by Heidi Champa
“Were you and her mother married?”
He shook his head, no expression on his face.
“We never got that far. We got engaged and tried to stay together, but it was doomed from the start. Not just because I was gay, which I was doing everything in my power to deny. Part of the reason I slept with Jessica was to prove I was straight.”
“She didn’t want custody of Maya?” I asked without thinking.
His face turned to stone, and I felt like I stepped into a minefield. So much for not making things worse. As the words hung in the air, I wanted to take them back, to keep them in my head where they belonged. Before I could try and fix things, Sam responded through gritted teeth.
“No, she didn’t. Too busy being irresponsible, as you called it,” he said tersely.
He went back to the papers in the box, but I could tell his mind was a million miles away. It became clear that I had no idea how to talk to him. I mean, what had I ever done in my life that would help me relate to a teenage father? I decided to change the subject, get things back to a professional level. The personal stuff was getting me nowhere.
“You know, we don’t have to talk about this anymore. It’s none of my business. You’re not paying me to dig through your past.”
“Actually, I kinda am.”
He laughed, the stack of papers next to him getting bigger. It was the last thing I expected him to say. It should have made me feel better, but instead, I got flustered.
“I just meant, I mean, um….”
“I know what you meant, Wes.”
He put his hand on my shoulder, and as much as I wanted to keep the contact, I stepped away, pretending to be completely engrossed by another project.
“So, while you’re going through that stuff, I’ll start on this box,” I said, keeping my eyes away from his.
As I busied myself searching through a box of old clothes, I heard papers rustling behind me, Sam letting out a long sigh. I was wary to speak again, but I had to keep the process going.
“Um, these old clothes of yours, did you want to keep any of them?” I asked.
He walked over and glanced into the box, picking up a blue sweater that had an owl on the front. Holding it up to his torso, he laughed.
“I don’t think so. I don’t know what I was thinking with most of this stuff. I’m not even sure it’s worth donating.”
“There’s always someone who can use it.”
“If you say so. You’re the expert.”
I fought the urge to say something more, and instead simply nodded and slid the box into the area I’d designated for donation items. We worked in relative silence after that, my only words to Sam questions about what to keep and what to pitch. After nearly an hour of awkward quiet, his phone rang. I hated how relieved I was for the noise.
“I have to get that,” he said, already making his way up the stairs.
“No problem, Sam.”
As the door closed, I let out a sigh and felt like I could relax. I kept working, his muffled voice trickling down the stairs as I waded through more boxes of stuff. It was slow going, but I was making progress. Until I came upon a box of photos and other personal stuff. Right on top was a picture of a young Sam, smiling down at Maya as a baby. She was wearing a tiny pink hat, her face barely visible behind the pink blanket she was wrapped in. He looked so young, but so happy. There were more like it underneath, along with other artifacts from when Maya was born. I heard footsteps and quickly closed the top of the box, but in my hurry to hide what I was looking at, I knocked the whole thing on the floor. Sam stood over me, gaping at the mess, and I crouched down to start cleaning up.
“What the hell?” he said, his voice booming.
I looked up at him and saw the fury on his face. I was frozen with both fear and panic.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
I moved my hand to gather up some of the photos, but his voice stopped me cold.
“Just leave it! Please,” he yelled, his voice full of anger.
I stood up and backed away slowly as Sam stooped and lovingly picked up each item and put it back in the box.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
I felt like an idiot, and I didn’t know what to do. Clearing away clutter was sometimes a very emotional thing for people. Maybe Sam wasn’t ready. As the thought passed through my mind, he confirmed my suspicions.
“Maybe this was a bad idea. I think you should go, Wes.”
His eyes met mine, and the look he gave made me feel about three inches tall. I nodded, backing toward the stairs.
“Absolutely. I understand. I really am sorry.”
I ran to the first floor as fast as I could, fumbling with the knob on the front door for a moment before I got it open. I pulled out my car keys, but they clattered to the concrete porch from my shaking hand. As I crouched to pick them up, I heard Sam call out.
“Wes, wait!”
The way his voice sounded made me fear the worst: that I’d broken something priceless and irreplaceable. It had never happened to me before but was always one of my biggest fears when I helped people get organized. Nick had been traumatized by cracking a client’s favorite vase shortly after we started working together. He still talked about it months later. I didn’t want to stop, but something made me. Turning around, I tried to act casual and pretend everything was fine.
“Did I forget something?” I asked, hoping that was all it was.
His hands were in his pockets, his face flushed pink.
“No, nothing like that. I’m… I overreacted back there. I’m sorry. It was an accident, and I shouldn’t have bitten your head off.”
His apology should have made me feel better, but instead I felt guiltier than I had when the box hit the floor.
“No need to be sorry. They’re your things, and that stuff in particular, well, I can’t even imagine how important it must be. I really am sorry.”
“That’s no excuse. No harm done. I guess I’m just a little sensitive about that box,” he said softly.
He smiled and I felt my body relax a bit, but I was still wary. His face was still filled with guilt, so I decided to try and make it better.
“It’s no problem, really. Nothing I’m not used to in this business. In fact, you’re pretty tame by comparison.”
The smile returned to his face, and the tension that hung all around us started to fade.
“So, does that mean I can convince you to come back inside?”
“Sure,” I said.
I followed him, and Sam stopped at the kitchen.
“Do you want something to eat? A drink, maybe?” he asked.
My hand was on the door to the basement, but his question stopped me in my tracks.
“Soda would be nice.”
He yanked open the fridge and held a can out to me. Stepping into the kitchen, I took his offer, sipping some cola to keep my mouth shut. I shifted from foot to foot because things still felt a bit awkward. My can was empty far too soon, leaving me with nothing to busy myself with.
“Well, I guess I should get back to work,” I said, ready to put some space between the two of us.
I headed toward the stairs to the basement when he grabbed me by the wrist, keeping me from getting very far.
“Wes, wait. There’s something I wanted to say first.”
“Okay.”
He let me go and I took a step back, the heat from his hand lingering on my skin.
“I’m not used to talking about my past. It’s something I’ve avoided for so many years. What happened downstairs, that wasn’t about you. It was about me.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
He shook his head, setting his soda aside before continuing.
“No, it isn’t. You must think I’m nuts.”
“I don’t think you’re nuts. Going through old stuff, bringing up the past—it can be stressful for people. I’ve seen this before. And, believe me, I get not being comfortable talking about
the past. More than you know.”
He chuckled before picking up his soda, then immediately putting it back down.
“You’re sweet for trying to let me off the hook,” he said.
The fact that he called me sweet made my face go hot, my body once again not cooperating with my logical brain.
“Don’t let word get out. I have a reputation to protect,” I said, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. It seemed to work when he slouched against the counter.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
I SET another bag on the curb and rubbed my dirty hands on my even dirtier jeans. It had taken most of the day, but we’d managed to make real progress on Sam’s basement. It still needed quite a bit of work, but at least he could move around better down there. The conversation wasn’t bad either, once I got past all my weirdness. Sam was really great—smart, funny and one of the nicest guys I’d met in a long time. Several times that afternoon, I’d had the extremely depressing thought that Sam would be perfect for Nick. If ever there was a responsible adult, it was Sam. Just what Nick was looking for.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I was going to ignore it, but thinking it might be another job, I decided to look. I was shocked when I saw Nick’s name flash across the screen. It was like he knew I was thinking about him. I hadn’t talked to him in almost a month, but for some reason I took the call, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
“Hello?”
“Wow, I’m surprised you answered,” he said, his words dripping with snark. Regret ran through me, but it was too late to hang up now without looking petty.
“I wasn’t going to,” I said, my voice strained.
“I thought you’d be too much of a fucking coward to speak to me.”
“This isn’t making me want to listen. What do you want, Nick?”
He cleared his throat and went on. I braced myself for what was about to come.
“Well, it seems you included one of my favorite sweaters when you packed up your shit. I need it back.”
“Come on, Nick. You really expect me to buy that? It’s not like we have the same taste in clothes or anything. So why are you really calling?”
He laughed, which only made me angrier. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything and just taken his abuse. It’s not like I didn’t deserve it. But I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
“Right. I’m really calling because I miss you and want you back. Don’t flatter yourself. Do you have the sweater or not?” he asked, his voice almost a yell.
I thought of the stuff I unpacked, and I didn’t remember seeing anything out of the ordinary. And his sweater would have stuck out like a sore thumb.
“I haven’t seen it, but I’ll look when I get back to Daniel’s.”
More laughter came through the phone and I winced, my mind not working fast enough. I didn’t want Nick to know where I was, but it was too late now.
“Oh, so that’s where you ended up. Why am I not surprised?”
“I didn’t exactly have a lot of options.”
“Whose fault is that?” he asked.
I sighed, my head starting to throb from the whole conversation.
“Mine. I thought we already established that. I know everything that happened is my fault.”
“No argument here.”
“Did you want anything else, Nick?”
“Not really… oh, except I thought you might like to know I landed the Powell account. You know, the one you totally screwed up the consultation for. We’re going to organize all their offices and the CEO’s mansion. Too bad you’re going to miss out.”
Right on cue, there was the Nick I knew. He never could resist twisting the knife. I didn’t blame him, though. My little basement projects paled in comparison. Not that I was about to tell him what I was up to. I knew I had to keep that detail to myself at all costs.
“Good for you.”
“It is good for me. It could have been good for both of us, but, well, you’re a selfish bastard.”
I saw Sam out of the corner of my eye and turned away.
“I know. I’m the worst person in the world,” I said, weary of the whole thing.
“Well, at least we agree on something,” he said, his voice in a mocking tone.
“I have to go, Nick. I’ll look for the sweater.”
I hung up on him before he could say another word and shoved the phone in my pocket. Sam joined me by the curb, handing me another soda.
“You didn’t have to get off the phone on my account,” he said.
“Oh, it was nothing.”
I drank some of my soda and tried to ignore the anger I felt bubbling up inside me.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing. Your face is all red,” he said, pointing to my no doubt crimson cheek.
I knew I should’ve lied or kept quiet, but for some reason, I told Sam the truth.
“It was my ex. Something about some sweater I’m supposed to have that belongs to him.”
Sam eyed me, but I had trouble looking back at him.
“Sounds like you two didn’t part well.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“How long were you two together?” he asked.
“About ten months. But we should have broken up long before that,” I said, the truth flowing out of me at an alarming rate. Usually, it was the client opening up to me, not the other way around. And I liked it that way.
“Why did you two split up?”
That question took the steam out of my truth train. I looked down at the grass and tried to think of a way out of his question, as there was no way I was going to tell him what a horrible person I was. He already thought I was a clumsy oaf. The last thing I wanted was to let him know I was a lousy boyfriend and an insensitive jerk. Luckily for me, the school bus came around the corner and slowly rolled toward Sam’s house.
“That’ll be Maya. I didn’t realize it was after three already.”
Maya tromped off the bus and disappeared into the house, and I took that as my cue.
“I should get going. I can finish up the basement another day,” I said.
“You don’t have to go yet, do you?”
I smiled at his words, a little thrill running up my spine until I realized the meaning behind them. He wanted more of the job done before I called it quits. My grin disappeared, and I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“No, I guess not. I’m sure I can get more work done tonight if you’d prefer. If I won’t be in your way or anything.”
He laughed as we walked to the front door, and I took the opportunity to sneak a peek at his ass. He looked back and almost caught me, but I recovered well.
“There’s no rush. But I thought we were on a roll and you never finished your story about your trip to Mexico,” he said, my small flicker of hope returning in an instant.
“Okay, sure. Sounds good.”
AFTER A few more hours and a really great story about how Sam broke his leg a few years back on an ill-fated dare from Maya, we’d almost finished organizing the basement. I hauled another round of trash to the curb and looked at my phone. It was nearly half past five. When I went back inside, the whole house smelled amazing. Sam was in the kitchen, stirring a steaming pot on the stove. He looked at me and smiled, my whole body registering it.
“Well, it may not be done yet, but your basement is no longer a disaster. I can bring by those plastic containers for your important stuff the next time. That way things won’t get water damaged if you get another flood.”
Watching him in the kitchen, I had another vision of the domestic life I could have with a guy like Sam. Nick had offered me the chance and I ruined it. With Nick, it all seemed so boring and predictable. But with Sam, I might be willing to make an exception. Until I did something dumb and ruined that too.
“Thanks again, man. You’ve done an amazing job so far.”
“You helped a lot too,” I said, resisting the urge to flirt.
“Ah, I didn’t do anything but say yes or no.
I really do appreciate all you did today.”
“No problem,” I said.
He stopped stirring long enough to add something to the mix, and when he licked a stray drop of whatever it was off his finger, I almost lost my breath.
“Do you want to stay for dinner? It’s just pasta, but there’ll be plenty.”
I was so tempted to say yes, but I knew I shouldn’t. I couldn’t. I needed to keep things professional.
“That’s really nice of you, but I’ll have to take a rain check.”
“Okay. I don’t blame you. My culinary skills aren’t the best. Although, Kelsey always has nice things to say.”
“I’m sure your food is great. Better than mine, at any rate. I’m hopeless.”
I made my way toward the door, but I couldn’t bring myself to go very far.
“Maybe I could give you a few pointers sometime. Not that I’m an expert. But necessity is the mother of invention after all.”
He smiled as he lowered the heat on the stove and pulled open the fridge. I took it as my chance to make my getaway. Before he did or said anything else charming or adorable.
“Well, I should go,” I said as I turned around, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. The door was open when he called out to me.
“Wait, Wes.” I stopped, and by the time I turned around, Sam was right in front of me. “I need to pay you.”
Of course it was another practical matter. I should have known.
“Right. Sure,” I said.
“Is a check okay?” he asked.
“Sure. Whatever’s easiest for you.”
“Cool. Be right back.”
I stood in the foyer, listening to the music coming from Maya’s room. When Sam returned, he handed me the folded piece of paper and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Thanks again, Wes.”
“My pleasure.”
I made it outside when he stopped me again.
“Hey, you know, I’m taking the girls to the movies on Saturday. Some vampire thing they want to see. I thought of sticking around and catching a flick instead of driving all the way home. Care to join me?” he asked.