Page 14 of Finn

“You got it.”

Once the shots are ready, I bring them over and set them down on the coffee table.

“Hold on a sec.” I start back toward the bar. “Let me grab our beers.”

With my back turned, I hear Sammie murmur, “Okay.”

Quickly, I pull two light beers from the fridge, twist off the caps, and make my way back to the sofa, bottles in hand.

Setting the beers on the table, I sit back down, this time a little closer to Sammie.

I pick up my shot glass and hold it aloft. “You ready?”

She picks hers up and nods. “I am.”

“Should we toast to anything?” I ask.

There she is, biting her lip again, like she’s seriously mulling it over.

“Hmmm,” she says, “we already toasted to Alaska and to making new friends.”

“Yes, we did. And those were both good ones.”

“They were,” she agrees. “But I think I have another good one.”

She looks really determined, and I’m curious as fuck as to why, so I say, “Great. Let’s hear it.”

Holding her shot glass up high, almost touching mine, she says, “Here’s to letting go.”

Okay, wow.

I don’t know what the hell that means, but I’ll play along.

Tapping my glass to hers, I say, “Cool. Here’s to letting go.”

We down our shots, but all I can think is that, though I toasted to it, I have nothing that I need to “let go.”

But what really has me perplexed is what in the hell does Sammie have.

Sammie

I’m just at the point of “fuck it.” That’s why I asked for another shot. Tonight, for once on this awful anniversary, I’m going to try to let the memories go.

That’s what I mean by toasting to “letting go.”

But I may mean even more than that.

We’ll see.

Without Finn even knowing, he has helped me keep my mind on other things. But the sorrow I feel on this night runs deep. Sad thoughts have still ventured into my head here and there.

I hope he hasn’t noticed.

I really just need to forget it all for a little while. Even though the memories will flood back tomorrow, I’m going to do everything in my power to think about other things.

I’m letting go.

I’m letting go.

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