Little by Slowly: a Story of Love and Recovery

by Paul Hina

down to hand him his coffee. "You okay?"

  Sam grabs his coffee and stands. "You mind walking with me?"

  "No," she says, and starts to follow him. "Where we going?"

  "I can't believe her. I was trying to let all this go. She just won't let me go freely. She's purposely keeping me tethered to her, even if it's only through anger," he says, spiking his coffee in a passing trash can.

  "What'd she say?"

  "She—"

  "Hey, could you slow down a bit? I'm not wearing the shoes for this walk of yours," Jessi says from behind him. He stops and waits for her. "Do you mind telling me where were going?"

  "Just a couple of blocks. I have to take care of something at work."

  "Oh," she says. "Well, what's the hurry?" she asks, following him again.

  "I didn't realize I was hurrying."

  "You kidding? I felt like I was racing you back there."

  "Sorry. I'll—"

  "I feel like there's something you're not telling me."

  "Kelly just told me that the baby wasn't mine."

  "What?"

  "She just told me the baby—"

  "No, I got that. But I guess I'm wondering why this precipitated us power walking to your work."

  "She's informed me that she had an affair with our old college pal, Chris. My boss."

  "What? No. Wait. We need to stop," she says, slowing down.

  "I'm not stopping."

  "Sam, please," she says, trying to catch back up to him. "This is a no good, terrible idea."

  "It feels good."

  "That's always the first indication that something is not good."

  "Jessi, I appreciate you being here, coming with me," Sam says as he stops and turns toward Jessi, who seems slightly out of breath. "And I'm sorry about all the drama, but I have to do this."

  "Okay."

  "You don't have to come up with me."

  "Oh, I think maybe I should."

  Sam stops in front of a glass door with the words 'Big Sky Design' printed on it.

  "Is this it?"

  "This is it," Sam says, walking in.

  Jessi watches him for a second as he climbs the stairs of the office building. She looks at her watch, looks down the street, looks back up at Sam, and follows behind him.

  "Sam, wait for me."

  But Sam hardly acknowledges her as he moves into the office. The receptionist looks up at Sam, smiles, and then quickly wipes the smile off her face.

  "Sam?" the receptionist asks. "Is everything alright?"

  "It's alright," Jessi says. "He just got some bad news."

  "Who are you?" the receptionist asks Jessi.

  "I'm… Where's he going?" she asks, walking away from the receptionist toward Sam, who just entered someone's office.

  "Did you do it?" Sam asks, clearly angry.

  "What the hell?" Chris asks, standing up from his desk.

  "Did you do it?"

  "What are you talking about, Sam?"

  "Sam, let's…" Jessi says, touching his arm.

  "It's a simple question," Sam says, pulling his arm from Jessi. She backs away from him to the rear wall of the office.

  "Sam, this is neither the time or the place to talk about this," Chris says.

  Sam moves around Chris' desk and shoves him against the wall, punches him square in the jaw.

  "Sam!" Jessi shouts, and moves forward, but quickly retreats back to the wall.

  Chris grabs Sam's face and shoves it away. Then he knocks Sam hard on the mouth with his forearm, dives at him. They crash on top of Chris' desk, knocking his computer monitor and a ton of paper on the floor. They struggle with each other in an almost comical way, pulling at each other's clothes, and making lots of weird, breathy grunting noises. Chris is struggling to keep Sam penned down on the desk while simultaneously trying to get his arm around his head for a headlock. Sam struggles to get out from under Chris' weight and to get his hands near his throat, but Chris keeps squirming out of the way at the last second.

  Eventually, after what seems like minutes, but is probably more like seconds, they fall on the floor. Sam's full weight lands squarely on Chris' torso as they land. And they half-heartedly continue to struggle with each other like a couple of oversized kids having a wrestling match.

  This whole time Jessi has been shouting at Sam, but it's done little more than to bring everyone from the office to the door of Chris' office. The receptionist and two other guys are standing in the doorway now, all of them with dumb looks of both shock and exhilaration on their faces, mouths agape, staring at the absurd spectacle in front of them.

  Then the clog in the doorway is parted as Tracy enters the room.

  "My God, Sam. What're you doing? Stop! Both of you! Stop!" she says, moving toward them. She stands over them, and they stop and look up at her like two boys being caught by their mother. "Get up! This is ridiculous."

  They both stand.

  "Does someone want to tell me what is going on?" Tracy asks.

  Sam ignores her. He moves to the door red-faced, trying to catch his breath, wiping his hands down his shirt as if composing his clothes might make him look less wild. It doesn't help.

  "That's why you spent so much time not giving her my number. You weren't protecting me. You were protecting yourself," Sam yells at Chris. "But as soon as she came to your house, you had to—"

  "Enough, Sam." Chris says.

  "Did she threaten to tell, is that why—?"

  "What's he talking about, Chris?" Tracy asks.

  Chris doesn't say anything. He just sits on his desktop, his head so low that his chin almost touches his chest.

  "Sam, what're you talking about?" Tracy asks.

  "You'll have to talk to him about it," Sam says as he moves out of the room. Jessi quickly follows him.

  "Sam! Wait!" Tracy calls after him, and chases him to the top of the stairs, watches Sam and Jessi descend. "Sam, tell me, was it Kelly?"

  Sam turns around as he opens the door, "Ask him."

  "Oh, God," she says.

  "I'm sorry," Sam says, opening the door and moving outside. He doesn't pause for Jessi, but just starts moving back down the road.

  "Sam, you're running again."

  "Sorry," he says, slowing down for her.

  "Do you want to talk about what just happened in there?"

  "Not really."

  "Wait, Sam. Stop, please," she says, stopping. "Look at me."

  Sam stops and turns to look at her.

  "You're bleeding."

  "I am?"

  "You are," Jessi says. "Sit down for a second."

  Sam moves toward the curb and sits. Jessi sits down next to him.

  "I don't know if I can handle spending too many more days with you if this is any indication of how you spend your time."

  "Sorry," he says.

  She reaches into her purse and grabs a tissue. When she pulls it out, he notices her hands are shaking again.

  "Sorry if I scared you."

  "You didn't scare me. I just don't see two grown men fighting everyday."

  "But you're shaking," as soon as he says it, he realizes why she's really shaking.

  "Sam, I haven't had a drink in over thirty-six hours."

  "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

  "You're just generally sorry about everything, aren't you?" she asks as she places the tissue on his blood stained lips. He winces at the sting of her touch. "Wow. He got you pretty good," she says, and then she sees that he is staring at her, and it's a soft look, the kind that caresses. She stops and pulls the tissue away. "Do you wanna do it?" she asks, holding the tissue out to him.

  And he knows he has to tell her how he's been feeling. He can't put it off any longer. It's not going to get any easier.

  He grabs the tissue, puts it to his lips. "Yeah, I'm bleeding alright," he says, after looking at the big red splotches decorating the tissue. "I don't think one's going to do the trick."

  "That's alright. I have more," she says, reac
hing into her purse, and pulling out several more tissues. "After Tom's story last night, I'll never be unprepared again," she says. "Do you think you might need stitches? That's a lot of blood."

  "No, I'll be fine," he says, looking at her. "I'm sorry I put you in the middle of all of this. I certainly didn't intend—"

  "Hey, I'm just glad I was able to calm you down before you did something stupid," she says, smiling. She hands him another tissue.

  He laughs, stops, grimaces, and grabs his cheek. "Don't make me laugh."

  "Sorry, I'll be deadly serious," she says, straightening her mouth in an exaggerated way.

  "Listen, Jessi," he says, looking away from her, and turning back. "I think we need to talk about this thing… This," he says moving his hands back and forth between them.

  "Alright, but can we walk. This sidewalk is filthy. It's kind of grossing me out sitting here."

  "Yeah, that's fine," Sam says, rising from the curb. Suddenly, he is lightheaded. He stops, closes his eyes, and starts to lose his equilibrium.

  Jessi grabs his arm to stabilize him. "Whoa, maybe we should get you to a hospital."

  "No, I just got up too fast. That's all."

  "You sure?"

  "I'm sure," he says, and starts walking again, away from the place he has worked all his adult life. "Christ, I just destroyed my job."

  "Yeah, I'd say so."

  "Oh, well."

  "You're alright?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine."

  "I'm not talking about your mouth anymore. I'm talking about money. You're alright?"

  "Yeah, I'm good. I told you I have some successful apps, and those are mine. I did those on my own. And I always have several things on the horizon. Besides, this will give me time to work on all the side projects I've been putting off."

  "Well, then, maybe it's for the best."

  "Could be. But I've always felt like going there, having to be there everyday, gave my life structure, kept me in a routine."

  "You'll create a new routine."

  "I suppose I'll have to."

  They walk for a second. He throws away a couple bloody tissues as