After I'd stared down at him for nearly a minute, waiting for him to move, I finally ventured, "Hey, Spencer."
But there was no answer...
...or gesture of recognition...
...or any sign of life whatsoever...
...and so, wondering if he had fallen asleep, I reached out and shook his shoulder...
...and almost immediately, while making a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh, he removed his face from his hands...
...and lifted his tormented eyes to mine...
...but only for a second before dropping them again, to stare straight ahead. As he did, I realized that my crotch was directly in his line of vision...
...and that, due to what had just transpired in the upstairs hallway, there was probably a very telling, very wet spot between my legs, easily visible since I was wearing light-colored jeans...
...and so I quickly shifted my right arm forward, holding his jacket in front of my body to block his view. Since he still hadn't spoken, I asked, "Uh, Spencer...what's wrong?"
As I did, he opened his mouth and tried hard to speak, but no words emerged...
...and then he grabbed onto his knees with both hands...
...so tightly...
...while shaking his head so morosely, that my heart sank...
...because I realized that it meant he wasn't going to be able to tell me...
...and, being so damned worn out from what I'd just been through with Sam, the last thing I was up for at the moment was trying to guess...
...but still, if the situation had been reversed, and I'd been the one who was that distraught, he'd have done the same for me; and so I knew I was obliged to try.
"Well, at least give me something to go on," I requested, with a quiet sigh of resignation...
...and then I waited...
...and waited...
...and waited...
...until finally, with considerable effort, he managed to utter a single word.
"M-mercedes."
And, at the sound of her name, a hundred different scenarios began rushing, single file, through my mind...
...each one more disturbing than the last...
...and, unsure of which one I should address first, I decided that the most expedient way to get to the heart of the problem would be to proceed in chronological order; and so I asked, hesitantly, "Okay, right after the Nielsens arrived...when you two went upstairs togeth- Oh, God, Spencer did she hit on you?"
He shook his head vigorously in disagreement.
I knew better than to ask if he had hit on her...he's way too honorable to make a move on someone who's married...and so I moved on to the next possible scenario.
"Well then, Mr. Nielsen accused her of hitting on you?"
"No."
(Oh, thank God! He's now able to participate verbally!)
"Okay, Mr. Nielsen accused you of hitting on her?" I guessed...
...incorrectly.
"No, that's not the problem," he replied.
"Well then," I continued, moving right along (and down) my extensive mental list, "...did something happen at the restaurant?"
Back to shaking his head...
...but in affirmation this time.
"Okay," I continued, now encouraged that we were finally getting somewhere, "while you were sitting at the table in the restaurant, did you...did you knock the candles over...and set one of the Nielsens on fire?"
"No, I didn't set one of them on fire."
"Oh crap, Spencer...you set BOTH of them on fire!"
"No. Nobody was on fire," he assured me.
"Well then, you accidentally said something that pissed one or both of them off...and now Socko's deal is ruined?" I guessed...
...wrongly.
"No," he replied. "Andrew was so impressed with the portfolio we submitted that he approved twenty-seven of the thirty-four designs and placed a huge first order. Socko is going into production next week, and his first delivery to the East Coast stores should be on the shelves by Christmas."
"But, that's great...so how could it be a prob-oh, come on, Spencer! It's late and I'm exhausted...so help me out here! Whatever it is, just tell me...and then, if it's something that we can't figure out right now, we'll sleep on it...both of us...and I'm sure that by morning one of us will come up with a solu-"
"Mercedes-is-a-gallery-director-and-she-wants-to-exhibit-my-work!" he blurted out.
"Huh?" I answered, now completely bewildered. "B-but...that's wonderful! So how could it possibly be a prob-"
"Because the gallery she works for is located in Atlantic City!"
"Oh, so the problem is..." I paused to reflect for a moment before continuing, "..so, are you concerned that you can't afford to ship your sculptures all the way there? It probably would be pretty expensi-"
"No," he interrupted, "due to other exhibits that she's already scheduled, gallery space is limited right now, and this is a last-minute thing, so the two of us agreed on four smaller pieces...my Animechanical Series...you know, the one that includes the squirrel cam?"
"Well then, there's nothing to worry about," I answered, "I'm sure it won't cost that much to send those four small-"
"They'll just fit into my two biggest suitcases, if I pack light," he interrupted.
"What do you mean...pack light?" I asked...
...even though it didn't take a genius to figure that one out.
"Because I'm leaving to go to Atlantic City with the Nielsens...tonight!" he finished...
...sounding positively distraught.
(Huh?)
"But...that's fantastic!" I gushed...
...equally relieved and enthused. "So...there's really no problem at all-oh, wow, wait until Grandad hears about this! He's gonna be so thril-"
"I've already told Grandad," he remarked sadly...
...and the smile slid right off my face.
"Oh, well...oh, now I see what's upsetting you, Spencer...and to hell with what he thinks!" I answered indignantly. "He's never gonna be happy for you...even if you get your sculptures into the Louvre! So don't let his endless, bitter criticism ruin your-"
"No, Carly...Grandad was thrilled when I told him."
"There...see! To hell with his opin-...wait...what...he w-was?" I spluttered.
"Yes. He was very congratulatory, and said that I'm going to meet the right people there...and he also said that, since Atlantic City is so close to Philadelphia and New York, this could really lead to something."
"Okay, you have to help me out here...because I'm completely stumped!" I replied...
...now beginning to feel more than a little annoyed as well as completely exhausted. "Why are you so upset about all of this?"
His answer surprised me.
"Because...because I'll be gone for nine days...and I can't take you with me!"
Aw...he's just been offered this incredible opportunity...and all he can think about is worrying that he's going to disappoint me? I love my brother...so much!
"Spencer, it's okay, really," I assured him. "I mean, a week-long vacation in Atlantic City would be nice, especially since I've always wanted to go there...but I promise you I'm not upset about it! Besides, it's not like I'm going to be staying all alone; I'll have Sam here, to keep me compa-...to keep me...
"to...keep...
"...me-"
When I saw the expression on his face...
...and the ominous way he was shaking his head...
...my blood ran cold.
Oh, no.
Oh, bloody hell, no!
He couldn't possibly mean that I'd be...spending nine days in Yakima...with Grandad!
At this catastrophic revelation, my mind started to spin, as my internal voice began screaming 'This isn't happening...this isn't happening...this isn't hap-
Suddenly, however, I somehow managed to grab hold of my run-amuck emotions...
...and to swallow my anticipatory horror...
...because how could I possibly ruin Spencer's happiness by complaining about this? Hadn't I just told Sam how deserving he was of a break? And now, instead of being ecstatic about his first real exhibition, he was incredibly upset...because he knows how much I hate Yakima...not its residents...but the town itself. I mean, when you're used to living in a big city like Seattle, with multiple interesting things to see and do around every corner, the rural remoteness of a small town can really drive you crazy!
And in my case...Yakima does!
"Carly, I'm so sorry. The rest of your Spring Break vacation is ruined now," he murmured.
His words snapped me back to the present...
...and, determined not to send him off to the other side of the country in this state of mind...
...completely unable to enjoy what should be one of the most exciting events of his career thus far...
...I put on my best brave face.
"Don't you dare feel bad about this, Spencer!" I replied, with a genuine (albeit forced) smile. "It's fantastic...and I'm so happy for you!"
"Yeah, but it's going to be for nine days...and we both know for a fact that Grandad isn't going to let Sam come with you. Not after what hap-"
In a flash, I held my hand up...
...because I didn't want to hear the rest of that story. It's far too depressing.
"It's only for a little more than a week, Spencer; so don't worry...I'll be fine," I lied...
...because the thought of spending even one day without her...
...especially since we now had this whole huge intimacy thing looming - unresolved - between us...
...was stressing me out big time.
Even more depressing, I knew that Spencer was right.
Grandad can't stand Sam.
The two of them first met when Sam and I were nine...and initially, everything between them had been fine...
...but then, a few months later (and I'll try to make a long story short), Grandad had taken us both to Yakima for a day...
...to a party...
...and Sam, not realizing that it was to celebrate Yakima's Annual Multi-Cultural Appreciation Festival...
...had quickly approached a lady wearing a full burqa; and, after complimenting her on her 'cool Ninja costume'...
...she turned to the lady's husband, who was seated beside her...
...and, while closely inspecting his pale pink satin, formal dashiki and trousers...
...she told him that her mom had pajamas exactly like those...
...and, after asking him if he'd raided her mom's closet...
...she had snatched the black, jeweled turban from his head...
...and put it on her own...
...while asking me if she made a better looking 'Snake Charmer' than he did. And then, as Grandad rushed over to us...
...horrified...
...she turned to him and asked why he hadn't told us that this was a costume party...
...because, even though her family was broke, she'd still have found a costume...
...even if she had to wear her bathroom shower curtain...'just like that lady did,' she stated, pointing to a woman standing nearby...
...who was wearing a colorful sari.
Less than two minutes later...
...Sam and I found ourselves standing out in the parking lot...
...with Grandad's hands in a death grip on the backs of our shirt collars...
...and with her asking me why we were leaving without hitting the refreshments table.
The car ride home to Seattle was long...
...not to mention silent...
...except for Sam's repeated apologies (I counted thirteen)...
...and since then, Sam's chances of getting back into my Grandad's good graces have been irreparably ruined; and to this day, I've never asked him if she could come with me to Yakima again...
...because I know (only to well) what his answer will be!
Suddenly, I shook my head to clear it...
...realizing that Spencer was still sitting in front of me...
...still completely distraught that he'd ruined my vacation...
...and, after quickly tossing his discarded clothes onto the coffee table, I planted myself on his lap and threw my arms around his neck, while stating, "For your information, Mister, I'm going to enjoy my entire stay in Yakima."
"No you're not," he argued, "and do you know why? Because we both know how mind-numbingly boring Grandad's overly-planned agendas always are. Nine days will end up seeming like nine years!"
"Oh, no it won't...and oh yes I will enjoy it...and do you know why? Because I'm going to be able to think of nothing else but how happy I am that you're finally getting the break that you deserve!" I shot back.
He shook his head in protest, but I pretended not to notice, as I continued, "And just think, the week after you get back to Seattle, Dad's submarine is going to be in port for a couple of days; I'm not sure exactly where or when, but when he gets in he always calls us...and then you can tell him all about your exhibition...and he's going to be so incredibly proud of yoomph!"
His hug knocked the wind completely out of me...
...and, by the time I got up off his lap, he looked almost happy.
"Still, Kiddo, I feel like I'm abandoning y-"
Reaching down, I silenced him with my fingers across his lips.
"I don't want to hear another word about it...because I'm so thrilled about this...and I'm going to be highly upset with you, Spencer Steven Shay, if you ruin my good mood!" I added sternly.
At this, he actually smiled, and, removing my hand from his mouth, he replied, "Thank you...you have no idea how much of a relief this is. Uh, Grandad will be here at 9:30, so you need to pack and then get a few hours of sleep...so go on."
With a nod, I leaned down and kissed the top of his head...
...and then headed upstairs...
...hastening my pace considerably when I heard him exclaim, "Aw man...what the hell did I spill on my pants at the restaurant?"
By the time I'd reached my room, I had stopped blushing...
...but only because my extreme embarrassment had been replaced by dread.
Dread at the realization that I now had to break the news to Sam...
...and to tell her that I'd be spending the rest of my Spring Break without her...
...halfway across the state.
But how to tell her? I wondered, leaning my back against the closed bedroom door. Should I let her down easily...because she was going to be so disappointed...no matter how I did it. After wavering for a minute or two, I decided that the best approach was probably to be straightforward...
...and then to apologize profusely, while promising that I was going to make it up to her...in a big way...as soon as I came back to Seattle.
With a sigh, I pulled my phone out and stared down at it, lost in thought...
...realizing that, in a way, this time apart from would actually be good for me. It would give me a chance to step back from the 'intimacy issue' between Sam and myself...
...and to analyze it objectively.
I mean, I really wanted...and needed...to think about why I was waiting...no...why I was making her wait. And hopefully, when I'd thought things through, I'd realize that, while I still wanted to wait to do everything with Sam...
...that I loved and trusted her enough for the two of us to be somewhat intimate...
...intimate enough to help each other have an orgasm...
...the thought of which brought my attention back to the pain between my legs...
...which had now subsided to a dull, persistent ache...
...and, taking a deep breath, I hit her number on speed-dial.
She didn't answer...
...but I really wasn't concerned about that, because I know from past experience that Sam is a creature of habit; and that as soon as she'd arrived home, she'd probably gone straight to he room and plugged her phone in to recharge, before going out to work the front door. After all, she wasn't expecting to hear from me again that night and since, besides me, she has so few real friends (okay...none), it was unlikely that anyone else would call her either...
...so it was no surprise that she didn't have her phone on her. Anyway, I had no idea when her mom's party would end (a/k/a how long it would take the police to arrive); but knowing it/they would eventually, I decided to try again later, so I got undressed...
...and, not wanting to leak onto anything else, I took my still-wet panties off, too (there was no point in wearing them anymore...and, since Sam and I weren't going to be 'together' tomorrow, I didn't really want that reminder now); and, after putting my robe on, I went to the bathroom. While I was there, I washed between my legs (I'd shower right before Grandad arrived); and, when I returned to my bedroom, I called Sam again.
No answer...
...so I got my two biggest suitcases out of the closet and packed enough clothes for a week...
...somehow managing, with Herculean effort, to close the lids!
As soon as I'd finished, I called again.
No answer...
...and so I left a message, asking her to call me as soon as she got it...and then, after setting my alarm for 8 AM...
...I crawled into bed and spent the next hour or two staring at the ceiling, anxious and exhausted, before falling into a fitful, uneasy sleep...
...with my phone beside me on the pillow.
By the time the clock woke me up, Sam still hadn't called...
...so I took a shower and got dressed...
...and called again.
No answer.
At 9, I opened my bedroom door...
...to hear the depressingly-unmistakeable, booming sound of Grandad's voice; and, heart sinking, I wheeled my two suitcases onto the elevator and went downstairs...
...to see him sitting on the couch with Spencer, both of them intently discussing the upcoming exhibition. After I'd said hello, I had a fast bowl of cereal, and then asked Grandad if we could make two stops before we left Seattle.
"I wanted to get on the road as soon as possible, because I have to be back in Yakima, to attend a City Council meeting at two," he answered.
"I'll make it fast," I promised...
…and, at this assurance, he (reluctantly) agreed.
Turning to Spencer, I buried my face in his shoulder, concentrating my hardest on not crying, as he hugged me goodbye. As he and Grandad took my suitcases downstairs, I followed...
...dragging my feet the entire way...
...and, after my bags and I had been loaded into the car, I turned and looked out the back window...
...at Spencer...
...wanting to memorize his ecstatic expression...
...so I'd be able to refer to it later...whenever I found life with Grandad unbearable...
...which I was sure would be the entire nine days.
He watched us as we drove off.
Our first stop on our way out of the city was Bandana Republic. Before falling asleep last night, I'd decided to get Sam a second birthday gift, because I was about to disappoint her badly (among other reasons); so I ran in, and directly over to the display of rugby shirts. Fortunately, there was a Men's Small in teal-and-white there and I bought it, paying cash; and then I hurried back to the car, returning in just under seven minutes.
Grandad was quite impressed...
...but far less so when, at my direction, he turned into Seattle's Belltown neighborhood, one of Seattle's worst.
"Are we going to The Hooligan's house?" he asked, with barely-concealed contempt.
"Just for a few minutes, I swear."
"Is this absolutely necessary?" he demanded.
"It is," I assured him...
...because, even though I had no intention of telling him, I knew for a fact that there was no way I could leave the city without explaining all of this, to her face...
...and without saying 'goodbye'. After all, nine days is a long time to be away from the girl you love.
After driving on (in silence) a few minutes longer, Grandad turned onto Sam's street and found a parking space, almost directly in front of her shabby, twelve story hi-rise...
...Dahmer Towers...
...and, promising to return soon, I jumped out of the car and ran inside the building, and up the staircase to the second floor, skidding to a halt in front of her apartment door.
The hallway was silent...which meant that the party had broken up for sure...
...since there were no loud voices inside the apartment...from guests partying...
...and no loud voices outside...from neighbors complaining.
In fact, the entire hall was deserted.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked.
Nine times.
There was no answer to any of them, so finally, I put my ear to the door.
Silence...
...and so I pounded on the door.
Still no answer or sign of life whatsoever...
...so I did the one thing that I knew was guaranteed get Sam to the door...instantaneously...if she was inside.
"Pizza delivery!" I yelled.
No response.
It didn't surprise me that her mom wasn't home; because it wouldn't be the first time (or the last) that she left Sam alone, while she went to spend the night elsewhere, with some stranger who had crashed her party.
But...where was Sam?
And what to do now?
For a moment, I considered knocking on her neighbors' doors and asking if they knew anything...
...but soon abandoned that plan, because Sam and her mom aren't exactly...uh...popular in the building, for a number of reasons, which I won't get into here.
Anyway, now confused and very concerned, I checked my watch.
Oh, no...
...it had been nearly fifteen minutes, and so, after a last, unproductive knock and listen at the door, I ran back downstairs and out the front door...
...and right past Grandad's car, while holding up one finger and mouthing, 'be right back'...
...and then, ignoring what I'm sure must have been a long, resentful glare from him...
...I sprinted around to the side of the building...
...and up its grungy alley...until, finding myself in the depressingly-litter-strewn, cracked cement courtyard behind it, I saw what I was looking for: The huge green trash dumpster that was located next to the building...
...right under Sam's bedroom window.
In the past, when she had been grounded (which was often), Sam had frequently climbed out her bedroom window, dropped down onto the top of the dumpster, and then climbed to the ground...before heading over to my place...
...and, remembering that it was so conveniently close to the building, maybe I'd be able to use it to see if she was in her room.
That morning I was wearing jeans and sneakers, so it was easy to climb up onto the dumpster's filthy, smelly (but thankfully closed) lid...
...only to discover that, even while standing on tiptoe, I couldn't see above her window ledge...
...but still, where there's a will there's a way; so I climbed back down and scavenged up and down the alley until I found two empty plastic milk crates, which I threw upwards, onto the dumpster's lid; and then, climbing up again, I stacked them and clambered up onto them, and, while teetering dangerously, I finally managed to see above the window ledge.
Her bed was empty.
And the room had an abandoned, unused look about it...
...like it hadn't been lived in for over a week...
...which made sense, because she'd just spent that long at my apartment.
But...what now?
The sound of Grandad's car horn honking loudly and repeatedly answered that question, and I reluctantly kicked the crates to the ground, and then scrambled down and ran back up the alley...
...and, after surruptiously wiping the soles of my sneakers on the scraggly, neglected, overgrown plot of grass that grew in front of her building (to remove the dumpster smell from them), I got into the car.
Noticing the obvious look of disappointment on my face, he asked, "So, not passed out back there in the alley either, eh?
Unwilling to get into an argument about Sam's 'numerous shortcomings' right then, I merely shook my head, and slouched in my seat...
...despairing as he drove down to the end of her street...
...and out of her neighborhood...
...and onto the I-90...
...wanting to cry at the realization that every revolution of his car's tires was taking me farther and farther away from her...
...wherever she was.
Once we were on the highway, Grandad turned the radio on, to some schmaltzy jazz/blues station...
...and, needless to say, listening to some drunken-sounding whiner lament that her true love didn't give a damn about her did nothing to lift my spirits...
...and, between that and the uncertainty of not knowing what was going on with Sam, exhaustion finally took its toll...
...and I yawned.
Grandad noticed.
"Up late last night?"
"Well, this was a last-minute change of plans, and so I had to pack and everything," I replied.
This answer must have been sufficient, because he didn't press the issue further.
"Well then, why don't you take a nap?" he suggested...
...and, just wanting to be alone with my thoughts, and to be absolved from holding up my end of the conversation for the rest of the trip, I nodded...
...and he pulled over.
Without a word, I got into back seat...
...alone...
...without my Sam...
...without her oversized trench coat to cover me...
...and without the blissful, comforting warmth of her body to snuggle up next to...
...and without any idea of where she was...
...but still, grateful that I could avoid prolonged and boring conversation with Grandad...
...for a couple of hours anyway...
...I closed my eyes.
I wouldn't exactly call it sleep (it was more like passing out), but at least when Grandad called back for me to wake up, we were just entering Yakima. Obediently I sat up, rubbing my eyes and then, hands trembling slightly, I checked my messages.
Nothing.
Now incredibly concerned about Sam's whereabouts and well-being, I slouched back against the seat and tried to figure out what I should do next. Should I call the Seattle police? Should I-
Grandad's voice interrupted my uneasy, unorganized thoughts.
"Not again! How many times before he gets it right!"
It wasn't really a question...
...and before he had even turned into the driveway...
...I knew what he was referring to...
...so I wasn't surprised to see the unevenly-mown lawn, and the sloppily-trimmed hedges that flanked the front door of Grandad's house.
"Fifty dollars wasted every week...on that nineteen year-old butcher! Damn it...he didn't even put the mower back into the garage!"
Fuming and seething, Grandad slammed his car door and stormed back to the trunk. I joined him back there, and, as he lifted my suitcases out, I cringed...
...as I heard a depressingly-familiar voice.
"Hello, Everett!"
"Hello Esther!" he replied, turning to his left, and looking over the fence at the edge of his property. I looked also, and there she was: Mrs. Payne, Grandad's incredibly nosy, incredibly needy next-door neighbor.
Seconds later, her eyes clamped onto me.
"Oh, hello, Carly! It's so nice to see you again! How have you been?" she asked eagerly...
...far too eagerly.
"Fine, thanks," I replied, hurrying toward the house, to avoid further, nosy interrogation; dragging one of my suitcases behind me, while Grandad pulled the other.
Once we had left them both in the guest bedroom, where I would be imprison- I mean staying for the next nine days, Grandad turned to me and said, "It's one-thirty, so I have to leave...would you like to come with me? City Council meetings can be really fascina-"
"No, thanks," I replied...
...quickly.
"Since Spencer called me at the last minute last night, I haven't had a chance to go to the store," he continued, "but there's tavern ham in the fridge and semolina rolls on the kitchen counter, so you can make a sandwich for lunch. I'll bring dinner home with me this evening, and then we'll go grocery shopping in the morning.
I nodded and he left...
...and I was relieved to hear the front door close behind him a minute later.
I took my time unpacking...
...which was all of fifteen minutes...
...and then, I began to pace the room anxiously...and repeatedly.
Nearly an hour later, I forced myself to get a grip. This wasn't solving anything. And so, in an effort to be proactive, I called again and left a second message, saying that I was worried because I hadn't heard from her, and for her to please call me as soon as she got it.
And then, I stretched out on the bed to wait.
I don't remember falling asleep...
...but, when I did wake up, it was nearly four-thirty and she still hadn't called...
...and I really needed to pee.
As soon as I'd returned from the bathroom I checked my messages, but she still hadn't called...
...and realizing that I actually was hungry, I went to the kitchen.
After a huge ham sandwich and some pasta salad, I sat down on the couch and began staring at my phone...
...trying to will it to ring.
PANG!
At this unexpected sound, I jumped straight up off the couch. Grandad has the loudest doorbell you ever heard, and I should be used to it by now, but it catches me by surprise every time.
Hoping with all my heart that it wasn't Mrs. Payne...
...coming to ask Grandad for yet another favor(!)...
...or to ask me a thousand intrusive questions...
...and, while cursing Grandad for not installing a peephole...
...I opened the front door.
"Hi! Delivery for Mr. Everett Shay," the brown uniformed, slightly balding driver announced.
Relieved, I signed for it...
...and then, as I set the heavy rectangular box on the coffee table...
...my heart gave a lurch...
...because I saw that there was a message on my phone.
Snatching it off the table, I hit the play button and listened breathlessly...
...only to feel my heart sink.
It was from Wendy's mom.
She had called to thank Sam and me for the flowers and to invite us to their family's next barbecue, at the end of June...
...and now, way beyond anxious, I put the phone back onto the coffee table and began to pace again.
Where the hell was she? Had she been arrested for roughing up one of her mom's 'guests'?
Not knowing was making me crazy.
After another fifteen minutes, I stopped dead in my tracks. It was no good. I was going to have to call the Seattle Police...
...which I've always been loathe to do...because any attention from them is never a good thing for Sa-
Suddenly, I stopped thinking...
...and tore across the room...
...because my phone was ringing again...