Page 85 of Without You, Scotch and Sammy 2

She smiles, but it’s not a real smile. It’s the smile I saw her use with her folks when we were young and in love. “That’s it, Sam. It’s probably best if we don’t have direct contact anymore, so maybe have your lawyers deal with mine. Could you leave now? I’m really tired and want a nap.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Five minutes ago, but you woke me up.”

My eyes narrow at her snapped answers, then I swallow the lump in my throat and look down at Lily. “Can I say goodbye?”

Like I can see the cartoon heart on the outside of her body, she quivers with visible heartbreak, then silently, she nods.

I step toward my girls, and Sammy releases Lily’s hand for the first time since I walked in. She sits back in her seat to give us space, but she doesn’t leave. I lean over Lily, so close my lips practically touch her ear lobe. “Daddy loves you, Rosie. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

Sammy makes a soft choking sound, but when I look up, she turns her face and covers her mouth with her fist.

I turn back to Lily. “Remember we already talked about this. Call me anytime, I’ll always be here for you. Listen out for your song on the radio. I have someone looking to buy it already, and he’s pretty big, so your name will be out there. I love you.” I drop a kiss on her cheek and swallow down the lump in my throat as my lips pass over tape and wires. “I’ll always love you, Rosie.” I whisper softer, almost silently, “And I’ll always love your mommy. Don’t ever forget.”

I stand and turn quickly to hide the moisture that itches the backs of my eyes. I walk out of the room, but unable to go far, I rest my back against the wall in the hall as Sammy bursts out into howling, pain filled, body wracking sobs. I slide down the wall and drop my head into my hands, and as my own tears fall, I sing Sammy’s song under my breath.

This feels worse than when she walked thirteen years ago.

I got what I asked for. I got the sorry. I got to say goodbye. I got the closure.

But it doesn’t feel closed at all.

– Scotch –

Stolen

Three weeks later

It took me three full weeks of searching my house top to bottom before it clicked in my mind and I realized. I didn’t lose my iPod. It was stolen.

And I’m not even mad.

I spend my days working with kids in the program the Rollers and I have been organizing; teaching them how to walk away. How to stand up for themselves. How to stand up for others. How not to get into a fight in the first place. We’re teaching them mental and physical strength. The guys are teaching them formal, graded classes, so on top of physical strength, they’re also being graded and tested on what they learn. They’re learning a martial art and a new language in the process, and they’re thriving on the stability and predictability that weekly classes are giving them.

I’m in the Roller gym at least five days a week, and even the teasing and torment I get from them is a reprieve from the loneliness when I go home.

Alone.

Again.

I’m a thirty-two year old man who is still in love with a girl he met when he was fourteen, and closure or not, I just can’t fucking shake her.

“Hey, liven up.” Jack walks into his kitchen and taps me on the back of the head. “She’s coming in.”

I sit up straighter and wipe my hands over my face in an attempt to look less… down in front of Britt. She won’t let up. Sammy and I are apart, but similarly to how I got what I wanted and still ended up miserable, the same can be said for Britt. I can’t shake the constant thoughts of Sammy, which makes me a miserable bastard, which is exactly what Britt didn’t want.

“Morning.”

I smile and pick up my coffee mug. “Morning, Brat. Sleep well?”

“Yup, you?”

Nope. “Yup. Sorry I crashed on your couch last night. That movie beat me, and next thing I knew, I was waking up in the dark.”

Lie. I just didn’t wanna go home. Alone.

“No big deal. You’ve been working hard with the guys. Jack falls asleep in random places too.”

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