When he stands, I quickly grab on to his hand. “Don’t let go of me again.”
“I won’t.” He scoops me up in his arms and takes me from the cold room, down the hall, and stops in the living room, next to the wall of paint colors.
“See these? I made these for you. They’re real.”
There are a few bumps in the paint, and I run my fingers over them as if I’m reading braille.
“Feel that?” he asks.
“I do.” But I’m hesitant. I reread the lines he wrote for me, and it seems implausible that I would fabricate those.
With great care, he sets my feet on the floor and leads me to the kitchen. “Tell me what’s in the fridge.”
I’m not sure if this is a trick, and I’m scared to answer. I think for a moment. “That rice thing?”
He smiles and swings open the door with one hand while holding me steady with the other. “Risotto. Exactly. And you loved it.”
Now, I smile just a bit. “We ate in front of the fireplace.” I pause. “After…”
“Yes. After we made love. That was all very real. You couldn’t make up something that fucking outstanding, right?”
Sam is trying to get me to laugh, but I’m not there yet. He does have a point though. Next, he takes me back to the living room, back to the chaise where this nightmare started, and I lie down on his chest.
“You didn’t imagine anything,” he continues. “Everything that you’ve seen and felt since you got to Watermark happened. I know itseemscrazy, butyou’renot crazy.”
I’m nearly paralyzed by confusion. I feel a powerful deep relief that I am in Sam’s arms, but I am still desperately trying to clear the fog. I don’t even know what to ask him. None of this makes any sense.
“I’ve never…this is hard to…” Sam fumbles to find words. “I’ve never had to explain this before, so just bear with me, and I’ll start at the beginning.” He pulls a blanket from the floor and covers us. “We call it death tripping. There’s no language, no one to learn from, so we just call it death tripping.”
