Ode to a Lost Soul

Some days, most days, I wish I had never met him.

I was fine before he came along.  Now he's lost forever, and so am I.

I didn't know what I was missing.  He showed me life; he showed me myself; he showed me I was beautiful.

But I wasn't beautiful.  He made me beautiful.  Without him, there is nothing left but ugliness and sin.

I wish I had never known.  I wish I had never seen that things could be better.

I wish I wasn't the one to drive him away.  I wish he could have stayed.

Love isn't all it's cracked up to be.  He loved me, but I didn't love him enough, and now it's too late.

When he showed me I could have it all, I thought I wanted even more.  I turned my back on him; I went my own way.

I was always broken.  Even after he fixed me, a part of me was still lost, cracked, incomplete.

If I could have stayed who I was, things would have been fine.  If I hadn't been offered a better way, I never would have known any better.

It never would have hurt so bad when I screwed up.

I'd been screwing up all my life.  What right did he have to come along and make me feel guilty for it?

What right did he have to forgive me once, but not forgive me again?

It's his fault I feel this way, and I hate him for it.

I hate him because I loved him, and he loved me, but it wasn't enough.

I wonder sometimes if he thinks of me and wishes we had never met.  Would we both have been better off that way?  I never brought him anything but pain.  At least I was happy for a while.  I don't think he ever really was.

Was and had been.  That's all we have now.  I don't even know where he is, or even if he's alive.

I'm sure he's fine.

I'm not fine, but I'm sure he is.

He told me before I could recover, that I could become something better than I was.

But eventually, even he gave up on that dream.

Part of me just wants to lay down and die, to show him he was wrong at first and right in the end.

Another part of me wants to prove his final words to me to be a lie.

He loved me more than I ever loved him at the time, and now I love him too much to let go.

I'm lost.

I can't find my way back on my own.

Is he what I need, or is what I need inside me, or somewhere else?

I want to say he lost out, but I know he didn't.  I know he's better off without me.

I want to survive; I want to be strong; I want to go on.

It's just hard to do it all alone.

I'll find someone else, but no one quite like him.

He was truly unique, one of a kind.

I'm unique, too.  But I'm lost.  And no one wants to find me.

No one should.

I remember how things once were, and how they can never be again.

What reason do I have to think I'll ever find someone like him again?

What reason do I have to think I can find myself?

He thought me to be strong and then gave up on me at the end, leaving me in my weakness.

I hate him for it.

I hate him so much.

And I feel completely lost without him.

If I ever get another chance at happiness, I'll probably screw it up again.

I know who I am.

We can change, but we can't change who we are deep in our souls.

I will always be lost.

I suppose, in a way, we're all lost.  Some are just better at hiding it than others.  Most don't even know they are lost.

I wish I had never met him.  Then maybe I wouldn't have realized how lost I was.

I have this dream that some day I'll see him again, and I'll smile and him and he'll look surprised to see how well I'm doing.

The first step in that dream is for me to actually be doing well.

I'm not there yet.  I don't think I can ever be.

But maybe someday, if I do see him again, he'll see that I'm not quite so lost, that at least he taught me something.

And as much as I hate him and as much as I hate myself and as much as I wish we'd never met, it's still that hope of being just a little less lost, a little closer to home, that keeps me going.

Someday this lost soul will find its way, not all the way home, but a little further from the edge.

A little safer.

A little more secure.

A little more in love with myself.

I am beautiful, even without him, at least I can try to be.

Someday, I won't care so much that I'm lost because I'll finally, truly accept that we're all just the same, living out our own little existences as lost souls looking for home.

And one day, if we're really lucky, we just might find it.

The House

It's only day seven of this three month experiment and I'm already deeply regretting my decision to sign up for this.  I thought it would be interesting, getting to meet someone different from me.  I knew it would be a challenge, but I thought it would be a beneficial challenge.  I thought they would give me someone from a different culture, someone with different religious beliefs or family traditions.  Someone who could teach me something, who would work with me.  Instead, they gave me a lazy slob.

I should have known this was how it was going to go.  They told me that they were going to pair me with someone who was drastically different from myself.  And I know I'm a good, smart, hardworking person.  So the opposite of that is a terrible, stupid, lazy non-person.  I guess scientifically he's still a person, but he certainly doesn't seem like a human being.  He seems more like a machine.  All he does is play video games all day, and drink the soda they provide and complain that there isn't more beer.  I think he's showered twice since we've moved in and I'm not convinced he actually uses shampoo at all, as greasy as his hair is.  I'd go into his bathroom and check, but I'm afraid of what I might find there.

They told me that in the case of an emergency, they'd let us out early.  Now I'm trying to figure out what sort of artificial emergency I could create.  It has to be something believable, but something that won't hurt either of us.  I've tried just shouting at the intercoms that this isn't working out.  I didn't think they could even hear me until yesterday when a voice said to just stick it out.

I'm trying to stick it out, I really am, but I can't imagine spending another 12 weeks with this man.  He's truly repulsive.  I wanted to gain something from this intellectually.  All he wanted was a free place to crash and free food for three months.  To him, it's an all expenses paid vacation.  To me, it's a nightmare.  He's gotten everything he wanted and expected, and I've gotten nothing.  Maybe I'm not the smart one after all.

------------------------------

Peter and Sarah both agreed to this, but for drastically different reasons.  Sarah's journal entry above pretty much sums it up.  At that point, Peter couldn't have told you much of anything about Sarah's motivations, but he probably would have agreed with her assessment of his own.  At that point, Peter didn't even know how upset Sarah was.  He didn't notice.  He wasn't very observant.  Would he have cared if he had noticed then?  Well, I'll let you be the judge of that.

------------------------------

Day 8:  Peter showers for the third time.  Sarah showers for the eighth time.
Day 9:  Peter throws together a PB&J with a side of chips.  Sarah waits until he's done making a mess in the kitchen and then cooks some pad thai.  She keeps the kitchen door closed so Peter won't smell it and hides the leftovers in the vegetable drawer where she hopes he won't notice it.
Day 10 early morning:  Peter notices the left over pad thai at 4am while Sarah is sleeping.  He eats most of it, but he leaves enough for Sarah to have some for lunch tomorrow.  He assumes she made it and she'd be upset if he ate it all.
Day 10 noon:  Sarah gets the pad thai out of the fridge and notices most of it is gone.  She feels angry and stressed and really considers yelling at Peter but decides that won't solve anything and eats her lunch in silence.
Day 10 evening:  Peter notices the pad thai is gone and thinks that it is a good thing he didn't eat it all.  He's glad he showed enough restraint to leave some for Sarah.
Day 11:  Peter takes another shower.  He uses shampoo.
Day 12:  Sarah has a cold.  Peter doesn't notice.
Day 13:  Sarah's cold gets worse.  Peter still doesn't notice.
Day 14:  Sarah stays in bed all day with her cold.  Peter notices he hasn't seen her all day, hopes she's okay, and then goes to bed.
Day 15:  Peter hears Sarah coughing in the kitchen and asks her if she's okay.  She gives him a glare and he shrugs and asks her not to contaminate any of his food.  After he leaves, Sarah takes out his bag of chips and coughs all over them.
Day 16:  Peter finishes off the bag of chips.  Sarah is starting to feel better.
Day 17:  Sarah's cold is pretty much gone.  Peter doesn't get sick.
Day 18:  Peter still doesn't get sick.  Sarah is disappointed and then feels bad about being disappointed and then feels bad about everything.
Day 19:  Sarah stays in her room all day even though she isn't sick anymore.  She spends most of the day crying.
Day 20:  Peter notices Sarah isn't around.  He goes looking for her (though in the kitchen he can't help but grab a snack).  As he's munching on pretzels, he approaches Sarah's room and hears her crying.

------------------------------

There's a knock on the door.  "Sarah"?

"Go away!" a shout rings back.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay, you dufus!  You're a terrible person and you're making me into a terrible person!  I hope you die, and hoping that makes me want to die!  Leave me alone!  I don't want to see you for the rest of this miserable experience."

Peter is taken aback and the words he hears.  Sarah seemed like such a nice girl.  She let him alone.  She didn't complain to him about his messy habits like most girls had.  She even made pad thai that one day.  He thought they were getting along just fine.  But then he wonders if maybe she really just hated him the whole time, like most other girls seemed to.  For most other girls, he didn't care, he could be himself and live how he wanted and if they didn't like it they could leave.  But Sarah couldn't leave, she had signed up for this for three months, just like he did.  He didn't really know why she was so upset since she had mostly left him alone and done her own thing, but maybe that wasn't what she had wanted.  Had Sarah come here expecting to find a boyfriend?  Was that her motivation?  Peter didn't really like the idea of that, but maybe he could at least be a little more like what Sarah expected.  He went to take a shower.  Then he went to the kitchen and made some mac and cheese.  He made it with fresh milk and cheese and macaroni noodles.  He didn't just use the instant stuff.  Mac and cheese was the one thing he knew how to make.  He knew Sarah had to get hungry at some point, probably soon, so he ate his macaroni, left the rest on the stove over low heat, and then went to clean up the living room where he had basically been pigging out and playing video games all day for the past 20 days.  He cleans up, sends the trash down the shoot, and goes back to his room to read comics.  He sets a timer for an hour so he remembers to go check on the mac and cheese and put it in the fridge if Sarah hasn't eaten it yet.  Thirty minutes later, there is a knock on the door.

"Yeah?"

"Peter, you didn't make this for me, did you?"

Peter opens the door and sees a teary eyed Sarah standing there with mascara running down her face from when she was crying holding a bowl of warm mac and cheese in her hands.

He can't help but smile just a little.  "Yeah," he says, "just like you made the pad thai."

Sarah frowns.  "I didn't make that for you," she says.

"I assumed you made it for both of us," he says.

"You can't just assume things," she says, some of her anger coming back.

"Neither can you," he says.

Sarah doesn't know what to say.  There's a silence that's just about to get awkward and then she says, "Well, thanks for the mac and cheese."  She turns and walks away.  Peter wants to ask her what she was expecting from this whole experiment, but he thinks best of it.  He decides she just needs some time to herself.  If she wants to talk to him, she'll know where to find him, and it certainly won't be in the living room playing games.  That did not work out well, it turned out.  Peter keeps to himself for the next three days.  On day four, there's another knock at the door.


"Yeah?"

"Peter, are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Don't you want to come out?"

"Why?"

"Well then can I come in?"

"Yeah."

Sarah steps in and looks at Peter laying on the bed, legs crossed, with a notepad in his lap and a pencil in his hand.  "What are you doing?" she asks.

"Sketching."

"Can I see?"

He turns it around and shows her.  She wrinkles up her nose.

"You don't like it?" he asks.

"It's technically proficient," she admits, "but I'm not much for blood and gore."

Peter sighs, tosses the book aside, and sits up.  He looks at Sarah.  "What did you expect from this?" he asks.

"Not what I'm getting," Sarah admits.

"What did you expect from me?" he asks.

"Not what I was getting," Sarah replies.

"And now?"

Sarah sighs.  "I don't know, it's better, but it's still not..."

"A relationship?"

Sarah takes a step back and wrinkles up her nose.  "No!  Oh God no!  I wasn't in this for that!"

Peter feels hurt.  A part of him wanted her to want him.  She is pretty.  Like, really pretty.  But he does his best to hide his emotions.  "Well then what did you want?"

"Something intellectually stimulating.  I wanted to meet a new person, learn about them, get their perspective on life."

Peter can't help but laugh.  "So join some sort of club," he suggests.  "Why on earth would you expect to get that here."

"They promised me someone different."

"They promised me free room and board for three months."

"Yeah, and you're sure taking advantage of that.  At least you were."

Peter sighs and stands up.  "What do you want from me?  You weren't happy when I was being myself, having fun.  You aren't happy now that I'm staying away from you either.  You aren't looking for a boyfriend or even a friend, you're just look for 'something intellectually stimulating.'  You want to play Scrabble or something?"

Sarah rolls her eyes.  "Geeze, I don't know what I expected to gain from talking to you.  Maybe we should just keep to ourselves."

"Fine by me."

"Fine then."

"I'm going to move the TV and the game system into my room then."

"Be my guest."

"Fine."

"Fine."

------------------------------

The new arrangement worked okay for a while, but Peter started to get curious.  He wanted to know what Sarah was doing.  Part of him saw her as a challenge.  He wanted to make her like him.  For some reason, he wanted to be able to make him happy.  He still didn't understand Sarah.  He didn't know that Sarah was now the one who didn't care about any of it.

------------------------------

Sarah is sitting in the living room reading when Peter carries the TV back in.  She wrinkles up her nose.  "What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm going to watch a movie.  You want to join me?"

"No.  Couldn't you leave well enough alone?"

"Well, I guess not.  But this is the living room.  It's shared territory, and I'd like to watch a movie here, so...."

Sarah rolls her eyes.  "Geeze, I'll go to my room.  Have fun then!"

"I will!"

Peter realizes that didn't go at all like he had hoped.  Was he really that repulsive.  As he watched his movie (would have been a romantic comedy if Sarah had stayed but now it was an action flick), he decided he was going to start showering more often.


As the days go by, Peter starts trying to do nice things for Sarah.  He brings her meals which she refuses at first, but eventually accepts.  He cleans the house, does the dishes.  He even tries to sketch some things that are less gruesome, though he doesn't show them to her yet.  After a week of this, Sarah says to him, "I told you I wasn't in this for a boyfriend."

"I know," Peter says.  "We can just be friends."

"I'd given up on that a while ago," Sarah says.

Peter wants to say, "Then why are you accepting the food?" but he thinks better of it and instead says, "I haven't."  He waits to see if she'll say anything and when she doesn't, he says, "You wanted to learn more about another culture, another person.  You can still do that.  You can still learn about me."

Sarah sighs.  "You aren't exactly what I had in mind."

Peter frowns.  "I know," he says, "but you seem like a good person.  So why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you," Sarah says, feeling like she might be lying just a little, "I just hate being around you."

"Even now?" Peter asks.

Sarah looks at him.  His hair is neatly done, he's wearing pants and a shirt and shoes.  He doesn't look half bad.  "I guess you're okay now," she says.

Peter can't help himself now.  "Because I've cleaned up?  Because I'm more physically appealing?"

"That's not fair," Sarah says.

Peter decides now is the time.  He pulls a folded up paper out of his pocket.  "I drew this for you," he says.  Sarah looks at it.  It takes her a moment to realize its a drawing of her.  "This is you, finally free of this place," he says.  "And I've decided that I'm willing to let you make it a reality.  All you have to do is punch me.  Physical violence is one thing that they'll stop the experiment over."

"I'm not going to punch you," Sarah says, sneering.

"Why not?"

"Because it's mean."

"And the way you've been acting isn't mean?"

Sarah wants to yell, but she doesn't know what she would say.

"You wanted to get to know a different person," Peter says.  "What makes you think I didn't want that, too."

"Your attitude," Sarah says.  "And the fact that you basically told me as much a few weeks ago."

"Well maybe I've changed my mind."

"Yeah right.  You're just after my body or something."  She smirks.

Peter wants to just deny that, but he knows that wouldn't be entirely true.  Normally he would deny it.  But maybe telling the truth is the best policy here.  She's not going to be with him if he lies, and maybe by being honest he can get past it.  "A little," he admits.

Sarah stares at him.

"I mean, I would never force you," he says, realizing as he says it how awful that sounds, "I just mean, you're really hot."

Sarah sneers.

"Okay, less so at this moment," he admits.

Sarah makes a short of snoring noise and shakes her head.  He's patient.  He doesn't know why he cares about making her happy.  Maybe because he feels responsible for how miserable she was for the first few weeks.  "Okay, fine," she finally says.  "We can try to get along without this isolation.  But you can't go back to being a slob, at least not until we're done with this house."

"Somehow I've managed so far," he says.

"Yeah."

"I have to tell you, I was more of a slob the first week or two here than I normally am.  I mean, I would live like that if I could, but in reality, it doesn't work out so well."

"Yeah."

"Well, you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Okay, fine."

He suggests Back to the Future.  He's shocked to learn she's never seen it.  He loves it.  They watch it.  She thinks its kinda dumb, but has some quirky appeal.  He says, "Just like me?"  She rolls her eyes, says good night and goes to bed.  He's left in the dark not knowing what to think anymore.

------------------------------

Day 32:  Peter and Sarah talk.  Peter talks about how he dropped out of college to open up a comic and video game store with some inheritance money he got from a great uncle.  He says he's working on publishing a comic of his own.  Sarah is surprised.  She never thought much of comics and video games, but she can see how that could be an entertaining creative outlet.  Peter asks why Sarah always has to make things sound so intellectual.  Sometimes fun can just be fun, he tells her.  Sarah frowns and says, "Maybe."  She tells Peter that she is studying to be a pediatrician.  She loves kids.  Peter doesn't like kids at all.  "But you love video games," Sarah says.  "So what?" Peter asks.  Sarah doesn't know what else to say.

Day 35:  Sarah agrees to try playing one of Peter's video games.  She doesn't like it.  Too much blood and gore.

"You're going to have a hard time being a doctor if you can't even handle fake blood," he says.

"That's different," she says, "and besides, there won't be much blood and gore in my job.  I won't be working in an emergency room."

"I guess you have it all figured out," he says.

"Yes, I do."

Day 36:  Peter suggests she try a different game, a game called Pikmin.  Sarah thinks its weird, but she likes it a little more.

Day 37:  Peter suggests they try a racing game.  Sarah thinks that's okay, but doesn't have much of a point.

Day 38:  Peter downloads some puzzle games for Sarah to play.  Sarah likes these the best and asks why he didn't show these to her sooner.  Peter shrugs, but secretly he knows it was because he just wanted to make sure she wouldn't like the same things he did.

Day 39:  Sarah teaches Peter how to make Pad Thai.

Day 40:  Sarah watches medical dramas with Peter and points out all the things that are wrong in them.  Peter doesn't find this very entertaining, but he puts up with it.

Day 41:  Peter and Sarah talk more.  Peter is an only child.  Sarah has two older sisters.  Her older sisters are very successful.  Peter wonders if this is why Sarah puts so much pressure on herself.  He doesn't ask.

Day 45:  Peter takes a risk.  He asks Sarah if she would ever have sex with someone just to have sex.  Her appalled reaction tells him the answer.  "I'm sorry," he says.  "You should be," she replies.

Day 47:  Sarah and Peter read in the living room.  She's reading some thick novel about children in Africa.  He's reading a comic book about super heroes saving New York City.  She keeps glancing at him.  He notices.

"What?" Peter asks.

Sarah blushes a little.  "Nothing," she says.

She's thinking about his question from two days ago.  He's forgotten he even asked it.  He holds out the comic book, "Do you want to trade?" he asks.

Sarah laughs and shakes her head.  "No thanks."

"Why not?" he asks.

Sarah doesn't know what to say.  "Okay, let's trade," she agrees.

She doesn't expect to like his comic.  He doesn't expect to like her book.  For once, they're both wrong.

Day 48:  Peter admits to Sarah that the book she was reading wasn't so bad, so far.  She admits his comic wasn't bad either, but she's finished it already.  Does he have another.  Peter smiles.

Day 53:  Peter and Sarah are sitting in the living room.  Sarah is playing puzzle games.  Peter is reading a book about children in Africa.  Sarah glances over at him.

"Are you crying?" she asks.

"No," he says.  He wipes a tear away.  "Yes," he corrects himself.  "It's really sad.  These kids..."

"Shhh!" Sarah orders, looking at how far he is through the book.  "I don't think I've gotten that far yet."

"You should have said something," Peter tells her.  "I didn't want to hog your own book from her."

"It's okay," she says.  "It's really okay."

"Here," Peter says, handing it to her.

"No, it's really okay," she says, "I have other books."

"But you can read from where you left off to where I am," he says.  "Then we can read it together."

Sarah looks hesitant.

"Come on," he urges.  "It will be romantic."

"Peter..."

He sighs.  "I'm sorry.  Romantic is the wrong word.  I know that isn't what you want.  Heck it isn't what I want, not anymore."

"Why not?" Sarah asks.  She takes the book from him and flips back to where she left off, so she'll have something to do.

Peter sighs.  "This is going to make me sound terrible," he says, "But I view you as too much of a person now to want to, well, you know..."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Sarah says.  She's surprised his attitude doesn't upset her more.

"I know," he admits.  "But I've never really gotten close to anyone so it's weird to think of someone I am close to as a potential sexual partner."

"It doesn't have to be that way," she says again.

Now Peter is confused.  "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't have to just be about sex," she says.  And she leans over and kisses him.

Peter is stunned.  What is she trying to say?  What is she trying to do?  She's like a friend to him now.  He can't cross the line back to romantic interest.  How would that even work?  Is that even what she wants?  He watches her get up from the couch and smile coyly at him and she walks away down the hallway, book in hand.

------------------------------

It's day 55 when Sarah catches up to Peter's spot in the book.  He's in the living room playing video games, drinking a glass of water, when she comes in.  "I'm ready to start reading together," she says.

"Just let me finish this level," he says, not looking up.

Sarah smiles.  She's used to this now.  It doesn't bother her so much.  "Of course."

Thirty minutes later, Sarah is sitting on the chair and Peter is sitting on the couch listening to her read.  An hour later, she gets up, sits next to him on the couch and hands him the book.  Another hour later, Peter has stopped reading.  Peter and Sarah are still on the couch.  Peter and Sarah are kissing.


"You know, it's weird how this worked out," Sarah says to him three weeks later.  They're eating a dinner that they prepared together.  "This isn't at all what I thought I wanted from this experiment."

"I'm not going to lie," Peter admits, "this is exactly the kind of thing I've always wanted.  I just can't help but feel that you can't possibly actually want to be with me."

"Don't say that," Sarah says.  Her eyes are sad.

"But you hated me at the beginning," he says.

"I never hated you," she counters.  "Even when I was angry, I said I didn't hate you."

"Words are one thing, but feelings are another," Peter says.  "For example, at the beginning, I would have banged you without knowing anything about you if you had asked me to."

"That's disgusting," Sarah says, but she doesn't seem angry.  She's still just eating her dinner.

"I know," Peter says.  He sighs.  "I know it is."  He puts down his fork and looks up at her, "That's why I can't help but think that there's no way you would actually be with me under any other circumstances."

"Well we happened to find the right circumstances," Sarah says.

"And what happens when those circumstances get taken away," Peter says.

"What do you mean?"

"What happens in another two weeks when we're done with this experiment and we leave this house.  Will you still want to be with me then?"

"As long as you stay like you are now," Sarah says.

"That's just it," Peter says.  "I can't promise that."

"Then what do you want to do?" Sarah asks.

"I don't know," Peter says.

They eat the rest of the meal in silence.

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Day 78:  Peter and Sarah are still together, in the same room, but they aren't together like they were.  They are quiet, talking only when necessary.  When they look at each other, they both know they want to be together, but they restrain themselves.  Sarah knows it would work if Peter let it.  Peter knows it never would.

Day 82:  The mood has gotten a little less awkward.  Sarah still looks at Peter like she wants something.  Peter decides on what he has to do.

Day 83:  Peter doesn't take a shower.  Peter doesn't clean up his dishes.  Peter doesn't ask Sarah if she wants a turn playing video games.

Day 84:  Same as Day 81.

Day 85:  Same as Day 82.

Day 86:  Sarah tells Peter she knows what he's doing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Peter says.

"Yes you do," Sarah insists.  "You're going back to your old ways.  You're trying to make me hate you again."

"So you did hate me!" Peter exclaims.

Sarah rolls her eyes.  "That's not what I meant!" she says.

"Yes it is," Peter insists.

"Peter..."

"Just leave me alone if you're not going to accept who I am," Peter says.

Sarah lets out an exasperated sigh.  "Fine," she says.  She goes back to her room.  Peter feels a brief pain after she's gone, but he pushes it away.  Peter feels a small tear on his face after she's gone, but he wipes it away.

Day 87:  Peter can't stand the not showering anymore.  He tries to take a shower while Sarah's still asleep so that she won't hear what he's doing.

Day 88:  Silence.

Day 89:  Silence.

Day 90:  Peter wants to tell Sarah he's sorry, to get back with her before it's too late, but he doesn't because he loves her.  Sarah has decided Peter isn't who she had hoped he was after all.

Day 91:  The final day.  Sarah makes a nice meal, hoping maybe she'll win Peter back.  Sarah doesn't know she never lost him.  Sarah thinks Peter is wrong about it not working between them.  Peter knows he's right.  He eats the meal and is polite because he can't stand to be mean to Sarah on their last day together, but he doesn't make advances, he doesn't try to kiss her, he doesn't say how he really feels.

That evening, they leave the house.  Sarah tries one last time, offering to give Peter her phone number.  He declines.  She says they could make it work, out in the real world, away from the house.  Peter says it isn't true.  Peter says she deserves someone who loves her for her and not just for her body.  Peter's practiced this line, this expression of his feelings for her that has become a lie for him.  He practiced hard to turn it back into the truth it once was and is no longer.  He's done a good job.  Sarah believes him.  He sees anger in her eyes as they part ways.  He feels pain, but he waits until they are out of sight to cry.

------------------------------

Day 192:  It's been another three, almost four months since the experiment ended.  There were varying findings among the couples who housed together.  Sarah heard a little about it.  Peter didn't want to know.  Peter assumed it was all over.  He's leaning over the counter in his store, reading a comic so he can determine if he should recommend it, when a customer walks in.  Peter looks up.  It's Sarah.

"I know you were lying," she says.

His heart is racing.  It had jumped at the sight of her.  "About what?" he asks.

"About us," she says.

He wants to deny it, but looking at her now, he can't deny the truth.  He sees the shirt she's wearing.  It has a video game reference on it combined with a medical reference.  He can't imagine anything more perfect.  He wants to just run into her arms, but instead he says, "How do you know."

She smiles.  "Look at yourself," she says, "and look at your store."

He does.  He's clean, the store is tidy and neatly arranged.

"I read about you in an article," she says.  "Your store is becoming very successful."

"It's thanks to you," he says.

"How so?" she asks.

"You showed me that being a total slob isn't always the way to go, and that you can still have fun and be productive at the same time."

Sarah nods and steps closer.  "You taught me the same thing," she says.

He laughs and it's over.  They didn't need the house.  Well, maybe they did, since it helped them find each other.  Because in the end, they just needed each other.

A boy and a girl

This is not a true story.  I'm going to tell it anyway because I want it to be true.

Once upon a time there was a girl.  Let's call her Kate.  Kate was smart and pretty and funny and everyone loved her, boys and girls alike.  Kate's friends liked hanging out with her, teasing and joking around.  That was fine for Kate, but Kate wanted to do something meaningful besides just messing around, so Kate decided to become a tutor.  Kate was 16 years old.

The students Kate helped ranged in age from 10 to 14.  They all liked Kate, but some were more attached to her than others.  One little boy in particular, a boy named Darren who was getting help in math, seemed especially fond of Kate.  Darren was 12 years old, only in middle school, but that didn't stop him from developing a crush on his tutor.

Darren's school was attached to Kate's school, so Kate's friends saw him around a lot and noticed the way he looked at Kate.  "Katie, someone's got a crush on you," they would tease.

"Oh stop," Kate would say with a smile.  "He's fine."  But she wouldn't look at Darren as he blushed and scurried away.

Kate and Darren never talked about "the crush", but they did talk about a few things other than math, like Darren's interest in both sports and music.  Kate suggested he join the marching band.  He said he didn't want to be a band nerd, but she said that wouldn't be so bad.  She wished she could play a musical instrument.  Darren offered to teach her to play the piano.  His mother was the real pianist, but he knew enough to get by.  It was through this and other means that Kate and Darren became friends, but they were really nothing more.

Kate continue to tutor Darren for two years until she was a senior in high school.  When she told him she was going to college out of state, he seemed sad, but she assured him he would be fine.  He didn't need her anymore.  In fact, he hadn't needed her for several months. His math grades were fine now.  Kate knew that Darren knew this.  She also knew that he didn't want to lose her as a friend or as a crush, but she knew that he had to.  Otherwise, how would he grow up and move on.

So Katie went off to college and forgot all about little Darren.  She forgot about many of her high school friends.  She made new friends.  She went to parties.  She studied late at night in the library.  She fell in love with a boy and broke up with him six months later.  She got a job at the campus store.  She threw a frisbee across the quad and went for a smoothie when she got tired.  She joined an intramural flag football team.  She look classes in French and German, but only to get some basic phrases down.  She went on a summer trip to Europe.  She double majored in math and business.  She decided to become an accountant.  She decided she wanted to sell home-knit scarves on the side.  She graduated with high honors and before she started her new job on the East coast, she decided to go home for the summer just to relax.  That was when she met him.

At first, she really thought she was meeting him for the first time.  They talked for a while before she realized it was little Darren all grown up.  Now that he had turned 19 and she was nearly 23, the age difference didn't seem so vast anymore.  And Darren certainly didn't seem like a little boy anymore.

It turned out Darren had joined marching band, and it was okay, but his real passion turned out to be medicine.  He wanted to be a nurse.  He wasn't ashamed of being a nurse and not a doctor.  Katie had taught him not to be ashamed.  He never forgot her for that.  Katie was ashamed to admit she had forgotten a lot from her time in high school, but she was willing to try to remember.  Darren kissed her.  Katie let him.

Little Darren all grown up.  No longer a boy but a man.  Four years later they got married.  Four years after that they had their first child.  Katie taught the little boy how to knit.  Darren taught him how to throw a football.  Katie helped him fall in love with math just like she had helped his father.  Darren fell in love with Katie even more, and she with him.

This is where we catch up to the current time, at least if this story had been true.  We're up to where Katie is 36 years old.  But Katie isn't married, and Katie doesn't have children, and Darren doesn't exist, not anymore.

Katie was smart and pretty and funny and everyone loved her, or so she thought.  Darren loved Katie, but Katie was embarrassed and pushed him away.  Her friends teased her about the crush and Katie would wrinkle up her nose and say, "Eww gross," and feel only a little bad when Darren ran off with tears in his eyes.  Darren wanted a different tutor, but Darren's mom was friends with Katie's mom and was convinced Katie would be good for him.

Katie wasn't good for him.  Katie was mean and demanding.  She wasn't like that with her other students.  She was only like that with Darren.  And it didn't start out that way, or else Darren wouldn't have loved her at all.  She was nice and pleasant and fun at first, but the crush scared her.  Darren scared her and she became mean.  Darren thought it was because there was something wrong with him.  Darren thought Katie hated him.  Little Darren ran out in front of a bus one day and was killed.

People called it an accident, but Katie knew the truth.  Katie knew Darren had killed himself, all because of her.  Katie never got to see Darren grow up.  Katie never got to see Darren find real love, whether it was with her or someone else.  Katie discovered after Darren was gone that he had a great talent for music and that he loved to write.  He wrote so many things about her.  He had thought the world of her, at least at the beginning, and she had thought nothing of him, or so he thought.  His mother gave Katie the diaries without a word, but Katie was sure she hated her.  Everyone must.

Katie tried to put it behind her.  Katie kept tutoring other students. Katie got Bs when she could have gotten As because she couldn't put it behind her.  Katie went to college and tried to forget Darren, but she couldn't.  She got into bad relationships because she wanted to punish herself or because she was afraid of hurting someone again by saying no.  Katie let herself get hurt.  Katie has punished herself every day.

Katie wishes things had been different.  She wishes this story about a boy and a girl had turned out the way it first was told.  But that story wasn't true.  That story was only the way Katie wanted it to be.  Maybe Katie's struggled for so long because she never told anyone before why she was struggling.  Maybe Katie can finally let it go if she just asks for forgiveness.  Maybe Katie needs to stop talking about Katie in the third person and own up for what she has done.

I am Katie.  Darren was my friend, or he could have been, and my treatment of him killed him.  I'm sorry Darren.  I'm so sorry I was so cruel.  I'm sorry you never got a chance to grow up, to be the man you could have been, the friend, the husband, the father you could have been, maybe even with me.  I'm so sorry.  I hope from the bottom of my heart that you can forgive me so that I can finally forgive myself.  Please forgive me, Darren.  You deserved so much better than a girl like me.

Maddie - part 1

I saw her at the playground the other day.  Except it wasn't her.  It was a ghost.  It had to be.  She was my mother's sister, and my mother is 83 years old.  This girl was only a child.  She was talking to my granddaughter Sarah.  I kept a close eye on them just because it was so weird to see a girl who looked just like the pictures, but nothing much happened, until Sarah came back to me and I asked about it.  "Oh her?" Sarah asked.  "I hadn't seen her before today.  Her name is Maddie."

Maddie.  That was when I got the chills.  I hadn't heard the story until I was a teenager.  Maybe because they were afraid I would be taken too if they told me too soon.  My aunt Maddie disappeared from her room decades before I was born.  She was twelve at the time.  My mother was seven.  When my mother, June, went to wake up Maddie for school (June was an early riser and Maddie loved to sleep in) the bed was just empty.  Maddie was gone.  No one had come in and as far as they could tell no one had gone out.  Except that Maddie must have gone out.  There was no other explanation.  She must have, at some point in the middle of the night, gotten out of bed, neatly folded the blankets, climbed out of her bedroom window, closing it behind her, and wandered off into the night never to be seen again.

At least not until today.  I know it's not Maddie.  I'm sure if my mother or my Uncle Pete were here, they would tell me it's not Maddie.  I've only seen pictures after all.  But the pictures were so haunting that they were seared into my brain and this girl, this girl on the playground, looks exactly like Maddie.  Her granddaughter or great-granddaughter maybe?  Maybe Maddie was okay.  Maybe Maddie wasn't too far away.  Everyone assumed she was dead, that she died within years of her disappearance, but no one knows that.  Not a trace of her was ever found.

"What were you and Maddie playing?" I asked Sarah, trying to remain calm.  Sarah didn't know the story, hadn't seen the pictures yet.  It was up to her mother when she should be told.  I was staying out of that, even though I wasn't sure if Sarah's mother ever would tell her.  Maybe it was for the best.  Some days I regretted telling Julie (Sarah's mom) myself.

"Time machine," Sarah said very matter of factly.  "But we didn't get to go back far.  Maddie said that next time we can go back much further if I have something special to show her."

That made me nervous.  This Maddie who wasn't Maddie was making strange requests of my granddaughter.  I hoped she wouldn't show herself the next time I came to this park.  "Like what?" I asked, less concerned about hiding my concern now that there might actually be something to be concerned about.

Sarah shrugged.  "I dunno.  Like a doll or stuffed animal or something."  Then she quickly added, "But not for Maddie to keep, just to play with."

I softened a bit and put my arm on Sarah's shoulder.  "Well that's nice," I said.  "Maybe she can bring a doll, too, and you can play together."  And then I couldn't help but ask, "Did Maddie tell you who she's here with?  Like a mom or dad maybe?"

"No," Sarah said, "But her parents are dead.  She says they died a long time ago."

That struck me as both sad and shocking.  A little girl looking just like Maddie, going by the name of Maddie, claiming that her parents were dead?  My aunt Maddie's parents, my grandparents, were surely dead even if Maddie wasn't. But again, this couldn't be Maddie.  This was another girl.

I sighed.  "Well, we should get going," I said.  "It's almost dinner time."

"Okay," Sarah agreed. She turned back to the playground.  "Bye, Maddie!" she shouted out with a wave of her hand.

The little girl, the ghost girl, waved back, and though she smiled, the rest of her face seemed sad, like she was in a world where she didn't belong, just like she would look if by some possibility she really was my Aunt Maddie, torn out of time and forced into a world that could never be her own.

My Name is Sam

Hi, my name is Sam.  You look lonely.  I'm lonely too cuz my best friend moved away.  Would you like to be my new best friend?  We can go play on the tire swing.  Some of the other kids are afraid of the tire swing, but I think it's great!  Come on, it will be fun.  I'll show you how to make it go really fast!  Or not so fast, if you don't want to go too fast.  Don't be afraid.  Come on!


My name is Sam.  This is my first year in junior high just like all of you.  Junior high can be tough, I hear.  I want to make it less tough.  I want to make sure everyone's voice is heard.  I want to make sure the cafeteria doesn't stop giving us the pudding everyone loves, if I can help it.  I want to make sure the teachers are nice and fair.  Maybe some of you don't want the teachers to be fair.  Maybe some of you want special treatment.  If that's you, then don't vote for me.  But if you want to make sure everyone is treated fairly and you want to have some fun events, too, then vote for me, and I'll do my best to make you proud!  Thank you, and thank you to Chris for convincing me to run for the student council.


My name is Sam.  I'm in ninth grade, and this is my science project on the effects of hand-washing on bacterial growth.  Basically, kids are gross and too often we don't wash our hands.  This is what happens on our hands when we don't wash them.  This is what happens when we just wipe them off.  A little better.  Here's with water and here's with soap and water.  I did a trial of 15 kids from my school.  I also surveyed them to find out if they wash their hands properly before I did the test.  After seeing my results, eight out of nine of the kids who didn't wash properly before said they will wash properly now.

What's really interesting though, is that as gross as this first dish looks, not all of that bacteria is bad.  The problem is that some of it is.  I learned through studying different kinds of bacterial that some bacteria is really good.  You need it.  But you can get good bacteria from things like yogurt.  You shouldn't try to get it from doing something silly like not washing your hands.  My experiment proves that hand washing is the best way to prevent the spread of bacteria and disease.  Thank you.


My name is Sam.  I know I'm a little younger than most of you, but I'll be in college next year and I really wanted to check this group out.  I love bicycling, and I'm not just some little kid who dings a bell on the way to school every morning.  I'm also not some jerk who lost their driver's license and has to bike.  I bike because I want to.  It's a challenge.  I like challenges.  And this is a challenge that I can make personal.  When I ran for student council president, I got second place and that was that, though I did win the next year since the person who beat me transferred schools.  In my ninth grade science fair, I got second place and I got a nice ribbon, but I didn't get to go to the state competition.  Both times, there was someone else who beat me.  With biking, it's just me and the road.  I can challenge myself every day to be faster than the day before, and most days I am, though I'm reaching a plateau.  And that's why I'm here.  I want to learn to be faster and stronger and better, and of course to have fun, too.  Sorry if I talked too long.  That's all I have to say.


My name is Sam.  I'm a physics major and computer science minor.  I want to work in a lab with other people making better somethings.  Cars maybe?  Or airplanes?  Or maybe even bicycles.  I might end up being a mechanical engineer instead.  We'll see.  Anyway, I'm happy to be here and I hope you are too since we're going to room together for the whole year.  My friend Chris is going to a school down the street, so we'll probably hang out quite a bit, too.  We can show you around the city if you're from out of town.  I grew up here and Chris has lived here since first grade.  Anyway, this year will be fun, so don't worry.


My name is Sam.  I tried to get my friends Chris and Casey to come along, but they're not quite ready for this kind of thing yet.  Chris is close.  We've been friends longer.  Anyway, I'm really excited.  I've saved up from my part time job for months to afford this.  Jumping out of a plane, free falling, having the parachute deploy and pull you back.  It's going to be a blast!  And what Chris and Casey didn't realize, but I do... what we're about to do next is safer than the car ride here and back home!  At least if you took a car.  I rode my bike.  But anyway, I'm pumped.  Chris, Casey, this one's for you!  You're coming up here next time!


My name is Sam.  I'm going to be your TA for this class.  A little about me?  I ride my bike everywhere.  I like to play intramural flag football and soccer, so football and futbol.  And I've jumped out of a plane twice, the first time just me and the instructor and the second time with my friend Chris.  Still working on Casey.  Oh, and I'm a senior, but I'm double majoring in physics and mechanical engineering, so I'm going to be here for another year after this one.  Then I'll be a super senior, I guess.  That's probably enough about me.  I want you to know that this class is awesome and as long as you pay attention, you're going to have a lot of fun.  Questions so far from your first two days of lecture?


Well, my name is Sam, and I've always been really honest so I'll tell you that I'm really nervous.  But I can also tell you that I'm well qualified for this job.  This will be my first full time job out of college, but I've worked many part time jobs before.  When I first started out, it was just at the campus bookstore, but junior year I joined a research team and then senior year and fifth year, the professor wanted me to be his TA, so I did that and worked with lots of other students.  Some of them even said I made the class better, so I considered that a success, and it demonstrates that I can work with well others when I'm in a leadership role.  I can also work well with others cooperatively, as my work on the research team demonstrates.  We were trying to develop a new, lighter material for use in airplanes.  It was a long shot for such a small team, and I admit the best we did was come up with a potentially cheaper way to produce some already existing materials, but that's still something.  Is that enough of an overview?  What other specific stuff would you like to know?


Hi, my name is Sam.  You're going to be my mentor on this team?  It's great to meet you.  I'm excited to get started!  I know I won't be doing much at the beginning, but that's okay.  Anyway that I can help is great.  Now, can you help me get started at my workstation and introduce me to some other folks?  Oh, right, you know what you're doing.  Sorry.  Okay, lead away.


Hi, my name is Sam.  I'm new in town.  Just got a job that I started a couple months ago.  This is actually the longest I've been in a town other than where I was born.  Plenty of trips and stuff when I was younger.  But anyway, a big reason I moved here was because it was more biker friendly than my old town.  Well, that and there was a great job offer for me, the best I could hope for.  Sorry, that probably sounds too braggy.  I'm just here to have fun.


Hi, I'm Sam.  Yeah, you probably remembered from last week.  Yeah, I like you bike.  What do you do for a living?  Oh, so can you get me a discount then?  Ha, yeah, I know, sorry for asking.  Okay, I suppose we could go out for drinks later.  I like to reward boldness.


Hi, it's Sam.  Oh hey, Chris!  You got a new phone number?  You're calling from your fiance's phone?  What!?  Chris!  I didn't know you were that serious!  Well good for you.  I wish I was there.  Okay, you're right, I love it here, but I do miss you.  You have a date set yet?  Oh of course I will.  You didn't even really have to ask.  I can bring a date though, right?  Yeah, it's going pretty well.  Not as well as yours obviously.  Yeah, I guess we'll see.


Hi, my name is Sam.  Yeah, I've been Chris's friend since first grade.  They're a great couple aren't they?  Perfect together.  Anyway, would you like to dance?  No, I'm here alone.  And it's okay if you don't know how to dance very well.  I'm not the best either, but I can teach you.  At it's basic level, dancing is all about counting.  As long as you can count to four, you'll be fine.  At least this kind of dancing, anyway.


This is Sam.  Chris!  Why are you calling me from your honeymoon!  You're crazy!   Yeah, you're so nosey.  It was a fun night, but nothing more than that.  No, not even a phone number.  Now get back to your new spouse, you crazy!  Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.


Hi, my name is Sam.  I want you to know that, as the new lead for this team, that I work hard so you don't have to.  Okay, that was a lame attempt at a joke.  But seriously, I want you to know that just because you're young doesn't mean you can't do great things.  I'm young, too.  I've only worked here for three years.  I'm ambitious, but I understand that not everyone is like me.  If you work hard and you aren't afraid to talk yourself up a little, you'll go far here.  If you aren't as ambitious as me, that's fine, too.  There's a place for everyone on this team, as long as you contribute and love what you do.  If you ever aren't loving what you're doing, talk to me.  Passionate work is more valuable than putting in extra hours every time.


Hi, my name is Sam.  I work too hard and don't meet enough people and that's why my friend Chris is wasting some of our limited time together making me go to this despite being married.  Oh no, not me, Chris.  No reason for Chris to be here with a loving marriage back at home, but you know, afraid I would run out or something.  I've never run out on anything.  But yeah, I think this is dumb, and I'm not afraid of new things, just new things that are dumb.  So then, convince me this isn't dumb.  Tell me about yourself.


Hi, my name is Sam.  You're number seven out of eight.  The last six were disappointing.  Prove to me you're not.  Okay yes, I suppose I do sound bitter.  I'm usually not like this.  I'm just upset because my friend Chris made me come here when I'd rather be spending some time together, just the two of us.  Chris doesn't come visit me all that often.  Being married and having a small child makes that difficult.  But Chris worries about me, thinks I work too hard.  I don't think Chris realizes it's not just work that keeps me busy, but biking and skydiving and soccer, too.  Yes, skydiving.  Oh are you feinting interest in that one because it's the most exotic?  Okay, yeah sorry, but actually, I do assume you want to be here.  Where's the friend of yours who dragged you here today?  Oh, really?  You're kidding?  Nope, they sure are talking.  Well isn't that just a thing?  Married, too?  That's too much.  Yes, I guess I can smile, though that comment makes me want to roll my eyes.  Yes, I am blunt.  Oh, alright, I do reward boldness.  Here, you can have my phone number.  Let's talk more later.


My name is Sam, my name is Sam.  Geeze Chris, I had to say that 10 times!  I thought it was only going to be eight, but then they threw in two more rounds.  Nope, I'd say it was a complete failure.  No.  No, I don't want you to think that you succeeded at this ruse.  Okay fine, yes, we did exchange numbers but don't get too excited.  Now let's get out of this bar and go get a drink.


This is Sam.  Oh hi, yeah I remember you from the other night.  I wasn't sure you were going to call.  Yeah, three day rule, I've heard of it.  Some rules are good and some rules are garbage.  Yeah, Chris was only here for the weekend.  Gone back home now.  You really like to bike?  You didn't just run out and buy a bicycle after meeting me the other day?  Well okay, I guess I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.  Turner park?  Really a group thing?  Why aren't you in the cyclist club?  What do you have against the Star City Cyclers?  Your group is better?  Okay, yeah, well, we'll see about that.


My name is Sam.  This is Hayden.  We would like to get married.  No, we've known each other for almost four years now, we just don't want to hassle with a big expensive ceremony.  Plus, surprising our friends and family has its own rewards.  So what do we have to do?  Just sign here and here and wait in line?  Well that's easy enough.  See you on the other side!


My name is Sam, and I love Hayden.  My support, my rock.  I'd be something without you, but not the something I want to be.  I promise to love and cherish you forever, though every adventure of our lives, even though the adventure of having those three children we've talked about and though any job changes that might come up, through any tough times and easy times and every time in between.  I love you, Hayden, and I'm ready to commit to spending my life with you.


My name is Sam and this is Hayden.  We've been married for five years and have been certified sky-diving instructors for three years.  I have to tell you, Hayden is a little afraid of heights, but we both know that this experience is worth it even if you are a little afraid.  Just don't be afraid to open your eyes and see the world around you while you're falling.  And, here's my cheesey line, no matter how far you fall, the person alongside you will be there to pick you up again.


Hi, I'm Sam.  Hayden and I are so happy that you could come.  Yes, well, we've move around a bit over the past ten years, well, really in the past five, but we're ready to settle down now.  Yes, I never thought it would be this close to home, but this is halfway between Hayden's family and mine and not too far from either, as you know since you're here.  Well anyway, it's great to see you, I just saw my friend Chris walked in and I have to go say hi.


My name is Sam, and I can't have children.  Yes, we tried for years and I guess we don't entirely know what the problem is, but we're ready to move on.  We're ready to adopt.  I was scared at first, a work I don't use to describe myself very often, but I was scared I wouldn't love an adopted child like my own.  Hayden told me of course I would, but it wasn't until I met people, other people with adopted children, and saw the love that I was convinced I could be the same.  We always wanted to have three children, but for now, one would be enough.  Oh, really?  Twins?  Four years old?  Hayden?  Well, we weren't expecting that but we would certainly consider it.  Yes, we'll call you back by the end of the week.


My name is Sam and these are my children, Devin and Skyler.  Yes, they are beautiful.  I can't take any credit for that.  It's been a wonderful adventure.  I love them both so much and after three years together, we're going to add a third to our family.  Devin and Skyler are excited.  It's an exciting time.  We're here to tell you that adoption is definitely, without a doubt, 100% worth it.  It will change your life in such a wonderful way.  Plus, if you're lucky enough to get older kids like I was, you won't have to change poopy diapers.  Yes, children, I know I am embarrassing you.  Isn't that what parents are for?


My name is Sam.  I've been so many things in my life.  A friend, a student, a physicist, a teacher, a thrill-seeker, a spouse, a parent, and a friend.  Oh, did I say friend twice?  That's because that's the most important one in the list.  You can't do any of those other things well if you can't be a true friend, a good friend, a caring friend.  A friend through the good times and the bad.  A friend, even beyond death.  So this one's to you, Chris.  You were always a good friend, and you were taken too soon, and yet you had a good life.  Chris, know that Sam will always be your friend.  Always.


My name is Sam.  I think that after twenty-six years working here that most of you know me, but for those of you who are here just for the free cake, I'll say it again, My name is Sam.  Sam Decker.  And it's been a pleasure working here with all of you.  Life goes by so fast.  It seems like just yesterday I was moving here, settling down, getting the job I had before this one, before this lasting one.  It's not always clear what you want in life, but once you figure it out, you should go for it.  Me, what I want, is to go skydiving more.  No, I'm not too old, and neither are you, none of you.  If you ever want to give it a try, you can ask for me over at Thrill Seekers Anonymous.  Kind of a dumb name since there's nothing Anonymous about it, but what are you going to do?  Okay, enough of this old person talking.  Let's eat some cake.


My name is Sam.  All my life, I tried to live with passion and excitement.  To keep myself young.  My children have helped keep me young, and my grandchildren, too, and of course Hayden.  I don't know what I would do without Hayden.  Find someone else to be my support, I suppose.  Maybe even find myself.  Okay, that's not fair.  I will always have myself, but I'm sure glad that Hayden is here with me.  At least I thought I would always have myself.  Now, hearing this diagnosis, I'm not so sure.  My thoughts are rambling.  And that scares me.  I don't scare easily.  I just have to remain calm and take deep breaths.  My name is Sam.  My name is Sam.


My name is Sam.  I remember that much.  But I don't remember what I'm doing here, and I barely remember you.  It comes back to me, but it takes a few seconds.  You are the love of my life and some days, I can't even remember your name.  That terrifies me.  I don't want to die alone, with just myself.  I think, I just need to trust that even if I can't remember the people around me, they are here to care for me and help me.  I think if I can remember that, I can die with dignity and peace when my time comes.


Hello.  My name is....  What is my name?  I can't remember now.  I've said it so many times over the years and now I just can't bring it to mind.  I remember moments and flashes of things.  I remember a smiling face on a playground, a bright red bicycle, drinks in a bar, students in a lab, a new house, twins, cake, they're all jumbled up and out of order, but they are there.  Even though I can't remember who I am, somehow I know I've had a good life.  I know that because you're here holding my hand, whoever you are.  I look into your eyes and I'm sure I see myself, whoever I am.  And I see the ground rushing towards me.  It's terrifying, but I'm not going to close my eyes.  Because my name is...

2014 Nanowrimo - Overflow Conclusion

When I called my mom to tell her I was engaged, she was thrilled.  She knew how hard the lose of Daisy had hit me, and she was glad I was moving on with my life.  I don't think she fully understood my love for Daisy, but she was glad I had Hannah to love.  Steve was happy for me, too.

After talking to my mom on the phone about my exciting news, and promising to send her a picture of the engagement ring I picked out, which Hannah had loved, I found myself scrolling down to Chelsea's name in my contacts list, but then just hovering over her number with my finger.  Why had I thought I was going to call her next?  And why had I stopped?  I decided calling Chelsea would be silly, and that was why I had stopped.  I hadn't been close to Chelsea for a while.  Why would I call her next?  Roger, at least, I still stayed in contact with fairly regularly.  I called Roger next.  Then I called a friend from work.  Then I called my grandma.  I didn't call Chelsea at all.


Getting engaged is really exciting, but also a lot of work.  Over the rest of that summer we settled on a date (June 7 the following summer), a venue (Hannah's parents' ranch), and a caterer (my mom's restaurant did catering and though my mom would not be in charge the day of, she would help us pick the perfect menu).  The biggest decision that remained was the dress, a decision of which I was to have no part since Hannah wanted it to be a big surprise.  My job, instead, was to work on the guest list and start sending out save the date notices that fall.

It was a couple weeks after the "save the dates" went out that I got the call from Chelsea.  "Why didn't you tell me you got engaged?" she asked.

"It was on Facebook," I weakly defended myself.

"Yes, I saw that.  I thought it must have been a joke since you didn't tell me," Chelsea quipped.

"Chell, I know I should have, but..."

"You're getting married, Dave," she interrupted.  She didn't sound as happy as she should have.  "You have to let me go."

I felt anger boil up inside.  I wasn't sure I had ever felt that angry at Chelsea before.  "That's not why I didn't call," I said flatly.

"Then why didn't you?" she asked.

"Because we haven't been that close," I said.  "Not for a long while."

"That's bull," Chelsea said.  "I've a good friend of yours.  I am your friend.  And I'm Hannah's friend, too."

"Yeah," I retorted, "then why aren't you angry at Hannah for not calling to tell you about our engagement?"

"She did," Chelsea said flatly.  "Hannah called me two days after it happened.  She wanted to make sure I knew because she was afraid you might feel awkward telling me because of your history."

I felt my heart thumping harder and I got a little nervous.  "What did you say?" I asked.

"I said what you just said.  That we hadn't been that close recently and that was why you didn't call and that you were over me."

"But just now you said..."

"I lied," Chelsea interrupted.  Before I could ask which time she had hung up.  I was somewhat thankful for that.  I didn't want to know which time she thought had been a lie.


Chelsea and I didn't talk for months after that.  I went home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and even though I know Chelsea was there, I didn't see her at all.  It wasn't until my birthday that I heard from her again.  I got a card from her in the mail, a birthday card, but inside she had written, "I'm sorry."  I called her up.

"I'm sorry, too, Chell," I said.  "Our relationship has always been confusing, but I love Hannah.  I really do, and I want to spend my life with her."

Chelsea sighed, a hundred miles away, and I heard her.  "I know," she admitted.  "I know that.  I guess I... I just wanted to give you one last chance, to be absolutely sure.  I'll always love you Dave, and now, maybe finally, I can be confident in how we love one another.  Your heart belongs to Hannah, and it should."

The seriousness out of the way, we talked a bit more about how our lives had been doing.  Chelsea was currently single again.  I could never keep track of her boyfriends, but I did remember she had supposedly been very serious about someone.  I didn't ask about that, though.  I knew better.  If it had been a hard breakup, she seemed okay now.

She mentioned that my mom's restaurant was hosting a fundraiser for the shelter where she and Steve worked.  I was welcome to attend, but they were having it on Valentine's day, so she guessed I'd have other plans with Hannah.

"Yeah, probably," I admitted.

"That's the way it should be," Chelsea said.  I chose to believe that she really meant that.  "Well, you take care of yourself, Dave.  I'll see you for your wedding, and I'm sorry again."

"I'm sorry, too, Chell," I said, "for everything.  And I want you to know that we always have been and always will be friends."

I felt her smile from a hundred miles away.  "Thanks, Dave," she said.  "I feel the same way."


For the next month after that, things seemed good.  I'd keep up with Chelsea on Facebook and text occasionally.  It was one of those "close" periods.  Hannah and I grew closer than we had ever been.  Hannah was still plenty busy with school, but she was excited for the wedding and our future together and was looking forward to getting a job in another year.  We thought about moving back to the town we had grown up in, to be near our parents.  "It would be nice," I said, "but there's nothing wrong with being independent."  Hannah agreed with her words, though I felt like she wanted to say something more.


Chelsea was right in her assessment that I was more interested in spending Valentine's day with Hannah than at a pet fundraiser.  As much as I loved pets, and Chelsea did too, it wasn't quite romantic enough.  We had a glorious night on Valentine's Day.  This was the first Valentine's Day since we got engaged and I wanted it to be special.  I had made reservations for this day the night after we got engaged, because I knew all the really good places could book as far as a year in advance.  We ate at a fancy little Spanish place and had champagne and flan for dessert.  The total bill was close to $200, but Hannah was worth it.  When I looked at her smile and saw the ring I had got her shimmering on her finger as she folded her hands in front of her, gazing into my eyes, I felt like the happiest and luckiest man in the world.  It was like I was living in a dream, and as I drifted off to sleep, the feeling of peace continued.

It continued until a buzzing woke me up in the middle of the night.  It was so startling yet so faint that I thought I was still dreaming at first.  I didn't get to it in time, but I saw that it was Chelsea calling me.  Baffled, I fumbled for the redial, but before I could even press the button, the phone was buzzing again.  Still Chelsea.  I answered as I got out of bed, confused and a little worried.  "Hello?" I mumbled as I stumbled for the bedroom door to get somewhere where I could turn on the lights without waking Hannah.

"Da-vid," I could barely make out my name amid sobs, "your mother... accident... sorry... all because... sorry."

I felt my heart pounding like a jackhammer.  "Chelsea," I said, surprisingly calmly, "What's wrong.  What happened to my mother?  Where is she?"

"Surgery," Chelsea answered.  She seemed to have taken a deep breath and calmed down some while I was speaking.  "She's in surgery, David, at St. Vincent hospital.  You and Hannah should come, right now.  I don't know..." her voice was breaking, "I don't know if she's going to make it..."  I felt tears welling up in my own eyes as Chelsea started bawling on her side of the line.  I must have been in shock.  I felt like crying but I couldn't, and I suddenly felt very cold.  "You have to come," Chelsea managed again.

I glanced back towards the bedroom door, just open a crack.  I thought of my beautiful bride to be, all the joy and laughter we had shared that evening.  I didn't want to ruin it.  I didn't want it to end.  "I'll be right there," I said to Chelsea, and I hung up while she was still crying, ran to throw on some pants and shoes, and rushed out the door without a word to Hannah.

I drove on through the night.  It had been just after 2am when Chelsea had called and I made it to the hospital just before 5am, about 30 minutes faster than the drive usually would have been.  I rushed around like a madman at first, trying to find where my mother might be, and then I saw Chelsea, just standing there in a hallway, her hair a mess though it was clear it had been nicely made up the night before, clutching her left arm with her right hand.  She turned at the sound of my footsteps on the linoleum and I saw mascara had run all down her face, but she managed a weak smile.  "She's in that room," she said, nodding her head towards the door she had been staring at.  "She just got out of surgery.  Won't be awake for another hour.  She might still be okay."

I walked up to Chelsea, trembling.  She looked at me with such pain in her eyes.  She clearly wanted to comfort me, but she also needed comforting herself, so I became the one giving her a hug.  She hugged me back with a strength I was surprised she possessed in such a ragged state.  "I'm so sorry," she whispered in my ear.

"It will be okay," I whispered back, not sure I believed that myself.  There was a pause and I felt her breath warm in my ear.  Though it was warm, I nearly shivered.  "What happened?" I finally asked.

Chelsea pulled back from me and wiped her eyes, which only served to smear her makeup more.  "It was after the fundraiser," she said.  She looked at me at first, but then she looked down at her feet, like she was ashamed.  "It got over just after midnight and then we had to clean up.  By the end, it was just me, your mom, and Steve.  I was tired, so tired, and I'm sure your mom and Steve were, too, but they insisted they were fine.  They told me to go on ahead, that they would be just a few minutes behind me.  I was tired, so I agreed.  I was slow walking to my car... I had parked far away to make sure there was parking space for all our guests.  I got into my car and sat down but I was so tired, I really didn't think I could drive home, so I went back in the restaurant and asked your mom and Steve for a ride.  They happily agreed, just so nice, so..."She started to whimper, but she took a deep breath and fought back the tears.  I rubbed her arms reassuringly and she looked up at me.  "It was my fault," she said, loudly enough that a nurse down the hall looked up at us.  "If I hadn't needed a ride home, they wouldn't have gone that way and he wouldn't have crashed into them.  That filthy drunk driver!  He destroyed the front of the car, the front passenger side, right where you mom..."  She couldn't remain calm any longer.  She burst into tears and crumpled to the floor, I bent down with her, trying to steady her, but soon we were both in a heap, sobbing.  I pulled her away from the hallway until we were leaning against an empty receptionist stand nearby.  I hugged her and rocked her back and forth and we cried and cried and cried.

Finally, we pulled apart.  I looked at her and wiped the tears from her face, getting mascara on my finger which I looked at with a smirk.  Chelsea laughed, and I smiled at her.  "It's not your fault," I said, gently running my fingers through her tangled hair.  "It's not your fault at all.  If you had driven home alone, tired, you might have gotten in a crash, you might have hurt someone or yourself.  You were responsible for your own safety and the safety of those around you.  You took your responsibility seriously.  The drunk driver, that man was responsible for my mother."

Chelsea nodded and frowned.  "You say that now, but what if she doesn't pull through... what if... what then?"

I felt my heart thumping again but I forced myself to say, "She will pull through."  There was silence for a moment and then I asked, nervously, "What about Steve."

"He's in a coma at the moment," Chelsea said, "but his vitals are good and the doctors hope he'll come out of it within the next few days, though it's impossible to know for sure.  Your mother is the one they're more worried about."

"What did they..." I didn't get to finish my question because I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket.  I took it out and found I had never been so dismayed to see my fiance's name on the caller id before.  "It's Hannah," I said, not looking up.

I did look up when I felt Chelsea's hand on my shoulder.  "David, you didn't...?"

I shook my head.  "How could I?"

Chelsea's eyes grew wide.  "Answer it now."

She didn't have to tell me, and yet maybe she did.  I answered the phone and stood up, turning away from Chelsea.  "I'm so sorry, babe," I said.

"Where on earth are you?" she asked.  "I saw you gone and your car gone but your id badge still on the counter.  I was worried sick."

"I'm at St. Vincent hospital," I said.

"Are you okay?"

"Physically," I said.  "It's my mom."

"Geez, David!  You should have told me.  Why didn't you..."  She took a deep breath and let it out loudly.  "I'll be right there."  And she had hung up.  As I looked at the phone in my hand, still showing me to whom I had just spoken, I couldn't help but feel a new sense of dread.  I hadn't wanted to burden Hannah with this.  I hadn't wanted her to have to come here at all, and now she was having to drive here all by herself when I could have driven her here with me.  What had I been thinking.

I felt a hand on my shoulder again.  I turned and saw Chelsea again.  "You should have told her," was what I expected her to say, but instead she gave a weak smile and said, "It's going to be okay."  I hugged her again, so glad that she was there, and we walked hand in hand to the waiting area until a doctor came an hour later to tell me my mother was waking up.  He said they were hopeful, but he made no guarantees.


Hannah still wasn't anywhere close to being there, but I went in with Chelsea to talk to mom.  The doctor had wanted only immediate family, but I insisted Chelsea was close enough.  My mom was weak, but seemed to be in good spirits.  Chelsea started in again with how sorry she was, but my mom echoed my words that it wasn't at all her fault.  She told Chelsea that she loved her like a daughter and then turned to me with a twinkle in her eye and said that she loved me like a son.  We all laughed, though my mom's laughter ended with some coughing that she assured us was nothing to worry about (though how could she know).  I sat in the chair beside her, holding her hand, while Chelsea stood behind me.  We talked very little.  My mom was still weak from the surgery, but what little we did talk made the hospital room feel like home and gave me hope that everything really was going to be okay.  My mom drifted off into a nap just before Hannah arrived.

When Hannah got there, she looked nearly as exhausted as I felt.  She seemed sad, but not just because of what had happened to my mother.  "You should have told me," she said.  "I would have come with you."

"I didn't want to bother you," I replied.

"Don't be ridiculous, David!  If we're going to get married, we have to share one another's troubles."  She sighed.  "How is she?"

I managed a little smile as I took Hannah's hand.  "Sleeping," I said.

"What do the doctors say?"

"They aren't saying much.  At this point we have to wait and see."  I almost choked on the words.  Leaving my mother's life up to fate, feeling like there was nothing I could do.  It was awful.

"How's Chelsea?  Is she okay?"

I nodded.  "Chelsea's fine.  A bruised shoulder and that's it.  Steve's in a coma.  Have to wait and see with him, too."

This was when Hannah opened her arms and hugged me.  "I'm so, so sorry, David," she said.  "If it were my parents... I just can't even imagine."

"Just hope and pray it never is," I said.

She pulled away.  "Come on, I'll buy you a coffee."


My mother woke up twice more that day.  Once Hannah and I went in to see her.  She talked about how happy she was for us and how she looked forward to having grandchildren.  She talked about how she would spoil them and what great parents we would be and how good we were together.  The second time, Hannah and Chelsea and I were all in the room, though she seemed to look only at me.  She told me how proud she was of me and that she loved me and wanted me to keep following my dreams.  Then she noticed Hannah and Chelsea as well and we talked about favorite memories.  "I love you so much, mom," I said, tears welling in my eyes.

"There's no need to cry," she said, her hand trembling as she reached for me to wipe the tears away.  "When I get out of here, we'll all go out and have a nice meal together."  Shortly after that she drifted off to sleep again.  The doctor said that was good.  She needed lots of sleep.

That night, I slept at my mother's bedside, in the chair, holding her hand.  Chelsea slept out in the waiting area and Hannah in another chair in the corner of the room.  The next morning, Steve woke up.  My mother didn't.

The sound of her heart rate monitor going flat startled me awake.  Before I knew it, there was a doctor and two nurses rushing in.  They pushed me aside and tried to rescusitate her just as Hannah was waking up.  They tried for at least five minutes before they called it.  "Try again!" Hannah insisted.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, avoiding eye contact.  "She's gone."

She's gone.  Two simple words.  I remembered hearing the vet say them about cats many times.  "He's gone" or "she's gone."  I even thought those words about Daisy when she died.  I never imagined I'd be sitting in a hospital room hearing them about my mother.  The doctor was saying something to me, but I didn't hear him.  I didn't hear anything.  I just stood up, ignoring Hannah's sobs mixed with efforts to comfort me and said, "I have to go."

"David!" I heard Hannah call out after me.

"I have to go," was all I said.


I was standing by the graveside, when I sensed someone approaching behind me.  I looked back at Chelsea, and said, with tears streaming down my face, "How am I supposed to go on."

"I have no idea," she said.  She walked up to me and put my hand on my shoulder.  She was standing behind me.  Always just behind me, out of position for an embrace, but supporting me, making me stronger.

I looked down at the tomb stone:  Daisy, age 18 when she died.  How did Chelsea know I would come here?  I felt guilty coming her.  I should be with my mom, even though she was gone.

"How did you know where to find me?" I asked.

"Hannah wanted me to come look for you," she said.

"But she didn't know I would be here."

"No."

"You did."

"Yes.  It's where I would have gone."

I turned around and forced her to look into my eyes.  I looked into hers full of despair and longing at the same time.  I thought back to when her dog, Lily, had died.  How heartbroken she had been, how similar I had been when Daisy died, how much worse it was now.  "It should have been you," I said.

Her eyes widened and a look of shock overcame her.  "What?"

"It should have been you I asked to marry me," I said quickly, realizing she had thought I was talking about something else.

"David..."

"No, it should have," I insisted, grasping her shoulders a bit too forcefully.  "You know me better than Hannah does, you're always there for me, and I'm not afraid to go to you."

"You've known me longer," Chelsea reasoned.  "You'll get there with Hannah."

"But I'm not there yet," I said.

"It doesn't matter," Chelsea insisted.  "You're happy with Hannah.  You love Hannah.  You're meant to be with Hannah."

"But who is it that's standing beside me now?" I asked more vehemently than I intended.

Chelsea reached up and moved one of my hands down from her shoulder.  Quietly, she said, "Hannah would be with you right now if you let her."

I looked down because I knew she was right.  I said, "She's not here because I didn't want her to be."

"I know," Chelsea said.

There was silence for a moment, and then I looked up again, tears starting to form in my eyes all over again.  I gave Chelsea's hand a squeeze and said, "I love you, Chell."

Chelsea didn't let go of my hand, but she shook her head.  "No," she said as she closed her eyes, "you love Hannah."

"Can't I love you both?" I asked.

She opened her eyes again.  "Not the way you think you do," she said.

I sighed.  "My mom told me she was happy for me and Hannah, before, before she died, so I feel that pressure, but it isn't right.  I think she would have been happier if it had been you and me.  I think I would have been happier, too.  I really feel like I've made a mistake, Chell, that you're the one I should be with.  "

She shook her head again and this time she pulled her hand out of mine and I let her.  "You haven't," she assured me, "but even if you had, you made the choice a long time ago and you can't go back now."

"You're wrong," I countered.  "It isn't too late.  Hannah and I aren't married yet."

Chelsea was silent.  She seemed a little nervous as she looked down at the ground.

Nearly a minute passed before I asked, "Do you love me, Chelsea?"

She closed her eyes.  Took a deep breath, and replied, "It doesn't matter how I feel."

"Of course it does!" I exclaimed.

Her eyes shot open and her head shot up.  "No, not in this case it doesn't," she said, "because I already know that you don't love me the way you think you do right now."

"How can you know that?" I asked, feeling a bit upset that she would assume such a thing.

She took another deep breath and said, "Because if you must know, I do love you, David.  With all my heart.  I've loved you for years.  When I first thought I loved you, that was when I didn't, but now, I really, truly do.  You're the reason my previous relationship, the one I said I was so serious about, fell apart.  I still loved you.  I couldn't let go.  And I haven't grabbed on to anyone else since.  But you have to let go because with my love, comes knowledge, and I know that you will be happier with Hannah than with me.  Because you love her more than you love me.  You just need to finally realize that."

I was shocked.  I just stood there with my mouth open.  All I could utter was,

"Chelsea..."

Then she did something completely unexpected.  She stepped forward and kissed me full on the lips.  It was a long, deliberate kiss, and as she gave it to me, I knew it was the only one I would ever have from her.  When she stepped back there were tears in her eyes.  "I love you so much, David," she said, "that I have to do what's best for you.  I will always be there for you, but Hannah needs to be there even more.  Now come on, I'll drive you back to the hospital, and then Hannah will take it from there."


There are no words to describe the weeks that followed that.  It was the saddest, darkest time of my life.  I had lost my mother from this earth and I had lost Chelsea from my life.  She was still there, at the funeral, and even after that, but she kept her distance.  Hannah didn't seem to know just what had happened between us.  She used to be jealous of Chelsea, when there was really nothing to worry about it, and now she didn't see how torn I was.  She must have assumed it was all over my mother, and most of it was, but there was so much more than that.

We postponed our wedding until the next summer.  It didn't seem right to be so happy so soon after my mother's death.  Then when the next summer approached, something completely unexpected happened.  I found that Chelsea had been wrong.

Hannah told me she had tried to help, she had tried to comfort me, to be there for me, but I just hadn't been the same since my mother's death.  She didn't think she could go on.  She didn't think she could marry me.  I think she knew it wasn't my mother's death that had driven us apart, not really.

I should have been heartbroken, but I wasn't.  My heart had been broken a long time ago.  I knew that now, all I would be able to do was remember her.  In time, Hannah would become a distant memory.  She would be a pleasant memory, or at least the things we had done together would be, but she would be a memory, just like Daisy, and just like my mom.

Chelsea could have become a memory, too, but I didn't want to just remember her.  Remembering her wasn't enough for me.

So that summer, I went home.  First I visited Daisy's grave.  Then I visited my mother's grave.  Then I visited Chelsea.  She was working as an "on call" vet's assistant, traveling to people's homes, answering concerned calls after hours.  It seemed stressful, but she loved it, or so I saw on Facebook where she still allowed me to keep up with what she was doing.  I don't think she expected to ever see me in person again, at least not besides at the wedding that was no longer going to happen.

I knew her address only from the "save the date" and "save the date update" we had sent out, and the awkward cancellation notice we had sent out a few months ago.  When I knocked on the door and answered it, she didn't look happy.  But when she said, "David," I knew she was glad to see me and just didn't want to admit it.

"Did you mean it?" I asked.

"Mean what?" she was still standing in the doorway, not inviting me in.

"What you said the day my mom died, when you said you loved me but I should be with Hannah?"

She nodded.  "I meant every word," she admitted, hand still on the open door, not moving forward.

"You were wrong about the Hannah part," I said.  "Were you wrong about loving me?"

"I couldn't possibly be wrong about that," she said.  "Are you sure I was wrong about Hannah?"

"Absolutely," I said.  My heart was pounding.  I thought of Daisy's purr, my mother's smile, and of Chelsea, of holding her in my arms, of growing old together, of how I never wanted to let her go.  "Are you going to tell me I could be wrong about loving you?"

She didn't answer.  She just looked into my eyes.  What did I see there.  Hope?

"I love you," I said.

She smiled.  That was all I needed.  It turned out that kiss at the graveside wasn't the only kiss I'd have to remember her by after all.

Nanowrimo - Overflow

I probably could wrap up my story right here.  It's a nice enough place for it to end.  But if you look back to the beginning, you know this isn't really the end.  It shouldn't be surprising that there are tears still to come.

But first, more joy before we get to the sadness.  Even the joy has some sadness mixed in, but if you focus on the joy, the sadness isn't so bad.

I loved my job.  I got to interact with animals every day.  I got to be the first person those cute kittens and darling dogs saw.  It was with a sad heart that I poked and prodded them, but I was glad when I could make it less painful or when the animal didn't even notice much of what I was doing.  I offered treats to the pets that were well enough to have them and smiled as I spoke to the pet owners about my own adorable Daisy.  I always had her picture on me to show those who seemed interested.  This probably isn't a good thing, but I think I talked more about Daisy at work than I did about Hannah.  In my defense, it makes sense to talk about your animals when you work at a vet's office.  I think that's why I usually liked it so much.

The part I didn't like, the part none of us liked, was when an animal came in who was just so sick there wasn't much we could do.  When they were sick but we could make them well, it was a little sad but overwhelmingly happy when the pet got better.  It was those rare occasions when we couldn't make a pet well that really hurt my heart.  The one that struck me the most was nearly a year in.

It was weeks before Hannah was going to complete her undergraduate work and a lady came in looking very sad with a cat that looked almost exactly like Daisy.  The cat was just a few months older than Daisy, too.  This cat had been getting weaker and weaker over the past several months and the lady had been in to the office before.  At first it hadn't seemed so bad and the vet had kept a cheery disposition and dispensed encouragement and medicine.  But now, it was clear this cat was ready to go.  It was perhaps the third time I had seen a pet that needed to be put down.  You would think the first would have been the hardest, but this one struck me even more because of just how much the cat looked like Daisy.

When I got home that evening, it was all I could do to keep from crying when I told Hannah about it.  "I wish we could have saved him," I said of the cat, whose name was Tigger.

Hannah rubbed my back and said, "It sounds like you did all you could."

I sighed and put my head in my hands.  "You probably could have saved him," I countered.

"It's sweet that you have such faith in me," Hannah replied, "but I can't save any animals yet."

This was when Daisy decided to walk over and announce her presence.  She clearly wanted to jump up into my lap and cuddle.  I was so upset I almost didn't let her, but I realized Daisy was exactly what I needed at that moment, and I leaned back and let her come up.  After all, Tigger may have been gone, but Daisy, my Daisy, the cat I personally knew and cherished was here with me and she was doing just fine.


That whole first year of my job, while I was learning the ins and outs of being a veterinary technician, Hannah was not only studying hard to ace all of her senior year classes, but also fighting for a spot in a veterinary school.  Her number one choice was actually out on the east coast, but her backup plan was local, and was in fact the school her father had attended many years ago.  I couldn't help but hope, secretly, that she didn't get in to her first choice option, though I knew I would have to comfort and console her if she didn't.  I just didn't want to move out to the East coast with her and I also didn't want to stay here and have her be multiple hundreds of miles away.  It was a losing situation for me, but still I supported her and told her that though it would be difficult for me, I would love for her to get into her first choice school.

When she got her answers back and found out she had not been accepted into her first choice, I was more upset than I had expected to be.  I even felt a little outraged.  I had been so worried about her being accepted because I had been sure she would be.  Hannah was an amazing student and did great work with animals, but apparently the problem was that she hadn't done enough work with them in a professional setting.  Her top choice school wanted her to spend a year basically doing my job and then apply again.  Her second choice school, with her father and other local vets to vouch for her, accepted her right away.

I had thought that would be that and Hannah would go to her second choice, nearby, but as the acceptance deadline was drawing near, she walked into the living room where I was sitting with Daisy on my lap and, looking like she had been crying, said, "I don't know what to do."

"About vet school?" I asked looking up.

She nodded as she plopped down on the couch.  "I really had my heart set on this school," she held out the rejection letter, "but this school", she held out the acceptance packet, "will take me right now."

"Well, why are you so resistant to go to your second choice?" I asked.

She flashed me a brief look of anger, but then she softened.  "We've talked about this before," she said, truthfully, "but I just really had my heart set on this other school."  She sighed and looked up at the ceiling and then said something she hadn't said before, "I guess I really just didn't want to take advantage of my father's connections.  I wanted to get in on my own."

I nearly chuckled because I knew what she had just said was ridiculous since she was amazingly talented and had gotten in on her own (an assertion confirmed by the fact that she had applied to two other schools and also gotten in at them), but I didn't chuckle because I knew this really was difficult for her.  So instead, I reached out, gave her shoulder a squeeze and said softly, "You did get in on your own, Hannah.  You earned it.  You worked hard.  This isn't nepotism.  You got accepted at this school because you're awesome.  You got declined from the other school because they're looking for slightly different things, but you're clearly still awesome or else they wouldn't encourage you to apply again next year."

She looked up at me with watery eyes and asked, "Do you really believe that?"

I nodded confidently.  "Yes I do."  And as if to confirm it all, Daisy chose that moment to stand up from my lap and walk over to Hannah's were she curled up and resumed purring away.

Hannah made a little sobbing choking sound as she petted our cat, as I now viewed Daisy, and said, "Thanks, David.  I still don't know if I'm going to accept the one now or get the year of experience first, but I feel better about the idea of going to school now."

I smiled and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.  "I'm glad," I said.  "If you want to talk again, we can, but ultimately you should do whatever you want."

As I got up to go to the kitchen and get a snack as Daisy purred away on Hannah's lap, I continued to hope that Hannah would stay local while still being upset that her first choice school had put her through this.  I was glad this was Hannah's choice, though, and I was doing my best not to influence her towards my preference.  I hope still that I didn't unknowingly influence her, but I was thrilled when, a couple days later, she decided to go to the local school, creating a situation in which I could keep my job and still see her every day.


Life is funny sometimes.  I had wanted so badly for Hannah to stay at home so I could spend time with her, but once her first year of vet school started, I barely saw her at all.  She made new friends, some of whom had waited for two years before they got into this school.  Hannah would tell you that didn't matter, but even Hannah wasn't perfect and I think it made her feel a little smarter to hang out with girls who had had to wait for what she had been given.  Of course, I couldn't say for sure how Hannah felt since I barely saw her to talk with her about it.

It wasn't just the course work and new friendships that kept us more apart.  Hannah also got a paid internship to help cover the costs of her ongoing education that scholarships could not.  As for me, I started working an evening job so that I could pay off those student loans.  I wanted to be sure I was debt free before I asked Hannah to marry me.  I had originally planned to pop the question after she graduated with an official veterinary degree, but four years felt so long to wait and I was thinking of doing it sooner, as long as I could get rid of those loans.  I just didn't want to put too much pressure on Hannah.

Whatever pressure Hannah put on herself seemed like the right amount, because when I did chance to see her awake, she was happy, and she still managed to get straight As, which was quite a feat.  In fact, getting As seemed easier for her than being at home and awake at the same time I was.  There were many nights when I would get home late from my second job and collapse into bed as Daisy purred me to sleep while Hannah was still studying with her new friends at the library.

I wasn't angry.  Not really.  I was a little frustrated that I had wanted her to be close and now it just felt like torture seeing her so infrequently.  Maybe it would have been better if she did go away entirely, I thought.  But I knew that even the brief exchanges we had were better than nothing.  And besides, we had known this would happen.  We were prepared for it.  The one I really felt sorry for was poor, neglected Daisy, who had had no choice in the matter.

I even remember around my birthday, I had called up my mom, or maybe she had called me, and I had raised the question of her taking Daisy back.  She was shocked and in answer to her question of why, I told her that I felt bad about not spending more time with my beloved pet.  "But Daisy loves you," my mom assured me.  "I'm sure she'd rather spend a few hours with you than the whole day with me."  My mom doesn't really know that much about animals, but it did seem like Daisy continued to love me.  She always expressed joy when I was home, and came trotted up to me as fast as her old bones would take her.  She never seemed angry or dejected.  Those were just emotions I feared she was secretly feeling, though now I tell myself that Daisy wasn't capable of such things.

Even though I tried to feel okay about leaving Daisy alone so much, I was relieved when summer came and I got to spend about 10 times as much time with both Hannah and Daisy.  Hannah had considered taking some summer classes to try to graduate a year early, but thankfully she decided not to.  Even though my mom would insist Daisy loved me the most, it seemed like Hannah was a close second and having her at home several of the days and nearly all of the evenings (she was still interning 3 days a week) made me feel better.  I also got a raise at the vet's office at which I worked and so I was able to cut my evening hours and spend more time at home as well.  It was a great, laid-back summer with my girls, but I couldn't help but notice that at 17 years old, Daisy was really starting to show her age.

She still had no major health problems and seemed to be about as healthy as a cat her age would be expected to be, but she was slowing down to the point where some days she seemed like a rather different cat, but I still loved her and as near as I could tell, she still loved me with all of her little kitty heart.


That entire summer was wonderful.  We considered going on a vacation to somewhere far away, but I didn't want to leave Daisy, so instead we went home to visit my mom and took Daisy with us.  I asked about Chelsea, with whom I hadn't spoken almost the entire year.  I learned from my mom that Chell was working as a waitress at my mom's restaurant!  This was in addition to working at a dog and cat boarding house and spa in town and volunteering at the animal shelter, where she worked with Steve quite a bit.  I felt a little ashamed that my mother and my stepfather were keeping better in contact with my childhood friend than I was, but this seemed to be always how it was with me and Chelsea:  cycles of closeness and distance.

As strange as it felt for me to be back home again for an extended period of time, Daisy seemed to fit right in.  My mom and Steve had a couple cats of their own, but Daisy didn't mind just as long as she got to sleep with me and Hannah every night.  She had been getting older and had a hard time jumping up on the bed in our apartment, but my mom had an air mattress on the floor for us to sleep on so that made things a lot easier for Daisy.

About half way through our stay, I had dinner with Hannah at my mom's restaurant.  I hadn't told Chelsea we were coming, or even that we were in town, but I made sure to go on a night she was working and specifically request her as our waitress.  She seemed really surprised to see me and I sensed that she wanted to give me a hug but knew it wouldn't be proper to do so.  I didn't care if it was proper, so I stood up and hugged her before she could stop me.  Hannah followed suit as well.  Chelsea said she'd love to talk, but it would have to wait until she got off at 9.  So we let our 7pm reservation drag on a bit (there were plenty of empty tables that night or else I would have opened up the room), left a very generous tip, and then went with Chelsea to a nearby ice cream place for dessert.  We talked about how things were going and life in general and then Chelsea, not shying away from a potentially awkward situation, asked with a smile, "So when are you two getting married?"

Hannah blushed, and I probably did a little, too, as I said, "I don't know, probably some day."

Chelsea gave me a knowing look followed by a shrug and changed the subject.  I was just glad that she didn't push it further.

We hung out with Chelsea a couple more times before we went.  I made sure to invite Chelsea over to see how Daisy was doing.  I think Chelsea was a little sad to see how much weaker Daisy had gotten, but she knew what it was like when both pets and people grow older, so she handled it well.  I think it's just weird to not see an animal, or a person for that matter, for very long and then realize how old they'd gotten.  Daisy was getting old and Chelsea was all grown up.  I suppose I was, too.  Those days of her childish crush on me seemed long gone.  Though Chelsea was still a good friend, Daisy and Hannah were the most important girls in my daily life.

After celebrating July 4 (which Daisy had never minded much and still didn't), we said good-bye to my mom and Steve and headed home.  We stopped by Hannah's parents' place one last time (we had spent quite a bit of time with them as well) and then we were back to our apartment in what seemed like no time.  It was strange that we had described this trip as "going home", but now that we got back to our apartment, I really felt like that was our real home.  I had Hannah and Daisy and I couldn't ask for anything more.


After that vacation, it was right back to our jobs, though without Hannah's class schedule we still got to spend a lot of time together.  Things were great all through that summer and then as the school year started up again for Hannah, I noticed Daisy seeming even more lethargic than she had been.  Hannah and I examined her as best as we could and then took her to the vet's office where I worked.  They said that she seemed to have arthritis and her risk of heart disease seemed to be increasing, which was a little odd since cats are more often struck by kidney failure than heart failure, but since I knew this I had been giving Daisy special kidney health food for quite some time.  At any rate, she got some medicines that I could mix with wet cat food once a day and was sent on her way with an otherwise clean bill of health.

After a week or two on the medicines, she seemed a little better, but she still clearly had stiff joints and couldn't run around like she used to.  It was sad, but she still seemed relatively happy.  Though she couldn't jump up on my lap anymore when I sat on the couch watching TV, I would pick her up and she would purr away.

We'd had steps up to the bed for her for sometime, but some nights she preferred to just sleep on the floor.  I got a cat pillow for her so she'd be more comfortable down there, but it made me a little sad that the cat who had always insisted on sleeping in bed with me only did so three or four times a week now.  The one nice thing was that Hannah could cuddle with me more easily now, but I still missed Daisy.

This went on through early December, and then one night, I woke up around midnight to hear a faint meowing coming from the side of the bed.  I turned on the bedside light and looked down to see Daisy looking up at me, seeming weak and tired, but looking up at me with pleading eyes.  She put a paw on the stairs, but didn't move up, so I picked her up and placed her on the bed beside me.  She immediately started purring, and climbed on my chest and curled up just like she had done every night when she was young.  She seemed so happy and I wondered if this was a turning point when she would start sleeping with me every night away.  I stroked her gently for about half an hour and then we both drifted off to sleep.  I woke up the next morning.  Daisy didn't.

I cried a lot that next morning when I realized she was gone, quite possibly more than I had ever cried before.  I probably should have cried at least this much when I learned my dad was dead, but I had hardly known him.  Daisy I had known and loved for nearly 18 years, and now she was gone.  She was gone and she would never be back.  I took a sick day off of work and Hannah took a vacation day, too, to stay home with me.  I hadn't wanted to think about Daisy dying, but I had known in the back of my head I wanted to do something to honor her when she went, so several weeks ago I had looked up pet cemetaries in the area, and now it was time.

They don't have a big funeral for pets, though I suppose someone would if you wanted them, too.  We buried her that same day, just me and Hannah.  They put a marker where she was and I ordered a small headstone to be installed later.  I got a card with her paw print and a small memorial stone for our home as well.  I was glad Hannah was there because I cried a lot.  She barely cried at all.  With her dad being a vet, having pets with shorter lifespans at her house as a child, and with her parents living on a farm with lots of animals, she'd had more personal experience with deaths of beloved animals than I had.  I just thought of the people at my clinic whose pets had been put to sleep over the past two years and realized that I really, truly felt their pain during that day.  The next day was pretty bad too and the day after, but eventually I stopped coming home expecting to see Daisy and stopped seeing her in every cat I saw.  Eventually, I was able to cherish her memory as something happy instead of hating her lose as something sad.  And when that happened, when I was able to realize that even though I had lost Daisy I could still love her, that was when I finally felt ready to ask Hannah to marry me.

Yes, I know I had planned to wait until Hannah graduated, but as her second year of vet school wrapped up, her graduation was still two years away, and so that summer was when I popped the question.  Much to my delight, she immediately said yes.