She hung up. Her cheeks were burning and her eyes were near tears. She rose from the flowered chair, she was currently sitting on and went straight into the room she preferred as her 'writing place'.
It had been a long night. She wouldn't stop writing before she noticed the sun was rising in the horizon. It was now 8 am and she felt exhausted. Nevertheless she started writing just after she had poured herself some coffee. Outside birds were singing in chorus and a mild breeze came through the window and hit her right in the face. She couldn't get him out of her head.

"I just think that you should put aside this promise of yours and focus on what's important right now."

She got furious just thinking about the conversation. What made him so insure? He was the one who forced her to leave. He was the one who told her to take her shot. Why would he do that if he thought she would never come back to him again?

"Have a good life."

He hadn't believed in her from the beginning. She knew that, but she tried to push the thought away while writing. She tried to convince him to trust her by calling every day at the same time. Still he sounded more and more distant for every day passing. She didn't know what more to do. She'd been close to pack her stuff, drop this for while at least, and just go home to show him that he meant everything to her. But then there was Sumner. Calling her every minute to hear how the book was turning out. Sometimes she ignored his calls just to avoid listening to his repulsive, confident voice. She didn't need his praise. She needed the publishers praise. But it seemed as though, he suddenly didn't saw her potential as bright now that she had left Cheers and Sam behind. He accused her for digressing and being on whole other pages. His last words had been that a great writer doesn't need to write thousands of pages to get the message out to the reader. She didn't know whether to agree or not. She just knew her novel had reached the number of 2000 pages. She wasn't sure if he had even bothered to read the half of it. To be fair, she didn't bother. Because she had no idea where she was going with it. For God's sake! The few hundred pages she had written before, she'd written 6 years ago! How could he demand for her to get right back on track after that long a pause?
But apparently he could and this caused the situation to get even more complicated than it already was. Sam was back in Boston, waiting to see the finished, published work as proof, and all she had received until now was pure critic. She wondered if she even would be able to get it published if she didn't start to pull herself together. But it seemed that every time she'd force herself to be focused her thoughts fell on Sam. Cheers. The house. Their house. How was it living in that big house all by himself? Was he even living there? Was it even theirs anymore? It had been a short goodbye to the house from her side. She had packed a few things from there and then left.

She yawned and shook her head. She just had to focus a few more hours. Then she would prepare herself for the day's upcoming conversation with Sam.

It rang. And it rang. It kept ringing for a long time. She started to wonder if he had gone home early again today. But at last someone picked it up. She was just about to apologize for yesterday's hung-up, but she got interrupted before she even could finish the first word.

"Listen, whitey, he isn't here."

"Oh. Carla. How nice to hear from you. Well then I'll just reach him at home instead-"

"I wouldn't count on it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He- uhm. He just left, Diane."

She knew something was terribly wrong. She couldn't remember the last time Carla had called her by her name.

"Left? For where?!" she asked determent.

"The Ocean, I guess."

"Ha ha, Carla. I was just about to take you seriously but you can't fool-"

"I ain't fooling anyone right now! You listen to me, stick, he just left, the bar is sold to some huge company, and to be honest I'm not in the mood for talking so I'm just gonna make this conversation a short one. Don't expect him to pick up, okay?"

There was a pause, none of them said anything, but none of them hung up either. Then she started sobbing. To her comfort Carla wasn't being completely careless at the moment.

"I'm sorry, Diane. We- we really tried everything to make him change his mind and stay. We kept telling him to trust you, you know. Even I did. But it wasn't enough. I don't know why he couldn't wait and see for himself if you came back, he just, couldn't. To be fair, I think it hurts too much to stay. He kept giving that reading corner of yours stares. And then there was the door. He hasn't been himself since day one."

The sobbing only got worse.

"I mean it when I say I feel sorry for you. I may never have been a fan of you, or the way you changed Sam, but I guess you somehow made him happy. Just seeing him likes this, I mean, even when he was drinking his ass off he was less depressed. He uh- he didn't drink this time though. I don't know if that really matters to you right now but-"

For the first time in minutes, she opened her mouth to talk instead of sobbing.

"It- it does matter. Oh, Carla, I feel so terrible. I feel like throwing myself out of a window. Why would he do such thing? Why didn't he just ask me to come back?"

"See it from his point of view. He wouldn't wanna come between you and your dreams."

"He didn't! He's my dream! He's my biggest and most important dream. With him, nothing else matters."

"I'm sorry, whitey. There's nothing we can do. You just- have to prove him wrong, I guess."

"How? I have no opportunity for contacting him. We don't even know his location!"

"Finish the book. That's all that matters. It doesn't matter how bad it is, just show that it's done. He will come back someday. And when he does, make sure to be here. I don't care how many times we need to speak together. Just- keep us updated, okay? Maybe we'll find a way to get him back before."

"Thank you, Carla."

"Sure. I'll talk to you later."

"Yes."

Carla hung up and for the first time in a long time, Diane felt like she was the only person left in the world. All by herself. Sam may not have drunk that night, but she sure had.