by Ewens, Tracy
“I am so, so sorry,” he whispered across her lips.
“Peter, please leave.”
He kissed her forehead, lingered one beat longer than was bearable, and walked toward the lobby doors. He looked back and Sam turned to walk backstage.
When she heard the doors swing closed at the back of the theater, Sam could not catch her breath. She ran her hands over her face and slid down the wall backstage. The pain was instant. He needed her, loved her, but no matter what came out of his mouth, they were only words. How could she love him so much and be so deathly afraid of him at the same time?
Chapter Eighteen
Sam pulled into her driveway. Grady was sitting in a chair on her side patio, under the glow of the outside light. She grabbed her bags, got out of the car, and walked toward him.
“Grady?”
“I’m here for a confession, damn it. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but since I spoke to Peter about thirty minutes ago, and he was boarding a plane without you, I think it’s time I give it the old college try,” he said leaning back with his legs crossed in front.
Sam really wasn’t in the mood for this.
“Yeah, well I’m not taking confessions tonight, sorry. Have you been drinking again?”
She moved in closer, smelling for alcohol.
“Nope. I’m actually sober, and you’re going to want to hear this confession.”
“Oh, really? Well, I hope it a juicy one. Are you coming in? Coffee?”
“Sam, I said I’m not drunk. Let’s not push it with the choir boy coffee on a Friday night thing. Wine?”
Sam laughed and opened the door.
“I can do that.”
Grady was still in his suit, jacket off, tie loosely hanging around his neck. He looked spent and Sam knew Grady’s tie always came undone when it was time for conflict or a debate. As she turned the lights on, put her things down, and grabbed the wine, Sam was caught in another memory.
Grady majored in history at Stanford, much to his father’s chagrin, but he did put in a fine speech to his parents freshman year that ended with the phrase, “Mom, Dad, how can we possibly understand and guide people into the future if we don’t know our past?” Grady’s parents eventually let him out of majoring in political science once he explained he was not mocking his father by referencing George Orwell’s 1984. Grady slept through freshman literature, so he had no clue what his father was talking about when he’d retorted, “Riffing on a party slogan from Orwell’s 1984. Are you mocking me?” As the story goes, Grady quickly excused himself to use the bathroom and called Peter to find out who the hell George Orwell was. Peter talked him through it, and he returned to his parents with an effective response. Grady was allowed to major in history.
Many people would be surprised to know that underneath his gorgeous party boy image hid an expert on the history of the United States—and Europe. He was a complete geography nerd, too. Grady was a smart man, but not always a thinker, as Sam’s father had once pointed out.
“So,” Sam began, handing Grady a glass of wine and joining him in her living room.
“Okay, what do you have to confess, my son?”
She mocked him, making the sign of the cross with her wine glass.
“Well, I’m not a very good friend, and I’m starting to think I am, what’s that phrase, a big fish in a little pond.”
“Okay. Did something happen that brought you to this conclusion? Did you try to steal someone’s girlfriend?”
Grady hesitated.
“Wife?”
Sam laughed, still not taking him seriously.
“Something happened years ago, and then something happened recently. And I was a jerk years ago, but I’ve tried to make amends lately. But maybe I’m too late. Then I got to thinking, I’m not that damn powerful, and maybe what I said years ago didn’t mean as much as I thought it did. And then I thought I’d go get drunk, but then I thought it was time I was a good friend to at least one of you.”
Sam felt her jaw open at some point because she had no idea what he was rambling about.
“Um, let’s break this down into smaller pieces. What did you do or say years ago?”
“Ah, that’s the hard part. Can’t we start with the good vibes I’ve been putting out lately and work our way back?”
“Spill it.”
“He trusted me, and I wasn’t a good friend. Keep in mind that I was younger, and, at the time, I didn’t understand. I honestly thought it would pass, but Christ, four years later and it’s still all over him.”
Sam was now getting a little anxious.
“Grady, what are you talking about? Who’s he?”
“Peter. I need another glass of wine.”
Sam poured, Grady slipped his tie off and leaned forward as if he were going to explain something very complex.
“Peter? He trusts you. What does this have to do with Peter?”
“Sam, please listen. I made him feel like he would never be good enough. I guess in a way I told him to go make something of himself. I mean I suppose we always knew he was going to leave, didn’t we?”
Sam didn’t answer, so he continued.
“I feel like maybe I had something to do with him feeling like he needed to prove himself.”
“You can only make a person feel like they’re not good enough if they let you. Peter . . .”
“Yeah, thank you Miss Psychologist. Listen, please. That night, the night after you two went to the gardens. The big night.”
Grady put his fingers up to make quotes.
Sam was shocked. Grady knew she and Peter had been more than friends and that he left her, but the way he was phrasing it—”the big night”—made her think he knew about her in the gardens and the rain, with Peter. She hadn’t told him, so that left one person.
“He came to my house and told me he loved you. God, he was shaking and sick over it. He told me that he’d always loved you and you were the one. I wanted to be happy for him, I wanted to help him come up with a plan, but we were finished with college and it felt like the end and . . .”
“Oh, God.”
“It was so weird and I didn’t know what to say, but I knew he was going to New York, and I was going to lose him. I tried, but I couldn’t be happy for him. He was going to take you with him and then you would both be gone. Which I know sounds ridiculous now, but at the time you two were all I had.”
He must have read something on Sam’s face. Grady raked his fingers through his hair.
“See, told you. I’m a shit, right? He was so damn empowered and in love. I was a jerk, and I asked him what he had to offer you. I told him we were all friends and he should’ve left it that way. I told him he would never be good enough for you. I said a lot of things that a manipulative spoiled ass would say to get his way. I’m sorry, but it was a long time ago and . . .”
“What else did you say?”
Sam’s heart was pounding.
“I said you, you were happy here, and he would ruin all of that if he convinced you to go with him to New York. Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t want anything to change. He said I was probably right, that he needed to make something of himself and anything else was a distraction. He left that night deflated and we never spoke about it again and then he . . .”
“Left.”
She was numb, but he couldn’t honestly blame himself for what happened between them.
“Okay, so you acted like a jerk, but I seriously doubt that’s why things didn’t work out. You’re persuasive and all, but if he loved me as he said, he would have found a way to be with me and . . . well, he didn’t. So, you feel horrible, I agree it was a crappy thing to do to a friend, but you’re forgiven. We have all survived and moved on. I’m amazed you’ve been able to keep your mouth shut over the last few years. Impressive.”
“Sam, it’s not a joke. He loves you. Always has, but . . .”
“But? See, it always lies in the ‘but’ with Peter. He loves me, but . . . He wants to
be with me, but . . . Grady, thank you for coming over to clear your conscience. You’re absolved, and it truly doesn’t change the fact that Peter can’t be trusted. He wants things the way he wants them. He asked me to go to New York with him. I can’t do it again, I don’t want to try. My life is perfectly fine here.”
“I don’t think that’s true. That leads me to my second story, the one where I wasn’t a jerk. About a year after he left, while you were such a mess, I went to New York, we had lunch, and I apologized. Not quite in the same drawn-out way this has unfolded, but I told him that I was an ass and what I said was shitty and untrue. He forgave me too. You guys were always great friends.”
Sam laughed, it was better than crying.
“He said it probably worked out for the best and that things would never work between the two of you.”
She swallowed hard and continued to listen.
“I told him that was crap, and he said that when his father died, it messed him up, closed him off, so it was for the best. I told him you were already in, you know, in his heart, and how was he going to let that go? He said he’d gone through it all and his life in New York was fine. See, he used the same damn word you used . . . fine. Fine sucks, Sam. Anyway, as you know, we’ve kept in touch since he’s been gone, and I’ve been to see him a couple of times. His life in New York is great, and he’s a success, but he needs you Sam. I told him when he first got here that he was warm when he was around you.”
“You told him he was warm?”
“Yeah, shut up. I can be sensitive.”
“Clearly.”
“Anyway, the point is he came back for you, he’s sorted out whatever stuff he was dealing with. He knows never to listen to me, so what’s the problem? You were never going to make a go of it with that . . . mountain of a man, Brian.”
“That may be true, but I’m not making a go of it with Peter either. I’m fine, really. This has been good for me. I’ve been able to say a lot of things to him, and it feels healthier to leave it this way.”
They sat in silence for a minute. Sam traced the top of her wine glass with a finger.
“Do you love him?”
She looked at Grady and told the truth.
“I do. I will always love him. It’s not enough.”
“Remember when we were kids, and my parents put in the diving board?”
She nodded wondering where this was going.
“Remember how all three of us were afraid to go off the board, so we came up with the thing that we only jumped in threes. Remember? So when the other kids came over we were like this cool trio and eventually we really did kick ass, doing cannonballs and flips. Remember?”
“Yes, Grady. I remember, but what’s it have to do . . .”
“You’re scared, Sam. Not in a weenie weak way, but in a real, terrified way. Scared that you’ll let yourself love him again, and he will leave you. You’re afraid to get too close, to let anyone get too close, and you can’t control yourself with Peter. You love him too much. He loves you too much, too. I’ve known you both my whole life, and I can see it, feel it, anytime you’re even in the same room.”
Sam could barely form words. Grady was pleading for their love better than either of them could.
“Maybe I am scared, but you don’t understand. I lost myself when he left. I will never give that kind of power over me to anyone again.”
“First of all, you didn’t lose yourself. You were growing up, doubting yourself anyway. You can’t put that all on him. And he ran because, let’s face it, great sex with you or not, who wouldn’t run from Peter’s childhood?”
Sam blushed and laughed. Grady was one of a kind.
“My point is: the two of you need to climb back up on the board and jump one more time. I’d join you, but I helped screw it up the last time. This time you two need to do it on your own.”
Sam laughed.
“Get up there on the board with him, trust him, Sam.”
Grady took her hands.
“I love you both too much to let either of you settle for fine. There are no two people more annoyingly suited for each other. Your dad’s plane is gassed up and waiting for you. You already told him to kiss your ass, that probably felt good. Now go fix this thing so I can stop feeling bad.”
Sam started to cry. She was scared, but right then and there she decided to climb the steps of the diving board.
“Yeah, don’t do that. I can’t handle the crying. You can cry on the plane.”
Sam wiped her tears and kissed Grady on the cheek.
“You’re a good friend, Grady. I love you.”
“Okay, that’s enough warm and fuzzy. Now get going.”
Her mind screamed this was a dangerous idea, her heart ached with wanting. She went to her room to pack.
Chapter Nineteen
There was a line of cabs waiting outside the airport when Sam’s plane arrived in New York shortly before one in the morning. She had always appreciated the benefits of coming from privilege, but nothing brought that home like using your father’s private jet to fly across the country on a moment’s notice. She was grateful.
The cold night air hit Sam’s face with the reality of what she was doing. She had spontaneously arrived in New York uninvited and alone. For only the second time in her entire life she was fueled not by common sense or rules, but by passion and urgency. She smiled. It felt good. She was alive. While she had no idea how Peter would react, it didn’t matter. Well, maybe it mattered.
Removing the piece of paper Grady had given her with Peter’s address, Sam realized she hadn’t been to New York since she saw Peter’s play. She asked one of the cabbies to take her to 12 East Twelfth Street. Only in New York. She was sure Peter’s home was warm and wonderful, but the address sounded like a cold, impersonal cellblock. If Peter lived in Pasadena, his home would probably sit on the corner of Gardenia and Whispering Pine. California was much more whimsical, but she was in the big city now, where most of the whimsy was trapped behind brick facades.
Sitting in the cab, Sam looked up at the buildings flying by and the thousands of windows. Tiny lives playing out, one on top of the other. She wondered if anyone else was on her way to declare her love. She felt certain she was not alone. Even at this hour, some of those windows held women deeply in love and about to take a chance, even a second chance. New York was magical, especially at night.
She had imagined Peter in this city dozens of times. Grady had given her some extra understanding, and she was ready to take a chance. Her heart was racing, pounding out of her chest, and there was nothing she could do to keep it quiet.
Sam paid the driver and looked up at Peter’s building. There was no escaping: no sarcastic comments or dismissive glances. She had arrived. She had come all the way across the country. Bare, with her heart in her hand, standing right outside his door, she was taking the leap. Sam decided it was time to be more of a doer and not much of a thinker anymore. She needed to be brave and unlike Peter, she brought a whole foundation of love from back home with her. She knew who she was now: Peter would be a part of her life, not her everything this time.
Sam entered the lobby. It was warm, and an older man in a navy suit sat behind a rich redwood desk. He was reading and looked over his glasses as she walked further into the lobby. He then took the glasses off and came around the desk.
“Welcome, Miss?”
“Cathner, but please call me Sam.”
She extended her hand.
“Sam, short for Samantha?”
She nodded.
“Very well, Sam, my name is Bobby, and I’m the doorman for the building. Is there something I can help you with? Are you here to see someone?”
“Peter, Peter Everoad,” Sam blurted out, as if the words could no longer stand to be hidden away.
“Mr. Everoad, he makes sure I call him Peter too. You must be his . . . friend?”
He smiled and looked at her, trying to figure out who Sam was and how she fit in Peter’s life
. Sam was not sure how good a job he was doing and then it occurred to her that Bobby might not let her go up because it was so late.
“And is he expecting you, Miss . . . Sam?”
“He is not, and, well, it’s a surprise. I’m his childhood friend, and you see, he left California to come home for the weekend, and I’m ready now. It’s just a diving board, and everyone deserves a second chance.”
Sam was lost in her own thoughts, nervous and definitely rambling.
“I see. You must be exhausted having arrived from California. I’m not sure about the diving board, but it sounds important, and I’m sure Peter will be very happy to see you.”
She was glad Bobby thought so, she wasn’t so sure.
“I’ll call him straight away and we’ll get you settled for the night.”
He was going to announce her. When Sam had pictured this in her mind, there had been no doorman. Bobby was a perfectly lovely man, but she had played the scene differently. She tried to remind herself to go with the flow, that she was a doer. Bobby picked up the phone behind his desk, and Sam thought she was going to pass out.
“Good evening, Peter. Sorry to disturb, but I have a lovely young lady in the lobby that has flown some distance to see you.”
He grinned at her, enjoying his little role as the messenger.
“Yes, no, Sam . . . Miss Samantha Cathner. Yes, I’m quite certain, sir. Shall I send her up? Very well, yes, you too. Goodnight.”
Bobby hung up and helped Sam with her bag.
“He seemed quite shocked, but . . . thrilled to see you. Take the elevator to the top floor, and when you get off, his door is the first left.”