You’ve Reached Sam: A Novel
You’ve Reached Sam: Chapter 8

I wake up the next morning to a text from Mika.

Hey. I’m outside.

I rub my eyes and blink away sleepiness. What’s she doing here so early? As I think about this, a gasp escapes me as I remember. The candlelight vigil! I was supposed to meet her last night and help out. But I fell asleep and completely forgot. She probably came here to talk face-to-face. I need to respond.

Okay. Be right down.

I brush my teeth, get dressed fast, and skip breakfast. When I come outside, I find Mika sitting alone on the porch step with her back facing me. Her head leans against the porch rail as she stares out at the lawn. She doesn’t say anything when I step out.

“I didn’t know you were coming…” I say.

No response.

“Are you okay?”

Mika doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t look at me.

I take a seat on the porch beside her. An air of silence hovers between us. She must be angry with me. “I’m really sorry about last night. I completely forgot we were supposed to meet. I feel so terrible, Mika.”

“I really thought you’d show up,” she says. “I was waiting for you. I made everyone wait.”

“I’m so sorry…” I don’t know what else to say.

“I tried calling you. Why didn’t you answer?”

I think back to last night. I’m not sure what came over me. I must have left my phone at home when I drove up and down route 10, looking for Sam. And I remember falling asleep as soon as I got back. But I can’t tell Mika any of this. She’ll think I’m crazy.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” I say. “I just fell asleep early. I don’t have an excuse. I’m sorry.”

“If you didn’t care about going, you should have said so.”

“Mika, I really did—”

“No you didn’t,” she cuts me off. Then she looks at me, her voice sharp. “If you really cared, you would have gone to everything else. But you didn’t. I don’t know why I keep expecting you to.” She leans her head back against the rail, sending a pain through me. “It doesn’t even matter anyway. You were right all along.”

“What do you mean? Right about what?”

“How none of this really matters,” she says. “Like the vigil last night. It doesn’t change anything. He’s still gone.”

I think back to our conversation at the diner. I never thought it would stick with her this way. I suddenly wish I could take back what I said. I wish I could explain myself. Sam asked me to make sure Mika is okay, and I only made things worse between us. I’m not sure how to fix this. “That wasn’t what I meant,” I say.

“It’s exactly what you said.”

“It’s different now. I don’t believe it anymore. I wanted to be there this time.”

“So did I. But it’s too late now.”

Mika looks away again, staring at the lawn. We’re silent for a while. When she readjusts her hands, I notice something in her lap. A piece of paper.

“What are you holding?”

Mika lets out a breath. Without a word, she hands it to me.

I unfold the paper and read the first line. “An admissions letter?”

“It’s a rejection,” Mika says. “From the University of Washington. They emailed me the other day. I got the official letter this morning.”

I read the letter. UW is a hard school to get into, but not for someone with grades like Mika’s. She should have been a shoo-in. “I can’t believe this. This must be a mistake.”

“Well, it isn’t,” Mika says back. “Joining a bunch of clubs and good grades don’t guarantee you anything, I guess.”

I touch her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mika…” I whisper, unsure of what else to say. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling, especially with everything else happening around us. We worked on our applications together, so I know how much time she put in. While I applied to two colleges, Mika applied to nine. She spent months tailoring each application, strategically framing herself with different aspirations and traits based on her research of each school. UW was her top choice. Out of everyone I know who applied, she should have gotten it. Nothing’s fair. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re still waiting to hear from other schools. There’s going to be good news coming, I know it. This is their loss, Mika.”

“This isn’t my first rejection,” Mika says, almost with a laugh. “I was too embarrassed to tell anyone. There aren’t many letters left that I’m waiting on.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know why I put in all this work. For what? At least Sam will never know how much of a failure I am.”

“Don’t say that,” I say, taking her hand. “You haven’t failed anything. It’s still only March. You’re going to get in somewhere.”

Mika pulls her hand away. “I don’t even care anymore. It was all a waste of my time.”

“Mika…” I start.

But she rises abruptly. “Forget it. I have to go.”

“Wait—why don’t we walk together?”

“I’m not going to school today,” Mika says as she steps off the porch.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about me,” she says without looking back. “Worry about yourself.”

I go quiet, letting Mika disappear down the block without following after her. It hurts to have her think this way about me. If only she knew Sam and I have been reconnected, and I can speak to him again, she’d understand things are different now. I’m different. This is all my fault for not being there with Mika through any of this. I need to find a way to fix things between us. There’s only two months until graduation, and I can’t leave us this way. Especially after I made a promise to Sam. I don’t want to lose her, too.

k

It’s hard to focus at school. I keep thinking about how I should explain myself to Mika without lying to her. How can I show her I still care about Sam, when I have to keep things a secret? At lunch, I sit with Jay, Rachel, and Yuki at a table in the middle of the cafeteria. It’s teriyaki meatloaf day so everyone brings their own lunches. Jay cuts his fruit sandwich with a plastic knife to share with me. It’s almost too beautiful to eat, which is true about most of the food he brings. Rachel is looking over forms for the Asian Student Club they’re trying to start. She wants to host a movie screening by the end of the semester.

“We still need seven signatures,” Rachel tells us. She reaches into her bag and hands me a few flyers she made by hand. “Julie, do you think you can ask some of your friends to join us?”

“Oh—” I guess she doesn’t realize my only friends are sitting at this table. And the three of them have already signed up. I take the form anyway. “I suppose I can ask around.”

“Great!”

There’s some ruckus a few tables down from us. I look across the cafeteria. Liam and his friend are throwing fries at each other, while Taylor sits on top of the table with her hair tossed back. I notice Oliver is with them. After we hung out the other night, I thought he might at least come say hi. But he hasn’t spoken to me since. He doesn’t even bother to glance our way. It was the same thing from him yesterday. Maybe he doesn’t want to get caught associating with me in front of everyone. I actually thought things would be different between us.

Yuki notices me looking over. “Is something wrong, Julie?”

I turn back around. “No. Just some guys being loud.”

“Ignore them,” Jay whispers.

I nod and try to eat.

After a moment, Yuki says turns to me again. “We missed you last night. At the vigil.”

I look at her. “I didn’t know you guys were going.”

“A lot of people from school did,” Rachel says. “The street was filled up. Cars couldn’t drive through.”

I lower my gaze to the table, ashamed to hold eye contact. Because I should have been there, too.

“Sam’s family came as well,” Yuki says. “His mom asked about you.”

Sam’s mom. I look up again. “What did she ask?”

“She wanted to know if I heard from you,” Yuki tells me. “She wonders where you’ve been, that’s all. She said she hopes you might come over for dinner someday. It would mean a lot to her.”

My chest tightens. I haven’t spoken to Sam’s mom or his family since he died. I realize how terrible this is of me, especially after I think about how often I used to come over and have dinner with them. Sam said his mom always had a place set for me at the table just in case. Whenever she made Sam lunch for school, she made sure there was something for me, too. I thought she would hate me after I missed the funeral. After she noticed not a single flower was sent from me. And now the vigil, too. Shame washes over me, making me lose my appetite. What would Sam think of me if he knew this? If he knew I wasn’t the same person he fell in love with?

I can’t even look at my food. I push the tray away from me. “I know, I should have come last night. I should have showed up this time.”

Jay places a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“But it isn’t okay,” I say to the table. “Because I skipped all of it, everything you guys did for Sam. And now even Mika hates me for it.” I didn’t even mean to miss the vigil this time. After I got off the phone with Sam, I fell asleep at my desk, and had that strange dream, and the next thing I knew I was out looking for him. It’s easy to forget that everyone is mourning for Sam when I’ve been speaking to him every day. The worst part is I can’t even explain myself. I promised Sam I wouldn’t tell, because it might affect our connection, and I can’t risk that. My eyes start watering, and I don’t know what else to do. The others at the table are kind enough not to say anything else.

At the end of lunch, the three of them walk me to my next class. Before I head in, Yuki says something. “You know, maybe we can do something else for Sam. Something special to honor him by.”

“That’s a great idea,” Rachel says, nodding. “And we can bring Mika, too. The five of us, together.”

I think about this. Something special for Sam. To honor him by. “Like what?” I ask.

They all glance at each other, looking uncertain.

“We’ll think of something,” Jay promises.

I smile at them. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you guys.”

It’s the end of school. I need to hurry home without running into anyone. But it’s difficult to avoid people when you can’t even get to your locker without bumping into a dozen shoulders. As I’m packing up my books, someone taps me on my arm.

It’s Oliver. Again.

“Hey. Whatcha up to?” he asks me.

“I’m about to leave.”

“Cool—where?”

“Home.”

“Oh.”

I shut my locker and walk toward the front doors without another word.

“Hold up—” Oliver says as he follows me down the hall. “I was gonna ask you if you wanted to do something.”

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“It doesn’t have to be too long,” he says. “Maybe we can grab some ice cream.”

“I told you, I’m busy,” I say without looking at him. “Why don’t you hang out with your other friends?”

“Did I do something wrong?” Oliver asks, scratching his forehead.

I don’t feel like explaining it to him. I shouldn’t have to. “I’m just not in the mood, okay?”

“For ice cream?”

I turn to him. “For anything.”

“Just two scoops,” he insists.

“Oliver. I said no.”

“One scoop.”

It’s like he can’t hear me. I walk off again, leaving him standing there.

“C’mon!” he shouts down the hall. “Pretty please!” His voice is loud and desperate. “It’s on me!”

Maybe it’s the empathy from being a writer that makes me stop walking. Or maybe it’s Sam’s voice inside my head. Reluctantly, I take a deep breath and turn around.

I narrow my eyes. “It’s on you?”

“I’ll have three scoops of pistachio, hot fudge, some marshmallows, whipped cream on top, rainbow sprinkles, and don’t go easy on it,” I say to the man behind the glass. I turn to Oliver. “What are you having?”

“Uh, one rocky road, please…”

We find a pink table in the corner of the ice cream shop. The place is a little empty. Oliver hangs his jacket behind his chair before sitting down. Both of us picked cups instead of cones. Oliver eats slowly, swirling the whipped cream with his spoon.

“Thanks for coming,” he says after a while.

“What made you want ice cream?” I ask.

“It’s Thursday.”

“What about it?”

Oliver points at the window behind me. There’s a poster of a crudely drawn cow with discounts painted over cartoon udders. THURSDAY: FREE TOPPINGS! The image is a bit disturbing, if you ask me. I turn back around and try to erase it from my mind.

I take another bite of ice cream.

“Sam used to get pistachio,” Oliver says.

“I know.”

“Except he preferred a cone.”

“I know that, too.”

Oliver doesn’t say anything. He stares at his spoon, looking sad all of a sudden. Maybe I should be more sensitive.

“Just so you know, I’m not mad at you,” I decide to tell him. “It’s your friends I don’t care for.”

Oliver nods. “That’s fair. They kinda suck.”

“Then why do you hang out with them?”

“I don’t know if you noticed,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “But my best friend’s dead.”

My face turns to stone.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t—” He swallows.

I reach out a hand to calm him, and say, “No it’s alright, Oliver. Really.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out.

I pick up my spoon and we resume eating ice cream. Although neither of us is in the mood anymore.

“Sorry to bring him up,” Oliver says again, some guilt in his voice. “I didn’t mean to make this depressing.”

“It’s okay … I don’t mind talking about Sam.”

“That’s good to know.”

A half hour passes and we finish our ice cream. I check the time. It’s a quarter past four. “I should probably get going.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit tired,” I say as I rise from the table.

“You don’t want to, I don’t know, see a movie or something?” Oliver asks out of nowhere.

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Sam told me you like musicals,” he says randomly. “It’s iconic musical month at the theater. It’s right down the street.”

“I don’t know, Oliver…” I say, trying to let him down easy. “What are they even playing?”

“It changes every week,” Oliver says. He checks his phone. “Tonight is … Little Shop of Horrors. Have you heard of it?”

“Of course I have. It’s one of my favorite musicals.”

“Mine too.”

“I’ve seen it a dozen times.”

“Same.”

“You know, I even tried making Sam watch it with me,” I say, sitting down again. “But he wouldn’t. He said it sounded scary.”

Oliver laughs. “It’s not supposed to be scary!”

I lean into the table. “I know! But you know Sam. He doesn’t like musicals.”

“Oh my god—that was so annoying about him,” Oliver says with an eye roll.

“It really was!”

For a moment, it’s like we forgot what happened. Then Oliver stops smiling as we both remember again. Things turn quiet. I try to bring us back to the conversation. “Is there even a showing right now?” I ask.

Oliver checks his phone again. “There’s one in ten minutes…” He looks at me with puppy dog eyes.

I tap my fingers on the table, trying to decide.

After a moment or so, Oliver says, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The ticket booth manager scowls as we burst out of the theater in song. The ushers had basically kicked us out for disrupting the lobby with all our laughter. The movie was as wonderful as I remembered! Maybe it’s because I’ve heard it a million times, but I’m singing it in my head as we’re leaving. I never thought I’d have so much fun with Oliver. He kept throwing popcorn at the screen and singing along to the musical numbers. Thankfully we were the only ones in there watching. I’m so glad I decided to see it again with him. Then I remember Sam. There’s an ache of guilt in my chest. He always wanted Oliver and me to be friends someday. He should have been here to enjoy the movie with us, even if he hated musicals. The three of us, finally together.

It’s already dark out. The neon lights of the marquee illuminate the streets as we begin our walk home. I see the songs are stuck in Oliver’s head, too. He grabs a streetlamp and swings around it like Don Lockwood in Singin’ in the Rain, as he sings out loud.

“Suddenly Seymour, is standing beside you…”

Another time I might be embarrassed, but I can’t help smiling as Oliver keeps singing.

“You don’t need no makeup, don’t have to pretend…”

At one point I join in, too, as we continue our walk.

“Wow,” Oliver says. “It never gets old, you know?”

“I know. It’s really, what’s the word—” I pause. “Timeless.”

“Was it just me, or did the man-eating plant look bigger than I remember?”

“It might have been the screen.”

“That makes sense,” Oliver says, nodding. “Man, but don’t you love the ending? It’s so perfect, right? How Audrey finally gets everything she dreamed of. A quiet life, a house in the suburbs, a toaster … and Seymour! She never asked for too much, you know? That’s the thing. It really makes you feel good.”

“It really does,” I agree. “But did you know that wasn’t the original ending? They actually had to go back and refilm it.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the original version, Audrey gets eaten by the plant.”

Oliver looks at me, eyes wide. “You mean, Audrey dies?”

“Yeah. She does.”

Oliver stops walking. “Why would they do that?”

“Because that’s what actually happens in the play,” I explain. “But when they showed the film to audiences, it made a lot of people upset. Because everyone loved Audrey too much. So they rewrote it and changed the ending.”

“I’m glad they changed it!” he says, a edge in his voice. “It would have ruined the entire movie.”

“I agree with you. I’m only saying that another ending exists.”

“But it shouldn’t,” he says. “It doesn’t matter what they filmed before. Because Audrey lives.”

“Maybe in the movie. But in the play, she doesn’t.”

“Well then I won’t watch the play—” He walks off.

I follow beside him. I didn’t mean to ruin the film. “You know, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Having different versions of something. At the end of the day, you get to decide what happened. So both can be true.”

Oliver turns to me. “That’s wrong. There can’t be two different versions of the same thing.”

“Why not?”

“Because one is the original, and the other is a copy. Something can feel the same or sound the same, but it isn’t the same at all. It’s inherently something else. So in order to have two different endings, you need two different Audreys.”

I think about this. “What exactly are you talking about?”

“I’m saying there’s only one of him, and that’s the one I knew. You can’t clone him or make different versions of him, and try to write a new him. You can’t make changes. Because there’s only one Sam.”

We are no longer talking about Audrey.

“Maybe you’re right. It was only a thought.”

We reach the corner that splits our path home. A hedge of white roses peeks over a fence beside us.

“Sorry to kill the mood again,” Oliver says.

“It’s alright. I get it.”

“Thanks for seeing the movie with me.”

“I’m glad I went.”

Before we part ways, Oliver notices the roses. He leans forward to touch one.

“Careful,” I say. “It might bite.”

He smiles as he plucks a rose from the hedge. For a second, I think he might give it to me. But he doesn’t. He just holds on to it.

“Heading home then?” I ask.

“Eventually,” he says. “Have to make a stop somewhere first.”

“Where?”

“Nowhere special.”

We say our good-byes. Back at home, I get started on schoolwork. I do as much as I can for the rest of the night, but it’s hard to focus. I can’t stop thinking about what Oliver said. About how you can’t have two endings to something. About how you could have multiple versions of someone, but only one can be the original. Maybe Oliver’s right. I don’t want a different version of Sam. I want the one I lost. The one I’m still somehow connected to, even though it’s only his voice over the phone.

I wish I could call Sam right now, but I know I shouldn’t. As much as I miss talking to him, I have a hundred things to focus on—schoolwork, graduation, getting my life back together. We have a phone call planned for tomorrow. He said he has another surprise for me. I fall asleep late, wondering where we’re going to meet next.

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