When I close my eyes and everything goes dark, I see him. Sam. Standing there. Letting his dark hair cut across his forehead at a soft angle. Wearing a white dress shirt, buttoned up, with a bow tie. Leaning beside the door of the hotel kitchen as waiters pop in and out, carrying silver plates. Taking in deep breaths and tugging at his collar, trying to stay calm. And suddenly I’m there, too, holding his hand, saying, “It’s gonna be okay, Sam. Just breathe.”
“Maybe we should leave,” he says.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You have to go out there soon.”
“But I don’t know if I can.”
“Of course you can. Why are you so nervous?”
Silverware crashes into trays around us. We are standing behind a curtain that separates the kitchen area from a ballroom full of guests. Sam was hired to perform at his friend Spencer’s cousin’s wedding in the spring of junior year. They gave Sam a list of songs they wanted him to sing, and he’s been practicing for weeks. It’s his first paid gig, and I’m not letting him back out.
“I don’t know anybody out there,” he says.
“You know Spencer. And me. I’m here.”
Sam tugs at his collar again, so I help loosen the knot of his bow tie, letting him breathe easier. The first bead of sweat appears on his forehead. I move his hair out of his face.
“What if no one likes it?” He keeps looking around.
“Of course they will. Why else would they have hired you? You’re going to do great out there.”
“We didn’t even have a real sound check…”
“You’ve practiced this a million times. You’re going to do great.”
Someone with a headset peeks behind the curtain and gives us a thumbs-up. “Let’s go, kid.”
I squeeze Sam’s hand. “Good luck. I’ll be right here.”
Once he’s out there, I peek through the curtain. There is a hardwood dance floor beneath a chandelier, surrounded by silk-lined tables, each crowded with wedding guests. Connected to the dance floor is a stage where the band is set up. Sam appears from the side of the stage, looking nervous. When he steps up to the microphone, and awkwardly adjusts the stand, I hold my breath.
The lights dim, leaving only the stage as everyone goes quiet, turning their chairs to watch. And then the music starts …
A live piano fills the ballroom, playing a familiar tune. It takes me a second to recognize it. “Your Song” by Elton John. Sam knows the words like the back of his hand. He’s practiced it a hundred times. It’s a great choice to start with, perfect for his range.
But then Sam opens his mouth to sing, and there’s a tremble in his voice. His hand grips the microphone, as if he’s keeping himself steady, while the piano tries to follow him.
There’s something off. He’s not singing in time with the music. It’s like he’s a step or two behind. The crowd is noticing this, too. People are looking around, whispering at the tables, wondering what’s wrong. This only makes Sam more nervous. When his trembling turns into stuttering, and he starts skipping words, my chest tightens. I can’t bear to watch this happen. I wish there was a way to save him. I wish I could move the attention away before this gets worse. Don’t just stand here. Do something, Julie!
So I take off my heels, and step through the curtain. At one of the tables in the middle of the room, Spencer is sitting beside his brothers. I make my way over and grab his hand.
“Yo, what’s up?”
“Come with me.”
“Huh—”
I pull Spencer out of his chair, leading him onto the empty dance floor as everyone turns to look.
“Uh, what are we doing?!”
“Dancing! Just go with it!”
“Oh my god.”
My heart is pounding as I place a hand on Spencer’s shoulder as we get into position and begin what we hope is a waltz. We have no clue what we’re doing or how we look. But everyone is watching us. I don’t make eye contact with Sam as we begin our dance. I’m afraid it could make him more nervous. Instead, I lift Spencer’s arm and make him twirl me around him to the rhythm of the music.
Our dance is going more smoothly than I expected. At one point in the song, Spencer puts his arms behind my back and dips me, making the tables around us cheer. I don’t know if it’s the piano, Sam’s voice, the burst of adrenaline, or the attention of the room, but we suddenly get into this. The lifts, the turns, and our spins across the room come almost naturally as we continue our dance. Maybe we’re actually good at this. Or maybe it’s all in my head, and to everyone else watching, we look ridiculous. But it doesn’t matter. Because I look over at Sam and see him smiling for the first time. His face is glowing in the spotlight as he steps down the center of the stage—as far as his microphone cord allows him—and extends a hand to us as he hits the chorus with a newfound confidence.
I look back to him from across the dance floor as the drums come in, followed by the guitar, and we feel a spark move between us. A crowd of people has formed around the edge of the dance floor. Eventually, a few of them step in and start dancing, too, pulling in others with them. Sam and I look at each other again. Because we did this. His voice and my dance with Spencer changed the energy of the room.
When the music begins to fade, I feel the song about to end. I lift my hands one last time and go spinning across the dance floor, as lights swirl around me until the room suddenly vanishes, and I fall straight into Sam’s arms, throwing us off the edge of the dock as we go crashing into ice-cold water.
A million bubbles swarm around me as we emerge from the surface of the lake to the sound of fireworks going off in the distance. It’s the night before the Fourth of July. The summer after sophomore year. Sam and I made plans to sneak out to meet each other here. If my mom knew this, she would kill me.
I shiver in the water. “I can’t believe we’re doing this!”
Sam laughs and runs a hand over his head, brushing his hair back. His skin is glistening from the water. “You said you wanted to be more spontaneous!”
“I wasn’t expecting this!”
More fireworks go off in the distance, lighting the tips of the trees that surround us. Sam flips onto his back and starts swimming backward, showing the bare lines of his chest. I instinctively throw my hands over myself, covering up.
“What if someone sees us?”
“Jules—no one else is out here. It’s just you and me.”
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Skinny-dipping?”
“I can’t believe you dared me!”
“I never thought you’d actually do it.”
“Sam!”
“Relax—we’re not completely naked!”
Fireworks go off again as Sam paddles in circles around me, laughing.
“How did you even come up with this?” I ask.
“I saw it in a movie once,” he says. “It seemed really sweet and romantic and everything in my head.”
“It’s so cliché.”
“At least this will be something to remember. And a funny story to tell.”
“We can’t tell anyone this!”
“Okay—we’ll keep it a secret.”
Sam swims up to me. And we look at each other. I take in his face illuminated by occasional bursts of light from the sky. He is right about one thing. I don’t think I could ever forget the way he’s looking at me in this moment.
“Are you mad we did this?” he whispers.
“No. Just a little nervous.” I feel a shiver, not from the cold, but from the thrill of being out here with him.
“Me, too.”
Sam smiles and moves my hair behind my ear. Then he lifts my chin gently with his other hand, and he kisses me. We close our eyes, listening to fireworks going off around us.
A beam from what could be a flashlight shines through the trees, followed by some voices and the sound of footsteps coming up the path.
“Someone’s coming!” I gasp.
“What—”
We dive underwater to hide ourselves. I hold my breath and bubbles swarm and swirl around me as I fall through the water like a stone pulled through space, before emerging onto dry concrete.
It’s broad daylight out. The smell of food carts and sulfur fills the air as skyscrapers rise up around me. It’s the summer before senior year. I’m standing on the streets of New York City, adjusting a duffel bag that’s digging into my shoulder as Sam suddenly appears, dashing past me, pulling along a suitcase.
“No time to stop! We gotta go!”
“Hold on!”
Sam is leaving for Japan in an hour and forty-two minutes. The next subway to the airport arrives any minute now, and if he misses it he could miss his flight. He is spending the entire summer in Osaka with his grandparents, so he and I planned a good-bye weekend trip together before he heads off.
Sam glances at his phone for directions. “This way!”
“Just slow down—”
We zigzag through stalled traffic and push through crowds, avoiding steam spouting from manholes and the occasional corner merchant trying to sell me handbags. Once we make it down a narrow stairwell and turn the corner, Sam goes crashing into the metal turnstile and wheezes.
“You have to swipe your MetroCard—” I swipe it once for each of us as we hurry through and head down another set of stairs. When the platform rumbles beneath my feet, I know we made it just in time. I look out and see the train lights shining through the tunnel.
It’s time for us to say good-bye. I wish we had a few more days together. I wish I was going with him.
Sam kisses my cheek. “I have to go.”
The train doors open behind him, letting people pour onto the platform.
I don’t know what to say. I hate good-byes. Especially with him.
“I’ll text you soon as I’m there, okay?”
“Don’t forget!”
I hand Sam his duffel bag. He kisses me one last time and steps inside.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Why does it have to be for so long?”
“It’s only six weeks. And we’ll talk every day.”
“Wait…” I grab his arm. “Take me with you.”
He smiles at me. “We can go together next summer. After graduation.”
“Promise?”
“Don’t worry, we can travel every summer for the rest of our lives, okay? You and me.”
“Okay,” I say. And then I remember something. “Wait—your jacket!” I take off his denim jacket to hand over before the door closes, but Sam stops me.
“Keep it for me.”
I smile and hold the denim close to my chest.
“You better have written a ton by the time I’m back. I can’t wait to read it.”
“I’ve barely started anything!”
“Well, now you won’t have me as a distraction.”
“You’re not a distraction—” I start.
But the train doors close between us.
Sam and I look at each other through the window. Then he breathes onto the glass and writes something. I read the letters right before they vanish.
S + J
I smile and place a hand on the window. Sam presses his hand against mine. We look at each other for as long as we have left. I wish I could frame this moment between us.
A voice comes through the intercom, reminding those of us on the platform to stay behind the yellow line. I take a couple steps back as the train begins to move, taking Sam with it. I stand there clenching the jacket, watching the train pick up speed until it becomes a roaring blur of lines, blasting air up from the tracks, blowing back my hair.
And then spots of light appear from behind me, twirling through the subway like fireflies as the ceiling suddenly lifts itself, pulling in a cool breeze. I turn around to find the underground platform has vanished, replaced by an evening sky and carousel lights from the fair.
Gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I look up at the Orbiter, a carnival ride that lifts people into the air and spins them around like a hand mixer.
“What about this one…” I ask, pointing at the ride. “Too scary?”
I’m holding hands with James—Sam’s little brother. It’s just the two of us at the moment. He doesn’t answer me. He hasn’t been speaking to me all night.
“Do you want some food instead? We can get cotton candy.”
James says nothing. He stares at the ground.
I don’t know why he’s so quiet. I take him to the cotton candy stand, hoping this cheers him up. He’s never like this. He and I have always gotten along. It was my idea to bring him here tonight.
A man behind the stand taps impatiently at a sign.
I tap James’s arm. “What color would you like?”
No answer.
“I guess we’ll take the blue,” I say.
James nibbles on his cotton candy as we wander around the fair, looking for Sam. He went to play carnival games with some friends. I thought James and I could use the time to bond. But he refuses to go on any rides with me. As we stop to watch people get tossed around on the Tilt-A-Whirl, I finally ask, “Are you mad at me?”
He stares at the Tilt-A-Whirl without a word.
I frown, unsure how to get through to him. “Whatever it is, James, I’m sorry. It makes me sad that you aren’t talking to me. Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?”
James looks at me for the first time. “You’re taking Sam from us.”
“What do you mean?”
He looks back to the Tilt-A-Whirl. “I heard Sam talking. He said he doesn’t want to live with us anymore. He said you guys are leaving somewhere.” He looks back at me. “Is that true?”
I’m at a loss for words. Sam mentioned he had an argument the other week with his parents about what he would do after graduation. About moving to Portland with me and pursuing his music instead of going to college. That’s probably what this is about.
“I would never take Sam from you,” I say.
“So you’re not leaving?”
How do I answer this? “Well, I’m going to college. And Sam might go with me. But it doesn’t mean either of us is leaving you.”
Before I can say more, Sam appears, holding a stuffed animal.
“It’s a lizard. Cute, right? Took me forever to get it from that bucket toss game. I’m pretty sure it’s rigged.” He gives it to me. “I won it for you.”
“That’s very sweet.”
I turn to James, lowering myself to him. “You like lizards, don’t you? Here…”
James looks at me, at the lizard, at Sam, then back at me. “He gave it to you,” he says. Then he walks off.
“Don’t go too far!” Sam shouts. He turns to me. “Don’t worry about him. He’s been like that lately. I’ll take care of it later, okay?”
“Okay…”
“You should cheer up. We’re at the fair. Did you want to go on a ride?”
I look around us. All these rides seem too intense for me. “Maybe just once on the Ferris wheel,” I say, pointing behind him.
The lights from the Ferris wheel can be seen from anywhere in town. It stands a hundred feet high, towering over the other rides and almost every building in Ellensburg.
Sam turns around, looking up at it. “Oh. Uh, are you sure you don’t want to go on, you know, something else?”
“What’s wrong with the Ferris wheel?”
“Nothing. It’s just a little high up, that’s all.”
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“What? Of course not.”
“Then let’s go.”
The Ferris wheel somehow seems taller when you’re standing beneath it. We hand someone our tickets and step into our windowless gondola. Sam takes a few deep breaths. He’s a bit jittery all of a sudden. When we hear the mechanism coming to life and feel the Ferris wheel begin to move, Sam grabs my hand.
“Are you gonna be okay?” I ask.
“Yeah … totally fine…” He laughs a bit nervously.
The ground slowly disappears as we move toward the sky.
Sam takes another deep breath. I give his hand a squeeze.
“You know, I used to be afraid of heights, too,” I say.
“Really? And how did you get over it?”
The gondola shakes as we make our way back up for the second loop. Sam twitches in his seat.
“You have to close your eyes first,” I say, as I do this myself. “Are they closed?”
“Yeah.”
“Mine, too.”
“Okay. And then what?”
“And then you pretend you’re somewhere else,” I say. “Anywhere in the world that makes you forget where you are. It doesn’t even have to be a real place. It can be somewhere in your imagination.”
“Like from a daydream?”
“Exactly.”
The Ferris wheel continues to move. But it feels different with your eyes closed.
“So where are you?” I ask.
Sam takes a moment to think. “I’m in a new apartment … that you and I just moved into … and there’s a park right outside the window … and we have a record playing in the living room … and there are boxes everywhere that need unpacking…” He squeezes my hand. “Where are you?”
“I think I’m there, too,” I whisper.
I sense him smiling.
“I don’t want to open my eyes,” Sam says.
But the ride is about to come to its end. I can feel it. I squeeze my eyes tighter, hoping to stop time or at least slow it down. Because I don’t want to open mine, either. I don’t want to lose him. I want to keep them shut and live in this memory of us forever. I don’t want to open my eyes and see a world without Sam.
But sometimes you just wake up. No matter how hard you try not to.
