Page 92 of Without You, Scotch and Sammy 2

“Hey, Ricci. That’s four-hundred and three no’s. You’re getting good at this.” He takes a deep breath, but it sounds like he’s smiling. “Everyone is busy doing their own shit today, so I’m sitting on your bed while I write. My spare room still smells like you, but the pillow on my bed smells like me again…” He chuckles softly, strumming his guitar in the background. “Do you remember way back when we first got married, and fame, fortune, international vacations, all of that crap – none of that stuff was on our list of wants. Do you remember what was?” He pauses, as though waiting for my answer. “To sleep in the same bed at night. We didn’t need money for that. We didn’t need anything but you and me.”

I let out a deep sigh as he repeatedly breaks my hurt, patches it back together, then smashes it apart again. Oh, Sam.

“I got that for a few hours last month, Ricci. I got to nap with your hair in my nose, and in my mind, I told you I loved you. But unlike high school, I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud…” He strums his guitar a little louder, as though he’s taking a moment to collect himself. “Ah, anyway. I’d like to claim a parental visit soon. I wrote another song, and I wanted to tell her some news. I sold that other song to some big people. Lily has a nice fat piggybank now, and she’ll get monthly royalties every time they sell an album. It’ll all go to trust, and you’re in charge until she’s old enough. But don’t freak out. I’m not buying her affections. Or yours. It literally took me ten minutes to write that song. She was my inspiration, so I figure it’s hers… It was that song you said you liked, remember? I said it was for a pretty girl named Rosie… I was being a jerk that day. It was just for my Rose, who just so happens to be your Lily… I hope she’s doing well. Call me anytime if you need help, or if she’s sad. Or maybe if she has gas and can’t get it out, maybe I could help.”

I look over as Meg continues to cycle Lily’s legs, and though she stares straight ahead, I know she’s straining to listen to Sam’s voice.

“Anyway. I know the drill. I know the timer on your voicemail now, and I know I have about ten seconds before I’m cut off. So, I’ll finish this one by saying I love you.” His voice speeds up as he speaks. “Remember that thing I said to Joseph the mediator? That was true. I’ll call again a little later. And no. Tell Juliette to back off. I’m not divorcing youloveyoubye.” Beep.

I look at my screen for a long time, then throwing it to the table, I sigh.

“You’re breaking my damn heart, Sammy. Are you kidding me right now?”

I turn to Meg. “What?”

“Four-hundred and three no’s? Really?”

I shrug my shoulders miserably. “I didn’t actually say no.”

“You’re just not taking his calls. What the hell is the matter with you?”

I shrug my shoulders again, but I know the answer to her question. I’m enjoying having high school Sam speak to me again, and I’m scared that if I take his call or see him face to face, it might break the spell. I’m not willing to give him up now that I’ve found the real Sam again. I’m scared to jinx it.

Meg rolls her eyes at my non-answer, then goes back to cycling Lily’s legs. “Eight days until we make this shit official, Lil. Give me an S. S!”

– Sammy –

Making This Shit Official

I sit on the wooden bench in the warmed lobby of the city courthouse and tap my feet nervously. I check my watch. I’m an hour early.

I lean forward and peek through the automatic glass doors. She’s not here.

I continue to bounce anxiously, and pat my skirt down and try not to focus on the fact Meg isn’t here. She doesn’t have to be here, but she said she would. She promised. And if she doesn’t come, then I’m going to be all alone.

Like I’ve been alone for too long.

It’ll suck. But I’m a survivor. I pat Lily’s blanket into place as she smiles from her stroller. Yeah, she’s a survivor too. “We got this, Lil. Mama’s got your back, and I won’t ever let you down.”

My head snaps up when the automatic doors begin to whir and open, then I let out a heavy breath as Meg jogs in in a sexy black skirt and a coat over a white top that shows her boobs off exactly the way she intended it to.

“I hate your boobs.”

Meg stops in front of me, panting lightly and frowning. “Come again, Captain Cranky Pants?”

I look her up and down. “I hate how hot you are.”

She smiles blindingly, patting her top down and popping her butt. “Aww shucks. Thanks Soda.” She steps forward and bends over Lily, smiling and chattering. “Aunty Meg missed you, baby. Did you sleep for your mommy?”

“I think she’s constipated.”

Meg rolls her eyes. “You need to get your tummy sorted, young lady. It was cute at first, but now it’s annoying.”

Lily ga-ga’s and smiles, blowing spit bubbles and kicking her legs wildly. It’s still kind of cute, even when I don’t sleep as often as I’d like. I’ll never admit it out loud, but with the exception of nights like last night where Lil was struggling with gas, Sam’s music helps her sleep every night. We’ve been given the clear from the pediatrician to dump her three hourly feeds. Now I wake when she wakes, and lately, she’s been going five or six hour stretches. It’s been heavenly – except last night. My little baby is growing big and strong, and she’s doing it fast.

Meg stands up from the stroller, pulling Lily out and settling her in her arms, and she sways and dances on the spot as she tickles Lily’s fat cheeks.

“Hey, Snitch?”

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