Page 138 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Forty-Nine

At some dark hour, we make it back to the apartment. In a daze, I kick off my shoes and run to Sam’s room. Fully clothed, I crawl onto his unmade bed and pull the covers over me. His aftershave soon surrounds me. It’s a reminder that is both comforting and cruel. Tears flow as my heart is wrung out of emotion.

They took him away.

“Jane,” a deep voice says on the other side of the covers.

I peek my head out and swipe the wetness from my cheeks.

Ben sits on the corner of the bed and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares at the wall in front of him, which holds his focus for the longest time. After a while, he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and growls. “Goddamn it, Sam.”

I crawl to the end of the bed and perch beside him. “I’m sorry, Ben.” I place my flattened hand between his shoulder blades and rub in small circles. His shoulders drop a little. “I know saying that doesn’t help. I don’t know what will.”

“Yeah. I hear you.” Ben shakes his head, stands, and swipes beneath each eye with his thumb.

I stand and wrap my arms around his middle. “I think we both need some rest.”

“Yeah,” Ben says, his voice thick.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I want to ignore it, but I should at least check it. I take a step back from Ben and open the message.

Kathleen: How is Sam?

Air is forced out of my lungs as I stare at the device.Oh God. I have to tell her. As if she doesn’t have enough death to deal with, someone who left her care fit and on the road to recovery has lost his battle with life.

“What is it?” Ben asks.

I cough to clear my throat. “It’s Kathleen. She’s asking after Sam. I should ring her. Tell her. I don’t know when I’ll be home. She has Butch. And there’s work.” I take a few deep breaths in quick succession and shake my head. “I don’t know what’s next.”

“You can stay here as long as you like. If you’re not in a hurry, that is.”

“Ben, you just lost your brother. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thanks,” he whispers and heads for the door, shutting it behind him.

I sit back on the bed and psych myself up for the call. With a trembling hand, I pull up her contact. After the third ring, the call is connected.

“Hi, Jane.”

“Sam’s gone,” I choke out.

The line goes silent.

“Kathleen?”

A series of sniffles echoes through the phone. “Oh, Jane. I’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Don’t know.” A sob bursts from my mouth without warning. “I need some time.”

“Whatever you need, dear. My goodness. This is something a young person should never have to go through. I saw the way you two were together. It was a joy to see love bloom in a place where loneliness roams free. Such sad news.”

Another heart-wrenching sob breaks free. I’m not ready to talk about this yet.He’s gone. He’s not coming back. Sam was the first person I know with certainty that I loved. I was loved dearly in return, which makes this so much harder to bear.We didn’t get our time.

“I need to go,” I blurt out. I just can’t right now.

“Jane, please don’t worry about work. My sister’s been bugging me to come out of retirement. I’ll sort out the leave side of things.”

“Are you sure?” I’ve probably only accrued a week’s annual leave at the most.

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