Sam

Sam’s apartment hadn’t seen sunlight in years. The delightfully patterned though mildly torn and scathed curtains (damaged from the few gas-stove fire incidents of 2019 – the fees Sam had to pay the building’s manager for setting off the fire alarms and calling the fire brigade were immeasurable) that dotted the back wall were tauntingly proceeded by what Sam eloquently had titled, though only muttered to himself every now and again for some amusement, “My Ex.” The council had erected a bleak, grey-scale apartment complex that ran at least three times higher than Sam’s. Any thought of napping in the evening’s gift of a soft hug from our sun’s specific glow upon the sofa (which, regrettably, he’s now been trying to sell for three years. The sight of it did nothing but remind him of what he’d lost) was pointless.

Sam used to be proud of his apartment. A studio. Tucked right in the centre of the city. He learned to sleep with the bustling sidewalks and revving engines. He started counting the road rages he could hear at the intersection until he fell to sleep, and once The Ex came into his life, he turned it into a drinking game. Poetically, he so told himself, after over a dozen road rages in twenty minutes, the next morning he’d wake up on the old sofa, his old best friend. It brought him some comfort to think that when nothing seemed to feel right, he’d find himself back next to this window. Sure, what once was the view of a small city park was now a boastful, lacklustre monument of “life giveth and life taketh away-eth,” but it was still the same view lined with the windowsill where his mother sat.

He often felt guilty for not being able to afford a better frame. It was too basic for the contagiously joyous oddball that she was. She was what kept Sam going. She had a certain way with words. Sam had a few voicemails saved on his phone. “Sammy, we’re having your uncles over for dinner next week, tell Lara we’re all so excited to see her. Oh, and you too, of course!” She laughed. Always for a second too long, but that’s one of the obscure things Sam loved about her. 

“And hey, don’t worry about the job. Their loss. You’re a beautiful, hard-working, focused boy. You’ve better things you’re striving for; they just gave you the chance to pursue them further.” Click. She’s laughing again, and Sam smiles. “Your father just ate four chillies!” They’re drunk. “And then went to the bathroom,” She’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe, “and now there are six waiters awkwardly trying to help because I can’t – I can’t stop laughing!” Click. “Hey, Sammy, sorry to hear about Lara. She was a good girl, but as it goes, right now just isn’t your time. I love you. Head up, love, your forever is still out there. You’ve just got to walk the path until you find them.” Click. “Sammy, thanks for bringing the medicine. Your father’s stopped complaining now. Going on about his sore arms all day, he was driving me insane! Love you, Sammy.” Click. “Congratulations, Sammy! Woohoo, new job for you! I remember when I worked a register; it takes a lot of patience, integrity, and esteem, which are only some of what you already are. See you tomorrow, I love you!” Click. “Sam, your father’s in hospital. Call me.” Click. “Sam, it’s just me. Should I invite Lara to the funeral? Call me. Love you. Bye.” Click. “Sam, sorry I’ve been M-I-A for a few days. Are you okay? Call me back. I love you.” Click. “Sam? Can you call me back, please? It’s been two days, and I’m worried. I love you.” Click. “Hi Sam, come for dinner next Tuesday. I’ll make your favourite. Please come. I love you.” Click. “Sam, I called Lara today. I hope that’s okay, I’m worried, that’s all. She said she saw you going into your building with groceries yesterday, is your phone broken? Please, call me back.” Click. “I came by your apartment today. I buzzed, but I guess you weren’t home. I have your dinner from last night still if you want it. The house is quiet without your father. You’re welcome any time you like.” Sam hates this part. She takes a deep, shaky breath, and then she sobs. “I love you. I always will.” 

She died two weeks after.

It was a road accident.

Sam sometimes wondered if he could have stopped the accident from happening. Maybe if he’d seen his mother and tried to work through his grief to be there during hers, the world wouldn’t have had her crossing the road that day.

Still, there she sat. In a cheap, faux-wood frame, sitting before a blue flower that Sam picked from the park. She looks happy in the photo. Her smile always made Sam smile; the glow in her eyes sometimes made him forget how he’d treated her. She loved him, whether he felt it was deserved or not, and that’s what her smile in that frame means.

A voice from the door startled him, causing a painful thump in his head – he counted fifteen road rages last night.

“Sam Barnum? My name’s Chev, I’m here to check your fire alarm.”

“Fire alarm?” Sam muttered, “did I…” he glanced to the stove, which sat as sorrily as it always did, but the kitchen and curtains were unscathed. Sam called out with an awkward laugh, “No, there must be some mistake, there’s been no fire.”

“Oh, well, that’s good! This is just a routine check; we’re doing the whole building.”

Sam fell off the couch.

“Are you okay, sir?”

“Yes, sorry, one second!” He scrambled to his feet and slipped on what he hoped wasn’t residue from the night before. Sam flicked the chain lock and opened the door to a large man with a wild beard. They shared the same rounded shape. The man smiled. His rosy cheeks hinted that he was the kind of person to smile every day; it made Sam smile too. He welcomed Chev inside and led him to the fire alarm. “So, this is the one!” Sam tried a laugh before silently cursing himself for stating the obvious after the man had already stood himself under it.

“Mara!” The man shouted, staring back at Sam, who jumped, “Mara!”

“What?”

“My dog. I hope you don’t mind.”

Sam turned around as light bells rang through his doorway with the rhythmic thumping of four small feet. A black Labrador waltzed into the room and approached Sam with great, dark eyes. She nuzzled her head against Sam’s legs and jumped against him, excitedly tapping her front paws against his chest. He stepped away. Chev bent down to call her and stroked her glistening fur before she jumped onto the sofa.

“Sorry,” Chev said. “Down, Maya, down!”

“It’s fine,” Sam shrugged, “it’s seen worse!”

The man smiled and began observing the fire alarm.

Sam wondered if anyone had ever figured out what to do in this type of situation. He didn’t know if he should wait and watch, ask about the weather, or pretend awkwardly that a strange man who smelled slightly of coffee wasn’t standing in his living room, which was, literally, his whole home.

“Want a drink?” He finally asked.

“No, but thank you!” Chev smiled down at Sam, his complexion somewhat reminiscent of Santa Claus, “Don’t mind me. Carry on with your day. I’ll just be a minute.”

Sam walked to the kitchen to make himself a coffee, trying to act like this was a normal start to his day, when Mara whimpered excitedly and caught his eye. She was gazing at him with her tail wagging slightly, grinning as dogs do with her tongue perched out between her front teeth.

“You want one too?” Sam laughed to himself, finding odd comfort in having any company in his apartment. It was rare that he’d have even the slightest conversation with anyone anymore, besides the checkout lady at the grocery store. Barb. She never remembered his name. He thought it was rude. “So, how old is she?”

“Hm? Chev called.

“How old is your dog?”

“Oh, Mara? She’s seven, I think. Only adopted her last week. I found her, alone and she’s been my partner ever since. We're new to town, figured I'd take her in and make a new friend off the bat!” He tested the alarm, which made Mara jump.

And then, as Sam lifted the coffee mug to his lips, Chev started crying.

He tried to stifle it at first, but it quickly became loud and unavoidable. He rested his face in the palms of his hands as he hunched over and kneeled on the floor. Sam and Mara glanced between each other. Mara, being the one who clearly had some idea of what to do in this scenario, started towards the man and lay across his legs.

Sam hesitated. “Are you okay?” He took a tissue box and walked over.

“I’m sorry,” Chev took three tissues and blew his nose. “I’m on my way out, sorry.”

It wouldn’t feel right to send the man out in that state, Sam thought. Although, it would make his hangover a little easier if he didn’t have to host a stranger and his dog. He decided to ask, hesitantly, “Did something happen?”

Chev waved his hands to try and dismiss it as nothing, but as Sam knew too well, grief doesn’t stay well hidden. “My nephew died last month. Today’s his birthday, it’s just tough. I thought moving would help, but it's only made me feel more alone.” He mustered false strength and found his feet, holding his shoulders taught and his head as high as it could go. “I should go, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“My mum died.”

It took the silence in the room for Sam to realise what he’d said.

Chev stumbled on his feet.

“And my dad.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Not that it’s a competition,” Sam tried to backtrack, “I just mean, if you need someone to talk to, I know enough about losing someone to know how much it hurts.”

Mara looked up at him.

“Well, I appreciate the offer."

“I mean, you’re here anyway, right?” Sam said as he offered Chev a seat on the sofa. “May as well take advantage of it.”

“I shouldn’t, I have other rooms to check.” Chev went to stand when Mara leapt onto his knees and lay down, finding curiously quick comfort to close her eyes and get comfortable. Chev chuckled. “Guess you want to stay for a chat, hey girl? Alright. I guess it’s true what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“The universe draws people together, and I guess today it brought me to you.”

The vaguely familiar phrase perked Sam’s interest, “Where did you hear that?”

Chev shrugged, “Nowhere.”

“Sounds like something my mum would’ve said.”

Chev looked at the photo on the windowsill and smiled. “She’s beautiful.” He whistled, “Her smile is gorgeous.”

“I know.”

“Was she a spiritual person?”

“Sometimes. She’d say that everything happens for a reason. She believed in fate, and that people would always end up where they’re meant to be, for better or worse.”

“Sounds like a smart woman.”

“She was.”

Sam found himself smiling at her memory. It was the first time he’d thought of her without crying or feeling any sense of guilt.

“My nephew believed in reincarnation, but I’m not so sure.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a comforting thought if you’re going to die, to know that you’ll come back in some way, but for others – for the people around you, not so much. If reincarnation is real, then I’m going to be spending the rest of my life knowing that my nephew is out there, somewhere, and I’ll never find him.” He scratched Mara’s ears and whispered silly dog talk. She lifted her head and twitched her ears, gazing joyfully at Sam. “He was a good kid. Taken too soon.”

“What happened?”

“Overdose. A sad, cruel thing. He’d be thirty-two today. He just bought a house, too. The worst part is nobody got to say goodbye.”

Chev started crying again. Sam thought it might bring comfort to say that he didn’t get to say goodbye to his mum, either. He felt stupid saying it out loud. Knowing that he could’ve seen her and didn’t hurt him more than knowing that she was gone. He reached over and scratched Mara’s head. She crossed the couch and lay gently against Sam’s leg, blinking softly as she stared up into his eyes.

“You remind me a lot of him, you know?”

“Sorry?”

“My nephew. I’m not trying to creep you out,” he laughed innocently, “you just have the same eyes; same inflexion when you laugh.”

“I get that from my mum.”

“And your poise,” he started to tear up again. Sam blinked and tried a smile, feeling uncomfortable at the eye contact. “Sorry, it’s just nice to see other people like him. Other nice, well-mannered people who have a regard for others. You helped me, today. I want you to know that.”

Sam felt flustered. It had been a long time since anyone had made him blush. He felt thankful that he’d met this man, today. Thankful for the blissful weight of Mara in his lap, and the joyful thumping of her tail against the sofa, which reignited the life in its old, worn cushions.

“Maybe this was meant to happen,” Sam joked, fascinated by the deep hues of Mara’s eyes. “Maybe it’s not fate that brings people together, but fire alarms.”

Chev giggled.

“You’re welcome to come and visit whenever you like, Chev. You too, Mara. I can show you the best spots in town. Not much of a view from my apartment, but I assure you that there's a lot to be discovered.”

Chev’s smile plumped his rosy cheeks and squeezed tears in his eyes. “You’re a kind soul. I bet you get that from her. She was so lucky to have you.”

Sam always thought of it as him being the lucky one – blessed to know what it felt like to be loved; to be cherished; to be seen and heard as nothing more or less than the person he was. It was a special kind of love. A once-in-a-lifetime bond. Mara nuzzled her head further onto Sam’s legs, and he started to cry.

He took the picture from the windowsill and clutched it to his chest, holding the memory of his mother as close as he could. It was the first time he’d let himself truly grieve. And he’d never felt more pain.

Chev placed one hand on Sam’s shoulder and the other on Mara, who whimpered softly, and scampered her whole body over Sam’s legs. Her nose found its way into view as it sniffed beneath the picture frame, moving it carefully out of her way. Sam’s anguished longing for the woman who knew him best was replaced instead by the heart-warmingly curious, caring, and gentle eyes of Mara. She took care in softly kissing his chin and settled lovingly as Sam stroked her head.

“Sorry if I held you up,” Sam cleared his throat.

“Not at all,” Chev dismissed with his right hand. “But we’d best be going.” He rose from the sofa and continued, “Got a lot more alarms to check before the day’s done. Let's keep in touch. Come on, Mara!”

At Chev’s call, Mara hesitated before leaping from the sofa. She took one last glance up at Sam from his lap, panted a grin, and followed Chev to the door.

Before leaving, Chev turned back. “Who knows? Maybe, my nephew and your mother are still out there, somewhere. Maybe not in some other life, maybe not on the other side of the world. Maybe our memories of them keep their spirits alive. That’s why we can’t forget. We need to hold onto the good and the bad in order to hold onto them. I really did mean what I said. She’d be proud of you.”

“Thanks, Chev,” Sam smiled and turned to put the photo back on the windowsill. The blue flower was missing. It must have fallen behind the sofa, he thought.

“Any time, Sam. I’ll be sure to see you again, soon. Let’s get back to work, Mara.”

Chev left through the doorway and disappeared into the hall.

Sam started towards the door, ready to close it after his new friend and begin another day when the light rhythmic tapping of Mara’s feet made him pause. He turned, holding the door for her and wishing her sweet farewells when he noticed the blue flower caught on her collar, decorated as though it was no accident that it sat so elegantly on the corner of her grin.

She glanced up at him, waved her tail, and trotted through the doorway after rubbing herself along Sam’s legs. He gave her a pat, whispered a sweet thank-you, and said a sincere goodbye.

Sam closed the door once Mara and the flower had vanished from sight, and turned around to face his quiet apartment, finding peace in seeing the midday sun shine down on his mother.

Sam was happy.