Sharing Sam (13 page)

“Remember that day we came here?” I said, watching the waves creep up, then retreat. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner about being sick, Iz?”

“What difference would it have made, in the grand scheme of things?”

“You weren’t honest with me, though.”

“Are you mad?”

“I was,” I said. The waves gulped down the last of the castle. “But then I realized you’d done it because you wanted to protect me.”

Izzy cleared her throat. “Al, my mom’s starting to talk about going to Miami, getting an apartment there.”

“But why?”

For the first time I thought Izzy might lose it. She was shuddering and hugging her knees, and her mouth was quivering with the effort to keep from crying. She looked like one of those old china figurines with all the little cracks beneath the surface, the kind my grandmother collected. I knew if she started to cry, she’d crumble into the sand in a million pieces and I’d never put her back together.

“Tell me, Iz,” I soothed. “It’ll be okay.”

“She says she thinks I’ll get better care there if anything comes up. But I don’t want to go back there, Al. It’s like a waiting room for the dying.” She started to sob, a sweet, childish sob, as if she didn’t have the energy for any more than that.

I put my arms around her. I didn’t know what to say. There was this big, horrible hole where the words were supposed to go.

“Wherever you go, I’ll come be with you,” I promised.

“You can’t do that,” she sobbed. “It won’t be that way. There’ll be school and stuff.”

She closed her eyes, and I could see her make a conscious effort to compose herself. “Who knows?” she asked quietly. “Maybe I’ll just die in my sleep, in my own bed. That would be the way to go.”

She wiped her eyes and pulled away, embarrassed, and
struggled to her feet. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “Just a little exercise in self-pity. The pain medicine makes me weepy.”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be.” I stood too. I fumbled with my backpack, digging out my keys, stalling for time.

I was failing her. I was pretending because pretending was easier.

I made myself meet her frightened eyes. Maybe it was better to be honest and do it badly than to lie and do it well.

“You know what I think, Iz?”

She sniffled. “What?”

“I think,” I said slowly, finding my way to the words, “that when people die, it’s sort of like … well, like the turtles.”

I was afraid she might laugh at me, but she didn’t.

“What I mean is, we have a responsibility to keep them around so other generations can see them. To make sure they survive. I think it’s the same way with people. It’s our job to keep a part of the people we care about around. Even, you know, after they’re gone.”

I stared at the spot where the castle had been. It was just wet brown sand, flat and featureless. “I don’t know what happens when you die, Iz. But I do know that if I ever lose you, you’ll always be with me. Forever.” I fell silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. Or maybe I just don’t know how to say it.”

Izzy followed my gaze to the sand and the endless water beyond it. “Yes,” she said, very softly. “Yes, you do.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING
the sound of the phone cut through my murky dreams. Rain clattered against the window like impatient, tapping fingers.

I waited for Sara to get the phone; it was Saturday, after all. Then I remembered. My parents had dropped her off at the site of the basketball tournament for an early practice, then headed on to the clinic, which was open till two on Saturday.

I grabbed the receiver. “Yeah?” I said, half buried under my quilt.

“Alison, it’s Sam.”

I jerked up, instantly awake. “What? Is Izzy okay?”

“No, no, it’s not Iz. It’s Morgan.” I heard the whir of an electric drill. “I’m at the garage, see, and I would have called Izzy, but she was really beat last night.…”

“Is there a problem with Morgan?”

A sigh. “Not unless you consider being arrested a problem. They found him on Clementine again. Jane went over to check on him and when she saw that he and the horse were
gone, she called me. I was trying to get off work when the cops called to say they had this old guy over at the station who claimed he knew me.” He gave a short laugh. “Some poor cop had to drag that horse down Route 41 in the rain. They weren’t amused.”

“I’ll go bail him out,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

“Jane would have gone, but she lent her daughter the car. I hate to ask, but the thing is, my boss says that if I split one more time, I’m out of a job.”

“It’s okay, Sam. Really. I don’t mind. I like Morgan.”

“He promised me,” Sam said. “I really thought I’d gotten through to him, you know?”

“It’ll be okay,” I said, even though I didn’t think it would.

“Could you just pick him up? There’s no fine or anything, I don’t think, but if there is, you know I’ll pay you back.”

I’d never heard such uncertainty in his voice before, and it made me sad.

“I’ll take him back to the trailer and stay with him till you get off work. Take your time. We’ll play some poker.”

I heard metallic pounding, a muffled curse, more whirring. “Crap. Oh, crap.”

“What, Sam?”

“The damn horse.”

“I’ll figure something out. You’d better get back to work.”

“I owe you. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry, Sam. It’ll all work out.”

I hung up the phone and sneered at my reflection in the dresser mirror. “Liar,” I said.

I threw on my rain slicker and riding boots, grabbed a granola bar for me, and sliced an apple for Clementine. I found the
car keys after a ten-minute search through the living room, then ran out to the barn to hay and water Snickers. To my surprise, it was already done, the stall even mucked out. Sara? I grabbed a rope and ran to the car. It gurgled and coughed before settling into an uneasy idle. Rain sheeted the windows. This was not, I decided, a promising start to the day.

Clementine was tethered to a tree by the side of the police station. I parked the car and went over to reassure her with a couple of apple slices. She looked bewildered but content, very much like Morgan looked when I located him in the station, sitting placidly on a bench.

“Morgan,” I said, kneeling in front of him. “Do you remember me? Alison?”

His eyes were cloudy. “I’m going to Wisconsin,” he said.

“How about we go home instead? What about Cha-cha and the dogs? You can’t go to Wisconsin without them.”

“You ever play keno?”

“No, but maybe later we could play a hand of poker.”

“I have to take a piss.”

I pushed back my slicker hood. I very much wished I’d had a cup of coffee before leaving.

“There’s the can over there,” a jowly policeman told me. “Then we can take care of the paperwork. You the relative?”

“I’m the friend of the relative.”

“Nice old guy, but he oughta be … you know.”

I took Morgan’s hand. It was as light and fragile as a little kite.

He followed me obediently to the door of the men’s room. “This is the bathroom,” I said.

He looked at me, profoundly surprised.

“You said … you know. You wanted to … be here.”

He reached for the handle, poised to act, then stopped, suspended, as if his batteries had run out.

“I have to piss,” he said.

“Stay here.”

I went back to the policeman. He was typing, two-fingered, on a computer keyboard. “How old is that nag, anyway?” he asked me. “About a hundred?”

“Pretty old. You didn’t find any stray dogs or parrots when you picked Morgan up, did you?”

“Nope. You want to file a missing parrot report?” He did not smile.

“No, that won’t be necessary. But I have a problem. Morgan needs to use the rest room.”

“How exactly is that your problem?”

“I think he’s … uh, having second thoughts.”

The cop looked over his shoulder. He rubbed his thick jaw.

“These old farts, I know it’s hard, but you gotta put them somewhere for their own good, kid.”

“Maybe you’re right. Could you, uh … give him some moral support?”

“I’m not good with old people.” He went back to his typing. “Too bad,” he added under his breath. “I’m stuck here in the land of the living dead.”

I went back to the rest room. Morgan still stood there, paralyzed by indecision.

I opened the door a crack. “Anyone in there?”

My voice echoed off the yellow-tiled walls. No one answered.

I took Morgan’s hand and led him into the bathroom. I’d never seen a urinal before. I was not impressed.

I stood him before the first one. “I’ll wait for you outside,” I promised. “Don’t worry.”

“I have to piss,” he said.

“Then you’ve come to the right place.”

I slipped outside and waited, feeling frustrated and weary. I wondered how Sam could stand the relentless strain of caring for his grandfather.

After a long time Morgan emerged. He smiled at me without the slightest glimmer of recognition. “I’m going to Vegas,” he said.

“Come on,” I said, “I’ll drive.”

I talked one of the cops into driving Morgan home, pointing out that otherwise they were going to be stuck with a very wet, very old horse. I left my car there and rode Clementine back to the trailer. It wasn’t far, but we were both soaked to the bone by the time we got there.

Jane was waiting in the trailer, and she tended to Morgan while I got Clementine warm and settled.

“Girl, let’s get some hot tea in you,” Jane said when I stepped inside, making little puddles wherever I stood.

I shook off my slicker. “Caffeine sounds like a fine idea.”

“Darn, I wish I had my car,” Jane said. “But my daughter wrecked hers again and I lent her my Toyota for the week. Otherwise I could take you back to the station and you could be on your way.”

While the water rumbled in the kettle and the rain drummed down on the trailer, we started a game of poker, at Morgan’s suggestion. He fell asleep before the kettle whistled. I covered him with his old quilt, and the dogs huddled around him, a motley, breathing quilt of their own design.

“What’s happening?” Cha-cha asked.

“Shh, Morgan’s sleeping,” Jane said.

“It’s nice of you to help Sam out the way you have,” I whispered as Jane and I huddled near the tiny, ancient stove.

“I don’t mind. My husband had Alzheimer’s, and I know what it’s like. I admire the kid for trying.” When she smiled, all the lines in her strong, proud face rearranged themselves, like a shifting kaleidoscope. “I just think he’s got to wise up. He’s killing himself working, and he’s got the problems at school and all.”

I sipped the tea, warming my numb fingers on the chipped teacup. “Problems?”

“If I’d known they were going to suspend Sam, I would have stepped in, maybe taken Morgan in during the day. Thing is, I work part-time filling in as cashier at the Mobil on Route 301, and—”

“They suspended Sam?”

“He didn’t tell you? Great, Jane, and now you’ve gone and talked your mouth off. Well, it’s a cinch you would’ve figured it out soon enough.”

We heard the low growl of Sam’s motorcycle and the crunch of gravel. He stepped into the trailer, bringing the smell of rain with him. His face was flushed.

He went straight over to check Morgan, who didn’t awaken.

“Man, I’m sorry,” Sam said to us. “Jack wouldn’t let me off till now. I tried, but … He’s okay?”

“He’s fine,” I said. “I think he enjoyed himself.”

“What happened at the police station?”

“Morgan went to the bathroom. That was pretty much the high point.”

“No ticket, nothing like that?”

“No. They see this a lot, I think.”

He frowned. “He’s been doing really well, hasn’t he, Jane? Staying in, watching TV. He really seemed to understand.” He slumped against the wall. “I ought to get rid of that damn horse, that’s the problem here.”

“Sam.” Jane ran her hand over his wet hair affectionately. “That horse isn’t the problem.”

“Where is Clementine, anyway?” Sam asked me.

“I rode her home,” I said. “She’s all set.”

“No wonder you’re soaked.” He paced back and forth, not an easy task in the tiny space available. “So your car’s still back at the station?”

I nodded, sipping my tea. His agitation filled the trailer, making it feel as if Sam, not the rain and wind, were the cause of its vibrating and shuddering.

“I can give you a lift back on the bike,” Sam said.

“Wait till the rain slows,” Jane said. “You shouldn’t ride that contraption in this weather, Sam.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m already soaked.”

“I’ve got to pick up some groceries on the way back,” Sam said to Jane. “What can I get you?”

Jane frowned. “You are one stubborn young man. A quart of milk, then, if you insist on going. Low-fat, not skim, okay? I’ll stay here with the Lone Ranger till you get back.”

“Thanks, Jane.” Sam gave her a quick, shy kiss on the cheek, and she smiled with pleasure.

We rode through the rain in silence. By the time we reached the police station I was shivering, even though it was warm and muggy. I climbed off the bike and handed Sam my helmet.

“Have you got a minute?” I asked.

“I owe you a lot more than that.”

I motioned to my car and he followed.

We climbed in. It was a relief to be out of the rain, even though we were soaked. I turned on the car and cranked the heater. “Why didn’t you tell us about school?” I asked. “Izzy or me?”

Sam shrugged. “It just happened the day before yesterday. And anyway, I didn’t want to hear a lot of second-guessing. I’ve heard just about all of that I can take.”

“Oh?”

“They called my mom in Michigan and told her what was going on, not that she didn’t already know. So she calls me and tells me she really thinks it’s time for me to give up this whole notion, that it would be better for Morgan and for me if we went ahead and put him in a home, as much as she hates to do it.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘You didn’t exactly give up on Dad overnight, did you? You hung in there.’ To which she said she’d hung in way too long.” He pounded the dashboard. “Sorry. I’m just pissed off at all these people telling me what’s best for me. This is about what’s best for Morgan.”