by Melissa Haag
* * * *
Three weeks later, I exited the sliding glass hospital doors with Sam. We both eyed the dark clouds. The imminent downpour had cleared the usually bustling sidewalks, but the charged air filled me with anticipation.
I turned to Sam. “What do you think? Still want to go? We will probably get wet.”
Sam, dressed in his unusually trendy attire for an old guy, continued to study the sky as we walked toward the bus stop.
He had been kind and informative during the first two meetings, telling me as much as he could in such a public place about his “relatives” in the hour I allotted for our meetings. Wary of outsiders, many of his kind chose to live in a closed community across the Canadian border. It had plenty of land, and the rural population of the surrounding area allowed them more space to roam freely. It also had a few old buildings that, up until twenty years ago, had been more for show than living.
After the marriage of their leader, things changed. The leader's new wife helped the community see they'd slipped too far from society and that their only chance to survive was to adapt.
A few people agreed and left to help reintegrate. A few more stayed in the buildings and started making small improvements. However, several of the structures needed larger-scale remodeling and, collectively, Sam’s “relatives” just didn’t have the money for it. Although remote, a few of the community’s members ventured out to find work in nearby towns and supplemented the income needed to support their not yet fully self-sufficient way of life.
Gradually, those who'd denied the need for change started seeing the reality of what they'd become...a dying species...and more of the men not yet married went out looking for work. When the leader’s sons were old enough, they too left.
Sam had been sent even further from the community to get the lay of the land in a more urban setting. Trying to blend, he’d decided he needed to dress more like the people of the area. At that point in his narrative, I’d wondered what he’d been wearing. Furs? When he’d gone shopping, he’d asked a sales clerk’s advice regarding what to buy. The sales clerk had been about my age, which explained Sam’s trendy choice of clothes.
It amazed me how much I’d learned about the man walking next to me. The compassion for his people’s plight impressed upon me his selflessness, and watching him interact with other people around us, showed he had a sense of humor. Those defining characteristics had decided it for me—it was time to introduce him to Tim and Barb.
We’d reached the bus stop without a drop of rain.
“A little rain never hurt anyone,” he said answering my earlier question.
Another thing I liked about Sam. He sensed when I was lost in my own thoughts and let me be.
“Okay, I’ll text Barb and let her know you’ll be coming over. They’ve been asking about you every week.” He looked at me questioningly.
“I mentioned you that first night we met in the park. They wanted to know why I was late. I said I ran into an old acquaintance, a friend of my grandfather’s.”
A city bus drew to a halt in front of the sheltered bus stop. Sam and I waited for the other passengers to board. He surprised me by pulling out his own city bus pass to pay. The familiar driver looked at me curiously when I took my normal place behind him and slid over on the worn grey vinyl seat to make room for Sam.
Sam and I didn’t talk much on the bus ride. Instead, I watched out the window, waiting expectantly for the rain.
At our stop, Sam stood and exited. He didn’t offer me his hand. After only knowing me a short while, he knew I didn’t like to be touched. It wasn’t that I didn’t like being touched. I didn’t like growing attached. When you touched people, you developed attachments. Then, when they left, it made it harder to say goodbye.
He waited for me to hop down from the last step then fell in beside me as we made our way down the paved park path. Although we still had an hour of daylight left, the dark storm clouds writhing in the sky above cast the city into an early dusk. Ever since Sam had revealed himself to me, tension drove me to walk quickly through the park. Particularly in the dark. I liked having someone to walk home with me, even if that someone had started the whole thing. In Sam’s company, I didn’t worry as much.
“You’re certain I won’t disrupt things at home just popping in like this?”
“I don’t think you can disrupt it any more than it’s been,” I said. “Barb, my foster mom is pregnant, which really is a good thing. Barb and Tim have been trying to get pregnant for years. Thinking they’d never have kids of their own, they decided to foster.”
We were halfway across the park. Sam slowed to give me more time to talk. I hadn’t mentioned any of this to him before. The swings in the abandoned playground to our right started to sway in the increasing winds, their older chains squeaking slightly with each forward swing.
“They own a cute little two bedroom house. If she carries the baby to term, there won’t be enough room, you know?” I kept my eyes focused on the path, not wanting to see his expression. “Because she hasn’t yet passed her first term, they haven’t notified my social worker.”
I had no regret. I really did feel happy for Barb and Tim, and I’d moved around enough in foster care to know the drill. Plus, I counted down the days...months...until I turned eighteen, legally free from anyone’s guardianship.
Sam remained silent beside me.
Leaving the park, we turned right on the sidewalk. The phone in my bag buzzed, and I quickly searched for it. The rain still held back, but the sky overhead rumbled ominously. I checked the message and smiled at Sam.
“Barb said she’s very excited to meet you, and since you and I just ate, they’ll have cake and coffee ready.”
Sam nodded. A fat raindrop splattered on the sidewalk in front of us and without a word, we both started walking faster. When we turned the last suburban corner, I pointed out the Newton’s house to him, not pausing the brisk pace we’d set.
Barb and Tim both waited for us on the front stoop. Tim had his arm wrapped around Barb’s shoulders as he peeked around the awning to look up at the clouds. When Barb nudged him to point us out, he looked our way and waved.
They greeted Sam enthusiastically and invited him in. I could see Barb sizing him up and finding him acceptable. In a rare twist, Tim did most of the talking that night and asked Sam about himself. When Sam said he originally hailed from Canada and managed the family business investments, I figured he stuck as close to the truth as possible. They did ask him about my grandpa, and he wove a beautiful tale about them growing up together. Since I never talked about my grandfather, the Newtons didn’t know any differently. The skill with which Sam lied made me a little uncomfortable. If he could lie that easily to them, how easily could he lie to me?
The rain stopped before he finished his second cup of coffee. Sam stood and smiled at Barb.
“The cake and coffee were wonderful. Thank you for letting me drop in like this.” He extended a hand to Tim. “I won’t overstay my welcome or the coffee.”
Tim clasped Sam’s hand with a warm smile as the adults all laughed.
“It was a pleasure to meet both of you.”
“We appreciated you stopping in,” Barb said, already collecting the cups to bring to the sink. “When Gabby said she ran into you, we were both very curious.”
“I can imagine. Now that I found her, I don’t want to lose track of her. If it’s all right, I’d like to stop by now and again to check in on her.”
“We insist you do.” Tim patted Sam’s back in a manly display of affection as they walked to the front door. I quickly helped Barb put the dishes in the sink so she could follow them. Barb was a little compulsive and couldn’t walk away from a dirty kitchen.
“What about dinner next Wednesday?” Barb asked, raising her voice from the kitchen as she washed and dried her hands at the sink. She hurried to the front door where Sam bent to pu
t on his shoes.
“That sounds like a good idea.” Sam finished tying his shoes and turned to me. “Is that okay, Gabby?”
Leaning against the arch dividing the living room and the kitchen, I watched the adults interact. In a way, it reminded me of the animal channel. I struggled not to crack a smile at the thought since Sam really did have one foot in the animal world.
“After I finish volunteering at the hospital, it should work for me.”
Satisfied they would see each other soon, the adults said their goodbyes and Sam left. Not bad for a first meeting.
Each time I met with Sam, I learned more about his world. Nothing that I could apply to myself, yet. I still had hope though.