Sharing Sam (12 page)

It hurt. I have to admit it hurt in a way I’d never hurt before, a dull, empty ache that never went away. But it was nothing, nothing like the pain I knew Izzy was silently enduring. That’s all I had to remember when I saw Sam’s long fingers tangle with hers, or watched him kiss her so tenderly I’d wonder if he’d ever really cared for me at all.

At times like that I would feel the awful hot-steel burn of jealousy. But then I would look at the black half-moons under Izzy’s eyes and her sweet, off-kilter baseball cap, and I would wonder what kind of horrible person lived inside me that I could even feel such a thing.

One time, soon after Sam and Izzy started dating, a bunch of us were in the lunchroom together. I was sitting next to Izzy. She said something that made us all laugh, and all of a sudden, Sam leaned forward to kiss her. He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her long and slow while we all watched, a little embarrassed, a little fascinated.

While he was kissing her he opened his eyes and looked right at me. I didn’t know what I saw in his eyes at that moment—hurt? anger?—but I knew I didn’t like it. And I knew I didn’t like the acid grip of regret and jealousy I felt, looking
at them together. I’d stopped feeling noble. At that moment I just felt angry.

I got up to leave before the kiss ended. I was halfway across the lunchroom by the time Izzy could call out to me. I slipped out the door as fast as I could, pretending not to hear.

Late one afternoon I was working on an English essay when I heard a familiar noise slice the air. I looked out my window and saw Sam talking to Sara in the driveway. My mom tapped on my door.

“Al?”

“I heard.”

She peered inside. “Shall I tell him you’re coming?”

I stared at my notebook. “Tell him I’m not here, okay?”

She gave me that disappointed look that mothers have a patent on.

“Don’t,” I said.

“What?” All innocence.

“Look at me that way. That superior mother-knows-best way. This is working, Izzy is totally in love with Sam, I do not have anything to say to him, end of story.”

She joined me on the bed. “What if Sam’s not in love with Izzy? What if this isn’t working, and that’s what Sam wants to tell you? Whatever happens, you don’t want Iz to be hurt, now, do you?”

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk to him in the driveway. But do me a favor and don’t invite him to dinner, okay?”

“I would never humiliate you that way. We’re having leftover goulash.”

I checked the mirror. I looked like … well, like leftover goulash. Not that it mattered.

“What’s up?” I said when I reached the porch. Sara was sitting on Sam’s motorcycle, doing her best Evel Knievel impersonation.

Sam hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “I wondered if we could talk.”

“I’ve got that English thing due tomorrow. I’m kind of swamped.”

“A few minutes, that’s all. I was just over at Izzy’s.”

“She’s okay?” I asked in alarm.

“She’s okay. Real tired. She’s having more trouble with her right side. But you know Iz. She’s pretending everything’s fine.” He locked eyes with me. “Me, I’m not so good at that.”

“I don’t think we want to have this talk.”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

Without a word I turned, held open the screen door for him, and led him into the house. “Sam, Mom. Mom, Sam.”

“Hi … I guess it’s Dr. Chapman, right?” Sam said, extending his hand.

“I’m flexible,” my mom said. “I’m sorry Alison’s dad isn’t here to meet you, Sam. He used to own a Harley himself.”

Sam looked impressed.

“Don’t think he’s cool. He sold it for a VW.” I gestured toward the porch. “Come on. We can talk out back.” I sent my mom a look meant to ensure total privacy.

We sat on the patio furniture in the backyard, face to face, a white plastic table separating us. “Alison,” Sam said without preamble, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Sam,” I said, struggling to sound neutral.

“At first I was just hurt and really angry with you for suggesting the whole thing with Izzy. But after a while the hurt
started to go away and I realized I just plain missed being able to talk to you.”

“So why have you been avoiding me?”

Sam rubbed his temples. “Because it’s too much, it’s too confusing.”

I tapped my fingers on the table. “Izzy’s in love with you, you know.”

“I know. But I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I …” Sam rolled his head back and closed his eyes. “Because this is all getting so complicated. Because I miss you.”

“This isn’t about us right now.”

“I feel like Izzy deserves the whole truth,” Sam said. “Whatever that is.”

“Why do you have to make this harder? It’s working. It’s working fine.”

He leaned forward, studying me. “I don’t know how to say this, Alison.”

“Your feelings for me don’t matter right now,” I interrupted, paving the way to the place I knew he was going. “There’ll be time enough—”

“You don’t understand. I do still have feelings for you.” He gave a wry smile. “Major feelings. But that’s not the problem. The problem is, I’m … I guess I’m starting to have feelings for Izzy too.”

He looked at me for absolution. I could see the pain in his face. I could hear it in his voice.

I didn’t react. I didn’t want him to know that at that moment I wanted to take everything back. Hearing him say the words out loud, I realized that I didn’t want him to love Izzy.
At least not the same way he loved me … the way I’d thought he loved me. I wanted him back. For myself. Suddenly I didn’t want to share him anymore.

I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself as much as I did at that moment.

I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “But this is good, this is great,” I said, forcing lightness into my voice. “This is what I
thought
might happen. Of course you’re falling for Izzy. She’s beautiful and brilliant and hey, she’s my best friend. I’ve got good taste when it comes to friends.” I laughed brightly. “This is good, Sam. God, don’t fight it.”

“This isn’t what I wanted to happen. I wanted you.”

“It’s okay, Sam. Really.”

Sam pounded his fist on the table. It rocked back and forth on the cement porch. “I’m not like you,” he said, jumping to his feet. “I like things nice and simple. I love you. I want to be with you. I know we’re trying to do what’s best for Izzy and I know she’s a great girl and I know it’s natural I would be attracted to her, but damn it, Alison, it was supposed to be you and me. And you’ve managed to make it messy and complicated and impossible.”

I watched him pace past me.
It isn’t me
, I thought. Sam was the one who was making things impossible.

“Maybe that’s how love is,” I said. “Maybe it’s always messy. I don’t know.”

“What about Izzy?” Sam asked. “I mean, here we are, all tiptoeing around her like she’s an imbecile, pretending she’s just got a hangnail. In the meantime, she’s practically picking out wedding dresses. Don’t you think maybe she deserves the whole truth about you and me?”

I clenched my fists. “I don’t see the dishonesty. You honestly have feelings for Izzy. Fine. And no one’s told her she’s
cured or that she’s going to live forever. No one’s lied about that. So what’s so wrong with letting her be happy for a little bit?”

“It’s wrong if
you
can’t be happy. Eventually she’ll sense it, eventually she’ll know you resent her and she won’t quite know why. Or—or I’ll be kissing her and thinking of you or something, and it’ll be like one of those bad movies where you blurt out the wrong name.”

“Or maybe you’ll just be kissing her and thinking of her,” I said calmly. “Maybe that’s what you’re afraid of.” It was my turn to stand. “I won’t resent Izzy eventually, Sam, because this was my choice. Besides, there is no eventually. Eventually implies time. And Izzy doesn’t have any.”

“And what about when she … if she …”

“Shut up. This is ghoulish, it’s horrible.”

“What if I fall in love with her, Alison?” Sam whispered.

“Then maybe you weren’t ever really in love with me.”

Sam spun on his heel and headed for the side yard, taking long, fast strides. I followed him to the driveway. Sara was still sitting on the bike.

“How’s Morgan?” she asked.

“He’s okay. He had a lot of fun with you that day.”

“Maybe we could come by sometime.”

“Maybe.” Sam put on his helmet, and Sara relinquished the bike to him.

“Is he really all right?” I asked.

Sam looked at me sharply. “We’ve had a lot of talks, he’s promised to behave. It’s cool.”

“Izzy told me there’d been some problem with him wandering off again.”

“I said everything’s fine.” Sam started the bike, and the air vibrated with sound.

“If you need any help—”

“I don’t think so.”

Sam nodded at Sara and took off in a blur of noise. She watched him go, head cocked, squinting as he vanished down the road.

“I don’t get it,” she said.

“What?”

“I don’t get you and him and Izzy.”

“I told you, Sara. He likes Izzy now.”

“But I thought he liked you.” She had the look of someone who knew she was being lied to, but couldn’t quite figure out how.

“It’s complicated, Sara.” I sat on the front steps. “You reach this point in your life and then,
bam
, everything’s really complicated. Sometimes I wish I could have stayed your age forever.”

“Ten isn’t so great. Ten pretty much sucks. You might as well be invisible.” She grabbed her basketball, which was wedged under a bush, and began to dribble. “You think maybe sometime we could go see Morgan and the animals again?” she asked casually.

“Someday, maybe. But not right away.”

Sara dribbled faster, making a tight circle on the driveway. “Al, I’ve got this game coming up soon, a big tournament.” Her voice was neutral. “Can you come? On a Saturday morning?”

“Sure.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Sara.”

“You want to play some ball?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve got an essay to finish.” I headed for the door.

“Al?” Sara called. She stopped dribbling.

“Yep?”

“How come we can’t go back to see Morgan?”

“It’s kind of—”

“Never mind, I know.” Sara shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“No nests yet,” Izzy announced one Friday afternoon a couple of weeks later as we wandered Turtle Beach. She dropped onto the hot white sand and leaned back on her elbows.

“It’s too soon,” I said. “You tired?”

“No, just lazy.”

She’d been missing more school lately, a day here, a day there. The radiation was over for the time being, but she was still worn out after a full day of school. She looked so frail. I understood why Rosa spent her days pouring fatty concoctions down Izzy. The delicate bones of her face were too evident, and her eyes had a lost, childlike look.

I sat down next to Izzy and we watched an elaborate sand castle, obviously the work of many hours, melt into the water, dissolving like sugar as the waves licked at it.

“I did it, finally. I told Sam I loved him,” Izzy announced brightly. “To which he responded that he was afraid he was falling for me. I take that to be as good as the basic
I love you
. Although I would have preferred better phrasing.”

I stared at the sand. “I’m really happy for you, Iz,” I managed at last.

“You’ll find a guy just as great, you know.”

“I know.”

“Even my parents love him,” Izzy said. “Sometimes I think it’s too good to be true. I’m not hallucinating, am I? I mean, some of those drugs I’m taking are pretty potent.”

“If you are hallucinating, would you mind conjuring up a cute guy for me?”

Izzy laughed. We fell silent, watching the timid waves. The water was quiet that day, and so was the beach. Thick gray clouds banked on the horizon, and the air was flat and humid. I realized that this was the first time we’d been back to this spot since the day Izzy had told me she was sick.

“When I die, I want my ashes scattered here,” Izzy said suddenly.

I froze. Not
if
I die.
When
.

“Not by the water; everyone does that,” she continued. “In the grass over here, where we found the nest.”

I kept my gaze on the sand castle, now a smooth, brown, shapeless mass, like a modern sculpture. “I don’t know if I want to be cremated,” I said, just a casual response to a casual conversation. “I don’t like the box-in-the-ground thing. I’m too claustrophobic. But I keep thinking the burning would hurt. Which is crazy, of course.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop. “I kind of like the water burial idea—canoe out to sea, play a nice sea chantey or something. I read once that in the Solomon Islands, they just lay you on a reef to be eaten by sharks.”

“Nice,” Izzy said. “Ashes to ashes, dust to shark. All part of the great cosmic continuum. The scientist in me likes that.” She rolled on her side, watching me. “What do you think happens when you die, Al?”

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “I’d like to think you go to a
place without zits and static cling. But I can’t find a religion that buys into that notion.”

“Rosa’s does. She’s into a full-service heaven. She goes to church, like, three times a week to pray for me, did I tell you? It’s sort of unnerving. I told her thanks, but still, I’d rather have her embroider me another sweater. It seems more practical under the circumstances.”

She was telling me she knew. She’d known all along, but I wouldn’t admit it to myself and neither would Lauren and Miguel and, probably, Sam. We were cowards, all of us. Izzy had let us off the hook, making it easy for us to pretend everything was fine.

Only now, at last, she was getting tired of the pretending.

I could feel my insides twisting, my eyes getting ready to churn out tears. This was my chance to help her through this, and I couldn’t.

It wasn’t my place, I told myself; she should be talking to her mom and dad. But I was her best friend. Best friends were created so you could say all the things you could never say to parents. Things like
I know I’m dying, and I’m afraid
.

But there was nothing I could say that would make her feel better, no easy lie, nothing. That’s what I was good at, little white lies that made people happy. I would have told her what she wanted to hear, but this time I didn’t know what it was.