by Alisa Mullen
I nodded. “Me neither.” We continued to relish in each other’s bodies. I kissed her fair skinned breasts. They were so incredibly hot these days. Pregnancy had its perks and I was taking pleasure in all of them. She moaned as she pushed her belly up against me. She moaned louder when she felt that I was ready for her again. I was somewhere between her right and left breast when the phone rang again.
“Not it,” she breathed out. I popped my head off of her chest and frowned. She sighed.
“If we didn’t answer the phone the first time, then we are obviously not home. So please tell me why people call a second time. It is a mystery I have never been able to solve.” She looked perplexed. “And while we are at it, why don’t people call you on your cell phone if they need you so badly?”
“My phone is strictly for work and for you. And besides, who is to say the phone is for me. Maybe it is Sean being an ass because he telepathically knows we are having sex.”
“Hmm…that sounds nice. Having sex.” The phone continued to ring as we stared into each other’s eyes and smiled. She pulled me down for a kiss and I got lost in her tongue. Her teeth nipped at my lips and I growled. Just as I was about ready to flip her over, the fucking phone rang again.
“Okay, holy shit. What the fucking hell is going on?” I asked while I trampled out of bed and angrily walked to the kitchen.
“What?” I barked.
“Mr. Sawyer? Nick Sawyer?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“Sir, this is Paul. We spoke a while back about Samantha Hughes? You came over one morning to help us turn down the music?”
“Yes. What is it now? Another party?” I growled. I thought she was going to take my name off the list. This guy called me more than she did. Sam and I basically weren’t even friends anymore. She wanted me to leave her alone so I wasn’t going to save her every time she got into trouble, for fuck’s sake.
“No sir. There isn’t a party. We received an anonymous call from a young man who says that Samantha Hughes has overdosed. We don’t know if it is a joke or not but she won’t answer the door. I have the police and an ambulance here. I would really like to go into the apartment. I feel this qualifies as a dire emergency.”
I didn’t understand what Paul was saying. Anonymous call, overdosed, no answer, emergency.
“Should I come let you in? What do I do?” I started to panic. I wouldn’t be able to get there in time if she had already overdosed. She needed CPR or something right now. Hell, I didn’t know what the hell to do for an overdose. They lived though. I knew that.
“Nick. I want it on the record that you and I spoke and you allowed us to enter Ms. Hughes’ apartment.”
“Yes, yes. Fuck yes. Go! I will be right there.” I slammed down the phone and ran back into the room. I pulled my jeans up and threw on a shirt. Lizzie walked out of the bathroom. “Liz, it is Sam. Someone called in that she overdosed. I need to get over there. What if something happens and I am not there to save her? She put me down as her emergency contact. I am supposed to be there already. Fuck. I need to go.”
Lizzie was wide eyed as she started pulling on her clothes. She put her hand on my arm. “Calm down, baby. We are going. Tell me. Did they call an ambulance?”
I nodded quickly as I ran my hand through my hair. I started to pace, while I watched her throw on her shoes. She started out the door without saying a word. I followed her. She picked up the keys on the breakfast nook and walked to the elevator. I followed her. My legs started to shake. I crossed my arms, uncrossed them and then crossed them again. Lizzie remained calm and indifferent as she walked in the elevator. She pushed the down button. She called for the car. I followed her.
Lizzie got into the driver’s seat. I automatically got in the passenger seat. She started to drive and she drove fast and with precision. I realized in that moment, I had never been a passenger when Lizzie drove. She was in control and knew all the side streets and shortcuts. We were there in less than ten minutes.
She pulled up to the front of the building and watched me jump out. When I closed the door, she squealed away towards the back parking lot. I stared at the fire truck, three police cars and an ambulance, wondering if Sam was in one of them. I ran into the building and quickly glanced around the room for anyone who could help me. Paul was talking to a police officer when he looked up to see me.
I must have had the question written on my forehead because he closed his eyes tight and shook his head slowly. I bolted for Paul and slammed into him.
“Don’t you dare fucking shake your head at me.” I was shaking and he was petrified. I wanted to punch the mother fucker and I didn’t even care. Who was he to shake his head at me? Did he think he was God? Someone peeled me off Paul and I was taken out of the building. The police officer who had a strong hold on me told me to wait next to his car as Lizzie hurriedly walked up to us.
“What’s happening? What did they say?” she asked, sounding concerned for the first time since I told her that Sam had overdosed.
“I…ah…I…” I choked on the words. I ran over to the bush next to the police car and started to dry heave. I felt Lizzie’s warm hand rub my back. “Don’t!” I growled. Immediately, she left my backside and walked away. My stomach would not stop rolling. I gagged and spit. Right when I felt like I was okay and could stand up, her naked body in the middle of all of those men flashed through my head and I started to gag again.
My hearing was blocked off from the rest of the world as my throat made its own tormenting sounds. Those sounds were always more disturbing than the actual act of throwing up. My eyes felt like they were going to bug out of my head.
As I took a deep breath, I heard my wife’s cry. I slowly turned around and watched the two EMT’s push and pull the stretcher with a large black vinyl looking bag as its passenger. I quickly looked over to Lizzie where she was being consoled by one of the fireman. He was having her sit down and she was sobbing. She wasn’t loud but she wasn’t quiet. She wasn’t crying like she had for Conner the night I went to her. Lizzie cried like she just watched a really bad death scene in a movie. Her cries didn’t even come close to the louder cries nearby.
The begging, the coughing and the profound sobs of the man were so thunderous that I had to cover my ears to block him out. I couldn’t see anything. Everything was so blurry and I couldn’t breathe. I scrubbed my eyes only to realize my whole face was wet and I was the man sobbing.
THIRTY FIVE - SAM
“Hi, Princess,” a male voice reverberated off the tiled bathroom. His strong presence was behind me. I was applying the last of my mascara to have a bathroom party for one tonight.
“Leave me alone Clay,” I snapped.
Arms came around me and that familiar scent made my whole body freeze up. I dropped the mascara in the sink and I looked down at it. I heard him. I felt him. I smelled him. “Conner?” I whispered.
“Oh, Princess. My sweet Southern Belle,” he crooned as he kissed the side of my neck. I looked up into the mirror again and his face was saddened. I had missed him calling me his Princess Southern Belle.
“What’s wrong, Conner? What happened?” I cried.
He kissed me on the top of my head and looked pained.
“You fucked up, baby.” He was so beautiful to look at. He wore my favorite black button up shirt and his hair was perfectly messed up in a style that screamed rock God.
His arms wrapped around me tighter and I fell back into him. I closed my eyes and we slowly lay on the bathroom floor together.
“How did I fuck up?” I asked, feeling his warmth and security all around me.
“You snorted too much of that cocaine tonight. But, baby, it wasn’t just cocaine,” he cautioned. I was confused as I held on to Conner. What did he mean? How did he know?
Another male’s voice came from above us. I tried to look up to see who it was but Conner held me tight to him and I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move when he held me like this. Finally, someone was holding on to me so tight
that I knew they didn’t want to let go. I was loved. I was wanted.
“It looks the same shit. Fentanyl laced. She probably dropped pretty quickly, like the rest of them,” the man’s voice boomed throughout the room. “It’s a damn epidemic.”
I ignored him and focused on Conner’s arms and his smell. He was my home. I missed him so much. “Conner, am I alive?”
“I don’t know baby. Your body can’t breathe right now but you are going to be fine. You are going to be more than fine. I am here with you now and I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” I smiled at his words. It was the first genuine smile I felt in a long time. I tried to turn over in his arms but he kept me locked up against his chest.
“What is it, honey?” he asked, sounding concerned.
“I want you to feel how much I love you. I want you to understand, to see the love I have for you. I was so wrong Conner. I wanted our baby. I wanted us forever and I messed everything up that night. I am so sorry Conner. I am so, so sorry,” I begged. I waited for the crying to begin but there was nothing. Tears didn’t fall from my face. I felt the guilt from that night that he died but I didn’t feel sad. I was simply content to be here in his arms.
“I love you, too, Samantha. Don’t worry. I know how much you love me, sweetheart.” He kissed the back of my head. “You will always be the girl for me. Please don’t worry about any of that right now, okay? Just lay here in my arms and fall asleep with me, okay?” he asked softly. I nodded and leaned further back into him.
Conner started to sing one of my favorite songs in my ear while kissing my hair intermittently. I started to feel tired. I was so tired from being up for so many days. I was ready to sleep and my love was right here with me. I felt complete. I knew everything would turn out just fine. As Conner started to sing another song, my body loosened up completely and I drifted off into a deep sleep.
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
LIZZIE (I always get the last word.)
Niall ran up to me from his bedroom with Nick right on his heels. His hair was all spiked up with gel. “Well, hello there,” I announced.
“Hello,” Niall smiled up at me and ran to the living room where his matchbox cars were. I looked at Nick who was sporting a tight black Phish tee shirt and form fitting jeans. “Yummy,” I whispered.
He shrugged. “That little guy is going to be a bad ass rocker. I can see it now.” I rolled my eyes and threw Niall’s bag of clothes at him.
“Did you get Samantha’s things together?” he asked.
“Yup, she and Niall are all set to go. Nana and Papa are so excited to have them for the weekend. But babe, I am going to miss Sammy’s little cheeks,” I whined. That was only a little true. I would miss my kids but I was totally excited to meet up with our band, Desired Pitch, on tour. We were headed to New York City to open for the Love Sick Ponies. They were an excellent band and we all got along really well. The lead singer, Jules, was a welcomed reprieve from all the testosterone on the tour.
Nick gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, you look heartbroken,” he smirked as he walked toward Samantha’s room. I locked my eyes on his ass as he walked away and I melted. He was one good-looking man and I thanked God every day for placing him into my life. Of course, not just his looks were what attracted me to Nick, but his patience and his humor. He was my perfect package deal.
Nick had gone through a terribly harsh period of time after Sam’s death. I backed off and let him grieve the way he needed to. We held each other a lot at night and talked about the simple things. The pregnancy was a great distraction and I was happy that was there for him. I knew what it felt like to lose someone you had known since you were a child. I was the one that could be strong for him. Alas, his whole demeanor changed when the doctor announced that it was a girl in the delivery room and I told the nurse that her name was Samantha Claire Sawyer. Nick cried and held her in his arms for hours.
Almost like a light switch went on, there was a spring in his step again. I smiled at how brilliant I was to think of that name. Besides that, it was the least someone could do in Samantha Hughes’ memory. Her parents never had a memorial service for her and she was sent back to Texas to be cremated. Neither Nick nor his parents knew what happened to her ashes. Sam’s mother had to move in with her sister in Austin when her husband went in to serve his prison time. I calculated one day that with good behavior, Little Samantha Claire would be a junior in college when Martin Hughes would be released.
Sawyer Productions also set up a grant in both Conner and Sam’s name for young, broke musicians who wanted a record deal. Every year we picked a band that was super good and gave them their dream of a label and an album. We never asked for a dime from the sales so that all of the proceeds went back into their music endeavors. The studio had been so hectic that we never did buy a house in Cambridge. Nick and I decided, probably a month after Samantha was born, and that we didn’t need any more color in our lives. He and I wanted each other no matter where that was. We were sick of radical changes and decided that moving was too much work to put on top of all the other demands we had.
Our penthouse apartment was the only stable comfort in our lives and we grew to really adore its location, its beauty, and its convenience. Niall loved our apartment. He was still too small to reach top button in the elevator so every day he screamed, “Daddy, daddy” before we even got through the doors. Nick would pick him up to press the button and he would clap at his accomplishment. It was really funny until it wasn’t. After a few days, Nick started picking him up in the foyer and right after we entered the lobby downstairs to deter him from squealing so loud. It worked. My man is a smart man.
A few weeks ago we celebrated our first anniversary. It was one of the best dates I had ever been on. Nick got us tickets to a Phish show in Long Beach. When I saw him heading us towards the general gate, I stopped in my tracks and advised him that the VIP section was over to the right.
“I know where it is. I got us lawn seats so we could dance together again. That was by far the best concert I had ever been to,’ he recalled.
“Nick!” I screamed. “We finally have the opportunity to get into the VIP section and you got us lawn seats? Jesus! I have been on that lawn more than enough times to know what it is like. I wanted us to have our own private viewing area!”
He smiled and took out two VIP tickets. “I was really hoping you would say that. Sammy kept me up all night and I am dog tired.” He yawned for effect.
I squealed and he took my hand to the right entrance where we were treated like royalty. We danced together in our own suite, drank far too much, and made out without regard to anyone’s stares. We did everything that we never did at our first Phish concert together. As Trey Anastasio started the second set, he walked up to the microphone and while he strummed his guitar, he proclaimed, “This song goes out to my buddy’s wife, Lizzie Sawyer. Nick, happy anniversary man.”
They played Bouncing around the Room with more gusto than I had ever heard. I trained my tear filled eyes on my husband the whole song with my mouth dropped open. His grin was flawless. He tickled me and pushed my shoulder trying to get me to enjoy the moment. The only words I remember speaking were, “Trey just dedicated a song to us.” It was so mind-boggling. Well, that was until Nick dragged me backstage where I actually hugged Fishman, smelly drummer after sweat and all. It was the best date ever. Again I must say that my man is a smart man. He got a night full of “Nick only” pleasures.
“Baseball analogies are always the best ones,” he once debated with me as he pulled his Texas Rangers hat on backwards. So, I will give it a shot. What I have come to understand over the course of my relationship with Nick is that life will always throw us curve balls. We can’t be prepared for them until they are right over the plate. We either take that swing or watch the damn thing whiz on by. Either way, it is our reaction to that strike that will make us who we are. You can curse at it, you can call the umpire an ass hat, or you ca
n look down at the pitcher and smile. Okay, Nick, baseball metaphor over.
We started a life together when birth and death greatly affected us individually and as a couple. Those drastic changes to our personal lives could have either made or broke our characters. Yes, we broke for a while but we always came back together. We got stronger. Nick has shown me to accept the changes and learn from them. I have.
I have found myself more attentive to the present and I stopped worrying about the “what ifs” in life. I don’t dwell on the past for very long like I used to. I force myself to remember the good times and I move forward. It isn’t fair to me or the people that I love.
Nick brought his identical twin baby girl out in a pretty purple flowery dress and I beamed at them. He was watching her gurgle out sounds and laughing. “You are a fine-looking little girl all dressed up, just like your mother. Yes…yes you are,” he cooed.
“She looks nothing like me,” I sighed. Her deep brown hair and beautifully shaped blue eyes was all Sawyer.
“Not true! I see your attitude in her every day, babe,” he sassed as he squeezed my ass. Bastard. I scoffed at him and smack him on the arm.
“Watch it! Baby in arms?” he pleaded. Damn excuses. Those kids were very distracting pawns in our banter. It was like a time out from Tag when they were in our arms.
We shut everything off in the apartment with a flourish and grabbed Niall from his matchbox car reverie. I took the baby from Nick’s arms so he could pick up Niall. We had everything brought down to the Audi. We all waved goodbye to our home as the elevator doors closed. We were officially on tour.
I felt the fluttering in my heart as I thought about our nights ahead. It was jam time. It was a night for Nick and me to have a blast and get lost in music. There were truly only a few moments better than those on stage, but you already know what they are. I don’t have to tell you what I am grateful for anymore. It’s a pleasant life when you don’t feel like shit about yourself all day and night. It’s all about the people and the moments we share. My moments are fabulous. No masks, no pretend, just the real me.