He shook his head. “It’s good to see you. We don’t often get to see what happens afterward.”
“You did a great job. It was . . . well, you were really kind. I remember that much.”
“De nada.”
I stared at him.
“De nada. Spanish. It was nothing.”
“Oh, okay, then. I take it all back. Thanks for nothing.”
He smiled, turned away, and raised a paddle-sized hand.
Afterward, I didn’t know what made me do it. “Hey.”
He looked back toward me. “It’s Sam, actually.”
“Sam. I didn’t jump.”
“Okay.”
“No. Really. I mean, I know you’ve just seen me coming from a grief-counseling group and everything but it’s—well, I just—I wouldn’t jump.”
He gave me a look that seemed to suggest he had seen and heard everything. “Good to know.”
We gazed at each other for a minute. Then he lifted his hand again. “
