Page 46 of All In
She tilts her head in disbelief. “Have you? Because I know you, Sam. When you try to avoid hurt, you run to something that is the opposite of the thing you are missing. Do you remember when dad left?”
I nod because I do remember. My dad left us for another woman and family when I was thirteen. I loved playing football with him. That was our thing. So, when he left, I took down every football poster from my room and trashed them. I gave my football (the one Dad got me as a gift) away to my cousin and then quit the team. Instead, I dove headfirst into baseball. Why? Because my dad hated baseball. Therefore, it was my new favorite. But deep inside, I didn’t love it. It just wasn’t football. And it was a distraction from the hurt.
Is that what I’m doing now?
I shake that thought from my mind. “I remember,” I whisper, my head now flooded with memories I had buried.
“Look,” my mom inches closer to me on the couch. “All I’m saying is, get together with her and talk. Hash out everything. It’s the only way you can move on in a life with Erica and finally release Maria from your heart. You owe Erica that, don’t you think?”
She’s right, I do.
“Ahem!”
I freeze. My mom and I both turn in unison, toward the direction of the stairs, and there stands my wife.
Dexter’s was a blast, as usual. If Erica heard any of my and my mom’s conversation, she didn’t lead on. It was fun to catch up with old friends, hang out with Ricky, and let loose. And of course, it was really fun for Erica. As nights go with her lately, she’s passed out. I practically carried her up the stairs to my childhood bedroom. Thank goodness, my mom was asleep and heard nothing, since Erica is always loud when she is drunk. By the time I had her on the bed, she was out cold.
Now I’m lying here staring up at the ceiling, at four in the morning, wondering if I should do the one thing I know I shouldn’t do.
And that’s email Maria.
I can’t help but replay my mom’s conversation in my head. She’s right, I run away when I’m hurt or scared. You would think that my schooling would have clued me into my own tendencies. But no. It took the one person who knows me the best, other than Maria, to see this in myself. My mom is right. I need to talk to Maria. And this has nothing to do with seeing her again.
Nope, not that at all.
But I have so much to say to her. With the decision made, I ease myself out of the bed, careful not to wake Erica. Not that she is going to stir. She will probably wake up in the morning still a little drunk and hung over. The worst way to wake up.
On light feet, I make my way downstairs to the office where my mom keeps her computer. I flip on the power switch and sit and wait for it to turn on. Meanwhile, my head is stirring with what to say in this email. The room is eerily quiet. The hum of the computer and the air conditioner kicking on are only adding to my eagerness.
Finally, the home screen comes into focus, and I dial into the internet. As that happens, I wipe my hands down my pajama pants. They are sweating with nerves and anxiety.
As I wait, I grab the Post-it note. Before we left for Dexter’s, I placed the note on the desk. Subconsciously knowing what I was going to do.
Once everything’s connected and ready to go, I sign into my AOL account. With my head feeling hot, I click on the ‘write’ button for a new email. The blank email template stares back at me. I wait for a beat or two and then I type.
Date: July 2, 2004 04:40 am
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hey!
Hey there!
It’s me, Sam. You’re probably wondering why you’re getting an email from me or how I got your address. Well, it was from my mom. I’m in town for the next week and I was wondering if maybe we could meet. Just to say hey and catch up. Only if you want. No pressure. Just reply and let me know.
Hope to hear from you soon,
Yours,
Sam
That brief email took me a half hour to compose. I kept typing, then reading, then backspacing, then retyping. I stare at the screen, happy with my words and hit send.
There, it’s done.
I get up and walk away to use the restroom and get a glass of water before shutting down the computer. As I sit my glass in the sink and leave the kitchen, I hear three words coming from the office.
