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

by Dustin Thao

I can’t keep you around, Sam. It makes me think you’re still here. That you’re coming back. That I might see you again. Once I have everything collected, I take a long look at my room. I never realized how much of him I had lying around. It feels so empty now. Like there’s a void in the air.

“I have to,” I say. “If I miss another week they won’t let me graduate.” Not to mention I’m behind on all my schoolwork, which keeps piling up. I really need to focus again, and pull myself together, because what else am I supposed to do? The world keeps moving, no matter what happens to you.

I drop the box of Sam’s things beside the mailbox and recycling bin. It hits the ground with a clatter like change and bones. The sleeve of his jacket hangs limply over the side of the box like the arm of a ghost.

I’ve been trying to erase him from my life like a terrible memory. After everything we’ve been through together. I threw out all of his things. I skipped his funeral. And I never even said good-bye. In his death, Sam asked for only one thing, and that was for us to remember each other. Yet here I am trying so hard to forget.

I try to get up but I can’t seem to move a muscle. So, I don’t bother. I just stay there on the floor of stones and leaves as the sky continues to pour. I miss Sam. I miss the sound of his voice. I miss knowing he would always answer me if I called. I don’t even know where I am or who I can talk to. This isn’t one of my finest moments. And tomorrow, I will regret ever letting it get to this point. But right now, I’m so desperate and alone, I pull out my phone and turn it on.

screaming crying throwing up

I take in his familiar voice, the rain against my skin, the feeling of my body sinking into the ground, the sudden dizziness in my head, and try to make sense of what’s happening. As strange as this all seems, I can’t help asking, “Is this … really you, Sam?” “It’s me,” he says, and laughs a little. “I thought I’d never hear from you again. I thought you might have forgotten about me.” “How am I talking to you?” “You called me.” His voice is as calm as water. “And I picked up. Like I always do.”

There it is, his oversized plaid button-down shirt. Sam wore it almost every day, regardless of the season. I guess even his parents couldn’t throw it away. I take the shirt from the hanger and put it on. For a brief second, I feel his hands on me, but it’s only in my head. I wipe my eyes with his sleeve.

I sit up on the bed, and glance around the room. The chair at my desk is turned to face me, Sam’s shirt still hanging behind it. Sometimes, I like to pretend he’s in the bathroom, or grabbing some water downstairs, and is about to come back. Anytime now. It makes me feel less alone when we’re not on the phone together.

this mf book

I should have kept these plans private. So I wouldn’t need to explain myself when I’m forced to change them.

Sam takes a moment to think. “I’m in a new apartment … that you and I just moved into … and there’s a park right outside the window … and we have a record playing in the living room … and there are boxes everywhere that need unpacking…” He squeezes my hand. “Where are you?” “I think I’m there, too,” I whisper. I sense him smiling. “I don’t want to open my eyes,” Sam says. But the ride is about to come to its end. I can feel it. I squeeze my eyes tighter, hoping to stop time or at least slow it down. Because I don’t want to open mine, either. I don’t want to lose him. I want to keep them shut and live in this memory of us forever. I don’t want to open my eyes and see a world without Sam. But sometimes you just wake up. No matter how hard you try not to.

I used to live inside my daydreams. I spent hours planning the future in my head, imagining myself ten years from now, finished with college, living in an apartment in the city, getting to write for a living. I imagined the details of the rest of my life—the appliances I would have in the kitchen, the titles of stories I would publish, the places I would travel, who would be there with me. But then you get rejections in the mail, lose that person who meant everything to you, and find yourself back at the beginning with nowhere to go. I try not to daydream anymore.

facts

Letting go isn’t about forgetting. It’s balancing moving forward with life, and looking back from time to time, remembering the people in it.”

I still think about Sam from time to time, but the memories are fond, letting me breathe easier. Even though he isn’t here, I still see him everywhere. And for the first time, the thought of this brings me comfort.

Ever since we started talking again, it’s like you can’t seem to let me go anymore. And I’m just worried—” “You don’t have anything to worry about,” I say back, suddenly furious. “And let me remind you, you’re the one who picked up the phone in the first place.” “Well, maybe I shouldn’t have.” A shock goes through me. His words silence the both of us. I stand there, completely still, the phone clenched tightly in my hand. I can’t believe he would say that. I want to say something back, but nothing comes out. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that. Please don’t—” Sam starts. I hang up the phone before he can finish. Because I don’t care to hear an apology.

“You’re living ahead of yourself, Julie. Making decisions, and wanting things done, only to set up the future.” “What’s so wrong with that?” “Life will pass right by you,” she says, her eyes focused on the road. “And you end up missing the little things, the moments you don’t think matter—but they do. Moments that make you forget about everything else. Just like with your writing,” she adds out of nowhere. “You don’t write to get to the end. You write because you enjoy doing it. You write and don’t want it to end. Does that make some sense?” “I guess so…” I think about this. But what if I don’t like the moment I’m living in?

I know you’re here, Sam. I can feel you. Because you’re everywhere. You were back in the coffee shop, there at the lake, somewhere waiting in these fields. All this time I’ve been wondering why we’ve been given this second chance. But maybe we’re always connected, even after you’re gone. Because I can never completely lose you. You’re a part of me now. You’re everywhere I look, falling from the sky like petals.

SOBBING.

I don’t think Sam’s here anymore. I’m beginning to doubt he ever was. What’s wrong with me? Why did I come here? I check the time again. 12:35 a.m. Already past midnight. My heart stops. It’s too late now. I lost him again. The petals have vanished. After everything Sam’s done for me, I broke our promise. He asked me to call him one last time to say good-bye, and I let him down. What if he waits for me forever? What if he needed me to say good-bye to move on?

“Sam—” I start. “I can’t hear you … but maybe you can still hear me. I’m sorry! I couldn’t get to you in time. I know you wanted us to say good-bye. I’m sorry I ruined everything again. Please don’t wait for me, okay? You can go. You don’t have to wait. You can move on now!” My voice cracks. “I’m going to miss you so much. But I want to tell you one last thing…” I take a deep breath, fighting back tears. “You’re wrong about something. You did leave your mark on the world, Sam. You left a mark on me. You changed my life. And I’ll never forget you, okay? We’re a part of each other. Do you hear me? Sam—” My voice gives out.

But I can’t do that to him. I made a promise. So I let it ring. I let it keep ringing until it stops, the screen turns black, and I’m alone in the room again. My heart shatters, and sinks into the pit of my stomach. I set the phone down, and curl up on Sam’s bed, letting myself cry.

Sam’s voice comes through the phone. “Hey—so, I’m not sure if I should do this … Or if it will even work. I probably should have said this to you over the phone, but we ran out of time. Or maybe, the truth is, I was scared you would think of me differently … That is, if you knew why I picked up the phone that first time—” He pauses. “Before we hung up, you said something that made me feel a bit guilty. You said I picked up your call that night because

you needed me. I guess part of that is true. But that isn’t the reason I answered.” A long pause. “The truth is … I picked up because—because I needed you. I needed to hear your voice again, Julie. Because I wanted to make sure you didn’t forget me. You see, I took you to all those places—like the fields, to see the stars that night—so that you’d always remember. So that whenever you looked up at the sky at night, you’d think of me. Because I didn’t want to let you go yet. I never wanted to say good-bye, Jules. And I never wanted you to, either. That’s why I stayed as long as I could. So don’t blame yourself for anything. It was me that was keeping you from your life. Maybe it was a bit selfish of me. But I was just so scared you’d forget. I realize now I made it a lot harder for you to move on. And I hope you forgive me for that.”

Sam pauses again. “Remember back in the fields, when I asked what you wanted … if you could have anything? Well—I want those things, too, Jules. I want to be there with you. I want to graduate with you guys. I want to move out of Ellensburg, and live with you, and grow old together. But I can’t.” Another pause. “But you still can. You can still have all those things, Julie. Because you deserve them. And you deserve to fall in love a dozen times, because you are kind and beautiful, and who wouldn’t fall in love with you? You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me. And when I think ...

“I love you more than you can ever know, Julie. I’ll never forget the time we had together. So please don’t forget me, okay? Try to think of me from time to time. Even if it’s only for a moment. It would mean so much. You have no idea.” A long pause, followed by static. “I should go now. Thank you … for not picking up the phone this time. Good-bye, Julie.” The voice mail ends. I listen to the message again. I listen to it on the way home, and several more times before I fall asleep. I listen to it the next morning when Mika comes over and I replay it for her. I listen to it again that night and the day after that. I listen to it on the days I miss Sam most and want to hear his voice again. I listen to his voice mail until I have it memorized, and I don’t need to play it anymore.

so emotional, this part is heartbreaking. encapsulates grief so beautifully

But I still think about him. I think about him throughout my first week in college when I’m walking under the cherry blossoms. I think about him whenever I’m in town, grabbing coffee at Sun and Moon. I think about him when I’m on the phone with Mika, and we talk for hours. I think about him after an awkward blind date Oliver sets me up with. I think about him after a better first date with someone from my English class. I think about him after I finish writing our story and submitting it to a writing contest. I think of him when I win an

no words

honorable mention, and it gets published online. I think about him when I visit his house for Sunday dinners with James and his family. I think about him on my last day in Ellensburg, as I get ready to move to the city where we always planned to live together. And I think about him whenever I close my eyes, and see us together again, lying out there in the fields.