“Well, I showered.” I give a slight chuckle. I know he can tell it isn’t genuine. It’s all the energy I have for this conversation right now. I look at my parents, who both give me a curious look. I’m grateful when they both turn back to their conversation with Dan. I know I told Liv I would try, but sitting here with Sam, it just feels impossible to untangle my broken heart and be the friend I should be to him.
Ethan would be disappointed in me right now.I feel the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes and try to shift my mind away from Ethan and the realization that he isn’t going to eat breakfast with us this morning. My mind was waiting for him to show up.
I turn to my breakfast to distract me. While I eat—mostly pushing the food around my plate—the rest of the group discusses floral arrangements and funeral plans. I provide my feedback when asked but otherwise keep my focus on the food on my plate.
By the time I finish eating, the group is split into three. My parents will go to the funeral home and get everything sorted there.Dan will return to the law firm to begin the probate and review Ethan’s life insurance policy.
Which leaves Sam and me to go to the florist. I don’t have any idea why the group was split this way because, truthfully, I heard the words, but they just wouldn’t register in my brain.
We all stand from the table and clear our dishes. I say goodbye to my parents and head out to the street where Dan’s SUV is parked. We decided to drop Dan off at the office, and Sam would drive his dad’s SUV to the florist.
I would have offered to drive my car, but the thought of driving is the last thing I want to do. I know Dan could tell when he suggested this arrangement.
I get in the back seat and look around, noticing how clean it is. There doesn’t seem to be a speck of dirt anywhere.
“Hey, Dad, would you mind stopping at the coffee shop down the street before we drop you off?”
He couldn’t be asking this for me. Could he?
Sam was never a big coffee person, but I am. When we were in college, we had a running joke that I would go anywhere as long as coffee or food was involved.
“Yeah, sure, kid.” I grin at Dan’s use of the word “kid” because not only is Sam 29 and not a kid by age, but he’s also clearly adult-sized—at six feet, three inches, he’s taller than a lot of adult men.
Dan starts up his SUV and pulls away from my parents’ house. His favorite country music station plays through the speakers. The music is quiet but still loud enough that I recognize the song I can’t name: “whiskey for my men and beer for my horses.”
I see Dan looking at me from the rearview mirror, inquiring, before I realize I just snorted. Sam turns around in the front seat, waiting for me to speak.
“This song.” I shake my head. “I never understood why someone would give beer to horses. It almost seems like animal abuse.”
Dan chuckles softly, his gaze returning to the road. Sam’s face cracks with a big smile that shows off the dimple in his left cheek.
“Beer can actually calm horses down, but I don’t think the song is about the beer.” Sam’s voice is filled with humor—he’s holding back a laugh. “The song is about taking justice into their own hands, and I think the reference to beer just means they are taking care of their traveling companions, including the horses.”
“Hmm,” is my only response as I stare out the window, not really seeing anything.
Once we have our drinks from the coffee shop drive-thru, the car fills with silence as we make our way to the law firm. It’s about a fifteen-minute drive, and I lean back, resigned to the quiet, slowly sipping on my vanilla latte.
Just as I close my eyes, I hear Dan speak up, “How are you doing, Kat?” His voice is gentle, but I sense a small amount of hesitation.
Dan has never really done well when people cry. When I was a pre-teen, he teased me about something I can’t even remember, but it made me cry. I remember Dan getting this look of sheer panic as he shouted for my parents. “Shit, I made her cry. What do I do?”
I look at him for a moment trying to unravel my thoughts. I’m at a loss for words to explain how I’m doing, and I certainly don’t want to open the can of worms that is my relationship with his son.
“I’m not sure,” I finally say. “None of this feels real.” I stare out the window again. “It still feels like Ethan will call me at any moment.” I close my eyes and breathe. “It doesn’t feel real.” My voice is too quiet. “I just talked to him yesterday morning. We talked about work and a case I needed help with. Did I even say I loved him before we hung up? I can’t stop thinking about that.” I didn’t mean to say the last part out loud, but talking to Dan always feels comfortable.
I don’t even realize tears are streaming down my face until Sam reaches back, handing me a tissue. Leave it to Dan to be prepared and carry tissues in his car.
I expect Sam to pull his hand back after I take the tissue. But he surprises me by taking my hand in his. I have to lean forward a little for us to reach, but his hand is comforting.
“Ethan knew how much you loved him. While I am sure you told him, even if you didn’t, there was no doubt in his mind.” Dan’s voice is strong and assured, and it somehow makes me feel better. Sam rubs his thumb along the back of my hand. “You two have always been inseparable,” Dan continues. “Even during those awkward teenage years when you were both trying to figure out your individuality, he would have done anything for you.”
“Thanks.” That's all I can get out as I sniffle and try to compose myself again.
Sam squeezes my hand gently, reminding me he’s there. I don’t know how long this will last, but I can’t imagine being without him. I can’t imagine having to do this without Sam. Maybe Liv is right. Maybe I need to try to be friends with him again.
“When Sam’s mom died, I remember feeling the same way. Like it wasn’t real, I mean.” Dan looks sad whenever he talks about Carrie. “Even at the funeral, it felt like we were just pretending.”
I was eight when Sam’s mom died. Sam and Ethan were ten. All I know about Carrie is what I hear from others. But she seemed like a great woman. She grew up a couple of houses down from Mom. They were instant best friends. Carrie and Mom did everything together. They attended college together, went to law school with Dad and Dan, and started working at the same law firm. They even discussed opening a bakery together, which they eventually did, leaving the law firm they disliked. Their friendship reminds me of how Liv and I are—besties from the first moment our eyes connected. Ride or die.
