Page 3 of This Life and All the Rest
She slides into the driver’s seat, and I get in on the passenger side.
“And when you do, I’ll be on the sidelines with popcorn, ready to whisk you away to some place remote, if things get too shady.”
“Aw, thanks, babe,” she croons with a grin as she starts the car.
“I mean, what are friends for, if not to protect you from psycho, corrupt family members?”
Sam snorts a laugh in agreement, and I’m smiling for the first time in twenty-four hours, but it quickly disappears when she pulls out of the parking lot and points her car in the direction of our hometown. Reality sets in, and I have to rest my head back on the seat and control my breathing.
“You wanna go home first, or to the hospital?” she asks quietly.
She doesn’t ask me how I’m doing. She knows already. I’m sure it’s pretty obvious.
“Actually, can you take me to your house, instead?” I don’t correct her for her use of the wordhome. That place hasn’t been home in years. “I want to take a shower and consume something that isn’t vodka before I have to deal with everything.”
Sam nods and turns on the radio. I’m not worried about running into Chase or the senator. They’re never home when Sam is home, and she’d warn me if they were. She must have arranged something with them last minute since she would otherwise be spending the summer in DC, working an internship. Sam and her family have an unspoken agreement—when she’s not at her college apartment, they leave the house in Franklin for her.
She opens her mouth, then shuts it again. I wait for the question, but it doesn’t come.
“Just say it, Sam,” I say, putting my head back on the headrest and closing my eyes.
“I was just wondering what you’re gonna do when you seepersona non grata.”
Her tone is so matter-of-fact and in no way a reflection of the turmoil I feel churning in my belly. I try to match my tone to hers.
“It’s not a big deal,” I lie. “Not any different than when I see everyone else.”
Sam scoffs, just like I knew she would. Bitch always sees through my bullshit. It doesn’t matter, though. The lie was for me, not her.
“I still can’t believe you’ve avoided contact for this long.”
“It’s not hard when there’s an ocean between us and he’s always deployed.”
“Yeah, but he’s not deployed now,” Sam warns, and I release a slow exhale.
No. No, he’s not.
“Wantme to come in with you?” Sam asks as her car idles outside the hospital entrance.
“No. Thank you, though.”
She took me to her house, let me shower and take a fifteen-minute nap, then fed me leftover pizza before driving me here.Afterrearranging her schedule so she could pick me up from the airport. She’s already maxed out her best friend good deeds for the day.
“You sure? I don’t mind. I can wait in the waiting room.”
“It’s okay,” I say honestly. “I think I need to do this alone, first.”
She nods. “Text if you need me to scoop you up after.”
I get out of her car and shut the door. I walk to the revolving door, then turn and give her a wave. She doesn’t leave until I’m in the building.
Instead of walking to the information desk, I follow the signs to the ICU. There’s a nurse at the desk and I tell her my name. Visiting hours are technically over, but Andrea spoke with them and convinced them to make an exception for me since I was flying in from Paris. Luckily, they didn’t loosen the one visitor at a time rule, so I know I’ll be in there alone.
I walk slowly, keeping my eyes forward, but I use my peripheral to count the doors. I control my breathing, fighting off the tears that are already forming.
I can do this.
For him, I can do this.
