by Nikki Chase
“So you still don’t remember her?” I ask.
“Nope,” Gabe answers distractedly.
“So she came to your place. Sam knew she liked you, so he gave you some space to be alone, but he could hear your conversation from his room.”
“Okay.”
“She told you she was horny. She said her vibrator had run out of batteries, and she asked you to help her.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Sam was getting ready to put on his headphones because he didn’t want to hear you having sex with this girl,” I say. “But then you asked her what kind of batteries they were, and you took the AAs out of your remote control and gave them to her before you went back to your room and left her to sleep alone on the pull-out couch.”
Finally, I get a soft laugh out of Gabe. “I don’t remember that.”
“Yeah. Sam thought it was hilarious, so he didn’t tell you and just watched from the sidelines as this girl gave you more super obvious hints. She gave up eventually.”
Gabe shrugs. “I probably wasn’t interested in her anyway.”
“Sam used to tell me stories about how girls were falling all over themselves to get your attention,” I say. “These stories always made me so jealous, but I could never stop listening to them.”
Gabe remains silent, but his lips curl up to form a small smile. “I miss him.”
“Me, too.” My chest tightens as I remember how nice it was to have those stupid little chats with Sam.
Looking back, I realize some of the things he told me weren’t exactly age-appropriate for me, but he was trying his best to maintain a connection with me, even as he was growing up and struggling himself.
“We’re here,” Gabe announces as the car comes to a stop.
In front of us is a bird’s-eye view of the city. Warm, yellow street lights dominate a big patch of land, only to give into darkness as the urban turns into the rural.
“Gabe… This is beautiful.”
“I know,” he says with a hint of pride in his voice. “That’s why I brought you here.”
We get out of the car to take in the scenery.
“I feel like I have my own personal tour guide, who also happens to be an expert in immigration issues.” I lean on the warm hood of the car and give Gabe a grin. “Oh, and he’s pretty good in bed, too.”
“Just pretty good?” Gabe asks with a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll make you take that back tonight,” he promises in that deep, authoritative voice that turns me into mush.
I smile to myself. That’s exactly what I want. There’s nothing in the world that’s better than the feeling of being desired by Gabe, being wanted so much that he turns into a primal beast.
“You know, angel, I feel like I’m the one who’s lucky to have you here,” he says, breaking the silence. “I was content before, when I was on my own. I was used to being alone. I knew people, of course, co-workers I could go out for beers with, but…” Gabe’s voice trails off as he looks into the distance. After a few seconds, he takes a deep breath and continues, “But I wasn’t interested in having people get close to me. I was afraid that I’d hurt them, just like I hurt Sam. He was my only real friend, and I…”
Again, Gabe grows silent.
“You know, it wasn’t your fault.” I’ve told him this many times, and I’ll repeat it again as many times as it takes for him to get it. “I know Ray and my dad tried to pin it on you—successfully—but I don’t think you did anything to Sam at all. He was the one who made that decision.’
“Ray and your dad had a point,” Gabe says. “It wouldn’t have been so easy for Sam to do what he did without my help.”
“He was an adult and he was responsible for his own choices. His death is not your burden to bear. If anything, my mom and dad should’ve been the ones put on trial, because they’d failed Sam. They’d failed all their children with their selfishness.”
“Thank you for saying that.” Gabe rests his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. He feels warm. “I’m glad you turned out great despite them.”
I laugh nervously. “I don’t know about that. I feel responsible for my family’s craziness, like I have to protect the world from them. That’s why I never brought my friends home to meet my family, and I didn’t like it when Mom or Ray came to visit me at work.”
“Yeah. Because you’re the sane one,” Gabe insists.
“I guess I can thank Sam for that.” I give in and take the compliment.
Gabe is quiet for a while, then he asks, “Do you like it here, angel?”
“Of course,” I say quickly. “I mean, I don’t like it when the Internet is slow or the power goes out… or when I’m stuck in traffic for hours… but I’m actually getting used to the whole thing. I like that this place forces me to stop and take things slow for a while.”
“Oh, I know how much you like being forced.” Gabe gives me a smirk that makes me blush in the dark. We’re in a long-term relationship and we live together, but he still makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter. Gabe asks, “So you’re happy here?”
“I’d be happy anywhere as long as I’m with you.”
“I love you.” He gives me a peck on my cheek. His stubble tickles me and makes me giggle.
“I love you, too.”
“Can you see yourself living here—maybe not forever, but long enough to raise children here?” Gabe asks again.
What is it with these questions? It’s starting to feel like he’s reading them out from a list he’s already prepared beforehand.
“Our children?” I ask back, turning the question on him.
“Why do you ask? Did someone else tell you he was going to put a baby in you? Tell me who and I’ll ruin his life,” Gabe says in mock anger. He chuckles, then in a softer voice, he adds, “Of course our children. Can you see yourself doing that?”
“Yeah. Like I said, I’d be happy anywhere as long as I’m with you,” I say, growing tired of the questions.
“I just wanted to make sure…”
“Make sure what?” I ask when Gabe leaves his sentence hanging.
“I wanted to make sure that you’re sure. Because there’s no going back after this.”
“What are you talking about, babe?” I ask. “We both knew there was no going back when we got on that flight together.”
“I know. But I’m not talking about our location. I’m talking about us.”
Another cryptic answer.
I quell the urge to ask him another question and just give him an expectant look.
Gabe looks down into my eyes, his dark pupils reflecting the lights from the city in the distance. He lets go of my shoulders and digs into his pocket before he drops to one knee.
Before I can ask Gabe if he’s hurt, he thrusts up a small black box for me to see.
It’s a ring. With a brilliant, transparent stone at the top.
“Yes,” I blurt out.
“I haven’t said anything,” Gabe says, chuckling.
“Then do it.” My heart hammers so hard it feels like my whole body is throbbing with every beat. So this is why he’s been acting weird.
“Jacqueline Summers,” he says. “Or Jackie Nolan. I don’t care what your name is. But I love you. I love you the way I’ve never loved anyone before.”
“I love you, too.”
Gabe’s dark eyes study my face while his lips form a big grin. He knows what my answer is, and even though it didn’t count the first time I said it, he’s already celebrating inside. Gone is the distractedness that’s been plaguing him all night.
“We belong together. We’ve always belonged together,” he says. “I’m glad you realized it first, because I was too blind to see it. But now I see it, too. We belong together—forever. So will you marry me?”
“Yes. Of course.” Tears fill my eyes and bend the lights in the background, taking them out of focus. My vision clears when wet tears glide down my cheeks. “Of course,
I’ll marry you.”
With one knee still on the ground, Gabe takes my hand and slips the ring onto my finger.
“Now everyone knows you’re mine,” he says. “No random guy’s going to asking you to bear their children.”
I’m still laughing when Gabe gets up from the ground and scoops me up in his arms. Instinctively, I throw my own arms around his neck when I lose my balance, but I’m in good hands. His strong arms won’t let me fall. He’s got my back.
And there, we seal our engagement with a kiss, with the stars and the city as our witnesses.
Jacqueline
One Month Later
This morning, I put on a colorful African-print dress and go into the registrar’s office to wait for our turn to get married.
It’s been three hours, and we’re still sitting in this big room with other couples and their families. As the locals like to say, it’s time to “exercise patience.”
We’ve also asked some co-workers to come and sign as witnesses for us—a doctor and three nurses. We’re having a light chat to pass the time, just like everyone else here.
It must be blindingly bright and hot outside, but luckily this office is air-conditioned. The little bit of sunlight that manages to penetrate the orange curtains only makes the whole scene seem surreal.
When the official-looking guy in a business suit calls out Gabe’s name, our whole group stands up for our turn.
Our wedding ceremony takes about five minutes, from start to finish.
We exchange rings, say the standard vows, sign the paperwork, and kiss—nothing too raunchy, of course; this is a government office.
Maybe I should’ve told my family about my wedding. Not Dad or Ray… but maybe Mom…?
Too bad she’d definitely tell Ray, and then who knows what he’d do? Last I heard, Dr. Kent and Ray are still looking for us, and I’m not going to help them.
I’ll be honest, this isn’t the wedding I’d fantasized about, growing up. In my childish imagination, I had a big wedding where I wore a big, white, poofy dress and I had a huge multi-tiered cake, too.
It’s not like I’m sad about not having “the wedding of my dreams,” though. I don’t need any of those things.
It’s not like Gabe and I can’t afford a big wedding, after all. We both make good money. Maybe not as much money as we would back home, but things are cheaper here, too.
It’s just that we don’t have anyone we want to invite anyway. In fact, if they didn’t require witnesses, Gabe and I would’ve happily come here on our own, just the two of us.
The only person I’d want to invite is Karen, who has become a good friend. She keeps me up to date on the goings-on at Hill Crest Hospital, and she loves hearing about my life here with Gabe.
I no longer feel the need to separate my circles so I’d love for her to come here for a visit. But her schedule is far too busy and Ghana is way too far for her to travel for a five-minute ceremony.
But it’s not a big deal. She can come here for a vacation some other time.
All I care about is the one thing that hasn’t changed my whole life.
The man of my dreams is still the same man. And today I’m finally marrying him for real.
I’m happy to have finally found my home.
Wherever I go, as long as Gabe’s with me, I’m home.
And that’s all that matters.
Epilogue
Gabriel—Four Years Later
Time flies when you’re having fun.
After one blissfully quiet year of the married life, Jacqueline and I got a beautiful surprise in the form of a baby girl. We named her Samantha, after her uncle.
She was born in the hospital where we work. Our co-workers oohed and aahed through the big window at the nursery.
Even though the nurses didn’t give Samantha an identification bracelet, it was always easy to find her. She was the only pale-skinned, thin-haired baby. The brown babies around her had abundant hair as soon as they’d emerged from their mothers’ wombs.
But luckily for Samantha, her hair has been growing thicker and longer over the years. At three years old, she now has fine, straight, blonde hair like her mother.
She has my eyes, though. It’s funny how much Samantha looks like both Jacqueline and me, even though the two of us don’t look alike. Ah, the wonders of human biology.
I turn off all the lights downstairs and climb up the carpeted steps as quietly and quickly as I can.
Jacqueline’s often too tired to stay up long past Samantha’s bedtime, so they’re both probably asleep now. I don’t want to wake anyone up if they’re asleep, but I also want to see them if they’re still up.
My busy schedule at the hospital means that I often only see Samantha early in the morning or late at night. It’s only ten minutes past Samantha’s bedtime now, but it’s already dark and quiet upstairs, where all the bedrooms are.
Jacqueline insists on staying home and taking care of Samantha, at least for the first few years. So there’s always one of us here with our daughter when she wakes up and goes to sleep.
Jacqueline takes on her new role as a mother seriously, and even though she’s often critical of herself, I think she’s doing a great job.
As I walk down the hallway toward Samantha’s bedroom, I hear faint laughter from inside.
My heart does a little happy flip and I quicken my pace. Maybe my wife and daughter are still playing together.
But then I hear something that stops me in my tracks.
Is that a man’s voice in Samantha’s bedroom?
Through the gap under her door, I can see that it’s dark inside.
Jacqueline wouldn’t let a grown man play alone in the dark with Samantha at her bedtime.
Who the fuck is that?
An intruder?
I grab a vase from a shelf on the wall. I can smash it against something hard and then I’ll have a sharp, deadly weapon.
I turn the doorknob and swing the door open. Adrenaline pumps into my bloodstream. Coupled with my natural instinct to protect my daughter, I’m ready to kill if necessary. The Hippocratic Oath can go fuck itself right now.
“Daddy, you’re home,” Samantha’s small, girlish voice says. She sounds happy as a clam.
I turn on the ceiling light.
“Honey, are you okay?” I rush to her side, even as my eyes scan the hidden nooks and crannies in the room and hold the vase by its neck, ready to use it as a weapon. “Was there someone here?”
“Yeah,” she says in a sleepy voice as she sits up.
My muscles tense. The intruder must be watching, ready to attack.
“Where is he now, honey? Tell Daddy.”
“Behind you,” she says.
I swing around, but there’s nothing. Just a shelf full of Samantha’s colorful books and toys.
“Where is he?” I ask again.
“Right there,” Samantha says, pointing to the empty space. “Don’t worry, Daddy. It’s just Sam.”
It’s sweet that she names her imaginary friend after her uncle, especially because she’s named after him, too. It’s too bad Sam the imaginary friend can’t also go on to create more Sams—obviously, Jacqueline and I are fans of the name.
Even though Jacqueline didn’t have time to pack before leaving San Francisco, she has some childhood pictures stored on her phone that we’ve showed Samantha. So we weren’t surprised when she told us her new friend, Sam, was a friendly, grown-up dude with light-brown hair and blue eyes.
But has a stranger found out about Samantha’s imaginary friend and used the information to enter our home?
I open the doors of the closet. Nothing.
There’s nowhere else to hide.
There’s a window, but we’re on the second floor. Besides, the window is closed.
“Honey, who was here?” I ask again.
There’s no man hiding in this room, but I could swear I heard someone.
“I told you, Daddy. It’s Sam.” Samantha pauses
and tilts her head like she’s listening to someone. Then, she opens her little mouth. “He says he’s sorry.”
“Who? Sam? For startling me?” I don’t even know what I’m asking anymore.
It can’t be true. There’s no other man in this room. As much as I love her and think the world of her, Samantha’s still just a toddler.
“Yes.” She pauses, again looking like she’s listening. She adds, “And for everything.”
With my heart pounding, I sit on the edge of Samantha’s single bed. I don’t know why, but I feel like I have to listen.
That laughter… I hadn’t heard it in more than ten years, but I’d recognize it anywhere. It really did sound like him.
“When you say it’s Sam, do you mean your uncle, honey?” I ask softly, searching her face for dishonesty and finding only innocence and confusion.
“Yes. I told you, Daddy.”
“I know you did.” I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I have to ask, “What else is Sam saying?”
Samantha smiles. After another short pause, she says, “He says you’re a good friend. He misses you.”
I lean down and pull her little body into a tight hug. I still have no idea what to believe, but peace washes over me and the guilt that I’ve been holding onto begins to melt away.
“Daddy? Are you okay?” Samantha asks in a concerned voice.
“Yes, honey. I’m okay. I just miss Sam, too.”
She laughs softly and yawns.
“You go to sleep now.” I give her a goodnight kiss and tuck her in, then I quickly turn off the light. “Good night, honey.”
“Good night, Daddy,” she says as I slip outside.
I give myself permission to freak out over the creepy thing that has just happened, but all I feel is love.
Entering my own bedroom, I watch as Jacqueline’s body rise up and down under the blanket with her every breath. I wonder if she’s going to think I’m insane for thinking Sam’s ghost has followed us all the way here to Ghana just to play with his niece.
But she’s probably exhausted, and the story can wait until tomorrow.
I shed my clothes and climb into bed. Leaning over and giving my wife a light peck on her cheek, I whisper, “I love you.”