When I die, Emily had whispered to me after the funeral, just cremate me. I don’t want to that to be the last time people see me, all…dead like that.
Touché, sister.
Around three a.m. I rolled out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen for a drink, raiding Em’s refrigerator for a cold beer. Down the hallway, in Emily's guest room, I heard my father snoring. It had been a long time since I'd listened to that snore, and I hadn't missed it. If I never saw Agnes and Milton Barlow again, it would be too soon. The thought of watching them walk out the door tomorrow with Piper in tow made my stomach twist in knots. But even more, it made me angry. I was angry at Agnes and Milton, angry at Sam and the lawyer Howard, but most of all, I was angry at Emily. She was, after all, the one who’d abandoned us all.
I popped the top of a bottle of beer and raised it to my lips, savoring the crisp, bubbly flavor and the moment of silence that had draped over the kitchen. I wondered what Sam was doing now. Was she home with her boyfriend, Richard? Was he telling her to say no, pleading to her that Piper was the last thing they needed to make their relationship work?
I shook my head, took a few more gulps, and then emptied the bottle in the sink and tossed it into the garbage bin before heading back toward the living room where I’d been sleeping on the couch. I paused right outside of my sister’s bedroom and peeked inside. Piper was asleep in Em’s bed, wrapped in a comforter pulled up past her chin. Her mousy brown hair, same as Emily’s, was wild about her face, cheeks still raw and ruby red from the tears she’d shed.
On the nightstand next to the bed, a framed photo sat, slightly turned away. I reached for it and held it up under the warm glow of a nightlight. It was us. Emily, Sam, and me, standing together with Miami’s South Pointe Park Pier in the background. Sam stood in the middle, one arm around my shoulders and the other around Emily’s. She was laughing. We were laughing. We were young in the photo, seventeen maybe, and it was difficult not to look back at better days.
I set the photo down and tiptoed out of the room so as not to wake Piper, then slipped under the covers on the couch. I knew there was no point in trying to sleep now, as the morning was fast approaching. There was no use trying to relax.
I needed Sam’s answer.
We all did.
Samantha
The shrill ring of the cell phone next to my head woke me with a start. My eyes fluttered open, and I groped around my bed, still half-asleep, trying to wish away the pounding in my skull. Blindly in the darkened room, my fingers brushed against the cool back of my cellphone, and I hit the green button, putting it to my ear.
“Hullo?”
“Samantha?”
“Hi, babe.” I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the vile aftermath of old alcohol and cigarettes assaulting my taste buds. I glanced at my clock; it was ten in the morning. I had only two hours to decide.
“Are you okay?” Richard asked. “You sound tired.”
“Yeah, I'm okay.” I rolled out of bed and looked down, just noticing that I was still in my clothes from yesterday. I couldn’t remember getting into bed, but I could vaguely recall Tasha slinging me into the back of a cab and paying the driver to take me home. “It was just a long night,” I said into the phone. “You know—Emily's funeral.”
“Yes,” said Richard. “I'm sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral, Samantha.” His voice was controlled, tight. Nothing rattled this man, not even the death of a friend.
“It's fine.” I went to the bathroom to check my complexion, debating on whether I had time for a shower. “Your job takes priority.”
It seemed apparent at that moment I should have been telling Richard everything going on. I should have laid it out there on the table in an instant, asked him for his opinion. Maybe he’d know what to do, some wise words or advice. But … I didn’t. I didn’t talk about it, and I didn’t even bring it up, and I had no idea why. Did I fear what Richard would think? What he would say? I was afraid to hear him say that it was a terrible idea that I was an idiot for even considering it. But I didn't want to hear that from him—in fact, I didn't want to hear anything from him—not when it concerned Emily or Piper.
“I'll be flying home in a few days,” Richard said. His tone was so distant, professional almost, as though he were speaking to a coworker and not his girlfriend of four years. I could almost see him standing in the lobby of whatever hospital he had been summoned to, holding a black briefcase in one hand as he strolled up and down the halls. He would be dressed in a suit today, not in scrubs yet, his silvered hair slicked back and his face clear of stubble. A true professional if there ever was one.
“I can't wait to see you.” I opened my mouth to tell him about Piper, to get it over with, but then closed it again. I couldn't even get the words out. By the time Richard got home, it would be too late. My decision had to be made before that, and it had to be personal … even if that meant keeping it from my boyfriend, so I could think with a clear head.
“I look forward to seeing you, as well,” Richard said. I closed my eyes, wondering why it was so difficult for this man to express emotions in anything other than monotone. “I have to go, Samantha, my OR is being prepped. Good luck with your exam this afternoon. We studied hard, so I expect you to pass it with excellence.”
My anatomy exam. Fuck.
“See you tomorrow,” I muttered into the phone. “I love you.”
“Me, too.” There was a beep, and then silence as the call cut off.
I dropped the phone onto my mattress, trying to pull myself together and sort out the array of emotions pulling me frantically in each direction. He and I had never discussed children before. Richard was a successful cardio surgeon, one of the best in the country, and I was less than two years away from graduating from a university and applying to medical school. I was an ER nurse now, on the fast track to joining Richard in the operating room as a trauma surgeon. Children were the furthest thing from whatever life-long plan we had made during our time together. Richard had never even mentioned children and seemed to freeze up when kids were around. I knew I was no better, but this wasn't just some kid. This was Piper—Piper, who I had watched come into the world. Piper, who had frequently squealed, “Aunt Sam!” when I walked through the door to visit Emily. No, Piper wasn't just some kid—she was the closest thing to a child I’d ever had.
Nick
I watched Sam rest her elbows on the table and take a long drag of her cigarette. She looked tired, probably hungover. Her eyes were dark, a result of exhaustion both of us felt so heavily. I had the fleeting urge to lean over the tabletop and pluck the cancer stick from between her fingers, but I resisted. Sam had a mean right hook, one I painfully remembered coming at me the time I’d wrecked her brand-new car. I can’t say I hadn’t deserved it though—especially after I’d slapped my thigh in amusement and said, “If you don't laugh, it just seems mean!” It was a quote from one of our favorite shows, but Sam hadn't laughed—she hadn't even smiled. She had, however, punched me in the face and broken my nose.
“Have you two reached a decision?” the attorney asked. Sam was still staring at the tabletop, nibbling her bottom lip. I don’t know why the attorney had asked us both; I hadn’t spoken to Sam even once since she’d walked into the house earlier that morning with a large coffee and tear-stained cheeks. She’d walked straight past me into the kitchen to make another pot of coffee, and I’d made the conscious decision not to engage with her, especially knowing that her nerves were already on high alert. I couldn’t risk pushing Sam over the edge when she was already so close to stepping off herself.
“I made my decision the instant it was offered,” I said coolly, looking at the attorney. “And I stand by it, with or without Sam.”
“This shouldn't even be a discussion,” Agnes said from beside Sam. “Piper is my granddaughter, and I plan on taking full guardianship of the child.”
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Barlow,” Mr. James said. “Ms. Barlow’s will is a legal document. Sam
antha and Nicholas have to make their decision first before we can entertain any next steps.”
“We already know what Samantha's answer will be,” Agnes said. Sam shot a seething look at her, lips pursed in distaste. Agnes had never liked Sam, and I knew it was because she was just as pigheaded and mean as Agnes was. The two together were a force to be reckoned with.
“Stop assuming you know every decision I'm going to make,” Sam said. She lifted her head, glaring right back at Agnes. I figured that if they had a brawl in the middle of the dining room, Sam would probably win. Under different circumstances, I would have paid to see that fight.
“Don't kid yourself, child,” Agnes said. “You have too much going for you to take on a responsibility like this. I know you can't just uproot your schooling and your home, and your relationship to become a mother. You're not a mother. I don't think you ever will be.”
“Jesus, Mom.” I don’t know why I felt the urge to defend Sam, because everything Agnes had just claimed was the truth, but I was tired of listening to my mother single-handedly pound people into the ground; she’d done that to the three of us our entire lives.
“It's all right,” Sam said. She butted out her cigarette and smiled at Agnes, but it wasn't real. It was her Be careful or I'll shank you face. “She can say whatever I want because I've made my decision.”
My chest tightened with apprehension. Sam closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. When she opened them again, she looked straight at Howard James.
“I accept guardianship of Piper.”
It was out, and there was no taking it back now.
Part of me was relieved, and the other part was horrified. For a split second, I wanted nothing more than to take it back, to cut my own tongue out so I could prevent myself from saying more, from making other rash decisions. But I couldn’t. It was done. Taking it back now would not only be immoral and unfair, but probably illegal. I’d accepted responsibility. Piper was mine.Well, mine and Nick’s, apparently.
“You two are making a mistake.” Agnes stood from the table, bony hands nearly knocking down a glass of ice water as she did so. Her body trembled, but I knew it was with rage. Agnes liked nobody, especially not me—and I knew that the woman couldn't have thought of a worse situation than to leave her granddaughter in the incapable hands of the woman she loathed and the son they hated.
“Sign here,” Mr. James said, and I scribbled my name before I could talk myself out of it. Across the table, Nick stared at me with wide, wary eyes. Now that it was official, everything had changed. It was real now, and I had a feeling he hadn’t expected me to go through with it at all.
“You will both be hearing from my lawyer,” Agnes said. She shot one last icy stare between Nick and me before storming out of the kitchen, huffing. In the living room, we heard her shout at Milton to get the keys. They muttered a quick goodbye to Piper, who was watching cartoons on the faded couch, and then in an instant, they were gone. Outside, the engine roared to life, and a moment later, I heard the squeal of the tires on the gravel driveway. Then there was silence.
“Well,” Nick said after a moment, flashing a smile at me. He leaned over the table on his elbows and shrugged a little. Even in that dark moment of our harsh reality, his familiar, goofy grin made me feel just a tiny bit better. “I think they took that well, don’t you?”
Nick
“I’m not moving to Seattle.”
“Well, I'm not staying in Miami, so it seems to me we're in a bit of a tight spot.” I glared at Sam, anger rising in my chest. It was incredible to me that we’d just signed guardianship for Piper, and yet hadn’t bothered to discuss living arrangements first. Evidently, we were off to an excellent start.
“My job here is done,” Mr. James said. He gathered up the papers, shook mine and Sam’s hands, and left, visibly relieved to be rid of us. Not that I could blame him; the whole ordeal hadn’t exactly been pleasant.
“Cheerio, darling,” I called. Sam rolled her eyes at me and then fell silent, presumably listening for Piper in the other room.
“I'm not moving to Seattle,” Sam said again, confirming that the cartoons were still occupying Piper. “My school is here, my job is here, and my boyfriend is here. I have no intention of moving to Seattle with you of all people, Nick.”
“I don't know what to tell you then.” I sat down and leaned back in the kitchen chair, balancing on the two back legs, clasping my fingers behind my head. “My job is in Seattle. So is my life. I can't just uproot and move here to stroke your ego.”
“My ego?” Sam jumped out of the chair on the other side of the table, fists balled and shaking, ready to rip me to shreds, I’m sure. “You mean my entire life?”
“That makes two of us.” I, too, got to my feet, ready to fend off Sam if she did, indeed, swing at me. I wouldn’t put it past her not to. Same old Sam, same bad temper. She was angry. No, she was fucking furious. A fire seemed to light in her eyes as she glowered at me, teeth pressed together until a muscle in her jaw twitched. I couldn’t decide if I was amused or terrified. Sam’s temper had never been one to play with.
“Your life?” she shouted, and I braced himself for impact. “You're an out-of-work wanna-be actor probably sleeping on some girl's couch. You're a loser, Nick! You have no life to return to.”
“You used to like Seattle, you know,” I said, ignoring the sting of her words. “Remember when you and Emily came to visit me right after the move, and you said you’d probably end up there eventually? Well, here’s your chance.”
“I chose a different life, Nick.” Sam sighed and bowed her head, a rare moment of weakness. “Emily and I stayed here, in Miami. It’s where Piper was born and where we started our lives together. This is home.”
“Ha.” I tilted my head to the side, unable to stop myself before the words spilled out like an unrelenting volcano of vomit. “Look how well that turned out for everybody.”
A sharp silence fell over the kitchen, and I wanted to kick myself. Sam stared at me, mouth agape, eyes wide as though I’d just struck her. I closed my eyes to avoid looking her in the eye and took a deep breath.
“I—”
Sam held up a hand, shaking her head. It was best to drop it before I managed to set her off completely. As I watched her, she took a deep breath, sniffed once, and then shrugged as though I’d beaten the life out of her.
“Fine,” she said, and this time when she couldn’t meet my eyes, I knew it was because I’d disappointed her. “Let’s ask Piper. We'll go where she wants to go.”
I pondered this for a moment, trying to produce some reason that this wouldn’t work. Like, leaving the decision to uproot our lives to a seven-year-old. But I knew there was no other choice. Sam and I would never agree on a location, and Piper was the most unbiased opinion we had.
“Deal,” I agreed because I could think of no reason not to. Sam nodded once, curt and business-like, and came around the dining room table, brushing past me without a word. The expression on her face was guarded and unemotional, but I knew better. She’d always perfected that façade.
“Piper, honey?” Sam hit pause on the DVD player and kneeled in front of my niece. I could see the recognition in Piper’s eyes at once, and without a mere second’s hesitation, she grinned, her face lighting up with trust. She was Aunt Sam. It had always been Aunt Sam, because Uncle Nick had never been around. And while I should have expected nothing less, a tiny twinge of jealously pulled at me, but I forced it down. I’d brought this on myself, and there was no changing the past.
“Piper, your Uncle Nick and I will be taking care of you from here,” Sam said gently, resting one hand on Piper’s leg. “It’s what your mommy wanted before she died.”
A painful stab of regret traveled through my soul, and my eyes met Sam’s over Piper’s head of mousy brown hair. She didn’t say anything back to Sam, but I could see the wheels in her head turning. Piper had always been smart, according to Emily. Smarter than average, if you will. Em had be
en the same way. I smiled at Piper and kneeled next to Sam, who didn’t even bother to punch me out this time.
“Hey, kiddo.”
“Hi, Uncle Nick,” Piper whispered, clutching a ragged teddy bear to her chest.
“Aunt Sam and I were hoping you could help us settle a debate.”
“Hmm. Okay.”
“Okay, great.” I glanced at Sam, who nodded, urging me to continue.
“Uncle Nick doesn’t live in Florida,” I told her. “I live in Washington, near Seattle.”
“Seattle, like the Space Needle?”
Beside me, Sam’s jaw twitched, but she didn’t say anything.
“That’s right,” I said. “And Aunt Sam and I wanted to ask you if you wanted to stay here in Miami, or if you want to try out Seattle for a little while.”
Piper’s hazel eyes—Emily’s eyes—turned to Sam. “Can we go to Seattle?” she asked. “Can we go see the mountains?”
I got to my feet and leaned against the wall, folding my arms, feeling much smugger than I should have been. Sam glanced briefly over her shoulder at me and then sighed.
“I want to go there.” Piper glanced around Sam and at me. “So, can we go there?”
“It's settled then,” I said before Sam could answer. “I guess we’re moving to Seattle.”
Samantha
Shit. Shit.
Shit.
Head swimming, I reached a trembling hand into my closet for more clothes, turning to toss them into the open duffel bag on my bed. My cell phone sat silent and still, mocking me as I waited for Richard to call so I could tell him the news. I was moving to Seattle. To raise a child with a man I hated. I’d just succumbed to allowing a seven-year-old to determine my life’s course, and I had no idea why. What in the hell would I do in Seattle? I could sign up for classes there—transfer my credits from Miami University and keep working toward my graduation. But what about work? In Florida, I was a nurse in the ER—I loved my job, and it would have been the highlight of my medical school application. Could I get a job just as easily in Seattle?
Nearing September Page 3
