Nearing September

by Amber Thielman

  “Classy,” I said. As I sipped my drink, I tried to imagine just how that would blow over with Sam. With my luck, she would break my nose after the first sign of me hitting on her.

  “I'm serious, bro,” Jake said after the silence had drawn on. “Sex determines everything.”

  Sam

  I shouldn't have cared that it was almost midnight and Nick wasn't home, but I did. And I not only cared, but it also annoyed me. No, it angered me. Piper was in bed, sound asleep, no thanks to Nick, who had abruptly vanished earlier in the day and still was not home. I knew I had no right to feel bitter. He was not my boyfriend, and he was not my child. If he wanted to stay out all fucking night doing God knows what, then I would let him—and I wouldn't be upset about it, either.

  I kicked off my slippers, turned out the bedroom light, and slid into bed under the covers, careful to check my phone one more time to see if I had a text or call from him. The only thing I had missed was a call from Richard, but even that didn't make me feel any better. Why? Richard was my boyfriend. Shouldn't I be watching for messages from him instead of Nick?

  Squinting my eyes at the screen, I dialed Richard's number and put the phone to my ear, wondering why I still couldn't tear my attention away from wherever in the hell Nick was tonight.

  “Samantha,” Richard said, picking up after the second ring. “I'm glad you called.”

  “Hi, baby,” I murmured. I figured that if I couldn't be in Miami to physically seduce him, my sultry tone would have to work.

  “Listen, Sam, there's something we need to talk about,” Richard said. He sounded distracted, and I flinched. He never called me anything but Samantha, so I knew something was up. But before I could even open my mouth to ask, Richard spoke up.

  “I don't think it's going to work,” he said. A silence settled over the phone, a silence that made my head pound with pain and my jaw tense, wishing I was back in Miami so I could nut-punch this guy in the junk. Suddenly, Nick was the last thing on my mind as anger washed over me.

  “Are you breaking up with me?” I asked. It was hard to keep the tremble out of my tone, but I had to try anyway. Richard had made me cry one too many times before—maybe this time, I wouldn't.

  “You're so far away now,” Richard said. “You chose Seattle. You chose Nick.”

  “I did not choose Nick,” I snapped. I sat up on my bed and listened into the dark, straining to hear in case Nick got home just then. “We're raising my best friend's daughter together,” I hissed. “Can't you respect that?”

  “I'm sorry,” Richard said. He didn't sound sorry, and that made me even angrier.

  “Is there someone else?” I asked. I didn't know what compelled me to ask—as far as I knew, Richard had never cheated on me. But now—now, something seemed different. The silence on the other end of the line only confirmed my fear.

  “I'm sorry, Samantha,” he said finally. I squeezed the cell phone in my hand, wishing I could chuck it at his face.

  “Don't call me Samantha,” I said. “I hate that name.” I ended the call and dropped it next to my legs, wondering if he would have the nerve to call back and beg for forgiveness. He didn't. I lay back down on the pillow and covered my face with my hands, trying to hold myself together. I hadn't known what to expect from me and Richard after the move, but I hadn’t expected that—not in a million years. But I couldn't cry—no, I wouldn't.I had to be strong.

  For my family.

  Nick

  My head was pounding, and my mouth tasted like something that resembled a dead animal when I woke the next morning. I had somehow managed to get home and get to the couch, although I wasn't wearing pants—or boxers. A blanket had been flung over my torso and chest, but the rest of me was naked.

  “Fuck.” Sitting up, I closed my eyes and waited for the pounding in my head to subside before I trusted myself to check my phone. It was six-thirty in the morning, and the house was still asleep. Thank God. That meant that Piper hadn't already seen me naked and hungover on the couch. It was rare for me to drink so much, even when I was with Jake. The last time I'd been this hungover was the day after my first real breakup—when I was seventeen.

  “Nick?” Sam called from the top of the stairs. Before I could tell her that I wasn't decent, she emerged from the bedroom and made her way down, completely oblivious. “You got in really late last night,” she said, coming around the corner to greet me. “I got a little bit wo—”

  Her mouth snapped shut, and her feet burrowed into the floor as she stared at me, her eyes bugging out as I made a half-assed attempt to cover my whole self with the sorry excuse I had for a blanket. “Oh my God,” she said, turning away. She put one hand over her eyes as if the vision of me with no clothes on physically hurt her. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were—”

  “No problem.” I cleared my throat, flustered, and sat up, draping the quilt over my lower half. Where in the fuck were my clothes?

  “It looks like someone had a good time last night,” she said, and I could sense the irritation in her voice.

  “It isn't what it looks like,” I told her. “I was actually with a friend. A male friend. Stealing my clothes is his idea of a practical joke.” I didn't know why I felt the desire to explain it to her—I owed her nothing.

  “Ha-ha,” Sam said stiffly. “Some joke.” I could tell she didn't believe me, which only irritated me more. Had I been sleeping with a girl, she would have been the first to know. Besides, what did she care? We weren't a couple, and I was single now. I could screw anyone I wanted to.

  “I know it's your house and all, but you should consider putting some clothes on,” Sam said as she made her way toward the kitchen. “You have a child in the house, Nick. Grow up.”

  I wanted so badly to say something back to her, something mean and snippy, but I resisted the urge. With Sam, it was never just one insult or one comment. It was World War III and a swinging fist.

  “As you wish,” I said instead, and wrapped the blanket around my midsection as I went in search of fresh clothes to wear. As I dressed in the bathroom, I heard Piper in the bedroom getting ready for school. Part of me felt guilty for staying out so late and getting drunk, but the bigger part of me felt I needed to do it again, and I wasn’t sure why. As I made my way back to the kitchen to grab something to eat, I couldn't help but notice that Sam seemed even more withdrawn and aloof than usual. A few times I had the urge to ask her if something was up, but I resisted, especially with Piper there. The last thing my niece needed was one more thing to stress about.

  “Are you okay, Aunt Sam?” Piper asked as they finished their breakfast. Both Sam and I looked at up her, surprised. I knew I hadn't imagined it—something was up with Sam if Piper could see it, too.

  “I'm okay,” Sam assured her. “I just didn't sleep well last night.”

  I wasn't buying it. I knew Sam well enough to know the difference between her real smile and a fake one.

  “Did you get all of your homework done, Piper?” I asked, averting the attention away from Sam. From the corner of my eye, I saw her glance at me, looking relieved, but she didn't meet my gaze.

  “Of course I did,” Piper said proudly. “And last Wednesday I got an A-minus on my test.” I scanned my eyes over Piper's beaming face, my heart warming with love. What a good kid she was, such a bright star in a sky filled with darkness.

  “Any new boyfriends?” I teased, winking as Piper blushed.

  “No,” she said, looking embarrassed. “Not yet.”

  “Not yet?” I repeated, mock-horrified. “Those boys better not come sniffing around here looking for you or I'll have to take care of business.”

  “Uncle Nick!” Piper cried. “That's not very nice, you know.”

  “He knows,” Sam said with a smile. As she spoke, I couldn't help but notice she refused to look at me, even when she was talking about me.

  “What about you, Sam?” I asked abruptly. I had no idea what was compelling me to push her, but the words were out before I
could stop myself. “How's it going with your boyfriend?” The question caught her off guard. I watched as she whipped her head in my direction. Her lips pursed into a thin line, and her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. She didn't have to say anything for me to know that I had trampled on a sensitive subject.

  “Unfortunately for you, that's none of your concern,” she said after a moment. Had looks been able to kill, I would have been buried six feet under.

  “Oh, I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't realize that was such a sensitive subject.” I was pushing her, and I had no idea why. Her and Richard's relationship was none of my concern, even if I wanted it to be.

  “I have to go to work,” Sam said, getting to her feet so quickly that she nearly knocked the kitchen chair over. She rinsed her dishes in the sink and gathered her purse and jacket. Piper, hanging on to every moment of tension that passed over us, was watching Sam and me in silence as I finished my bacon and eggs.

  “Say goodbye to Aunt Sam, Piper,” I said softly. “It doesn't look like she's having a very good day.”

  Sam

  How dare he? How dare Nick Barlow make me feel so angry! Sitting in the back of the city bus, I stared out the window at the passing Seattle crowds, practically seething from the ears. I couldn't believe that he’d had the nerve to bring up my and Richard's relationship—or at least, whatever it used to be. As far as I was aware, he knew nothing about the breakup and was merely bringing up Richard to piss me off, which he had done successfully. Had Piper already left for school, I had no doubt I would have bloodied his nose.

  As the bus slowed to my stop, I rechecked my phone, still wondering if Richard would regret his rash decision and come running back to me, begging for forgiveness. But there was nothing—not a call, not even a text.

  Still fuming, I dropped my things off in the staff lounge and went in search of the doctor or PA to lend a hand. I couldn't lie to myself—I loved this job. Being in the hospital made me feel so much more at home—it was my haven, and even Seattle was worth suffering through if I was doing what I did best—helping people.

  “Hola hermosa dama,” someone said behind me as I walked. “How are we this fine morning?”

  “Hi, Kit,” I said. Just seeing my new friend's smile made my anger dissipate. I slowed to let the RN catch up. “I'm okay,” I said. “What about you?”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Kit pulled me to a stop, meeting my gaze. There was a concern in her eyes, which caught me off guard. “What happened?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “What happened to what?”

  “Well, forgive me for being blunt, but you look like someone just kicked your dog,” Kit said. My hand dropped to my side as she stared at me, waiting for me to speak.

  “Do I look that bad?” I asked. I looked around, embarrassed, hoping no one else noticed. At work, I had to be a professional, even when I was falling apart on the inside.

  “Si,” Kit said. “You do look that bad. Want to talk about it?”

  “Just guy drama.” I walked again, and Kit followed.

  “Ah, men,” Kit said, nodding. “You'd think that after high school they’d grow out of their shit, but I, in fact, am a firm believer that it only gets worse.”

  “I think you're right with that assumption,” I said. It was hard for me to pinpoint exactly how I was feeling. Part of me wanted to cry and sob and hide in a pillow and never emerge, and the other part of me wanted nothing more than to punch Richard in his smug, handsome face.

  “A breakup?” Kit asked. “Your man back in Miami, no?”

  “Yes,” I said. I stopped at the nurse's station, trying not to break down in front of the rest of the ER staff. Lucky for me, no one seemed to pay us much attention. “He broke up with me over the phone.”

  “Cowardly,” Kit said. She shook her head, lips pursed. I wanted to hug her.

  “It's better he's gone, right?” I said. I had to fight to keep my voice from cracking. “He wasn't worth it anyway.”

  “No, he wasn't,” agreed Kit. “But you wouldn't be human if you felt nothing. Cry. It will make you feel better.”

  Nick

  I squinted into the light shining on my face from above. I wanted so desperately for them to turn it off so I could begin my audition, but I would not ask. Paul had been clear: if I wanted to be a model, I would have to do whatever was asked. No more stubborn, outspoken Nick. Now I was the director's bitch.

  “Is everything okay up there, Mr. Barlow?” Jamie Heinz called from the front row seat. “You seem—-aggravated.” I met the director's gaze, wishing I was anywhere else but here. Recently, acting had been the last thing on my mind—at one time it had been the only thing, but not anymore. Now, I almost couldn’t bring myself to care.

  “The light is just bright,” I said. The audition skit felt heavy in my hand.

  “Are you able to audition anyway?” Jamie asked, and it took everything I had to ignore the sarcasm in his voice. The light wasn't the only thing that was keeping me from focusing. Since breakfast this morning, Sam had been on my mind at a constant rate, burrowing into my head and drowning my brain. I didn't know why, and despite trying to figure it out, I could think of nothing. She had been so angry at me after my comments this morning, but behind that anger and sneer had been sadness—a secret she was keeping hidden away from me. More than anything in the world, I wanted to know what was going on.

  “Mr. Barlow?” Jamie said again. “Are you going to audition for us or not?”

  “Yes,” I said. “My apologies.”

  It was late afternoon by the time I finally got home. Earlier I'd received a call from Piper asking if she could stay the night with a new friend of hers, Trina. I had spoken with Trina's mother and—after gathering all her contact information—told Piper to have fun and behave herself. I was glad to see my niece living life normally. Thoughts of my sister still haunted me, especially at night when my mind was found wandering over anything and everything. To see Piper so excited about the prospect of new friends and slumber parties made me feel slightly better about our whole bizarre ordeal.

  The house was dark except for the upstairs hallway light, so Sam must have been home from work. Wary of bothering her, I grabbed myself a beer from the fridge and cracked it open, allowing the liquid to relax my muscles and stresses from the inside out. I took a seat on the couch in the dark, breathing steady, straining to hear if Sam was upstairs on the phone or in the shower. I could hear nothing, which concerned me. Maybe she'd fallen asleep.

  After a few minutes and a bottle of beer later, I stood from the couch and made my way upstairs, mostly to check and see if she was even home. Her bedroom door was closed, but I could see the light beneath the crack of the door. I raised my hand and rapped softly.

  “Sam?” I called. “Are you home?” There was a moment of silence in which I assumed she wasn't even home, but before I could turn away and retreat, I heard her quiet voice answer in something unintelligible. I reached for the door and, finding it unlocked, let myself in.

  Had a natural disaster hit Sam's room, I would have more readily accepted the mess she was sitting in. I found her perched on the edge of my bed, face dried with tears and eyes red and bloodshot as I stared at her. In one hand was her cell phone, and in the other hand, a crumpled-up tissue. There were clothes and shoes everywhere, littering the floor. It was so unlike Sam, the neat freak she was, and I stared silently, unsure of how to approach it all.

  “Wow,” I said finally, and rubbed the back of my neck. “Who did you kill?”

  She didn't answer for the longest moment as she stared at the floor, unable to look me in the face. I had no idea what was going on, but I feared to step forward to comfort her in case she took whatever this was out on me.

  After another full minute of silence, I spoke again, unsure of what else to say or do. “Piper is spending the night at a friend's house,” I said. “Would you like to get a drink with me?” The second part of that phrase surprised even me—I hadn't planned to ask her out
for a drink, but after seeing her, there was no way she wouldn't need one. That made two of us. There was silence before there was anything, and I could sense the tension in the air.

  “Richard broke up with me last night,” she said finally. She let the phone drop to the bed, quickly wiping away another tear I had already spotted. “He said the long-distance thing wasn't going to work anymore. He left me.”

  “Sam, I'm—I'm sorry,” I said, and I was. Despite my feelings toward Richard, seeing Sam all torn up was affecting me in a way that was both startling and unexpected. I was sad for her, but I was also angry—angry at Richard, mostly, for treating a woman like Sam as though she were nothing more than a quick lay. But with that anger came relief, the relief I never thought I’d experience. She was done with that asshole Richard. I was single. “I'm sorry to hear that,” I said, struggling to sound sincere. I hurt for her, but the anger was overwhelming.

  Sam shrugged as if it didn't bother her, but I knew better. I knew that she hurt the worst when she was trying to pretend she wasn't.

  “About that drink,” she said and wiped more moisture from her cheeks. “Are you paying?”

  Sam

  I was humiliated that Nick had found me up in my room, sobbing over a guy with tears streaming down my face, but I couldn't deny myself a drink, especially if Nick was paying. Piper was at a friend's house, so I knew I had to take his offer while it lasted. I wouldn't care about anything for a few hours except getting drunk and forgetting about Richard.

  We ended up at a hip little dance club downtown, and I was glad I had at least changed out of my scrubs before we'd left the house. Despite it being ten at night and cold in Seattle, the club was humid and warm, engulfing me in its grip. Even though we all lived in one of the chilliest places on the coast, the women here still wore vibrant, flowing skirts that showed off their slender legs, and men danced the night away in slacks and nice shirts. The booze flowed all night, the music played, and the atmosphere beckoned me in.