November 29, 2005

This was just too surreal. Sam couldn't quite get his mind to fully accept it. If it was true, everything he thought he knew was wrong. The world simply made no sense. His thoughts were interrupted by the image that flashed into his mind. He shook his head in an effort to banish the blood streaked face of the terrified woman. Her scream echoed on even after the visage of her open mouth and fear blown eyes had faded. That was just a dream, he told himself firmly. People have dreams. Dreams can get really weird. It doesn't mean anything.

He looked at the phone in his hand. It was the third time he had picked it up intending to make the call. His stomach gave a queazy twist, and he almost put it back down yet again, but he forced himself to continue. It wasn't going to get any easier. In fact, the longer he waited, the harder it would be, and not calling simply wasn't an option. Steeling himself, he selected the number and listened as each ring sent a fresh wave of nerves through his gut.

"Hello?" she sounded almost emotionless. No, not emotionless Sam realized, just drained, too overloaded to have in her to express what she must be feeling. She was probably tired from a lack of sleep, and her system undoubtedly overtaxed by the events of the past few days.

It was the moment of truth, the point at which he had to say something in a situation in which there was simply no right thing to say. "Becky, hi, it's Sam." Great start, he chided himself. You sound like you're calling to ask her out. He cleared his throat. "I just wanted to...how are you holding up? I just heard." He was wishing he had spent less time obsessing about the call, and more thinking about what he should say once he did.

"Oh Sam, I uh, you know... not good I guess. It's hard. Our parents are out of the country, so I'm all alone right now, and.." she trailed off and it was hard to tell if she had run out of things to say, or just where with all to say them.

"Becky, what happened?" it was abrupt, maybe a little crass, but an awkward silence would have been worse, so Sam had just blurted and hoped for the best. "I mean, this is all so...just, what happened?"

"I don't know. Nobody knows. I just know that Zach didn't do this." Her voice was cracking now. Sam could easily imagine the tears wetting her lashes. "He couldn't have."

"Hey, hey, calm down," he tried to soothe her, "of course he couldn't. Anyone that knows Zach would know that." His mind played a clip of the bound and bloodied woman, screaming as the knife descended to silence her with a sickening shink. He pushed it away so he could focus on being there for Becky.

"No, I mean, he couldn't have done it." her voice took on an urgent tone, and Sam couldn't decide if it was good that she seemed to be coming out of the lethargy, or bad that she was getting herself worked up and upset. "He was with me at the time, Sam." she continued. "I swear, it was out last big night to hang out before I went back to school. He was here past midnight. The police won't believe me. Oh god, if we had just gone out there's be other witnesses, or if Emily had come over with him she'd still be..." unable to continue she ended with a choked sob.

"Becky, listen to me. I believe you." Sam insisted, even as the memory of blood splashing onto Zach's face, his features twisted into a satisfied, sadistic grin flashed in his thoughts. Just a dream, he reminded himself, just a stupid, meaningless dream with really bad timing. "Look," he forced a calm tone for Becky's sake, despite how truly freaked he was by what his mind was doing to him, "if he's innocent, I mean since he's innocent, they'll figure that out, right? It's all going to be OK. They can't convict without evidence, and there won't be any because he didn't do it."

"I keep telling myself that." she seemed a little calmer.

"You know I'd be there if I could."

"I know, Sam. It's fine. I'll be fine. It's just a lot, you know? But you're right, the investigation will clear him, and then it'll just be a bad memory to rehash in therapy someday. We just have to get through this part first."

"You know, if there's anything I can do, be a character witness, or if you just need to talk, you call me." He felt like all he was really doing was running down a list of things you're expected to say in troubled times. It felt so impotent.

"I'll do that, Sam. Thanks."

"OK, well then, you take care of yourself. You sound like you need to try and get some rest. I'll call you in a couple of days, to check on you."

"OK, bye Sam" it sounded so final. The message was clear. No matter how this worked out she wasn't going to be in a place to pursue their budding relationship. A few dates didn't put him on the hook to play the supportive boyfriend, and he shouldn't wait for her.

He didn't feel any better for the awkward conversation being done and over with. There was nothing he could really do, for either of them, except say the "supposed to say" words, and that felt like so little.

Laughter, too malicious to be Zach's, but unmistakably his all, the same, resounded against his skull. Yeah, and then there was that. What the hell was happening to him?