Nearing September

by Amber Thielman

  “Like a baby,” I said. I got no reaction from her, merely a nod. I was glad that Piper wasn’t there to feel the tension in the air.

  A silence settled over the kitchen as I sipped my coffee and picked at my eggs. Neither of us spoke or even looked at each other. After another seven minutes of this, there was a knock at the front door.

  “It's open!” Sam called, and I watched her get up anyway to answer it just as Tasha emerged into the foyer, a duffel bag trailing behind her and a grin on her face. Sam stopped, staring, taking it all in.

  “Tasha!” she cried. “Oh my God.” I watched her throw her arms around her friend, closing her eyes, both shocked and amazed that one of her best friends was standing there in front of her, a suitcase in her grip while she beamed. “What—? How—?” She released Tasha and looked back to where I had moved from the table and to the kitchen doorway, still sipping my coffee.

  “Nick called me and said you might enjoy the company,” Tasha said, looking past Sam to smile at me. I returned her grin, feeling the first semblance of happiness since I'd left Sam on her own last night. I watched Tasha drop her case and embrace Sam again. “Since you weren't planning to come back to Miami anytime soon, I figured I would take a few days off and get over here.”

  “I can't believe this,” Sam said. She hugged Tasha again, holding her friend for an extra beat before she released her. Then I was surprised as Sam turned away from Tasha and approached me. It was the first expression I'd seen that didn't scream I hate you! since last night. “Nick, thank you,” she said and threw her arms around me, catching me off guard. “You don't know what this means to me.”

  “I'm going job hunting today,” I said. “And when Pipes gets home later, we'll see a movie. I've designated girls’ night for you two.”

  “What a rock star,” Tasha said, beaming at me. “He's a keeper, Sam.” I saw her flush as I reached for Tasha's suitcase, too embarrassed to meet her gaze. I almost expected Sam to tell Tasha that I wasn’t hers to keep, but she kept her mouth closed and her eyes averted instead. Sam was not one to hold back, but this time I was glad she held back. I wasn't confident I could take more heartache from her.

  “Come upstairs with me,” Sam said. “We can get ready in my room.” With one last grateful look in my direction, Sam grabbed Tasha's hand and pulled her up the stairs. Tasha, I noticed, was smirking the entire way.

  Sam

  Once safely behind closed doors, I dropped Tasha's suitcase at the foot of the bed and sat down, beaming. I had been so caught off guard, but having Tasha here made me feel so much better about everything. Ever since Nick's standoffish comments last night, I had only assumed that he was furious and wanted nothing more to do with me. But he had called my friend, and he had gotten her to fly to Seattle, just for me. What kind of person did that? Nick, obviously. Despite wracking my brain, I couldn't think of even one instance that Richard had gone out of his way for me.

  “Cute room, lady,” Tasha said, walking around as she admired the decorations I had put up. “Nick still sleeping on the couch?” She looked pointedly at me when she said it, and I warmth bloomed across my cheeks.

  “Most nights,” I said firmly. “I'm trying to save up enough for my own studio so he can have his bedroom back.”

  “Or, you know, you could share it.” Tasha sat down next to me on the bed, eyes twinkling. “I can't lie and say I'm not a little jealous that you're jumping into the sack with that bag of sexy every night,” she said. “I mean, damn girl.”

  “Not every night,” I said, flustered. I didn't know why I was feeling such a strong, embarrassed reaction. Tasha was one of my best friends—we were almost as close as Emily and I had been. But even then, talking about Nick and me was one of the toughest things to do, and I had no idea why.

  “You sure look hot and bothered,” Tasha said after a moment. She still looked smug, that little smirk on her face never fading.

  “Can we talk about something else?” I asked. “Like—what we're going to wear out tonight?”

  “Fine,” Tasha said. “But the dirty details still need to come later.”

  Nick

  I wasn't sure what I’d hoped to accomplish by inviting Tasha down, but if anything came out of this, it was that Sam would have a friend to talk to—maybe she'd relax finally, smile more. It was a woman thing; I was certain of that. Men rarely (if ever) got depressed and lonely. If it were up to me, if I saw most of my friends tomorrow it would be too soon.

  I had taken Piper to the matinee; some animated kids’ show about two princess sisters. Frosted, or something like that. Unlike Piper, who was enthralled, I hadn't been paying much attention. As always, my thoughts were on Sam.

  “Look, Uncle Nick!” Piper whispered in the dark. “Isn't she pretty?” I looked down at my niece, seeing her face lit up by the movie screen. My heart beat faster for her.

  “She's beautiful.”

  Sam

  I hadn't planned to get drunk. Buzzed, maybe, but an hour into dancing at a club downtown, both Tasha and I were three sheets to the wind and giggly. I couldn't remember having a night like this since before Emily died. Everything had been so sad since my friend's death—sad and mopey and tense. Tonight, I felt like myself again—a feeling I hadn’t been sure would be possible while living in Seattle.

  “I'm exhausted,” Tasha said after another hour and a half. I glanced at the time on my phone. It was only a little after eleven, but we had started drinking early. I, too, was wiped. As we walked together toward the bus stop, arms linked, Tasha started up again about Nick. Tequila shots had always made Tasha even more of a gossip than she naturally was. Emily, I remembered, had hated that about her.

  “So, that guy—” Tasha said, her voice low. “Nick, right?”

  “Funny,” I said. I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at my friend. Since Nick and I had been with Piper, I had had little time to feel like the young adult I still was. Tonight, I was twenty-four again, and it felt damn good.

  “You need to tell me what's really going on,” Tasha said as we came to the bus stop. The air was warm tonight, yet cooler than it had been recently. Despite it being late, the bus stop and streets were well lit and bustling with people. The party in Seattle never seemed to stop.

  “What is there to say?” I asked. I looked up at the night sky, inhaling the salty, humid air. My skin was damp with sweat.

  “There's something more going on here,” Tasha said. I looked over at my friend, admiring how cute she looked tonight in a mini skirt and sequined top. I had chosen a pair of low-cut jeans and a tank-top—always more conservative. Tasha had always been the friend that I envied—the woman who put herself first; no one hindered Tasha's happiness. The girl was happy with her life, satisfied with the way it was going—she was at peace. I could only look at Tasha and envision being that laid back and carefree. But I wasn't that girl. I had never been. Samantha Carson was a basket case. I was a control freak. So, what on earth did Nick see in me?

  “I don't know, Tash,” I said finally. I met my friend's gaze, unable at that moment to keep on lying as I had been to myself and everyone else. I took a deep breath, feeling the sobriety clear my head. “When I'm with Nick, I'm a different person,” I said finally. “And not in a bad way. When I'm with him, everything is okay in the world. It doesn't matter what's happened, or who's angry, or what's falling apart. When I'm in his arms, that's all I care about. I've never felt that way with anybody else. Ever.” A silence settled between us, and Tasha looked away as the city bus rambled up to our stop.

  “Then you know what you have to do,” she said.

  Nick

  I woke early the next morning, as I hadn't heard Sam and Tasha get in the night before. I slipped on a T-shirt and boxers and came down the stairs, stopping short when I saw two lumps covered in blankets on the floor near the couch. Briefly, I considered letting them be, but I just couldn't do it.

  “Good morning!” I called.

  “Please stop,” Tash
a mumbled. Her head was buried in a makeshift pillow. “Your voice makes me want to punch you in the face.”

  “Welcome to my life,” Sam grumbled. I leaned down and pulled the blanket off her, and then off Tasha. I was still grinning as I investigated their hung-over, pissed-off faces.

  “What time is it?” Tasha said finally. “My flight is at noon. My phone must have died.” I glanced at the clock on the wall.

  “It's ten,” I said. “I hate to break up this little reunion, but if you miss your flight now, you'll have to live with the three of us forever.”

  “Oh, God,” Tasha groaned dramatically. “Make it stop!” I offered her my hand and pulled her to her feet. Then I offered it to Sam, who glanced at me briefly, looked away, and stood up herself.

  Some much for last night, I thought. Will this ever end?

  Sam

  The worst part of the night, I thought, was the fact that I remembered the entire conversation Tasha and I had had about Nick. I hadn't been black-out drunk. I remembered—and even worse than that, I’d fucking meant it. That was the most terrifying part of all.

  “I don't know what I was expecting to see when I came down here,” Tasha said. I watched my friend shrug slightly and pretended to browse over the airport gift shop souvenirs. “But it wasn't this.”

  “It wasn't what?” I asked. “Why do you seem so surprised, Tash?”

  “It's just—” Tasha hesitated, as if searching for the correct thing to say. “It's you and Nick,” she said finally. “When you told me you slept with him, I didn't think much of it—but yesterday, seeing you two together, and what you told me—I think there's more than meets the eye.” She paused, looking intently at me. “This is me sober, babe, and I'm telling it like it is.”

  “Oh, please.” I put my hands on my hips, feeling a moment of irritation pass over me. “Nick and I will never work. We're just two people raising a kid—the sex was—okay, and is—good, Tash, but that's where it stops.”

  “Whatever you say,” Tasha said with another small shrug. “I just think that the both of you are in denial.”

  “The only thing Nick is in denial about is the size of his penis,” I said, a bit too loudly. Across the airport’s mini mart, an elderly woman with reading glasses shot me an annoyed look. Tasha was laughing.

  “You told me he was big.”

  “He is big,” I said with a shrug. I flushed. Thinking of Nick in that way always made my body physically reactive. “He just thinks he's bigger than he is.”

  “Oh, Sam!” Laughing, Tasha threw her arms around me and squeezed. In the distance, I heard them announce her flight. “I'll be back soon,” she promised as she gathered her bag. She turned back around and blew a kiss to me. “The passion that you guys share is rare, baby,” she said. “Don't watch it slip through your fingers because you're afraid. You know what you have to do. So do it.”

  Nick

  I knew that saying goodbye to Tasha would take a toll on Sam, but I was pleasantly surprised when she came home with a smile on her face instead of a scowl. Maybe I had done something right. Piper was at school, and I was having a beer and a sandwich when she came in and greeted me in the kitchen.

  “I wanted to thank you again,” she said, and there was no hint of sarcasm in her voice. “It means a lot to me that you invited Tasha. It was incredible to be able to see her.”

  “You're welcome,” I said softly. A silence settled between us, and I kept my eyes on her as she prepared herself some lunch and grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge before taking a seat across from me. We ate in silence for a few minutes, but it wasn't tense or angry like it had been recently. I watched her munch on a snack-sized bag of chips, hovered over the crossword puzzle in the newspaper, her brow furrowed in concentration. I realized at that moment I could stare at her all day long and never get bored of it. “I forgot to tell you that I got a job offer,” I said finally. She looked up, curious.

  “Congratulations. Where at?”

  “I'm an assistant producer now,” I said. I fell silent, letting her soak that up. She stared at me, eyes wide. “Some director that I acted for once got ahold of me after I left a resume with his assistant. I told him that I was finished with acting, but that I was looking for something behind-the-scenes to do.”

  “Nick, that's great!” she cried. She squeezed my shoulder, and her hand seemed to burn the skin beneath my shirt. I cleared my throat, trying not to envision ripping the pants and shirt from her slender body.

  “Yeah, I'm stoked,” I said, looking away before I did something she might not tolerate—like kiss her. Hard. I didn't know where I stood with her anymore, and it was getting increasingly difficult to figure it out. She was like a closed box, one you could only open with a key. The problem came with finding the damn key.

  The rest of the day went by peacefully, much to my surprise. When Piper got home later, both Sam and I came together to help her with her single sheet of ‘homework’. Aside from a few bickering instances, there was no blowout, no smack-down-drag-out rage between the two of us. Later that night, as Sam and I finished the movie Piper had started, I watched her from across the room, taken by how good Sam looked—so relaxed and happy. I loved seeing her happy.

  “Did I ever tell you that the doctor said I would probably never have children?” she asked me as she sipped her glass of wine. Her hand was resting on the small of Piper's back as the kid slept peacefully burrowed in the couch cushions, one arm thrown around her stuffed bear. She sighed, her eyes lighting up with the glow of the television. Some kid show was on, another Disney movie I had never seen before, but all I could focus on were Sam's words.

  “Never?” I asked. “There's no treatment or fertility pill you can take?” I was surprised at the turn the conversation had taken—she was only on her second glass of wine, and that was a subject I had been confident I would never, ever hear about. Especially not now, while things were the way they were between us. But what surprised me even more was the pain I felt in my chest suddenly—sympathy for her. Sadness.

  “There's a chance,” she said, and I watched her finish her wine before reaching for the bottle to refill her glass. I knew we were treading on dangerous territory, but because she’d brought it up, I didn't try and change the subject. I knew her well, although she would never admit it. I knew that her vice was to drink to keep the emotions at bay. “A one in a thousand chance.”

  “I guess it's a good thing you don't really like kids then, huh?” I said, and then wished I could kick myself for saying it. She looked away from me, her fingers now gently tracing tiny circles against Piper's shirt.

  “I guess it is,” she said, but I could hear the pain in her voice. “I guess at some point during my relationship with Richard I just accepted that it would never happen. I don't think he even wanted kids, anyway, so I tried to convince myself that it worked out for the best.” She paused, then reached over and brushed a strand of Piper's hair back. There was love in her eyes—a woman yearning to be a mother someday. “But then I came here with you—and we took on guardianship of a kid together, Nick.” She looked up at me, and I was surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears. “Piper looks so much like Emily that I find myself sometimes wondering what my kid would have looked like if I ever decided to have one.”

  “Red hair, definitely,” I said. I leaned forward and reached for my bottle of beer. “And your eyes, preferably. You can't beat a red-headed, green-eyed beauty. It's a classic.” I laughed, but it was forced.

  “I guess we'll never know.”

  Sam

  Monday came too quickly for me, and I headed off to work that morning after wishing Piper a good day at school and Nick a good first day with his new job. The last serious conversation Nick and I had wallowed in was the night before, Sunday night, when I’d come clean with him about my infertility. Why had I done that? I had no idea. Something that night had compelled me to open to him, to trust him. So I had. But now that it was over, I wasn't sure if I regrette
d it or not—I was leaning toward yes. Yeah, I regretted it. I didn't care about my female drama—why should he? Nothing had changed since my conversation with Tasha, and Nick and I were still nothing more than roommates who had fucked. I couldn't bring myself to bring it up, and apparently neither could Nick, so I figured we would continue to live in denial until one of us snapped. I hoped that it would be a while. Denial was fine. Denial didn't hurt as much as rejection would.

  “Mama, you look exhausted,” Kit said as I dropped off my things in the staff lounge. “Your glow is gone,” she said, pulling me to a stop. “Something happened with you and the Nicholas?”

  “It's a long story,” I said, but I knew I'd tell her, anyway. Kit was my Seattle version of Tasha.

  “Did he hurt you?” Kit asked. “If he laid a hand on you, I will lay his ass out like a—”

  “No, nothing like that,” I said quickly, cutting her off. I made my way to the nurse's station for my patient's paperwork with Kit hot on my heels.

  “Well, good,” Kit huffed. “I wouldn't have let that shit fly. So? What is it?”

  “Nothing really happened,” I said finally. I looked at my co-worker's face. “I think that's the worst part of it, Kit. Nothing will ever happen.”

  My twelve-hour shift seemed to go on for years, and I was exhausted when I dragged herself home and through the front door. I had two messages on my cell-phone from Nick—one of him telling me he would be late at his job tonight (not that it was my business—after all, we were just roommates) and the other one telling me that Piper was staying at a friend's house again. A girl's house. (Thank God, because I wasn't ready for the birds and bees talk yet.) Kicking off my sneakers, I poured myself a small glass of wine and curled up on the couch, feeling at peace in the quiet, empty apartment. I didn't realize how tired I must have been because a few minutes later I drifted off into a light slumber. An hour into my nap, there was a knock on the front door. My eyes fluttered open, and I checked the time. It was a little after eight. As I stretched and stood up, they knocked again.