you've reached sam

you've reached sam [ Chapter-4 pg 6 to 10 ]

At home, I find my mother’s car in the driveway. She’s in the kitchen washing dishes as I make my way inside. As soon as I close the door, I hear the faucet shut off, followed by my mother’s voice.

“Julie?” she calls from the kitchen. Before I can answer, she storms down the hall with a look relief on her face. “Where have you been all day?”

I take off my jacket. “I was at school. I thought I told you yesterday.” “But why didn’t you answer my messages?” she asks.

“What messages?”

“I texted you last night. I even called.”

“You called me?” I don’t remember waking up to any notifications. The only person I’ve spoken to since last night was Sam. I check my phone again. “Are you sure? I never got anything from you.”

I hand her my phone to see for herself.

“Of course I’m sure,” she says, scrolling through it. “That’s so bizarre. I definitely texted you. Do you think it’s your phone? I guess it could be mine.”

“Maybe it’s the service.”

“Maybe…” my mother says, thinking. She hands me back my phone. “You know, no matter how smart they try to make these things, they never work.” She lets out a long breath.

“I’m sorry to worry you.”

“It’s alright,” my mother says. “I’m just glad you’re fine.” She takes my jacket from me, and hangs it on a hook on the wall. “Thankfully I noticed

your backpack was gone this morning, so I figured you were at school. How late did you come home last night?”

“Oh—” My eyes shift to the floor. She doesn’t realize I never came home at all. “Not too late…” I say.

“You know, I could have given you a ride this morning.” “I don’t really mind the walk.” I turn toward the stairs.

“Wait.” My mother stops me. “How was school? Is everything okay?” I pause on the first step. “It was … fine,” I say without turning around. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Maybe not this second. I’m a little tired.”

My mother nods. “Alright. You know I’m always here, Julie,” she says as I head upstairs. “But we should get your phone checked out soon! Mine, too, now that I’m thinking about it. I’ve had a suspicion that someone’s been trying to hack it. It’s probably been tapped. Then again—what isn’t these days … They’re probably recording everything we’re saying right now. Be careful!”

“I will!”

I shut the door behind me and look around the room. Everything’s exactly like I left it. I returned this morning from Sam’s house to change and grab my things before school. That’s why I was late to class. I didn’t mean to spend the night in his room, but I was so exhausted, and Sam told me it was okay. I haven’t spoken with him since then. I sit at the side of my bed, and take out my phone. We made plans to talk after school once I got home. I remember making him promise me he’d pick up again. Otherwise, I couldn’t fall asleep. I stare at the blank screen of my phone. While this rational part of me keeps thinking last night was all a dream, I look over and see his plaid shirt hanging on the back of my chair. On my desk is the other bookend he gave me last night. His Radiohead shirt is folded and tucked away in the middle drawer. I checked a second ago to make sure it was still there.

I check my phone. For some reason, Sam’s number doesn’t appear in the call history. I noticed this in the morning when I woke up. It’s as if there’s no record that it happened. There’s no way this could be all in my head, could it? How else would I have known about the key under the mailbox? I guess there’s only one way to be sure. I take a deep breath and

dial Sam’s number. The sound of the ringing makes me tense. But it only rings twice before he picks up.

“Julie…”

The knots in my chest undo themselves, and I breathe easily again.

“Sam.”

“You still sound relieved to hear me,” he says with a laugh. The warmth of his voice pulls me back to the beginning and it’s … like before.

“Can you blame me?” I whisper, as if someone might hear us. “I don’t expect you to pick up.”

“But I promised I would, didn’t I?”

I swallow my breath, taking his voice in like air. “I know you did … And that’s why I called back. But you realize how crazy this is, right? You are supposed to be gone…”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

My stomach hardens. I can’t tell if he’s being serious. He has to know what happened that night one week ago, right? The bonfire. The missed calls. The headlights on the road. There’s no possible way he and I should be talking on the phone again. I’m almost afraid to ask this. But I have to know. The words are heavy in my throat. “You died, Sam … You know that, don’t you?”

There’s a long silence before he answers.

Sam lets out a breath. “Yeah I know … I’m still processing it.”

A chill goes through me. A part of me wanted to hear a different answer. Something that could bring him back to me. “So am I imagining all of this?”

“You’re not imagining anything, Julie. I promise, okay?”

Another promise. Without an explanation. I grip the phone tight, trying to keep it together. “I still don’t understand how this is possible. How are we talking to each other?”

Sam goes quiet again. I move the phone to the other ear, waiting for his answer. “Honestly, Jules, I don’t really know,” he says. “All I know is that you called me and I picked up. And now we’re connected again.”

“It can’t be that simple, though—” I start.

“But why can’t it be?” Sam asks me. “I know this doesn’t really make sense right now. But, maybe we don’t need to complicate it with questions

we don’t know the answers to. Maybe we can just enjoy this chance for what it is. For as long as we have it.”

I glance at the walls, thinking this over. Another chance. To be connected again. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is a gift or a glitch in the universe. Something far outside the realm of our understanding. I remember something from last night. “When I was outside the café, you said something else. You said you wanted to give us a second chance at good- bye. You said that’s why you picked up. Did you mean that?”

Sam takes his time to answer this. “At some point, I think we both need to say it. But you don’t have to worry about that right now, okay?”

“So … until then, I can still call you?” “Of course. Whenever you need me.” “And you promise to pick up?” “Always.”

Always.

I close my eyes and take this all in. It doesn’t take long for my mind to drift back to before. Before everything changed and all the plans we made were still in place. Before Sam died and I could reach out to touch him and know he’s there. Before everything was taken from us. On the other line, I sense Sam is doing the same. When I open my eyes, I find myself alone in my room. As I think of Sam, and this second chance we have, a question comes to me. I know I asked this before, but he never gave me an answer. “Where are you, Sam?”

“Somewhere,” he answers vaguely.

“Where?”

“I can’t really say. At least, not right now.”

For some reason, I sense I shouldn’t push him on this. “Is it anywhere I’ve been?”

“I don’t think so…”

I try to listen to the sounds on his end. But I can’t hear anything else. “Can you at least tell me what you see?”

He takes a moment. “An endless sky.”

I look over to the window. The curtain is partly drawn, so I walk over and pull it out of the way. The window is already unlatched when I push it open, letting a breeze roll in as I look out past the roofs of the houses,

beyond the tops of the distant hills, and out toward the sky. I feel Sam

listening. I ask him, “Are we looking at the same one?” “Maybe. I’m not entirely sure.”

“I’m guessing this is all you can tell me.” “For now, at least. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say to ease him. “I’m just glad you picked up the phone.” “I’m glad you called me,” he says. “Thought I’d never hear from you

again.”

Tears form behind my eyes. “I thought I lost you forever. I missed you.” “I missed you, too. I missed you infinity.”

I don’t question him further on what’s happening. At least, not right now. I just take this for whatever it is, and breathe in this impossibility of being reconnected to someone I thought I lost, no matter how ridiculous it seems. The rest of our phone call goes on like a daydream, as I continue to question what is real and what isn’t. I’m wondering if any of it matters. We talk about ordinary things, and it feels like old times again. I tell him what Yuki and the others said at lunch. I tell him about the rest of my day at school, like my conversation with Oliver. Seems like something from my imagination, but there are things I can’t explain. It would be easier to tell myself none of this is real, but then I see the physical objects in the room that shouldn’t be there. The shirt, the bracelets, the other bookend. How could I have gotten these if he hadn’t told me where the spare key was?

Questions fill my mind, but I push them aside for now and allow myself to live in this beautiful strange rabbit hole I’ve fallen into. I don’t care how any of this is possible. I have Sam back. I don’t want to let him go.