I write notes for later input about Sam’s attitude in those first few weeks, and how I cherished the first glimpses of his smile, his sense of humour, and how my heart melted when he laughed. I even make a note of how adorable his frown was.
At ten o’clock, my phone buzzes. My heart swells when I see his name.
Sam: Sorry I didn’t call today. I had two physio appointments and then had a heap of shitty medical paperwork to sort out. Talk tomorrow? X
I imagine him snuggled in bed, ruffled hair and tired eyes. I hope he’s adjusting okay.
Me: Hey :p That’s okay, talk to you then. I had my writers’ group meeting this morning and after wearing out Butch and kayaking, I’ve been writing. I’m making progressx
Three bubbles blip below my text.
Sam: That’s my Janie. Go get em x
I take in a deep breath and try to get back into my story.Ourstory.
As I work through a few scenes where we’re getting to know each other, I try to focus on his body language, and the things he might’ve been thinking but was unwilling to share with me at that point.I really would’ve loved to know what was on his mind after I threw myself at him that time.The beaten-down Sam I first met is so different to the capable man who left town yesterday.
At three in the morning, I close my laptop, proud of chapter after chapter which bled from my fingers, Hemingway-style.
As I land against my pillow with a thud, I look up to the heavens.I finally get it, Nan.
It’s a good start—a great one, really. I know there’s a lot of work to do. I’m a long way off having the perfect story, but I’m on the road there.