Play It Again

by Aidan Wayne

  Dovid wished he knew what to do, what to say. He wished he could pull Sam close, stroke his hair. “I’m sorry” was all he was able to do. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I guess I just... I just needed to tell someone,” Sam said, sounding exhausted. “I, you know, I can’t tell Charlie. He meant so well.” The and I have no one else to tell wasn’t said, but Dovid felt it like a punch.

  “Sam,” Dovid said, voice dry. He swallowed, tried again. “Sam, you deserve so much more than whatever you’re thinking. You deserve a life you love. And not to be yelled at. You never deserve to be yelled at. You deserve a future in something you like, and for you that isn’t IT, that’s gaming. And you’re doing it. You’re so successful already, and you’re on your way to being even better. I’m so proud of you. Rachel is proud of you. Your viewers are proud of you. Charlie’s clearly proud of you. I—I wish there was more that I could say. That I could do.”

  Silence.

  “Sam?” Dovid asked hesitantly.

  “I... I wish they were proud of me,” Sam said, voice small. “I—I was proud. Of myself. Of what I’ve been able to do to. Of what I’m doing.”

  “You should,” Dovid rushed to say. “You should be so proud. As for them—” Dovid clenched his teeth, trying to hold back the venom he wanted to spit about Sam’s parents. That wouldn’t help anyone, certainly not Sam. “As for them,” he said again, calmer, “I don’t know why they can’t see the beautiful, wonderful, kind, and special human being you are. I don’t know. But you are all those things. To me, to Rachel, to Charlie. To anyone with sense, you’re all those things. I... I know it’s hard. To be told something over and over again until you have to fight for it to be not true.” Look at the blind kid. Freak, missing his eyes. Stare because he can’t see it, gawk and gape and point—“But it isn’t. You’re worth so much. I’m so sorry they’re not proud of you. You deserve it. It’s not your fault they can’t see that. I wish they did. But it’s not your fault that they don’t.”

  “Thank you,” Sam said, after a while. “Thank you for talking with me. For—for being with me.”

  “Sam, you have no idea how lucky I am.”

  “Lucky?”

  “That you’re with me. I basically count my blessings every day.”

  A wet laugh, barely an exhale, but it was a start.

  “No, really,” Dovid said, “I mean it. Every day. Wake up, exercise, shower, make breakfast, bother Rachel, count blessings about having Sam in my life, proceed with rest of day.”

  “Oh, stop.” Sam was starting to sound like himself again, thank god. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

  “A bit much? Are you kidding? Never. It’s not enough! And then we get to text every day and I get to talk to you on the phone. Plus our Skype dates? Even with the ridiculous time difference. I still get you. It’s amazing.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “And you’re—” Dovid let out a breath, grinning. “And you’re overtired. What time is it for you now?”

  “Half past,” Sam said after a moment.

  “Think you could try getting some sleep?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “I could try. Would you...would you stay with me? Is that alright?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Dovid wished he were holding him right now. “Of course.”

  * * *

  Sam Doyle: I got the week off work! Flying over February 11th, leaving the 17th, but that’s still five days with you. You’ll have to show me around.

  Dovid Rosenstein: You will see all the sights. Though with me that also means eating all the food.

  Sam Doyle: I can’t wait.

  * * *

  Christmas Day, Sam’s phone rang at eight in the morning. When he saw it was Dovid, he hurried to answer it, terrified something was wrong.

  “Dovid?”

  “Hey! Happy Christmas.” Followed by a yawn.

  “Thank you! I...what are you even doing up? It’s midnight for you, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it’s not so bad. I stayed up. I’m going to bed right after we’re done talking.”

  “But why did you stay up?”

  “I wanted you to have a good start to the day,” Dovid said matter-of-factly.

  And oh.

  Oh.

  Sam was spending the day with his parents. Charlie and his wife were coming in from Cork for the holiday as well, which usually helped act as some sort of buffer but still. It was a full day of immediate family. And dealing with Sam’s parents could be...difficult. Especially since he and his father worked at the same company, albeit in completely different roles.

  Not to mention that Charlie would probably ask how things were going, and Sam wasn’t going to lie but...but he already knew that telling the truth was not going to work out so well for him.

  “Well, thank you,” Sam said, smiling, knowing the expression would carry over in his voice. “Thank you so much. You know, it is a good start to the day.”

  “Good. You’ll have to tell me what you thought of my present! You didn’t unwrap it early, did you?”

  “No, Dovid,” Sam replied, amused, “I did not, in the last twenty-four hours, tear through the wrapping like a madman.”

  “Good. I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure I will. It’s from you.”

  “Hey now, maybe I got you something awful. Like a horrible, itchy sweater. In puce.”

  “Do you even know what color puce is?” Sam asked, curious.

  “Nope. But it sounds like an ugly color.”

  Sam laughed. “I’d still love it, even if it were a puce sweater. Which, I’ll have you know, would clash horribly with my hair. But I’d wear it just the same.”

  “You love me,” Dovid sing-songed.

  “Of course I do. Though now I’m worried. I got you a sweater for your Chanukah present.”

  “I mean okay, yeah, but it is literally the softest, most comfortable thing I now own. And I’ve been assured that it isn’t puce, since you said it was grey and then Rachel also said it was grey. Whatever grey means.”

  “It means I thought it would look good on you.”

  “And? I sent you that picture of me wearing it.”

  “Obviously I was right, of course.”

  Dovid laughed. “I love you so much.”

  Hearing that still made Sam come up all warm. “Look at us then, loving each other.”

  “Yeah, it’s almost as if it’s one of the things lasting relationships are built on.”

  “What are the other things?”

  “Communication and collaboration, I think.”

  “Well then. I think we’re doing a pretty good job so far.”

  “Aw. Yeah, I think so too.” Another yawn.

  “Get some sleep,” Sam said fondly. “I’ll text you as soon as I open my present and give you my exact emotional response.”

  “I think it’s annoying how so many of our conversations end with one of us falling unconscious,” Dovid grumbled. “S’not fair.”

  “Just a month and a half,” Sam said. “And then they won’t, for a little while.”

  “Are you kidding? All of our conversations will end with us falling asleep. Together, on account of you will be with me, in my bed.”

  Sam smiled. “I’m so looking forward to it.”

  “Me too,” Dovid sighed into the phone.

  “Alright, off to bed with you. Thank you so, so much for calling. It was a lovely surprise.”

  “G’night. Love you.”

  “Good night.”

  * * *

  Sam Doyle: A snowball mic and pop filter?? DOVID REALLY.

  Dovid Rosenstein: Hahaha, too much? I just thought it was about time for you to move to a better mic. Get rid of some of that audio fuzz.

  Sam Doyle: It’s lovely, than
k you.

  Dovid Rosenstein: Glad you liked it!

  Sam Doyle: How are you doing, now that you’re a little more awake?

  Dovid Rosenstein: I’m good! Rachel and I are taking the day off. Though we both get restless when we do, so probably we’ll do some filming tonight anyway. I’ve been in the mood for brownies, so clearly that means I should make some.

  Sam Doyle: That sounds very good!

  Dovid Rosenstein: Yeah, it does. Okay, plan. Gonna make some brownies. I’ll get Rachel to send you a picture when they’re done.

  Sam Doyle: That’ll only make me sad that I’m not eating them :(

  Dovid Rosenstein: Well, I mean, you could wait for the video then.

  Sam Doyle: I love watching your cooking videos, but I will admit that sometimes they do make me want to eat whatever it is you’re making. I’ve made those chocolate chip cookies you filmed a while back two or three times now.

  Dovid Rosenstein: Oh cool!

  Dovid Rosenstein: And I’ll tell you what—we will bake all the things when you come to visit. I’ve decided.

  Dovid Rosenstein: Maybe not ALL the things, because there’s only so much food even Rachel will want to eat, but several things. We can make several things.

  Sam Doyle: I’d love to :)

  Dovid Rosenstein: Yay!

  Dovid Rosenstein: So how did the rest of the day go for you? You’re home now, right?

  Sam Doyle: Yes, I’m home now. The day was...fine. I enjoyed talking to Charlie and Anna.

  Dovid Rosenstein: And things were okay? With your parents?

  Dovid Rosenstein: Though if you don’t want to talk about it, just tell me to shut up.

  Sam Doyle: No, it’s alright. Again, things were fine.

  Sam Doyle: They’re usually much more pleasant when Charlie is around. It was just little things.

  Dovid Rosenstein: Little things?

  Sam Doyle: Well I

  Sam Doyle: I was thinking about what you said before. About trying to separate what they say about me and who I actually am as a person. That I’m...better than what they think of me. So I’ve been trying. And the more I do, the more I notice all these little things. Jabs and digs and stuff that I never registered before. They just hurt. I think now I’m a bit more aware of why they hurt.

  Dovid Rosenstein: I’m sorry. You know how I feel about the situation. And how I feel about you.

  Sam Doyle: I know. And I love you for it.

  Sam Doyle: I’ve been trying not to let it all get to me. It’s as you said: sometimes people are just mean without purpose. I think my parents just. Might be like that, with me.

  Sam Doyle: But here I am, being mopey. It really wasn’t too bad a time. It was nice to see Charlie and Anna again, especially since the last time I saw them was right after the accident back in April.

  Dovid Rosenstein: God, April. Can you really believe it’s been almost a year now?

  Sam Doyle: Just a bit over nine months!

  Dovid Rosenstein: That’s a BABY. Sam, our relationship is as old as a baby!

  Sam Doyle: Hahahaha. You know, I wouldn’t have thought of it that way, but it is true.

  Dovid Rosenstein: That’s why you’ve got me ;p

  * * *

  “Sam! Sam, over here!” Sam searched for where Rachel’s voice was coming from, quickly finding her waving. And next to her...

  There was Dovid, standing with his cane in one hand and holding a bouquet of flowers in the other, beaming his head off. Videos were one thing, but in person... Sam was so lucky and so happy to be where he was now.

  He went over to them, pulling his roll-on luggage behind him.

  “Hi.” He suddenly felt shy. “I’m, well, I’m here.”

  “Hey, you,” Dovid said, turning in the direction of Sam’s voice. “Welcome to the States.” He held out the flowers. Sam took them, touched, and then handed them to Rachel before going in for a hug.

  “Oof,” Dovid said for show, even as he curled his hands over Sam’s back and held on tight. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  “You and me both,” Sam murmured before tearing himself away and saying hello to Rachel, as was only polite.

  Rachel laughed. “It’s great to see you. And maybe now Dovid will stop pining for the week that you’re here.”

  “Oh stop,” Dovid said. “I don’t pine. Unless Sam is into that. In which case I might pine a little bit.”

  Now it was Sam’s turn to laugh. “I’m just happy to be here.” Away from his parents, and their disappointment. They hadn’t been pleased to find that Sam was leaving the country for a week. “To visit a boy? Really? You’re flying across half the world for a boy? Is he the only one who’d have you?”

  They hadn’t been pleased with a few other decisions Sam had made recently either.

  But Sam was decidedly not thinking about it. He was focusing his attention on the people he loved dearly, and he was going to make the absolute best he could of his time.

  Besides, his parents had been the only people to voice negatives about how his life was going as of late. That counted for something.

  And it further emphasized how little Sam should try to care.

  Dovid felt for Sam’s hand and squeezed. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  “So here it is!” Dovid said, opening the door and leading Sam inside. “Casa de Rosenstein. Here, let me show you to my room. You can put your bag down.”

  “Way to be subtle,” Rachel said, closing the door behind her. “‘Oh, let me show you to my room.’ Are you sure I won’t have to relocate for the next five days?”

  “Why would you have to leave?” Sam asked. Innocent Sam.

  “No reason!” Dovid said, grabbing his arm. “Come on, this way.”

  Sam obediently went where Dovid led him, across the living room and to the first door, Dovid’s room. Rachel had the “master” bedroom in their two-bedroom, with her own personal bathroom. Dovid said it was because it would be way easier to keep a smaller room clean—which was true. But also because he wanted Rachel to have the best he could give her. He owed her a lot, not that either of them were keeping score.

  That also meant she stored her share of equipment in her room. They had to put their lights and camera stuff somewhere. “Here we are.”

  The room was as clean as it could be, and, Dovid knew, pretty sparse. His walls, he’d been told, were white. He didn’t have much wall decoration either. Rachel fairly papered her walls with fan letters and pictures. Dovid kept his favorite letters in a filing cabinet, organized by “subject” and the pictures were sort of lost on him. He did have a few pieces that he loved; people having taken the time to print in braille for him in all sorts of creative ways, including puffy paint. Those were what went up. Aside from the walls, there was a bed pushed in the corner of the room, a nightstand next to it (no lamp), and a large desk with said filing cabinet. The desk came with a computer, some nice speakers and sound equipment, his mixing board, and his guitar stands and keyboard. All his clothes were put away in his closet and a small chest of drawers, carefully organized by color and texture.

  There was a pause, and Dovid got suddenly nervous. Did Sam not like his room? Was he uncomfortable with how little there was in it?

  “Ah,” Sam said, “sorry, could I turn on the light?”

  Oh. “Fuck, sorry, yeah, yeah, uh—” He didn’t actually know where his light switch was. Rachel always turned on the light herself when she came into his room. He waved a hand in the direction of the doorway. “Go ahead, sorry.”

  There was a small “click” sound and then, presumably, the lights came on. “Your room is very nice,” Sam said. “And so neat!”

  Dovid laughed. “Yeah, haha, kind of needs to be. Which, I mean, you made your entire house neat for me.”

  “It wa
s no trouble at all, I told you. Where would you like me to set my bag?”

  “That corner works, if you’re cool with that,” Dovid said, pointing in the general direction. “Keeps it out of the way?”

  “Of course, sure.” Dovid felt cold as Sam left his side, going over to the corner.

  “You’re probably beat,” Dovid said quickly. “Do you want to change or shower or eat something or—” He stuttered to a stop as something touched his shoulder. A hand, Sam’s hand. Because Sam was really here.

  “I’d love to kiss you first,” Sam murmured. “I’ve been waiting a long time.”

  Dovid gasped and reached out, letting out a noise that might have been a whimper as Sam moved to kiss him. He curled his hands into Sam’s shirt and hung on, giving back as good as he got.

  When they broke apart, they were both panting, and Dovid didn’t go far, keeping his hands fisted in Sam’s shirt. “Fuck, I missed you,” he said, leaning in to rest his head on Sam’s chest.

  Sam’s arms came up to encircle him. “I’ve missed you too. So much. There were so many days that I just wanted to hold you or be held by you. That was when I really felt the distance.”

  “Yeah,” Dovid whispered. “Yeah, exactly.”

  They met again for the next kiss, and Dovid could have happily stayed there forever, standing in his room kissing Sam, re-memorizing the smell and feel of him.

  But Sam had just gotten in from a super long flight, and no matter what he said, he had to be dead on his feet.