At 5:00, the time finally arrived. We all crowded into the kitchen, jostling and pushing each other to form a line. Charlie stood by the stove, watching with amusement.
"Ah, watch it Johnny, you're stepping on my toes!" Briggs was just as eager to get to dinner as everyone else was.
"Guys, GUYS! Stop it, relax! I made pounds of this stuff!" Charlie said.
"Alright, Mike and Sam, this is your first time tasting Charlie's family ragú. Are you ready for a whole new world of flavor up in your faaace?" Paige asked in a sing-song voice. I grinned, so ready to taste this amazing ragú none of them could shut up about.
"I skipped my last two meals for this, come on, let's go!" Mike was tapping out a quick rhythm on my shoulders, his excitement uncontainable.
"Really? You haven't eaten today, even after your… activities this last night? And this morning, in the shower?" Paige asked, looking meaningfully at Mike and me. I looked back at Mike in horror, then covered my quickly reddening face. Everyone laughed and I thought I would die of embarrassment. Mike laughed uncomfortably and tried to blow it off.
"Whatever, I was with my wife. That makes it OK. Besides, didn't Johnny sleep with some crazy marijuana farmer last night?" Everyone abruptly stopped laughing, looked incredulously at Mike, then burst into peals of laughter louder than before. I raised my face from my hands and looked around, completely nonplussed. And so, apparently, was Mike. "What's so funny?"
"Marijuana farmer?" Briggs asked in a nasally voice that sounded uncannily like Mike's.
"Mike, I know you're a white boy, but come on man, that sounded ridiculous," DJ said through his laughter.
"Never say that again."
"Please don't say 'marijuana' again, Michael." By this point, even I was laughing at him.
"I'm not a kid, I can say marijuana if I want!" Mike said, and this time I heard it, too. Everyone shushed him when he said "marijuana", not because they didn't like the word, but because when Mike said it, he sounded like the whitest boy that ever lived.
"Sam, say 'marijuana'," Briggs said, shushing everyone else.
"… Marijuana?" I said hesitantly, unsure of my own pronunciation. They all erupted into laughter again, and I knew I sounded as ridiculous as Mike.
"OK, you're not allowed to say it either," Charlie said, shaking her head at our obvious whiteness.
"What do the kids even call it these days?" Mike asked, looking at all of them with amusement. Johnny grinned, rising to the occasion.
"Alphabetical order?" Johnny asked, rubbing his hands together.
"Reverse!" Paige challenged. Johnny grinned and began a long list of words that made almost no sense at all to me. "Reefer", apparently, was making a comeback. Also "baby", which I had never heard in my life.
"Hey, yo, you got some of that baby?" Mike asked with a low voice and a crooked smile.
"There you go!"
"Nailed it!"
"Samantha… now you!" Briggs said, pointing at me.
"Uhhhmm… hey dude, can I buy some reefer?" I said, looking around apprehensively. They laughed at me again.
"OK, Sam, you're just not allowed to talk about marijuana," Johnny said, still laughing. Briggs was shaking his head, but Paige promised to help me with my "street slang".
Finally, Charlie began tapping her glass as the timer reached its last few seconds.
"Gentlemen, ladiiiiies! The story of Francesca and Nicolo may be a thousand years old, but they waited the same three days we waited," Charlie proclaimed grandly.
"And we're not running from the Inquisition," Paige pointed out.
"Nah, man, we are the Inquisition," Johnny joked.
"Alright, alright, can we get straight to the 'without further ado' part?" DJ asked, practically dancing with anticipation.
"Without further ado," Charlie smiled indulgently and lifted the lid of the pot that had been simmering for a very long three days, "let's enjoy sauce night, kids!" There was a veritable stampede to reach the sauce that smelled heavenly and by now, even I was pushing to get at the stuff. But I suddenly heard Mike groan behind me, and I turned to look at him. He looked like he had just realized something horrible.
"It's my weekend to do the dishes," he said with a look of horror. "Oh GOD, she did that on purpose!" he whined, burying his head in my shoulder. I kissed the top of his head sympathetically. He looked up at me with the sad puppy eyes that I couldn't resist, and I sighed.
"I'll help with the dishes, don't worry," I said. He smiled like he knew that I would always cave to those puppy eyes… which, of course, I would. We kept moving forward in line, but as the newcomers, we were last. Of course.
"God, Charlie, this smells amazing," I said, holding my plate out for noodles and sauce.
"Oh, just wait till you taste it," Charlie winked at me. As she spooned some sauce onto my plate, I heard Mike's text message alert.
"Don't answer it," I implored, looking at him with apprehension. But he looked anyway.
"Briggs… It's Bello," he said, his face falling. He looked at Briggs with a resigned expression on his face. "We have to go, don't we?" I looked at Briggs imploringly, but he looked resigned, too.
"Yup—this sauce can wait, Bello can't. Hey, kids, we gotta run," Briggs addressed everyone but was looking straight at me. This time, I couldn't force my face into a smile. Everything, for a brief moment, had been perfect, and now Bello was messing it up.
"Am I coming, too?" I asked Mike. But Briggs shook his head.
"Nah, we don't need you this time, I think. You stay and enjoy sauce night," he said, looking longingly at the warm pot of ragú he was missing for Bello. I still walked them to the door, though, and tried to cheer Mike up.
"I'll save you some sauce, don't worry," I said, grabbing his hand. He looked at me and smiled sadly.
"There's no leftovers, remember?" he said, his expression unreadable.
"Then this will be another Graceland first, just like we were," I answered, not to be deterred. "I'll save some for you, too, Briggs."
"Fat chance. I'll be surprised if you can save one plate, even for Mikey," he said, but I silenced him with a look. Then I turned back to Mike.
"Be safe, OK?" I asked. I was worried, of course, but Mike had assured me that he had Bello in his pocket, and that Briggs would have control of the whole situation. But I still didn't want to let go of his hand. He held my chin in his hand and looked into my eyes.
"Always," he said, then leaned in and kissed me gently. He let go of me and headed out the door. I turned to look at Briggs.
"Make sure nothing happens to him," I said, looking after him. "He has to come back and eat his sauce." I smiled at Briggs, and he smiled back. He gave me a hug, then headed out after Mike. I walked back to the kitchen, where everyone sat waiting for me.
The scene almost brought tears to my eyes. They were all sitting around the table, their plates untouched, waiting for me. Knowing how excited they were to eat, I was touched that they were willing to wait for me. Charlie held out her hand and I sat next to her. Johnny grabbed my other hand, and all of a sudden we were praying.
It was unlike any other praying I had ever done in my life. In fact, I'm not even sure I would call it praying. We merely held each others' hands and sat in silence. Yet in that silence was every emotion I had ever felt in prayer: love, gratitude, fear, and that indefinable feeling of protection and compassion that only comes from a family. And that's what I had here in Graceland: a family. I felt truly at home, if only Mike could have been there.
"Alright, kids," Charlie said, squeezing my hand. "Dig in!" Everyone cheered and clapped and finally began to eat Charlie's famous ragú.
The sauce was delicious, of course. Mine only had one drop of bitterness in it: the fact that Mike wasn't there to enjoy it. But I told myself that he'd be home soon and I tried not to dwell on it. Instead, I tried to think of how I would persuade everyone to let me save a plate for Mike and Briggs. Fortunately, I didn't have to.
"Okay, guys, I know you want more, but this was supposed to be Mikey's first sauce night and he's not here. So, for the first time, I am saving a plate for him and none of you get to say anything about it," she glared around the room, only half kidding.
"Hear, hear!" I said, surprised to hear Paige's voice with mine. I turned and smiled at her gratefully and she grinned back. Johnny and DJ both groaned, but they didn't object.
Not for the first time, I thought about how lucky Mike and I were. I'd met plenty of federal agents, and I could count on one hand the agents I liked. But Graceland was full of people that I liked and who (I hoped) genuinely liked us back.
Of course, that affection only went so far. I was still stuck doing the dishes by myself until Mike came home. I checked my phone and the clock obsessively, but I had no idea when Mike would be back. I started on the dishes but left the big sauce pot for last. Just as I was finishing the plates and silverware, I heard the front door open. I dropped the plate I had been scrubbing back into the sink and grabbed a towel, running to the door to see who it was. Mike came into the kitchen, his face pale and drawn. I breathed a sigh of relief and put my arms around him. He hugged me back, but something was different. His hands were balled into tight fists against my back, and he stayed stiff and cold. I pulled back to look at him.
"Mike… What's wrong?" I said, searching his eyes. There was an emotion in his eyes that I couldn't place. I knew Mike; I knew his every feeling, every expression, and suddenly I was scared. His eyes were cold and dead, not full of the warmth that was always there when he looked at me. "Mike, what happened?" He turned away from me, but I followed him, keeping eye contact.
"Bello got suspicious of Eddie. Eddie took my gun and he shot himself. Right in front of me." My hands flew to my mouth, trying to ignore how dead Mike's voice sounded.
"Oh, God, Mike," I took him in my arms again, but he was still stiff and uncomfortable. Briggs came into the kitchen, and I caught his eye over Mike's shoulder. He nodded solemnly, and I closed my eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling. Mike didn't need my hysteria right now. I let him go and he pulled away, turning toward the sink. He wordlessly grabbed the sponge and the plates and started scrubbing. I put my hands on his shoulders and whispered, "I can do this, Mike, you should go to bed." But he jerked away from me.
"It's fine, I can do it." He wouldn't look at me. I looked down and took a deep breath, trying to control my tears. I stepped away from him, giving him space.
"I saved you some sauce," I said, putting his plate on the counter behind him.
"I thought there were no leftovers."
"I told you I'd save you some."
"Briggs missed sauce night, too," Mike said, still scrubbing the same plate.
"Mikey…" I tried to say something to help him, but there was nothing I could say.
"Go to bed, Samantha," he said without turning. He didn't sound angry, he didn't sound sad, he didn't even sound upset. That's what was so scary to me—he had no emotion at all. I couldn't keep my tears in check anymore, so I left quickly before Mike could see them.
"It's only sauce, Mike," I heard Briggs say as I left. I started walking up the stairs, but I only made it to the landing. I heard Briggs come up behind me.
"Sam…?" he asked apprehensively. I turned to face him, the tears falling fast. He put his arms around my shoulders, and I cried into his chest unabashedly. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so, so sorry." He rubbed my back comfortingly, but I couldn't stop crying.
"It's just…" I tried to explain. "No one gets killed in training," I said, trying to stop crying, but failing. I stood with Briggs for a few minutes until I could control myself. "I'm sorry," I said, wiping my eyes on my sweater. "I just really didn't want Mike to see that." Briggs kissed my forehead sympathetically.
"Everything will be alright, I promise," Briggs said. But we both knew that was a promise he couldn't keep. Without a word—I had no words to say—I turned into my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to think straight and control my emotions. Mike didn't need to see me break down—he didn't need to be strong for me when he was already trying to be strong for himself. I wouldn't press the issue, because he didn't need that either. If he needed me, he would come to me. So I crawled into bed and tried to sleep. But before I could even close my eyes, Mike opened the door and came in. I sat up, my adrenaline still pumping.
"Hey," I said quietly. Mike didn't say a word, but just sat on the edge of the bed. I reached out to rub his back, but stopped myself. I had no idea what Mike was feeling, and I didn't know how to comfort him, which was even worse. But slowly, he began to lean back and he placed his head on my chest. I gently cradled his head and saw his tears begin to fall.
He so rarely cried in front of me, and seeing him cry was a guaranteed way to make me start. I stroked his hair and rubbed his shoulders, trying to think of something, anything to say. But that was when I realized that there was absolutely nothing I could say, no words that could possibly ease the pain that Mike was feeling. So we sat in silence for nearly half an hour, his tears drenching my shirt. I kept my own tears silent, but they were falling thickly. When Mike finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.
"He used my gun. Bello suspected him because I brought him in for questioning. This is my fault." His voice broke. I took his face in my hands and I made him look at me.
"No, Mike. It's not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. This is Bello. This is Bello, and Bello alone. Don't blame yourself, please." He looked into my eyes, and for the first time that night, I saw life in his eyes. He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against mine. I kissed him willingly, but he pulled back quickly, crying again.
"I'm sorry, Sam, I can't." he jerked away from me, sitting again on the edge of the bed with his back to me.
"Mike, take a shower. A long, warm shower. Then come to bed. That's what you need." This time, I stretched out my hand and brushed along his spine. He turned and grabbed my hand. He gently kissed each of my fingers, then left for the bathroom without a word. When I heard the shower running, I knew he had taken my advice.
I thought incredulously of our blissful shower this morning, and the stark difference between then and now. How could so much change in one day? This morning, I had been at peace with the world. The day was perfect, until Mike got the text message from Bello. All of a sudden, I was angry. Not angry at Mike, not angry at Briggs or the F.B.I. No, I was angry at Bello. I was angry for what he had done, what he was still doing, to Mike. I was angry that he supplied drugs to most of Southern California, I was angry that it was necessary for Mike to investigate him in the first place. And I realized that there was nothing I could do to stop him.
I thought I had cried myself dry, but I proved myself wrong again. I buried my face in my hands and cried with abandon, but I pulled it together when I heard the water in the shower stop. By the time Mike came out of the bathroom, I was relatively calm and waiting for him. Wordlessly, he climbed into bed next to me, turned away from me, and didn't move again. I had never realized, but tonight I thought the twin sized bed seemed too small because, for the first time, I was not cradled comfortably against Mike. No, I was hugging my side of the bed, cold, and somehow entirely alone. If I felt this badly, I could only imagine how Mike was feeling. I couldn't keep my tears from falling, but I kept them silent. In my heart, I knew Mike's tears were silent, too.
