Sharing Sam

by Katherine Applegate

  “No,” I said, sobbing softly. “I promised her. She can’t be there all by herself. She wanted to be here, she wanted to die in her own bed.…”

  Sam grabbed his jacket. “I’m going outside,” he said. “I need some air.”

  Jane sighed softly. “Tea,” she said. “I’ll make us all some tea.”

  Morgan emerged. He rocked toward me like one of those wobbly windup toys, then stopped and took my hand in his. “What?” I asked, and then I knew.

  In my hand was a set of keys.

  “Are these to the Cadillac?” I whispered.

  He nodded. I searched his eyes. He looked vaguely pleased with himself. “You’re lending me the Cadillac?”

  “That car’s a hundred years old!” Jane exclaimed.

  “I want to go,” Sara said.

  I stared at the keys doubtfully. Morgan shuffled away. He retrieved his sweater and his leather driving cap.

  “Morgan,” I said. “This wouldn’t be Vegas, this wouldn’t be Wisconsin.”

  “Hop in, hop in,” Morgan said, inching toward the door. “We haven’t got all day.”

  Sara tugged on my arm. “Can I come?”

  “Sara, that’ll just complicate—” I saw her downcast eyes and caught myself. “You know what?” I said. “I think I’d like that. I could really use the moral support.”

  “You do realize Mom’ll kill us, don’t you?” she said gleefully.

  “I’ll call her and tell her,” I said. “Let’s just hope I get the answering machine.”

  “No, let me,” Sara said. “I can handle her.”

  I hesitated. “Okay, then. Sure.”

  Morgan signaled the dogs and they arranged themselves in a perfect line at the door, waiting patiently, it didn’t matter for what. Cha-cha flew to his shoulder.

  Sara dialed our number and gave me a thumbs-up. “Machine,” she whispered.

  “Nice caboose,” Cha-cha told Jane.

  She rolled her eyes. “Hush, you nasty bird.”

  “Hello, Mom?” Sara said. “Darn, I hoped you’d be there. It’s Sara. Al and me and Sam’s grandpa and four dogs and a parrot are going to see Izzy. We have a car, I think maybe it’s an antique. We’ll be back, um …” She looked to me.

  I threw up my hands.

  “In a jiffy,” Jane offered.

  “In a Jeffy,” Sara said. “Oh, yeah, we won the tournament. We totally slaughtered them. Bye.” She hung up. “Well?”

  “Excellent,” I said.

  “What’s happening?” Cha-cha asked.

  Jane put her arm around Morgan’s shoulders. “Sweetie, why don’t you stay here with me and keep me company? You don’t want to go on a long car trip. They can be so boring.”

  Morgan stared at her blankly. “It’ll do forty-five,” he said.

  “I know, sweetie. Come, come. Take off your sweater. You let the kids go on and do what they have to.”

  Morgan let himself be led to a chair. I leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Morgan,” I whispered. “You too, Jane.”

  I opened the door. The rain had slowed. The sky looked angry and bruised. Sam was standing near his bike. Sara ran past me to the Cadillac, dancing in the rain, thrilled to be going on such an adventure, forgetting what our destination was. That was okay, I thought. She was still just a kid. And I was glad she was coming with me.

  I turned. Morgan was watching me with those untroubled, accepting eyes. “It’ll do forty-five,” he said.

  “We’re not going to Vegas, Morgan,” I said gently.

  He adjusted his driving cap. “One last ride.”

  I looked over at Jane. She was shaking her head.

  “Oh, what the hell,” I said. “Come on, Morgan.” I took his hand, his featherlight hand. “Let’s hit the road and see where it goes.”

  He stood, and for a moment I thought I saw something more in his eyes, sun behind clouds. Or maybe I just wanted to. “After this, Vegas,” he said. “Have you ever played keno?”

  We walked to the car. The animals followed. I opened the back door, and Morgan and the dogs and Cha-cha climbed in. Sara joined them on the other side.

  Sam ran over as I settled in the front seat. “What the hell are you doing?”

  I rolled the window down. “We’re going to see Izzy,” I said, trying to locate the ignition. “After that, who knows? Maybe Vegas.”

  “You can’t drive this thing, it’s a dinosaur.” He ran to Morgan’s door and opened it. “And where did you get those keys? I hid those keys in my locker. What the hell is going on, Morgan? You had an extra set? You were holding out on me, your own grandson?”

  Morgan smiled, pure and blank as a newborn.

  The rain picked up again, pelting down with renewed force. I managed to find the clutch. “This is just like a normal car, right?”

  Sam returned to my window. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I have to, Sam. You do what you have to do.”

  Sam glared at me. “You are one very interesting girl, Alison.” He said it without a trace of a smile.

  I cranked the ignition. Sam opened the door. He gazed at me, at Sara, at Morgan and the menagerie.

  “Move over,” he said at last. “I’ll drive.”

  “Why you? That’s kind of sexist.”

  “Because I’ll get us there faster. Isn’t that the whole idea?”

  I considered, then slid across the wide bench seat. Sam climbed in. His face was wet. He clutched the wheel. In the back, the dogs panted rhythmically. The rain made a snapping sound on the fabric roof.

  “Hit the road,” Morgan instructed.

  “In a minute.” Sam turned to me. The anger had gentled. “What are you going to say to Izzy?” he asked me, in a voice so restrained I could barely hear him.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll tell her the truth.”

  Sam stole a glance at Morgan. “The truth, like you told it to me today?”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted me to do with Izzy?”

  Sam closed his eyes. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe, but not now, not when she’s so sick.”

  “That’s what I thought, too. But the other day, on the beach, Izzy was talking about dying. And I started to think maybe I was being selfish, not being completely honest with her. Protecting myself, not her.”

  “Maybe the truth about how all this started doesn’t matter now,” Sam said. “Maybe all that matters is that I care for Izzy now, and so do you.”

  “Maybe. I just don’t know anymore.”

  Sam looked over at me, and I wanted to say, “I miss you, please don’t be angry with me, let’s not go on this awful trip as enemies.” But silence stretched between us.

  “Hit the road,” Morgan said again.

  Sam cranked the car, the poodles barked, and then we were off, at a breathtaking forty-five miles per hour.

  Five hours thirty-five minutes and nine rest stops later (five at Morgan’s request, three by Sara and Sam and me, and one by the dogs), we arrived in Miami. It was dark by the time we found the hospital, and visiting hours were almost over.

  “I want to see Izzy too,” Sara said as Sam eased the big Cadillac into a parking space.

  “Sara, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Sam said. “She’s really sick, kid.”

  “No,” I said. “Let her come. She can handle it.”

  “What about Morgan, then?” Sam asked. “I guess we could go up in shifts.”

  “Let’s all go,” I said. “We won’t be long. We’ll crack the windows and the dogs will be fine.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Sam said.

  “Trust me,” I said. “Izzy will be glad.”

  We located Lauren and Miguel and talked to them for a few minutes before the four of us headed to Izzy’s room. A crisp-looking nurse at the main desk asked Sara how old she was.

  “Thirteen,” she said coolly, without missing a beat.

  The nurse nodded and let us through.

  It was dark in Izzy�
�s room. A little bedside lamp provided a thin white tube of light. Izzy was asleep. An IV tube snaked out of her arm. Her head was uncovered and she had on the red pajamas I’d given her.

  We stood at the foot of her bed, all of us. I didn’t know whether to wake her or not. And even if I did, I didn’t know what I would say.

  I went to her side. Her hand was smooth, light, weightless as Morgan’s. She opened her eyes.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “Look who’s here. And me with my hair a mess.”

  “I told you I would.”

  “How’d you get here?” Her voice was slurred, like a sound underwater.

  “Morgan’s Cadillac. There are four dogs and a parrot dying to come up and say hi. Sam’s here, too. And Sara and Morgan.”

  She laughed softly. “Come here, guys.”

  Sara took Morgan’s hand and they went to the other side of her bed.

  “We won our basketball tournament, Iz,” Sara said shyly. “We slaughtered them completely. I won a trophy. I wish I’d brought it; I would have given it to you.”

  “That’s okay. You hang on to it. You know I can’t dribble to save my life.”

  Sara bit her lip. “Does it hurt?” she whispered.

  “Not much. I promise.” Izzy turned to Morgan. “Morgan, you been getting into trouble?”

  Morgan stared at her doubtfully.

  “That’s okay, guy,” Izzy said. “This place freaks me out too. Sara, maybe you should take Morgan out in the hall for a second, okay?”

  Sara nodded. She tugged on Morgan’s arm, but he refused to move. His mouth worked, but he didn’t speak.

  “Come on, Morgan,” Sara said.

  Suddenly Morgan reached for Izzy’s hand. He bent down slowly and brought it to his lips, then met Izzy’s gaze. A smile passed between them.

  “See ya, Morgan,” Izzy whispered.

  Morgan let himself be led away, and Izzy turned to me. Her eyes were filled with tears.

  “God, this death stuff sucks,” she said. “I’m not even going to see the damn turtles, Al.”

  “Of course you’ll see the damn turtles.”

  “No, I won’t.” She squeezed my hand weakly. “Don’t lie to me, okay? Not anymore. I’m so doped up you could tell me anything and I’d believe you.”

  I looked at Sam. He was standing at the end of the bed, clutching the metal railing. “Okay, Iz,” he said.

  There, I thought, there it is. We can tell her the truth.

  “I never even got to be a lousy guinea pig,” Izzy said. “So much for changing the world.”

  “Izzy,” I said, “you changed my world.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “There’s that, I guess,” she said. “That’s something.”

  “That’s everything,” I whispered, and then I realized my own tears were falling all over her arm, her blanket, everywhere.

  Izzy closed her eyes and fell silent. For a moment I thought she’d passed out. Then, with effort, she opened them again.

  “Just promise me one thing,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  “Name it,” I sobbed.

  “The twins in Paris. Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Scratch that. It doesn’t have to be twins. Just get yourself to Paris. With the right guy.” She gave a slight smile. “Me, I could have handled the twins.”

  She looked over at Sam and I stepped back, searching in vain for some Kleenex. I found some by the next bed, an empty one behind a half-drawn curtain. When I came back, Sam was clutching Izzy’s hand. Tears rolled freely down his face.

  I paused by the curtain, knowing I still had more to say. For once, just once, I wanted to say the right thing. Not what I thought she wanted to hear. Just what was right. But it was Sam’s turn now. I would wait, then I would tell her, then, maybe, we would go.

  Sam leaned over Izzy without saying a word. Their lips met, gently, tenderly, her hand on his shoulder, and they kissed forever. When they parted he whispered something to her.

  I couldn’t hear the words, but I could see her eyes and I could see his lips.

  And I knew from Izzy’s radiant smile that hearing Sam say “I love you” meant more than any truth I might have found to tell her. I knew that he did love her, even as much, perhaps, as I did. And I was glad.

  Chapter 14

  “THANK YOU.”

  Sam took a long drag on his cigarette. “For what?” he asked.

  We were sitting on a bench near the entrance to the hospital. Bugs swirled in the circle of fluorescent light over our heads. “For that. For the way you said good-bye. For … I don’t know, for loving Izzy.”

  He gave me a dubious look. “I don’t get it, Alison. You’re so damn accepting about all this. Look at the mess we’ve created.”

  “What mess?”

  “Well, for starters—” He took another long, slow drag. “For starters, I’m in love with you and your best friend, who happens to be up in that stinking hospital room dying. And your sister and my grandfather, who thinks he’s going to Wisconsin to press cheese or else Vegas to play blackjack, are down in the cafeteria, where he’s teaching her to cheat at poker. And in a Cadillac in the parking lot, four dogs and a parrot are crapping all over the backseat. For starters.”

  “Sara already knows how to play poker,” I pointed out.

  Sam tossed his cigarette and we watched it glow hot, then die. He lit another one methodically, making a point of it.

  “You’re smoking again,” I said.

  He inhaled deeply, ignoring me.

  “How come you’re so good at taking care of Morgan and so lousy at taking care of yourself?” I demanded. “You’re suspended from school, you’re about to lose your job, you’re smoking, and, frankly, while we’re on the subject, you need a haircut.”

  He managed a sardonic half-smile.

  “Okay, so that’s a judgment call,” I said. “My point is, you’re lousing up your life trying to do something impossible. You can’t make Morgan not get old, Sam. There are some things we just can’t change. How can you stand there by Izzy’s bed and not realize that? There are cycles to life. Izzy knows that. And I think Morgan knows that. Even if you don’t.”

  He looked at me sharply. “What makes you say that about Morgan?”

  I sighed. Suddenly I felt very tired. “It’s hard to explain. Before we got in the car to leave today, he said to me, ‘One last ride,’ like he knew things were going to change soon.”

  “He also said he was going to put two grand down on thirty-two red when we got to Vegas. He doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time. He doesn’t even know who he is half the time.”

  I touched Sam’s knee. “Then it doesn’t matter, does it? All of this really matters only to you.”

  Sam took one last puff on the cigarette, stared at it, then tossed it aside. “We should go,” he said.

  I didn’t move. “When I first got to know you, Sam, I wondered if maybe you didn’t care that much about your life.”

  “Yeah, the death wish theory,” he said flatly.

  “Laugh if you want. But when we first met, you were lying in a ditch, wrapped around your bike, soon to be bleeding all over my best T-shirt.”

  “You said it was old.”

  “I lied.” I paused. “I just don’t understand how you can treat yourself so badly and then be so good with Morgan.”

  Sam stared past me. “Because I owe him.”

  “But someone has to take care of you, Sam. I know your parents weren’t all that hot at it when you were growing up. But that doesn’t mean you have to continue the tradition.” My voice was rising. “I mean, Izzy’s lying up there dying, and she doesn’t have a damn choice. But you do. We do.”

  We sat there for a while, listening to the bugs click against the light. I checked my watch. I needed to call my mom and gather up Sara and Morgan. We still had a long drive ahead of us, and Sam and I weren’t getting anywhere.

  I stood. “You’re right. I gue
ss we should get going.”

  Sam stared at the ground. “I know it sounds crazy, Alison. But I’d really miss him. I liked being responsible for him. Even if I blew it.”

  “You didn’t blow it. You did the best you could. You made him happy for a while longer. The same with Izzy, too. Those are good things, even if they didn’t end up all neat and happy and tied up with a little bow.”

  “Come on.” Sam stood abruptly, sighing. “We’ve got a long trip home.”

  “I’m glad we came.”

  “Yeah, I am too.” He paused. “What happens now, I wonder?”

  “We hit the road, I guess.”

  Sam nodded grimly. “And see where it goes.”

  Four days later Izzy slipped into a coma. A week and a half after that, she died. They had a traditional service at a church, but afterward we all went down to the beach and Lauren and Miguel scattered her ashes there.

  They hadn’t wanted to. Sam and I had had to convince them that was what Izzy had wanted. In the end they relented, and I was glad we could do something for Izzy even when she was gone. Rosa said it was sacrilegious, but even she came down to the beach with us.

  I picked up Sam in the car, now repaired, so he could bring Morgan along. He wasn’t sure Morgan would understand, but he’d been fond of Izzy, so it seemed like the right thing to do.

  The day was hot and thick and overcast. Every so often there would be the slightest wind, a sigh and nothing more.

  I led the group—friends and relatives, a few teachers—to the right spot on the sand. We looked silly in our stiff, formal clothes while fifty feet away on the beach, people lay on Budweiser towels, slathering on coconut oil and praying for sun.

  Miguel stood on a slight rise, waiting for a breeze. In his hands he clasped a small blue glass urn. Grasses teased our legs, sand swamped our shoes. Some people sobbed, but no one spoke. We’d already done all the singing and praying and crying we could do.

  We waited. The surf churned listlessly. Morgan shifted, Rosa moaned, Gail blew her nose.

  Suddenly the grasses began to whisper and move. Two stubby screw pines rocked. A cool wind came to us, blowing our skirts and ties and tangling our hair. Miguel opened the little urn and swooped out his arm and Izzy’s ashes caught on the breeze.