You've Reached Sam (You've Reached Sam, #1)

by Dustin Thao

But this isn’t the real world, I want to tell him. It’s high school. And as much as I don’t want to care about it, failing this stupid class might affect the rest of my life.

As much as I hate to admit it, maybe he’s right. I should prepare myself for a world where nobody is on your side or willing to help you out even when it costs them nothing at all.

For the first time, I want Sam to know I’ll be okay. Even if I’m not so sure.

Suddenly the image of me walking in a cap and gown doesn’t seem appealing anymore. Especially if Sam won’t be there. Maybe I should skip it altogether …

But I don’t feel like talking about the future right now. Not like this. Not when Sam doesn’t have a future of his own to plan out.

“Anyway, I should probably let you go now,” Sam says. “I’m sure you have a lot of work to catch up on. Don’t want to distract you from the world.”

An officer said it was a testament to how strong he was. I think it was a testament to how much he wanted to live. It took hours before someone finally found him. It was too late by then. Sam had lost too much blood and died from exhaustion. No one likes to say it, but maybe it would have been easier for him if he’d died there in the crash. But his will to live on was too stubborn. Just like him.

Maybe if the stars were aligned differently, or the wind blew the other direction, or it suddenly started raining, or something else, Sam would still be alive, and I wouldn’t be driving out here in the middle of the night looking for him.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” I whisper. After all this time, I finally found him. But I’m too late.

There are so many moments I wish I could relive again. Especially the smaller ones. The quieter ones that we often don’t think about. Those are the moments I look back and miss the most.

“I can’t believe this. This must be a mistake.” “Well, it isn’t,” Mika says back. “Joining a bunch of clubs and good grades don’t guarantee you anything, I guess.”

Nothing’s fair.

I don’t want to lose her, too.

What would Sam think of me if he knew this? If he knew I wasn’t the same person he fell in love with?

She never asked for too much, you know? That’s the thing. It really makes you feel good.”

I’m only saying that another ending exists.”

I can’t stop thinking about what Oliver said. About how you can’t have two endings to something. About how you could have multiple versions of someone, but only one can be the original. Maybe Oliver’s right. I don’t want a different version of Sam. I want the one I lost. The one I’m still somehow connected to, even though it’s only his voice over the phone.

A part of me is trying to wake up. The other part is curious to see a different ending.

What do I have to say? And what if it’s insignificant to the rest of the world?

“I wandered off the trail and found it one day,” Sam says. “It reminded me of the song I always play for you. The one you listen to when you write. I know you’ve been having some trouble thinking lately. I thought that, maybe if you saw it in person … the fields of gold … it would inspire you to write again.” A breeze blows strands of hair across my face and I leave it. “Why didn’t you bring me here sooner?” “I was waiting for the right moment to show it to you. I had it all planned out. It was supposed to be special. I didn’t know I would run out of time.”

But I don’t dare to look, because I’m scared no one will be there. So I just stare straight up at the stars, and allow myself to keep pretending.

“You’re gonna be okay, Julie. Wherever it is you go, whoever you end up with. You’ll figure things out.”

“Julie,” Sam says, somewhat tensely. “Don’t do this.” “Do what?” “Hold on to us,” he says. “As if we still have forever.”

“I wish you were here,” I say. “I wish you were lying right next to me. I wish I could look over and see you smiling back. I wish I could run a hand through your hair, and know you’re real. I wish we could finish school and graduate together. So we can finally leave this place like we always planned, and find an apartment somewhere, and figure out the rest of our lives together so I don’t have to do it alone. I wish you were alive again … and I wish I had picked up the phone that night, so that all this would be different, and everything would go back to before…”

We just quietly live in this imaginary world where everything I wish for is still a beautiful possibility.

I try not to think of things this way, and compare myself to others, but sometimes it’s hard not to.

I don’t want to remember Sam as a tragedy. I don’t want that to be his story.