Six Months On

I looked in the mirror to check my hair. Straightened, just the way they liked it. My nails were painted a soft lavender, and my lips shined with a pear flavored gloss. I had a on a white and blue striped blouse with anchors going down along each side of my torso.

God how they loved nautical shit.

It had been six months since I last saw them. Texts had gotten scarce and calls were almost non-existent now. They had called me to say they were coming back to town this weekend, and it’s been wrecking my brain ever since.

I moved to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of white wine. It was the cheapest stuff I could find, but it didn’t taste that bad, and it got the job done. I walk over to my sofa, and land down heftily. Tom wakes from the blanket he was sleeping on and walks over to my lap. After circling a few times, he finds the perfect spot, and curls up. I run my fingers through his new, thick winter coat.

“Where would I be without you,” I say smiling down at him. He purrs, content.

Six months… what am I even going to say to them? What could I say to them? I want to see them, but the I don’t think we can go back to how it was before they left. Especially not after the last time we talked. What even are we anymore…?

There was a knock at the door, and Tom jumped up and ran off. My heart began racing, trying to keep up with my mind.

It’s time – what do I say – what’s going to happen – what if things aren’t the same – what if we fight – I don’t want to fight – do I even want this – was this all a mistake – should I have just ended things over the phone?

Three more heavy knocks fall on the door.

I stand up, down my wine, and take a deep breath.

Stop worrying, and just see how it goes.

I walk over and open the door.

“Gwen! Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much.” Sam wraps their arms around me and gives me a tight squeeze. The type of hug you’d expect after not seeing someone for six months. I barely had a chance to lift my arms up before they let go.

“I missed you too,” I responded, not nearly as enthusiastically as Sam had said to me.

“I got these for you.” They handed me a bouquet of blueish-purple lilacs.

“Oh, thank you,” I take the bouquet, “you remembered how much I loved lilacs.”

Sam moved into my apartment, closed the door behind them and started taking off their jacket. “Of course, I remembered. How could I forget after that time at that park downtown?”

“When the florist was out of lilacs, but you saw some on that island in the lake.”

“So, I swam and picked you some fresh ones.” Sam smiled, and then hugged me again, this time giving me time to wrap my arms around them as well. “I also got you this.” Sam reached down for a bag they had set down, and pulled out a small, palm sized object. “You said your last one died, so I got you a new one.” Revealing what was in his hand, I saw a little owl, with green leaves sprouting from its head.

“A succulent. Thank you, Sam,” I said, stunned. Was I just exaggerating all that had happened in the past six months? Maybe we could go back to how things were. I think I’d like that.

Sam placed their hand on my arm and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.

“I really have missed you; you know. I know these past six months have been hard, but I’m here now, and I want to work on us.” Sam looked at me with big, soft brown eyes, and I felt like everything he said was with sincerity.

“You said that last time you were here too.” I said, moving myself away from Sam. They frowned.

Picking up the bottle of wine I had set down next to the couch, I gesture toward Sam, asking, “Wine?”

“Yes, please,” Sam said, with a drop of disappointment in their voice.

I walked to the kitchen and grabbed an extra wine glass. Entering the other room, Sam was now seated on the couch petting Tom.

“I missed this little guy,” Sam said, gently stroking Tom’s fur. I poured both of us a glass of wine and offered them one. “Thank you.” Sam sipped the wine and looked like they were deep in thought for a moment. “You always know how to choose the best cheap wine.” Sam smiled at me, and I let out a little exhale.

We sat without talking. Sam petting, and Tom purring. Me, sipping my wine, trying to keep my cool. I wanted to just down the whole bottle, and not have to think about what’s best for me, or us. So, I sat, and slowly drank my wine, staring into space, trying to detach myself from this situation I put myself in. It seemed like we sat there for at least 30 minutes, only sharing the occasional glance.

Sam leaned over and gave me a little push. “So, what are you thinking about?” Sam asked, just wanting to say something. They were always like that; always needed to be talking or hearing someone talk. This must have been unbearable for them.

“Not really anything.” I responded.

“Come on! You’ve got to have been thinking of something. We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes.”

“I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about how we could… you know, work.”

“What do you mean? We’ve always worked. Why should that change now?”

“The past six months has changed both of us Sam. No matter what happens, things can’t be the same as they were back then.” I rest my head on my hand, and look away from Sam, but still facing him. I should have prepared more for this conversation. I knew it was coming, but…

“I’m trying to tell you they can. If we just work at it hard enough, we can be as happy as we were.” Sam had finished their wine and was getting fidgety. “I need a drink,” Sam said, without looking at me.

“Do you want some more wine?” I offer the bottle to them. Sam waves it away.

“No, I mean a proper drink.”

“I think I still have that tequila from the last time you were here,” I said with a mixture of worry and disappointment.

“That’s fine.” Sam leaned back on the couch and propped their feet up on the ottoman. Tom was no longer by his side.

I searched the kitchen, racking my brain on where I could’ve put that half empty bottle of tequila. Then I remembered Jaime had come over a few weeks ago, and cooked shrimp using the tequila. I looked in the spice cabinet, and sure enough Jaime had put it there. I grabbed it, and poured out a small glass for Sam. I stuck a lime on the side, hoping they’d see this as some kind of peace offering. I walked back into the living room and handed Sam the tequila.

“Thanks,” they said, taking the glass from my hand without looking at me.

We sat in silence for a few more minutes before I decide to break it.

“What were you hoping to get out of tonight?”

Sam turned to me, and with those big, sincere eyes said only one word, “You.”

I blushed, and almost fell for them again, like I had when I first met them four years ago. I closed my eyes and sighed, then took another big swig of my wine. “How can you say that so easily? After everything that’s happened?”

“I apologized for that. I thought we had moved on.” Sam took a long drink of their tequila.

“Moved on? You had me fund your addictions! And that was only three weeks ago!”

“Well, I’m three weeks sober.”

“You’re drinking right now!” I said with frustration, and tears beginning to well up in my eyes.

“I’m only drinking because you offered,” Sam said dismissively.

I wasn’t ready for this conversation. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to just apologize for even bringing it up. Why couldn’t I just deal with it? For all I know, this was Sam’s first drink in three weeks.

“You hurt me Sam. You hurt me bad, and if we’re going to be together, I think I need more than three weeks to just, even process all this shit.” After a pause I said, “I think you should go.” The tears were coming now, and there was no stopping them. I sniffled, and put my face into my arm, praying that Sam would just leave. I heard Sam take another long drink of tequila, then a weight lifted off the couch. They took their coat off the hangar, and I thought I would finally be alone.

Sam put their coat over me, then sat down and wrapped their arms around me.

It felt good. Having an intimate moment like that. Six months was a long time to go without that physical aspect of affection. Words can be so powerful, but so can a hug. I gave in and shrunk myself into Sam’s arms.

“I don’t want to hurt you again. And I’m sure as hell not leaving again,” Sam said, stroking my arms. They had rested their head on mine. “I can give you some time. Some space. If that’s what you want.” They had now begin stroking my hair. I missed them stroking my hair.

We sat there for a while. Me, trying to calm down, and stop crying; still hiding my face. Sam, petting me, and breathing in a slow, rhythmic way. Sam’s hold on my body was firm and supportive, but they weren’t squeezing me. I hadn’t been this physically comfortable in god knows how long. Despite being an emotional wreck, and having a bad brain, I felt relaxed and comforted by Sam’s presence.

The ones closest to us hurt us the most.

All this pain had been caused by Sam’s vices. They drank. They did coke. They had even cheated on me once. They said they couldn’t even remember that night, but they couldn’t remember most nights in the past six months. I knew this. I had never felt so betrayed, broken, and unwanted, then when they told me. Over the phone no less. Would all of this have happened, had they just stayed here? Why did they have to move away? They said it was just temporary, but if we couldn’t even do six months, how were we supposed to do two years? Yet, Sam just being here made everything better. I felt like we could fix things, and that they were serious about working on themselves. I’ll always have that pain, that hurt that Sam caused me, but I can also have this. This comfort and support I feel right now. My last partner left after they found out my bad brain caused me to have trouble sleeping, and the one before that left after one of turns. Sam had never shied from those dark parts of me. In fact, they were always the first one at my door when I stopped responding to everyone’s messages, and they always understood when I wasn’t able to do things for days at a time. They were there, and they got me out of bed and got me to brush my teeth, and take a shower, and made me food for the day, even if they were busy. Things were so fucked now, and I did want to believe Sam, that if we tried hard enough, we could go back to how things were. I wanted to believe in them. But the pain remains, even as it subsided, and gets buried under other trauma, and happy memories, it remains. Just like the shells of old hermit crabs at the bottom of the ocean. And every once in a while, those shells can wash up on the shore, and be found again. I don’t know what I want to do, and I don’t know if I want to be with Sam, or even if I can be with Sam. So, I will lay here, in their arms, for as long as I can, trying to stave off the inevitable question. The inevitable questions. What are we? What are we going to be? Can we still be friends? Who gets Tom? I try to shut my brain off before I start crying again.

“Hey,” Sam said in subdued voice. “How are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” My voice muffled by talking into this cocoon Sam made for me.

“Well, that’s okay.” Sam patted my head. “Look at me.”

After a moment, I pushed myself up, wiped my eyes, and looked at Sam. They placed one hand against my cheek, still was red and hot.

“I love you,” Sam said with earnest. “And I am willing to do anything to be with you.”

           I put hand against their cheek and kissed them. I was sick of crying. I was sick of thinking.

           Sam pulled away and looked deep into my eyes. “Does this mean –”

           “I don’t want to talk anymore,” I cut him off and kissed him again.

           We ended up in the bedroom, and spent most of the night entangled, with scarce words exchanged, until we both passed out, holding each other.

I rubbed my eye and tried to get the dust out of it. I managed one eye open and checked the clock on my bedside table. 4:37AM. Sam and I were no longer entwined, and I had to pee, so I got up from the bed, as carefully and quietly as I could, and headed to the bathroom. I abstained from turning on the bright, yellow light, and manage my way around through touch and memory. Once I was done, I walked softly bad to the side of the bed. Sam was sound asleep. I sat on the side of the bed, and my bad brain started up again. Was this a mistake?