Redeem

by Rachel Schurig

  She stays up with me all night watching my favorite musicals—Sound of Music and Les Miserables—and feeding me ice cream and pizza rolls. In the morning I leave, exhausted, to go back to the Warners. It’s the last thing I want to do, put on a happy face in front of them. But I promised Wyatt I would watch the soccer game with him and there’s no way I’m going to let Cash’s actions interfere with that.

  He snuggles next to me on the couch while we watch the game instead of jumping around and re-enacting all the plays like he normally does. I wonder if he can sense there’s something wrong with me. I decide not to question it, resting my head on top of his and taking comfort in his steady breathing.

  ***

  Somehow, I make it through the week. I cry—a lot, actually—and I eat a year’s worth of ice cream. But I don’t call him. And I don’t try to hide in a bottle or a bar. I go to school. I go to Penny’s. I go to Wyatt’s soccer game. I try not to think about Cash cheering his goal. I try not to think about Cash in my bed.

  On Wednesday morning I get an email from Daisy. I wait three hours to open it, terrified she might have news of him. Instead she tells me that she still really wants to help with the benefit, that she and Paige are far too invested to quit. That they promise not to bring up Cash ever if I let them continue with the project. She even says that we can communicate through email if it’s easier for me.

  I cry some more after that. I want to believe that I’ll still be able to be friends with Daisy and Paige when the benefit is over, but I’m not sure how that would be possible. We can at least finish the project together, I think, emailing her back to tell her that I would be happy if she and Paige continued to help.

  I throw myself into the benefit. It’s the only way I can deal with the dull aching in my chest. I’m determined to make it a success.

  I try not to think about the fact that Cash will be there.

  It’s a month away. You just need to get through it.

  On Friday Penny comes over for lunch. “I brought hot pockets,” she tells me, pulling them from a plastic bag with a gas station logo.

  “How gourmet of you.”

  She sits down at the kitchen table while I heat up our lunch, flipping through my copy of Glamour. “This is last week’s,” she says. “Where’s the new one?”

  I shrug. “Probably still in the mailbox. I haven’t checked in a couple days.”

  “You haven’t checked for your mail? Are you crazy? Checking for mail is my favorite part of the day.”

  I don’t tell her that there was a letter from Cash on Wednesday morning. As soon as I saw his name on the return address I had shoved the mail back into the box and locked it. I hadn’t built up the courage to go back down there.

  “I’ll get it,” she says, plucking my keys from the counter before I can object. “Be right back.”

  My heart rate starts to feel out of control while I wait for her. What if there’s another letter? What if she sees the return address on the first one? Would she make me open it?

  “It was totally full,” she tells me when she comes back, tossing a pile of mailers and envelopes onto the table. She already has the magazine in her hand, apparently ignoring the rest of the mail.

  I bring our lunch to the table and stare at the pile of mail while she reads her magazine. “Why aren’t you eating?” she asks.

  “I just…nothing.” Unable to handle the wondering anymore, I grab the mail and start flipping through it. Junk, a bill, another bill, junk. A Seattle return address catches my eye and I pause, staring at the envelope. Hero’s Hero Foundation.

  “Oh, my God,” I whisper, staring at it.

  Penny’s eyes immediately snap up. “What’s wrong?”

  I hold out the letter. “This is from Hero’s Hero. Do you think…I think it might be about the internship.”

  Her mouth drops open. “What in the hell are you waiting for?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Open it!”

  My fingers are trembling slightly as I pull open the envelope. I scan the printed letter, random phrases popping out at me. Impressed by your application…Eager to see the results of your benefit project…Pleased with your desire to take initiative…Congratulations…

  I look up at her, my eyes wide. “I think I got it.”

  “You think?”

  I hold out the letter. “You read it.”

  She grabs it from me, spreading it flat on the table to read it. “Blah, blah, blah…Wish to offer you a position in our internship program.” She looks up, her mouth agape. “You did it.”

  “I did?”

  “You did!”

  I feel stunned, disbelieving. I got the internship. I got it.

  Penny jumps up from the table, pulling me up and jumping around the kitchen in a manic little dance. “You did it! You did it, Sam!”

  “Oh my God!”

  For the first time all week there’s no room for Cash in my head. All I can think about is how good this feels, my hard work paid off. How excited Wyatt will be when I tell him. A goal that I set for myself years ago has actually come through. It didn’t get lost in the sea of my mistakes. Even after everything that happened I’m still capable of having dreams—and accomplishing them.

  And I know, for the first time in years, that Doug would be proud of me.

  ***

  I pull up to the Warners’ house an hour later. I don’t have a lot of time before Wyatt gets home from school but I’m determined to have this conversation today, before I can lose my nerve or change my mind.

  I find them both in the backyard weeding the garden and bickering. “If you would have put in that rabbit fence like I asked you to, maybe we would have enough basil to make the sauce.”

  “I told you, they get around those fences.”

  “Not when you do it right.” Alice stands, stretching a little, and for the first time she looks old to me. She’s always seemed young for her age, active and fit. When Doug went missing she aged five years over night. But then Wyatt had come along, with his energy and his laughter. He kept them young, I think, feeling bolstered by this. There were a lot of good reasons for him to be here.

  But it was time to make a change.

  “Sam!” Alice catches sight of me hovering at the open door. “We didn’t know you were coming today.”

  I step out onto the patio. “I wanted to talk to you guys about something. Before Wyatt gets home.”

  They share a look but follow me back into the house where I start to fill glasses of ice water for them. “You don’t have to do that, honey—”

  “Just sit, Alice. I’ve got this.”

  They take seats at the kitchen table and I hand them their glasses, sitting in the third seat. Wyatt’s seat.

  “I got the internship.”

  They both stare at me for a minute before Alice bursts into tears. “Of course you did,” she cries, reaching for me.

  I hug her, Bruce coming around the table to join in. “I’m so proud of you. Oh, Sam. This is great.”

  I close my eyes, their embrace warm around me, and I say a little prayer of thanks to Doug, for giving me this family. I’d never had family I could count on, not until the Warners. And they were my parents now.

  They finally release me and even Bruce needs to blow his nose, laughing at himself. “I’m getting more and more sappy in my old age.”

  “This is so exciting,” Alice says. “We have so much to plan! When do you start? Will you need to get an apartment in the city?”

  I nod. “The hours are Monday through Friday so it wouldn’t make much sense to commute. But I think I’m going to look for a roommate to save money—I want to keep my place here.”

  “You know you’re welcome to stay with us whenever you come to visit.”

  “I’m going to live here on the weekends.” I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. “And I want Wyatt to live with me when I’m here.”

  They both still, looking at me before they look at each other.
“Sweetie, don’t you think that’s a little—”

  “I think it’s the right thing. I think it would be good for all of us. The two of you could use a break—you’ve been doing this for such a long time.”

  “It was never an imposition—”

  “I know. But it’s my turn to take more of the responsibility.” I can see the arguments forming on their tongues, that it’s too much, too fast. That the internship and moving will be enough of an adjustment. That we should slow down, see how I do.

  “This week was really hard,” I say, staring down at the table.

  “Oh, Sam.” Alice sounds like I’ve confirmed all of her objections. “I thought you were feeling better after the memorial.”

  “I was. I am. It wasn’t hard because of Doug. I actually…I’ve been feeling kind of okay about Doug. For the first time in a really long time.”

  “That’s good, Sam.”

  “But someone who I cared about…” I trail off, not wanting to talk about Cash. The pain in my chest is still too strong at the mere thought of him. I clench my fists and force myself to go on. “Someone I cared about let me down. And it really hurt me.”

  Alice’s eyes dart to Bruce and I know what she’s thinking—what did she do now?

  “I haven’t had a drink all week,” I say, my voice soft. “I haven’t gone out or got into any trouble. I didn’t skip class. I didn’t hole up by myself. I dealt with it.”

  I meet Bruce’s eyes, willing him to understand how much this means to me. “I’ve been trying so hard to be good. For such a long time. Because I want Wyatt back. But I didn’t know how to deal when things got bad. So I let the pressure get to me.” I take a deep breath. “I’m done doing that.”

  “Sam, it’s fantastic that you’re learning better ways to cope.” Bruce’s voice is cautious, like he’s being careful not to offend me. “But I really don’t think that a week is enough to gauge your state of mind.”

  “It’s been more than a week.” For the first time I feel my temper rise and I don’t try to push it down. I use it. It’s time to fight now, fight for Wyatt. Fight for myself. “I haven’t gone off the rails in months. Would I rather be able to say it’s been years? Of course. But the point is, I’ve proven to myself that I can do this. I can deal with the ups and downs without being self-destructive.” Cash’s face flashes through my mind and I try not to think how much he helped me get to this place.

  “Sam, I don’t know.”

  I meet Alice’s eyes across the table. The fear and the doubt that I see there would have sent me away crying a few weeks ago, guilty and shamed. But not anymore. “Alice, do you believe that I can’t do this?”

  “No,” she says quickly. “I just think it might be too soon for you to do it now.”

  “You’re wrong. I’ve been waiting for this for years. I’m ready.” I look back and forth between the two of them. “I need your help. You’ve done such an amazing job of raising him, I know that Doug…” My voice catches. “He would be just as grateful as I am. But he would also want me to have the chance to help. He’s our son.”

  “We know that, Sam.”

  “I’m not asking to take him full time. I know that’s too much. That wouldn’t be fair, to you or him.” I smile. “He loves you very much, you know.”

  They’re both looking at the table, not meeting my eyes.

  “I want the weekends. I can handle the weekends. You always say that we need to go slow and see how it goes. Well, I’m never going to be able to prove I can handle this unless I try. And two days a week sounds like a good place to start.” I will them to look at me, will them to agree. “Wyatt deserves this, too—to have a life filled with all of the people who love him.”

  Bruce finally looks up and I know, when his eyes meet mine, that the battle is halfway over. “Weekends sound like they might be a good place to start,” he says slowly. “Not jumping into anything too fast.” He reaches for Alice’s hand. “We have been talking about taking that trip to Vancouver one of these months. It might be nice, having some time to ourselves.”

  Alice exhales, finally looking up at me. I meet her eyes, refusing to blink. “Alice, you’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known. You raised two beautiful, perfect boys. And you’ve taught me what being a mom is about. I want to have the chance to do that with Wyatt. I want to get the chance to be a mother to him.”

  I’m very careful not to beg. In fact, I’ve made a point not to ask throughout the entire conversation. Because I’m done asking for permission to be with my kid. This isn’t about asking them—it’s about making them understand why this needs to happen.

  I think my words get through to her, think I can finally see the understanding in her eyes. Being a mother has been the most important role of her life—she, better than anyone else, understands how much I would be losing if I didn’t get the chance to try.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” she finally says, voice shaking. “I think Wyatt will be thrilled.”

  I exhale slowly, wanting to cheer. Wyatt will be thrilled. I imagine telling him and I can’t wipe the huge grin from my face. Alice smiles back, though there’s still some worry in her face when I go to hug her.

  I don’t let that worry get to me. It’s natural for them to have their concerns, after everything that’s happened. That doesn’t mean I can’t do it. I’ve already proven to myself that I can, knew it deep inside of me, in some unshakeable place. Now I need to prove it to them. And I have every intention of doing just that.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Cash

  It’s been six weeks. Six weeks without seeing her, without hearing her voice. Six weeks without Sam.

  We finished writing two weeks after Lennon’s birthday party, packing up our things and leaving the cabin behind. It was a physical ache in my chest, leaving that place, as much as I had complained about coming in the first place. I realize now that it was the only place I’d really been happy, except for onstage, in years.

  I realize a lot of things now, actually. Things that I didn’t see before. Like the fact that I’ve been using my lifestyle to cover the fact that I’m lonely as hell. Unsatisfied. That I push women away because I’m afraid they’ll leave first. The therapist I’ve been seeing thinks that has something to do with my mom leaving. He’s probably right.

  The biggest realization is a pretty obvious one. I’m in love with Sam. For a while it really freaked me out to say those words, to the shrink, to Daisy, to Lennon, even in my own head. Because I wasn’t the kind of guy who fell in love.

  But that’s just fear, I know now. Fear that this emotion is too big, that it will control me. Fear that I won’t be able to treat her right, that I’ll go back to my old ways and my old patterns. Fear that she’ll hurt me, the way I hurt her.

  But I also realized that I’m sick and tired of letting fear rule my life. I’ve always considered myself a tough SOB. It’s time I actually act like one.

  Daisy told me that I needed to decide what I wanted and then work for it every day, so that’s what I’ve done. I’ve written Sam a letter every single day since Daisy and Daltrey dropped the baby news on us. One letter for all the days we’ve been a part. I tell her I’m sorry, tell her what I’m discovering about myself, tell her how I’m working to change. Tell her how much I love her.

  She doesn’t write me back. She doesn’t call.

  The shrink tells me that I can only do so much. That the consequences of my actions might be too great to overcome and that’s something I’ll need to accept. I tell him to go to hell.

  Because I refuse to let go of her. I refuse to think, even for a minute, that she might not forgive me. Not because I deserve her forgiveness—I know that I don’t. But because the thought of her hating me forever is so terrifying I can’t even go there.

  I mail the last letter the day before the benefit. Guaranteed next day delivery, because I want to be sure she gets it the morning I finally see her again. It’s my last gesture, my final plea. I pr
ay that she understands, now, how much she means to me. How sure I am. I hold the envelope in my hand a moment too long before finally handing it over to the clerk at the post office, trying to impart it with every ounce of love—and hope—in my heart.

  ***

  It’s unbelievable to me that she pulled this off. Every single detail has been planned, perfected. Where did she find the time? I know that Daisy and Paige helped her but it’s hard to imagine anyone planning such a perfect event, even with a dozen helpers.

  She’s so much stronger than she realizes, I think, hoping like hell I get the chance to tell her that.

  We arrive before most of the guests and I cross my fingers I’ll get to talk to her before everything gets crazy. But she’s nowhere to be found in the ballroom or in the backstage area. “Chill out,” Lennon tells me. “She’s here somewhere.”

  I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down.

  “Come talk to the roadies,” he says, pointing toward the stage. “Get your mind occupied.”

  The room slowly fills with people. The ticket cost was pretty high but we seem to have pulled in a nice mix of wealthy looking middle-aged couples and younger people that seem like they might actually know who we are. In addition to our set, we’re also supposed to mingle, give the people some bang for their buck by letting them rub shoulders with real live rock stars.

  That’s when I finally see her—I’m taking a picture with two teenage girls, their indulgent parents smiling behind the camera, when I look up and see her on the other side of the room. She’s talking to someone else, not looking at me, and it gives me the opportunity to watch her.

  I’m relieved to find that I didn’t forget a single detail of her face. Her hair is up on top of her head, the same way it was the night we met. Her dress isn’t quite as sexy as the blue number I’ve never been able to get out of my mind, but she’s still gorgeous. She laughs at something and my chest aches.

  “Will you excuse me?” I say abruptly, walking away from the family that probably paid more than Sam’s tuition for them all to attend the event. If they’re pissed, I don’t notice. I’ve waited too long. I need to talk to her.