too busy chewing...
...but, finally, she looked up from our nearly-empty plate and back into my eyes.
"Now, where were we?
Not looking at her directly, I answered, "Uh, I thought those two were going to live happily ever after...until Jake got thrown into jail."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I think he did that deliberately, Carls."
"You do?" I asked in surprise.
"Well, yeah. The guy was such a ho-bag...and Dennis wasn't putting out very often...so I say that Jake robbed that liquor store wanting to get caught."
I paused. I hadn't considered this possibility. "Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yeah, why else would he be wearing a T-shirt with his full name on it? He obviously was looking forward to the uh...social networking that happens in prison showers!"
"I...don't know, Sam," I said slowly. "I think he really loved Dennis."
"Of course he did...Dennis just wasn't fulfilling his...you know, his...physical needs," she replied.
"So, are you saying that things could have worked out for them if every night had been like that...that one love scene that they had?"
She shrugged. "Maybe."
"Did you hear all the rude remarks the other people in the audience were making during it? How immature!"
She averted her eyes and nodded.
Heart pounding, I reached down and grabbed the edges of my chair...bracing myself. "So, did you think that their love scene was-"
The waiter approached our table with the check.
Damn!
"...really sad when he died in prison!" I finished loudly...
...not wanting him to know what we'd been discussing.
Sam gave a philosophical shrug. "Nah, he had it coming; anyone who eats green baloney deserves what he gets."
Completely bummed out that I'd been thwarted twice in my attempts to get any solid insight(s) from her, and too busy trying to figure out my next move, I let her pay without putting up an argument.
When we emerged, the sky was still overcast but, mercifully, the rain had stopped. I walked over to the edge of the curb...
...and looked down...
...into the badly-flooded gutter...
...to see that water was actually spilling up over the edge of the curb and onto the sidewalk...
...all the way down the street...
...in both directions.
Great.
"Sam, can you believe how much it rai-" I began, turning to my left.
She wasn't standing there.
Looking around me, I spotted her fifteen feet away, staring into the window of The Paper Chase, a card store located right next door to the Canterbury. I walked over, stood beside her, and followed her line of vision; but I couldn't figure out what she was looking at; since she didn't really seem to be looking directly at the window display, but, rather, past it.
She turned to me. "Wait here, Carls. I'll be right out."
Before I could ask why, she had disappeared inside; so I looked through the window, trying to see what she was up to, but a huge display rack between her and the register made that impossible.
Less than five minutes later, she emerged, hiding something behind her back and, after a moment's hesitation, she held out a small, aqua-colored gift bag; with pink-and-white striped tissue paper sticking out of the top. "Don't open it until we get home," she advised.
I reached forward and took it from her outstretched hand. "What is this?"
She looked away, shrugged, and smiled. "Not much...Just a little memento...you know, a reminder of the day."
"But...I didn't get you anything-" I began.
She shot me a look. "Carls...you've given me so much. You always do."
Aw.
Not trusting myself to give a non-emotional response at that moment, I carefully put the bag inside my backpack; and then we approached the badly-flooded curb, and looked down at the water rushing past us.
Since we were on a side street, I put my hand on her arm and led her around the corner...
...hoping that there was better drainage on the main street...
...but, unfortunately, it was just as flooded, and, even worse, there wasn't a single taxi in sight.
I looked down at my feet. What a day to wear my new suede boots! They were definitely about to be ruined.
I turned to Sam.
She looked down at them and then back up at me. "Don't worry, Carls," she announced, reading my mind. "I have a plan!"
Before I could ask what that might be...
...and if it included the possibly (or probability) of jail time (as many of her plans do), she took my hand and led me over to a bench near the bus stop.
"Climb up," she directed.
"Huh?"
"Just do it...like this," she instructed, and then demonstrated, climbing onto the bench and standing on it.
I followed her up onto the bench...
...and, moments later, we both were sitting with our butts on the top edge of the back rest...
...and our feet on the seat.
Without a word, Sam reached down, pulled off her sneakers and socks, and stuffed them into her backpack...
...and then, she rolled up the bottoms of her jeans to just below her knees.
Hopping back down onto the sidewalk, she turned to face me. "Carls, stand up."
Despite my confusion, I did as she requested.
She nodded her approval. "Okay. Now, what I want you to do is to jump up, and wrap your arms around my shoulders, and your legs around my waist."
"What?" I asked, incredulous...
...but, before I could argue, her hands shot out and grabbed the backs of my thighs, just above my knees, and before I knew what was happening, she had pulled me forward, off the bench.
My arms and legs flailing wildly, I managed to grab onto her...
...and, once I had completely wrapped my body around hers, I looked, in shock, down into her smiling face.
"Perfect. Now just hang onto me," she directed, as she shifted her hands to my butt, and clasped them together under it.
And then, before I could protest...
...she had walked back over to the edge of the curb...
...and stepped down into the flooded gutter.
Pressing my chest up against hers, I moved my chin past her left shoulder, and then looked downward. The water level was way up above her ankles, but she appeared oblivious to it as she carried me across the street...
...with surprising gracefulness, considering that I'm taller than she is.
With my arms securely around her neck, I looked around nervously. There were very few people 'out and about', and all of them seemed completely preoccupied with getting their own asses across the rivers of water, so no one was looking at us.
Due to the lack of traffic, I wasn't really concerned about us being hit, and also, I wasn't worried about her cutting her feet on broken glass, etc., since the street cleaners do a pretty good job.
Once we were back up on the other curb, she stopped walking, and as I was contemplating the best way to dismount, I heard, "Hey."
And I looked down into her eyes. "Cupcake, this is more fun than I've had in a long time. Thanks for coming with me today."
"You're welcome," I replied shyly.
Looking down at the ground, to make sure we were back on dry land, I moved my hands to her shoulders.
"Hey," she said again.
As I stopped, and looked back down into her eyes...
...she shook her head...
...and then looked at me in a way that made further words completely unnecessary.
And, with a shy smile, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders again...
...and held on tightly...
...and, even though we were still four blocks from Kennedy Plaza...
...she carried me the rest of the way home.
Two blocks later, she asked, "Whatcha thinking about?"
I shook my head.
"Come on...tell me!" she insisted. "Are you worried that I'm going to drop you?"
"No, nothing like that," I assured her.
"Well, what then?"
"I was just trying to figure out how I can possibly thank you for today...I had such a great time!"
I waited in silence, but instead of offering suggestions, I felt her hands tighten against my butt, as she leaned forward and rested her cheek against my shoulder.
Was that a hug?
"Uh, Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you stay over tonight?"
I felt her shake her head against my shoulder.
"Come on, Sam...please? You haven't...for such a long time!"
"Sorry, I can't," she insisted, and I did hear genuine regret in her voice. "Gotta work this evening."
"But...you said that you had the entire day off!" I reminded her.
"Yeah, the entire day...but not the night. Some other time, okay?"
When I didn't respond she pulled back and looked into my eyes. "Okay, Carls?"
Disappointed, I rested my cheek on her right shoulder and nodded.
She stopped for a minute and checked for oncoming traffic, and then she stepped down into the street again.
As we crossed it, I remained silent.
She noticed.
Stepping up onto the opposite curb she said, "Come on, Kid, it's not that bad. Remember when my phone rang during lunch? It was Garth. He told me that, after tonight, I'll be off until Friday evening."
"What happened?" I asked.
"Nothing 'happened'. Since Garth doesn't have a key to the building, we can only work when the landlord is there; and tomorrow he has to go to a funeral out of state. He won't be back until the weekend, so...if you want me to stay over-"
"Yes!" I replied...
...entirely too loudly, quickly, and eagerly.
She came to a standstill...
...but only for a moment. "All right," she agreed, "when do you-?"
"Tomorrow night?"
"Okay, Carls. Tomorrow night."
And I hugged her happily...
...with both my arms and my legs.
"And I'll see you at school tomorrow," she added.
I nodded.
As we approached the front entrance, I looked through the glass doors into the lobby and groaned. "Oh, no."
She pulled back and looked at me. "What's wrong?"
"Lewbert's at the front desk, instead of asleep in the back room where he belongs! You know he hates my guts...so he's the last person I want to see right now."
She laughed. "The last 'person'? Come on, you know he doesn't count as human."
"Really, Sam? How do you know?"
Stopping near the front doors, she set me on my feet...
...and looked into my eyes. "Because, Carls...how could anyone not love you?"
And then...
...before I could recover from my shock at what she'd just said...
...let alone come up with any kind of reply...
...she was gone.
It was nearly five minutes before I realized that I was still standing in front of the building.
Seconds later, I tore past Lewbert...
...ignoring his screams that I was wearing too much 'Lily of the Alley' cologne...
...and hurtled into the elevator.
Spencer wasn't home, but I caught a glimpse of his now-half-completed plaster bunny out of the corner of my eye as I made a beeline for my room.
Not bothering to shut the door, I dived onto my bed and immediately opened my backpack. I eagerly pulled out the gift bag; and then, my heart pounding with anticipation, I reached inside it and pulled out a heavy, cube-shaped gold box. I turned it over, examining it carefully on all sides, but there was no wording on it, and absolutely no clue as to what was inside.
Hands trembling slightly...
...I opened the lid...
...and smiled as I pulled out the oversized, white porcelain mug...
...which was decorated on the outside with a huge cupcake; topped with pink icing, and covered with a scattering of tiny, heart-shaped sprinkles. On top of the cupcake was a large capital letter 'C'.
'C' for 'Cupcake'? 'C' for 'Carly'?
Same thing.
I love it!
But...what does it mean?
Determined to figure it out, I spent the next twenty minutes reviewing the entire day in minute detail...
...carefully considering every look, every gesture, and every word of Sam's...
...from the time I'd woken up next to her...
...to the moment that she'd walked away...
...but I only ended up with far more questions than I'd had at the beginning...
...and with no answers whatsoever.
There was only one thing to do.
I crossed the room and sat down at my desk.
March 24th,
Dear Mom,
I'll bet you're surprised to hear from me again so soon, but I had to write.
I just spent a fantastic day with Sam, but I'm still no closer to any answers. I still don't know how she really feels about me.
On one hand, she took me out and paid for everything...she carried me home in her arms...she bought me a really thoughtful gift...she practically told me that she loves me (in a roundabout sort of way)...but I really don't know what to think. Does she actually have feelings for me...or am I reading too much into this?
Anyway, she's staying over tomorrow and I'm so looking forward to it! The last time she was here, she actually slept in my arms for a little while...and it was so nice! Mom, I love her...so much! Tomorrow night, I'm going to lie really close to her, and maybe she'll let me hold her ag-
"Kiddo, I'm home!" Spencer yelled up the stairwell.
"Oh, hey, Spence," I called back.
"Uh, can you come down here?" he asked. "I need to talk to you."
"I'm uh, kind of in the middle of something right now," I replied.
"Please, it's really important, and it'll just take a minute," he insisted.
With a sigh, I set my pen down and headed to the living room.
One look at Spencer's face informed me that all was not well.
"Spencer? What is it?"
Instead of giving me a direct answer, he looked down and bit his lip.
"Tell me! What's going on? Is something wrong?" I demanded, my heart giving a lurch.
He opened his mouth to answer...
...but no sound came out.
And then, turning on his heel, he walked into the kitchen and opened the top left-hand cabinet.
He reached inside...
...and then...
...he pulled them out...
...and my heart plummeted. "Spencer...NO!"
"Sorry, Carly, I would have told you sooner, but I just found out myself."
I stared down, in horror, at the pair of hideous candlesticks that had been a Christmas gift, four years ago...
...from our grandad...
...and which were so unbearably-atrocious looking that we only brought them out when he visited.
I pulled myself together as best I could and took a deep breath. "When is he coming, and for how long?" I asked...
...prepared to be reasonable about the whole thing...
...and hoping that we'd only have to endure his company for one evening.
Spencer looked down at his feet again.
Oh no. Not a good sign.
"Spencer?"
He lifted his gaze to mine. "He just called...and said he'll get here around noon time tomorrow...and that he's leaving Friday morning," he replied, setting the candlesticks in the center of our kitchen table.
I walked numbly into the living room and fell back onto the couch. Hunching over, with my elbows on my knees, I closed my eyes. "Not this week...not this week...not this week...not this wee-"
"He'll be staying up in Dad's room, so please put clean sheets on the bed."
"Not this week...not this week...not this-"
"And tomorrow evening, he's taking us to dinner at-"
"Not this week...not this week...not-"
"Carly?"
I stopped my futile chanting and looked up to see Spencer standing in front of me. "Huh?"
"Come on, Kiddo...you know he loves you."
"I love him too," I replied. "He's always been very generous, and I know that he wants what's best for both of us. It's just that...his views are positively...Victorian!"
"I know," he sighed.
"Plus, I had big plans for this week," I added.
"Can't you reschedule?" he asked.
"I'm going to have to," I answered dejectedly...
...realizing that it was the last thing in the world I wanted to do.
"Don't worry, it's only for a few days," he said encouragingly.
I wasn't encouraged.
With a resigned sigh, I nodded and got up off the couch. Dragging my feet, I went upstairs and set up my dad's bed, and put clean a stack of clean towels in the bathroom.
And then, heart sinking, I returned to my own room and picked up the phone.
Sam didn't answer so, while pacing back and forth nervously, I left the following message: "Hi, it's me and, unfortunately, I have some bad news. I just found out that my grandad is going to be visiting and staying here at my place, Monday afternoon though Friday morning. I'm really, really sorry. You know I was looking forward to having you stay over. Anyway, I promise that I'll make it up to you...and soon."
I hesitated.
There were so many other things I wanted to tell her at that moment.
But, as usual, I chickened out.
So I finished by saying, "I'll see you in school tomorrow. Bye."
I hung up and stared at my phone in regret. But there had been no alternative. Apart from the time we'd spend together at school, I'd have to completely exclude Sam from my life for the next four days.
My grandad can't stand her.
He doesn't even call her by name, just refers to her as 'that hooligan', and says that he can't understand why I'd want to be anywhere near her. He also frequently throws out dark hints that she's destined to spend most of her adult life behind bars.
Slumping back down in my desk chair, I stared at the half-finished letter in front of me, for what seemed forever. Finally, despite no longer being inspired, I picked up my pen again.
Bad news, Mom, I just found out that Grandad Shay is coming to stay for most of the coming week; so I had to put my plans with Sam on hold. I'm so disappointed!
But, even worse than my disappointment is my confusion.
Sometimes it seems so obvious that she loves me...but then it seems that she does what she does because she's just trying to be friendly. It's so hard to figure this out...and to decide what, if anything, I should do about it.
I really wish you were here!
Mom, I think about you all the time...
...and I Love You Forever,
Carly
Getting up from the desk, I checked my pockets to make sure I had matches...
...and then I headed for the roof.
A/N: Please review
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