Earthworms

Sam stands at the end of the front pew at her Dad’s funeral. How did she get stuck here? A line of random faces forms in front of her as people make their way to the exit. One by one they hug her. She might collapse. She’s the only real family her Dad has left, but she’s amazed by the number of people here. You must be his daughter, says a lady with puffy white hair. Oh, he just loved you so much. The lady pats her on the shoulder as if the say it’s going to be ok. In the blur of faces shaking her hand, holding it for too long, and saying how sorry they are, Will comes into focus. His soft green eyes take away the chaos. A calmness flows through her as he pulls her into his arms and she melts into him with her eyes closed. He hugs her for a long time. She’s not sure how long. Longer than everyone else, long enough for her boyfriend, Todd, to clear his throat as if to move Will along. But she doesn’t let go.

Later that day, she breaks up with Todd. At first he refuses to accept it. You’re just out of your mind right now, Sam, he says. Maybe, she says, I guess I’ll find out later. Please leave. He shakes his head and says, you’re fucking unbelievable. Then he gets out of the taxi and slams the door harder and louder than she thought possible.

When she gets home that night, she collapses onto the two-seater, chocolate brown couch her Dad bought her when she moved into the tiny apartment. She cries into her yellow throw pillow until her face puffs up two times it’s normal size and she can no longer breathe through either nostril. Then she falls asleep and doesn’t wake up until the next afternoon.

Six months later, she sits in her small apartment, morning sunlight floods through sheer white curtains. Like every morning, she drinks her coffee alone before walking to work. She stares at the picture of her Dad that sits on the dinner tray she uses as an end table. It’s a punch in the gut each morning, but she doesn’t think she can take the picture down. It feels almost masochistic to think of him on purpose. Like she has a longing to make herself feel sad. But the thought of forgetting him, that forgetting him is even a possibility brings a new kind of low feeling. She decides she doesn’t have much control over that feeling.

Her phone buzzes, rattling the tray table, and she’s surprised to see a message from Will. She hasn’t seen him since the funeral and she had avoided all of his previous attempts to communicate with her.

Hi. Sorry for coming out of the blue. Can we do dinner?

Ok. Benny’s tonight, 8? she says.

I’ll see you then.

Her insides ripple.

Now, she walks into Benny’s and the familiar smell of fried egg rolls and salty miso fill her nostrils. Her old favorite place. The place Sam and Will gathered with all their friends every weekend, for years, to drink and complain about their shit jobs, or shit professors. Part of her ached for those days. And part of her wanted to run back home.

The last time she was here, about a year ago, they were celebrating Will getting a real job as an electrical engineer, as if any of his previous jobs weren’t “real jobs.” He finally finished his degree after six years. It took him a little longer due to working full-time and lack of funds along the way. Sam started drinking before dinner, in hopes it would be easier to act pleased about Will moving away. It didn’t help.

She rode with Jenna and Riley to Benny’s, who asked her a dozen times, Are you sure you’re gonna be ok, tonight? To which Sam answered a casual “yes” each time while laying across the back seat with her forearm draped over her eyes. She felt a little dizzy.

Benny’s was packed and loud that night. Will sat at their usual table in the back of the restaurant with a group of his work friends, all there to see him off. They pulled up three chairs at the far end of the long table.

Will avoided her eye. She watched him laugh and joke and acknowledge everyone at the table except her. It was her fault he was leaving. She pushed him away. Will was someone she had always wanted, but was saving for later, when neither of them wanted for anyone or anything else. Some nights they went home together and she knew there would never be another person like him. No one knew her like he did, or could make her feel as safe as he did. But neither had ever effectively communicated their feelings to the other.

He didn’t tell her he was leaving, or for how long. She was invited to his going away party via group text message, which made her want to crawl into a very deep hole and never come out again.

She faked a smile when she realized everyone else was laughing at something. Her hands were shaking. Will still hadn’t looked at her. She didn’t belong there. She finished off her drink and headed for the door. Where are you going? asked Jenna. Sam kept walking.

Outside, she breathed in the cold air and the tears she held in all day started to trickle down. She didn’t know where she was going.

A tug on her arm from behind turned her around and pulled her into Will. His arms enveloped her and her face fell into his shoulder like a lost child finding its mother.

I didn’t know. I didn’t know you didn’t want me to go, he said.

He smelled like Will, and he was warm, his body hard and familiar pressed against hers. She pulled away.

How could I ever want you to go, Will?

He looked hurt.

I thought this was over. You said it was over.

I was mad at you, Will. I was jealous of you and Mallory. Jesus Christ. You’re my best friend, she said.

Mallory was a pretty French girl Will saw for maybe three weeks.

I have no idea how you feel, Sam. Most of the time you treat me like I’m nothing to you. Then we’re together. And it’s amazing. Then you pretend it didn’t happen. He scratched his head. Fuck, Sam.

And now you’re pissed at me for leaving, after six years of this? I can’t keep doing it. It’s… It’s painful. To be honest.

Painful? she says. All of a sudden she was sober.

Ok, Will, she looked at her feet. Go back to your dinner. Please. I’m sorry for this.

He stared at her for a long time, like he was trying to figure her out. And she stared back.

I never know how you feel until we’re in a situation like this, he says in a quiet voice.

I could say the same for you. She looked away from him, into the street. Eyes full.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. I love you, Sam.

Why are you telling me this, now? She let go of his hand and covered her mouth to hide the sob, then turned and walked away from him.

The next morning he left for Oregon.

Now she stands at the host stand at Benny’s. A tall Asian boy leads her through the dim-lit room full of brown circular tables, mostly empty, with heavy red-padded chairs neatly tucked around them.

She’s surprised to see Will is already here, sitting at the very back of the restaurant. He’s dressed in his usual black t-shirt with dark jeans. His curly hair is tamed mostly out of his face with just a few ringlets resting on his forehead. He looks thinner and a little tired. When he sees her, he smiles, mostly with his eyes. His mouth-closed grin is a rarity she forgot she adored. He hugs her when she gets to the table, then they sit across from each other.

You look good, as always, she says.

And you, though you look a little thin, he says. Tough few months? he asks.

So you lied. I don’t look good. She laughs.

He shakes his head. You're fishing. Anyway, I messaged you a few times. And called. You know, after your Dad.

It’s been a weird time, she looks down at her hands.

If he knew how much she agonized over the messages he sent. When he called, she found it nearly impossible to ignore. She decided it was for the best.

The day of the funeral: Sam. I’m so sorry to hear about Alvin. I’m here for you. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.

Three Days after the funeral: Sam. I care about you. You can talk to me. And I really hope you’re ok.

One month after the funeral: Still here if you need me.

She longed for him. If he were there, maybe she could get out of bed. Maybe she could leave her apartment. He would make it easier somehow. She knew. He would drop everything for her.

I know it helps nothing, but I’m really sorry, he says.

She shrugs. I’m ok.

His lips form a straight line and he nods. So, where do you think he is now? Your Dad, I mean.

Where do I think he is? Her eyebrows form an arch.

Yes. I mean, heaven? Hell? Did he come back as a dog? He props his elbows on the table and leans slightly forward. What do you think?

She laughs. I’ve actually put a lot of thought into this.

Really?

And I’ve come to the conclusion that I absolutely do not know anything for sure. She shakes her head and says, I mean, if he were a ghost, if his soul is floating around out there somewhere, he definitely would have come to say hi, right?

Definitely, he agrees, nodding.

But, I’ve seen no signs of him. Right after he died, I was pretty freaked out about it actually. Like maybe he was watching me or something. Like, can he see me while I’m peeing? But, I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. I think he’s just gone.

That’s depressing, he says. Only you would worry he could see you while you’re peeing. He shakes his head and laughs harder than she expected.

It’s kind of depressing. She shrugs. But probably the truth. He isn’t here anymore. I can find some optimism in that at least. I hate the phrase “he’s in a better place” because no one knows that. But at least he’s not here. She shrugs. A familiar tightness in her throat.

The server takes their drink order. She orders a cabernet, he asks for a beer.

So, you think when I die, it’s just over? Poof. Dead. It was all for nothing? Back to the dirt?

She pretends to think it over and looks up at the ceiling. Yes. It’s all for nothing. She sips her wine. What do you think?

I want to think there’s more to it than that. I guess that’s very human of me. I would like to think I’ll get to go somewhere fun after this.

Somewhere fun? She laughs. You mean you’re not having fun here?

Yeah, fun. When I was a kid, I imagined Heaven as a place where you could just do whatever you wanted all day. You could just eat ice cream and roller skate all day long, and if you got tired of that, you just snap your fingers and do the next thing. He takes a drink of his beer and smiles at her.

And what do you think now?

Honestly, I think life truly isn’t fair, and it was never meant to be fair for us, or for anyone else. There’s no more afterlife for me than there is for all those crusty earthworms that dry up on the sidewalk in the hot sun. So, I agree with you. It’s probably just back to the dirt for all of us. Which sounds depressing, but is actually kind of relieving in a way.

Wow. That is depressing. Did we come here to talk about death?

He laughs. Then his expression changes and his brows furrow a little.

Well, I have some news. He clears his throat. Not good news. By any means. But you were the first person I thought of when I found out, so I came back to tell you.

I’m the first person you thought of when you heard bad news? That’s not too surprising. A nervous chuckle bursts out of her. She starts to fidget with a scrap of straw paper and shifts in her chair.

He doesn’t laugh, or smile. His eyes look wet and his jaw is clenched.

Her appetite is gone.

First, I want to tell you that I love you. And I always have, whether I knew it or not. I feel like that’s important to say. Though, none of it really matters. I’ve enjoyed my life with you more than any other time in my life. If I believed in heaven now, you would definitely be there. In my version of it anyway.

Tears start to fall from her chin to the table as she stares at him, waiting. Then she says, I love you too, Will and he reaches for her hand across the table. The dark circles under his eyes become more obvious. His hand is ice cold. Why is it so cold?

Are you sick? she asks.

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

She nods and they stay silent for a while holding hands across the table.

Then he says, wanna order some egg rolls? And she nods.