And Richard…what about Richard? I'd been with him for four years—confided in him, fallen in love with him, organized my entire life around our future together. Richard wouldn't come to Seattle, would he? Would he wait for me? Could we even do this long-distance?
I sat down on the edge of my bed and rested my head in my hands, a migraine pulling incessantly at my temples, a dull ache forming at the back of my neck. Emily's cozy little house would be put up for sale as soon as we were gone, and I was about to leave my entire life, career, and boyfriend behind with nothing else but a small wave over my shoulder.
Christ, what had I gotten myself into?
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to cry. I knew if I let the tears come now, there would be no stopping them, and I’d be nothing but a blubbering mess when I broke the news to Richard. I couldn’t do that, not to him. He hated intense emotions. It’s the reason I’d been able to stay grounded our entire relationship.
Nick, on the other hand …
The screen on my cell phone lit up, and my boyfriend’s smiling face popped up on the screen. That was rare, a smile. He generally saved that smile for poker nights with his doctor friends.
Fingers trembling as I swiped my thumb over the answer button, I put the phone to my ear.
“Richard, I'm moving to Seattle.”
“You're what?”
I closed my eyes, wondering what in the hell had compelled me to blurt it out like nothing was on the line.
“Seattle,” I said again, and cleared my throat. “I'm moving to Seattle to help Nick raise Piper.”
“Nick? Who in the hell is Nick?”
“Nick is Emily’s twin brother.” I closed my eyes, wishing I could just hang up and not have to face any of this. “I told you he was coming to help me with the funeral.”
“Samantha…”
“Just listen.” I sniffed once and wiped at a single stray tear from my cheek, knowing that I had no choice but to tell him everything in that moment. Once finished, I held my breath, praying for some miracle that Richard would understand, sympathize, even.
“Wow,” he said, and his tone was cool. Disappointed. That was worse than angry. “You really got up shit’s creek, didn’t you?”
“I had no choice.” My palms were sweating now, and I’d gnawed on my fingernails until I could taste blood. Only Richard brought out that nervous habit in me. Emily and Nick had hated it. “Emily was—is—my best friend. Milton and Agnes are not good people. I couldn't let Piper go to them.”
“What now, Samantha?” Richard asked. “What happens after you move to Seattle with a single man to raise a little girl?”
“I don't know if Nick is single,” I said lamely. “But it doesn't matter. I'm in love with you.”
“We'll talk about it when I'm home tomorrow,” Richard said. There was no kindness or understanding in his tone, and for a moment, I wished he wasn’t coming home at all.
“We leave the day after tomorrow.” I held my breath as a deafening silence roared in my ears, weighing heavily on my lungs.
“We'll talk tomorrow, Samantha,” he said stiffly.
“I love you,” I said.
There was a pause, and then, “Me, too.”
I dropped the phone from my ear, wiping the sweat on the pant leg of my jeans as I tried to envision what Richard would be doing now. He'd pour himself some scotch and stare out the window of his hotel room, pondering the argument, going over in his head what he would say to me tomorrow. His already-serious expression would be pinched, stern, one he’d perfected over the years. It was the same expression he used on his interns at the hospital, one of arrogance with a side of superiority. I hated that expression because it was no better than being scolded by a parent.
I shook my head and tossed another pair of slacks into the suitcase before I zipped it. My phone beeped again, alerting me of a text. It was Tasha.
Come 2 the club. Have a drink.
I almost refused, especially when all I wanted to do was take some Excedrin and climb into bed to sleep this nightmare away. But despite how badly I wanted to hide from the world, I knew this might be my last chance to see Tasha, to have a drink with my good friend, and to have a chance to tell her what was happening. Emily had left me high and dry, even if it was in the most selfless way possible. But still, I couldn’t do that to Tasha, not if I had a choice. I needed something to take my mind off the situation at hand.
I pulled on my jacket, slipped on some shoes, and was out the door before I could talk myself out of it. Tasha was there waiting for me, having saved our favorite booth in the corner, the private one where we could talk, and nobody could overhear our business. She handed me a drink as I slid into the booth, glad that she was off duty and could just sit with me.
“You’re a mess,” Tasha said. “A hot mess, anyway.”
“Good save.” I took a sip of my extra-strong margarita and licked the sweet flavor from my lips, savoring the way the alcohol began to pulsate through my bloodstream.
“Okay, you’ve had your drink,” Tasha said. “Now, give me the deets.”
I took a deep, long breath, bracing myself for the words I was about to say aloud. “Well, I guess I’m moving to Seattle.”
It was much easier to talk to Tasha about the move than it had been to speak to Richard. Tasha was patient and understanding, and I didn't fear Tasha's reaction like I did his. She was my friend, and whether she agreed with me or not, she had my back.
“I told Richard, too,” I continued, taking a large swallow of my drink and grimacing, wishing the alcohol had a quicker effect.
“How'd he take it?” Tonight, Tasha was dressed in tight Levi’s and a beaded tank top, her black hair down and around her shoulders. Unlike myself, Tasha could turn heads merely walking down the street. She possessed an air of beauty, a defiance that other women had to work hard for.
“As well as could be expected,” I said with a shrug. “I'll get an earful tomorrow.”
“You're not married,” Tasha pointed out. “It's not like you're the mother of his children and you're getting ready to run away with some guy.”
“It seems like that's exactly what I’m doing given his reaction on the phone,” I muttered.
“Whatever.” Tasha shook her head. “Richard is a dick, anyway. He treats you like you're his child, not his lover.” She paused and sighed, turning slightly away before rolling her eyes. “But I’ve told you this more than once, so I’m not going to waste my breath. Emily did, too.”
“That's not true.” I finished my drink and signaled for another. “Richard just wants me to succeed. He knows what I'm capable of, and he encourages it. There's nothing wrong with that.”
“There is something wrong with that when your relationship is more of a competition than a romance.”
“Let it go, Tash,” I said. “We’ve been over this already. Drop it.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.” I glared at my friend, wishing not for the first time that day that Emily was by my side, lightening the mood, making everyone laugh. I wanted Emily back so much it was physically painful to think about. I didn’t want to face a reality where the days of the three of us gushing over men and silly hairstyles as we sipped margaritas were gone.
“Maybe you and this Nick guy will fall in love and live happily ever after,” Tasha said. “Is he cute?”
“No, he's not cute,” I said, choking on my drink. “His hair is too shaggy, and he always wears these stupid polo shirts with jeans. He's a damn bum.”
“Sounds sexy to me,” Tasha said. “A shaggy-headed beach bum? Too bad he and Emily weren't closer—I wouldn't mind getting some of that.”
Before I could tear my friend a new one, the front door of the bar opened, bell dinging, distracting me from what I was about to say next. Tasha gazed over my shoulder, biting her lip suddenly, looking hungry.
“Damn. I want to cut me a slice of that cake.”
Unable to resist th
e childish urge, I turned around in my seat to see who the newcomer was that had my friend all hot and bothered.
“Fuck me,” I said, and Tasha’s eyes met mine.
“What? Don’t tell me that’s—”
“Shut up! Don’t say his name, he’ll see us.” I lowered my head to the table, hoping that Nick would choose to sit at the bar instead of scope out the seating area. After a moment that seemed to drag on for far too long, I heard footsteps approach our booth from behind. At this point, my face was so close to the table top I could smell the bleach mingled with lacquered wood in my nostrils.
“Sam, I can see you,” Nick said behind me. “The red rag on your head tipped me off.”
Tasha, who had been watching Nick from the second he’d come through the door, offered her hand to him, eyes still dreamy. “You must be Emily’s brother, Nick.”
“The one and only,” Nick said. “Sam's mortal enemy and Emily's twin brother.” He reached for Tasha’s hand and squeezed it, and a tiny flush rose to her cheeks. I rolled my eyes.
“Where’s Piper?”
Before I could object, Nick slid into the booth seat next to me, pushing me over with a firm nudge of his ass. He reached for my margarita and took a swig, then helped himself to the chips and salsa in the middle of the table.
“She’s staying the night at a friend's house,” Nick said, scoffing. “Mrs. Dane down the street invited her over. Piper is saying goodbye to some kids, Sam. God, have some compassion.”
“You look like Emily,” Tasha gushed, taking Nick’s hand in hers across the table. He didn’t fight her; instead, he smiled, a lovely, charming smile that I had become familiar with in childhood. Right now, I hated that smile.
“Well, they're twins,” I said. “So…”
Ignoring me, Tasha handed Nick the small drink menu tucked away in the corner, still smiling coyly. I swear to God Tash had managed to subtly undo yet another button on her blouse to reveal even more cleavage than she already had been.
“Jesus, Tash,” I said. “Do you two need a moment alone?”
“Probably,” Tasha purred, and I kicked her hard in the shin under the table. She ignored me. “You didn't tell me he was this cute.”
“He’s not that cute,” I mumbled, looking pointedly at Nick. “Especially not after you get to know him.”
“It's because Sam can't handle my charm and wit,” Nick said to Tasha. “It overwhelms her. She now prefers dull, control-freak douchebags.”
“Yeah, that must be it,” I said. “Or maybe it's because you're an adolescent hooligan with an IQ of sixty.”
“Better than being uptight and bitchy,” Nick shot back.
“Don't mind Sam,” Tasha said, cutting us both off. “Tequila makes her angry. Anyway, I'm sorry about your sister. Emily was a good friend of mine.”
“I didn’t see you at the funeral,” said Nick.
“Before Emily passed, we had a private get together with all of her good friends. She wanted that more than she wanted a funeral.”
“The funeral was your parents’ idea,” I said to Nick, thinking again of the last time I saw my best friend alive. “But we got our day with her. That’s how she wanted us to remember her.”
“That sounds like Emily,” Nick said softly, but the sting of his words wrapped me in a cocoon, setting me off.
“Really, Nick? You hadn’t even seen Emily in years, let alone Piper. You were nothing to Emily. You were just some brother of hers she never spoke to. Had you never existed, her life wouldn’t have been any different.”
“Sam,” Tasha said quietly, but I was already shoving Nick out of the way so I could escape the table, tossing a small wad of cash down as I did so.
“Let her go,” Nick said to Tasha, which only infuriated me more. “She doesn’t need to stick around and rain on our parade.”
I froze where I was, looking Nick directly in the eyes. “There should be no parade,” I whispered. “Your sister is dead. Celebrate elsewhere.” The words were out before I could stop them, like some sort of painful, disgusting word vomit.
“Fuck you,” Nick said, and a tiny stab of pain sliced through my heart.
“Sorry, Nick,” I said, biting my lip to keep from losing it. “You couldn’t pay me.”
Nick
I placed the last of Emily's photo albums into the packing box and taped it, queasy over the fact that they wouldn't be going to Seattle with us—they'd be going into storage until Piper was old enough to want and understand them. With every object stuffed into a box and taped up for storage, another small part of Emily seemed to be erased from our reality.
“Piper?” I got to my feet and craned my neck around the wall to shout up the stairs. “Just remember what I told you—we can only take what will fit in one suitcase, okay? The rest will go into storage for a while.”
“I know,” Piper called back. She sounded frustrated, her tone so much like Emily’s that I had a painful flashback of my twin sister using the same irritated voice with me. I smiled and turned back to focus on packing. Whatever was left in the house when we left for Washington would be picked up by Agnes and Milton — donated, probably. Sold, thrown away. I wanted to keep everything, including the house, but it wasn’t going to work out … not from Seattle.
Peering out the living room window, I saw an unfamiliar car pull into the driveway, and I spotted Sam in the passenger's seat. Her face was a distraught mask, like she'd been crying excessively; even from my view from inside, I could see the pain in her eyes. In the driver's seat was a man that I assumed was Richard. I'd heard of Richard—never good things, though, which made me wonder why Sam was with such a person. I had never pegged her as the passive type in any relationship, especially a romantic one.
“He looks like a big old sack of fun,” I muttered under my breath. “Sam, you sure know how to pick ’em.”
Samantha
I hated to cry. When I cried, my fair complexion turned red and hot, and my face swelled like a baby chipmunk. I was an ugly crier, and I hated that. Crying was weak. Crying was useless.
“I'm sorry for everything.” I sniffed again and wiped at my nose with the tissue Richard had handed me. “I was in a tight spot. I had no other option.”
“Talking to me about it would have probably been the wiser way to go,” Richard said. He looked at me, his expression stony, and I wanted to curl up and die. Damn him for making me feel that way.
“What would you have told me?” I asked. “Would you have said go for it?”
“No, but I—”
“Exactly.” I straightened up, fighting back more tears. It amazed me that Richard was the only person in my life who could make me cry. I had no idea why, either. I had met no one who affected me as he did, but it wasn’t necessarily in a good way.
“Piper is my family,” I continued. “Just as Emily was and even Nick. I’ve known them forever, Richard. I had to do it.” I pushed open the car door and swung my legs out. “It's done. There's no changing my mind now. I’m sorry.”
I walked toward the house, cringing a little when I heard Richard’s car door shut, his feet falling in behind mine. The best I could hope for was Nick not seeing me bawling my eyes out in my boyfriend's car. Like I needed one more thing for him to take hold of and taunt me with.
“Nick?” I called and stepped inside. Richard followed me in, and we stopped and looked around. I felt an array of emotions overwhelm me when I noticed that most of Emily's stuff had been taken down and packed up. It was so barren now—empty.
“I'm here,” Nick called. He came to the door from the kitchen, holding a photo frame he had wrapped in an old newspaper. He glanced briefly at me and then side-stepped me to size up Richard. “You must be Dick,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I've heard so much about you.”
“Nick!” My cheeks flushed hot, blood boiling beneath my skin as I fought to control my temper.
“Please,” he said. “Call me Richard.”
“Will do, Dick.”
“It's all right, Samantha,” he said pleasantly. “He can call me whatever he likes since it seems to make him feel like a bigger man.”
“Samantha?” echoed Nick, and blood roared in my ears. “You hate being called by your full name.”
“I used to,” I said between clenched teeth. “But I don't mind it anymore. It sounds more professional than Sam.”
“I like Sam,” Nick said, tilting his head to the side as if to ponder this. “Not too fond of Samantha, though.”
“Then it's an excellent thing your opinion doesn't matter,” I said. I wondered whether if I did it quickly enough, I could punch him in the face without someone holding me back. I wasn’t sure if Richard would even try to stop me. I was surprised he hadn’t already tried to knock Nick out himself.
“Anyhow,” Nick said, smiling at Richard. “It's nice to meet you, Dick.” He rocked back on his heels and nodded politely, and I clung to Richard's arm to avoid lunging at him.
“Likewise,” Richard said. The distaste in his tone was evident, and it made me cringe. For a moment, the three of us stood in the foyer, an awkward silence settling over the room. Upstairs, I could hear Piper packing, and I felt another pang of emotions. Sometimes I wondered if life would be easier if feelings didn’t exist, not even the good ones.
“You're not throwing anything of Emily's out, are you?” I asked Nick. When he finally looked at me, he seemed almost offended.
“I'm not heartless, Sam. Nothing of Emily's that has personal meaning is being thrown out. It's all being put in storage until Piper decides she would like to have it.” He paused, eyebrows raised. “What about you? Are you all packed? You can't take your entire apartment with you, you know.”
“I know that. I'm leasing the apartment to Tasha so she can finally move out of her roommate’s place. Most of my things are staying here, you know, along with the rest of my life.”
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