Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) (24 page)

When he returned home two and a half hours later, every muscle in his body was throbbing. He’d overdone it at the gym,
pushing himself to get out the frustration. He’d feel it even more in the morning, he was sure of it. He took two Aleve, a hot shower, and fell into bed.

When Sam opened his eyes again, it was almost eight o’clock. He got out of bed slowly. His shoulders and arms were a little sore, but his headache was gone, as it was every morning. He felt good. He
drank some water, pulled on his running clothes and sneakers,
grabbed his iPod, and was out the door.

He got back home an hour later, took a quick shower, and checked his cell phone. Nothing from Lydia. He turned on his
computer, checked his email. Nothing.

Sam got dressed, then made himself a light breakfast of a banana, egg whites, and whole wheat toast. He ate it quickly,
unaware of his meal as his mental gears kept grinding away. He checked his cell and email again. Still nothing. It was ten-thirty.

He picked up his phone and dialed, pacing his living room.

Lydia picked up on the third ring. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Sam exhaled sharply. “I know you asked me not to call. I've been trying to respect your request. But I can't take it anymore. Are you alright? What's going on?”

“Oh, Sam.” Lydia sounded immediately remorseful. “I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to worry you. I was going to call you in a while. I've just had my hands full with Andy this morning. I have to take him to a birthday party, it starts at eleven. I have to leave in about five
minutes.”

“Just give me two minutes, then,” Sam said. “Tell me what's
going on with you.”

“I had a really bad day yesterday,” she replied. “A bad week, actually, and yesterday was just the topper. I was so drained by the time I got home, I just wanted to get in bed, pull up the covers, and shut out the world.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Sam kicked at the carpet, his frustration
rising. “I was concerned about you. I didn't know what to think.”

“Yikes. I'm really sorry I worried you,” she said. “But I really have to get Andy out if I'm going to get him there on time. Can I call you later, in the afternoon? I'll fill you in then.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Sam closed his eyes, raked his free hand through his hair. “As long as you're okay.”

“I will be. It's a new day.” Lydia paused. “Are
you
okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” He forced levity into his voice. “Call me later. I'll be in and out all day, call my cell.”

“I will. I promise.” She paused again. “Well… okay. I gotta go.
I'll call you later.”

“Bye.” Sam hung up and went to the window, staring outside at the street below, watching people walk by. The tense feeling surging through him was mystifying.
Why am I being like this?
he wondered. He realized he was frustrated and annoyed—both with Lydia, and with himself. Slightly angry. Slightly… hurt.
What the hell?

He needed an escape. He had no plans for the day, nothing at all. Usually, he savored having a commitment-free Saturday. Today, it felt like a prison sentence.

Sam put on his shoes, shoved his wallet into the pocket of his jeans, pulled his navy pea coat on over his sweater. He put his cell phone in the inside coat pocket, and his iPod in the outside pocket. He left his apartment, not knowing where he'd go or what he'd do, but knowing he needed to be out.

***

Lydia was exhausted. Chasing Andy around his friend's
birthday
party for two hours had left her sweaty, tired, and mildly
aggravated.
Some people may have enjoyed taking their children to birthday
parties, but Lydia wasn't one of them. Shadowing her son to make sure that he was understood by others, that he wouldn't get frustrated and act out, hurting another child, was emotionally and physically draining to her, every single time.

“Emmo? Emmo?” Andy asked her, pointing up to his DVDs on the shelf.

“Sure,” she said, giving in without a thought of complaint. She took down an Elmo's World DVD and put it on. Andy curled up on his bean bag chair to watch it.

Three episodes on a DVD gives me about fifty minutes
, Lydia
calculated. She wanted to call Sam, but she was so tired… she lay down on the couch. Andy sat only a foot away from her. “Mama,” he smiled at her from his big blue bean bag.

“I'm right here, baby,” she smiled back. Her eyes slid shut.

When she opened her eyes again, it was because Andy was
climbing on her. The closing credits were rolling on the television. “Mama, mama,” Andy was giggling as he moved up to sit on her shoulder.

Lydia yawned, realizing she'd fallen asleep as soon as she'd hit the couch. She checked her watch; indeed, she'd been out cold for
almost an hour. It was almost three o'clock already. She cradled Andy and brought him down for a hug. They snuggled for a few minutes before she asked him, “Are you hungry? You want some
lunch?”

“Yah!” Andy cried. “Eat!”

Lydia stared at him. The word “eat” had only entered his vocabulary two days before; one week at his new school, and he
already had a new word. “Yes, you want to eat. Good talking! Mommy will make you lunch. Go play with your toys, I'll make you something to eat.”

“Yah yah yah,” Andy smiled. He snuggled her and gave her
cheek
a big, smacking kiss, then disentangled himself from her to run to his
bedroom.

As Lydia made a turkey and American cheese sandwich for
Andy,
her mind went to Sam. She swore under her breath as she
remembered she hadn't called him back yet.

“Andy,” she called as she brought his lunch to the dining room table. “Come have lunch, come eat.”

Andy bounded in a few seconds later, smiling as he climbed up into his booster seat. Lydia pushed the sandwich closer to him, got him a sippy cup of milk, and kissed his forehead.

“Mmmm,” Andy hummed happily as he chewed.

Lydia smiled at him. “It's yummy?”

“Mmmm.”

“Good. You eat.” She went to the refrigerator and got out two Gala apples, sliced them both up quickly and efficiently, and put the
pieces into two small bowls. She placed one before her son, and put the other at her own chair. She picked up the phone in her other
hand and brought it to the table. Sitting next to Andy, she gave him another smile and finally dialed Sam's cell number.

“Hello,” he answered. She could tell he was outside.

“Hi, it’s me,” she said. “I'm sorry it took me so long to call you back.”

“Yeah. Well. I’m walking through the park,” Sam said. “It’s
windy out. If the call breaks up, that’s why.”

“Okay. Well, I meant to call sooner. But after I brought Andy
home from the party, I literally passed out on the couch. I was asleep for about an hour. We're having some lunch now.”

“What's going on with you?” Sam asked abruptly. He sounded tense and angry. She hadn't heard him use a tone like that with her before. It made her uneasy in two seconds flat.

“What do you mean?” she asked with caution.

“I mean, you leave me this cryptic text message last night,” he said, “telling me something's wrong, giving me no hint as to what it
could be, and asking me not to call you on top of it. You didn't contact me at all this morning; then, when we did speak, you said you'd fill me in later… but it's late already.” Sam sounded
exasperated. “I just… I don't know. I don't know what I'm trying to say.”

“It sounds like you're pissed at me,” Lydia said.

Sam didn’t answer right away. Then he conceded, “Yeah, it does, doesn't it.”

“Yeah, it does.” Her stomach did a nauseous little twist, and she felt the familiar, unwelcome sensation of her hands growing cold.

“I didn't think I was. But now I'm realizing I might be, a little bit. Huh. Well.”

Lydia felt a wave of coldness rush over her and tingle up her spine. “Well. Um… why don't you get back to me on that? I think
I'm going to go finish lunch with Andy. You figure it out, and let me know.”

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “Maybe that's a good idea.”

Lydia swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Okay. Bye.” She
hung up and stared at the phone in her icy hand, incredulity
washing through her.

“Mama?”

She looked up. Andy was watching her, his big blue eyes
fastened to her face, obviously attuned to the vibe that something was wrong. “Mama?” He reached out and held her hand.

Lydia's insides warmed at the boy's small, sweet gesture of
affection. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “Mama's okay. I'm fine. Thank you, baby. I love you.”

The phone rang. It made her jump; she was still holding it, and she hadn't expected it to vibrate in her hand. She looked at the caller ID. It was Sam. “Hello?” she answered warily.

“I was totally wrong, that was a
terrible
idea.” Sam's voice was firm and repentant. “I can't believe I let you hang up like that, the
way the
conversation ended. I'm a jackass. I’m sorry. Can we try a do over on this?”

Lydia's mouth curved in a soft smile. “Sure.”

“Okay. Conversation, take two.” Sam exhaled a deep breath. “Hi babe, how's it going? Glad you called. I've been waiting to hear from you. I’ve been worried about you since your text last night, and it’s been eating at me.”

She gave a short laugh at his attempt at levity, then sighed. "I'm so sorry you were worried, and that I left you waiting. I'm sorry about all of it. I didn't mean to be inconsiderate, but I can see, from your perspective, that I was."

"Me too. I was pouting like a child. I just… I wanted you to come to me with it. To want to talk to me about whatever was bothering you.”

Her heart squeezed. “I thought I was doing you a favor by not dumping on you.”

“Dump on me, please. In the future. Alright?”

God, I’m crazy about you, Sam Forrester.
“Alright. Deal.”

“Okay. So now, let's just forget it and move on.” Sam’s tone
turned lighter, teasing. “Hey, did we just have our first fight?”

Lydia laughed. “I wouldn't characterize that as a fight. Not even
close. Maybe our first serious lack of communication, a case of
crossed wires, missed signals.”

“Okay, I'll buy that,” Sam said. “I went and saw a movie while you were at the party. It was okay. I'm in the park now, and it's
goddamn
freezing out here. But I couldn't go home yet, I couldn't take the
waiting. Felt like the walls were closing in on me.”

She winced. “Oh God, Sam—”

“You know what? I did it to myself, it's my own fault. But at least I realized what was up with me.” Sam cleared his throat and admitted, “I was concerned about you, I was speculating on what
happened to you, my mind ran away with it… and then I got a little bent that you didn't feel you could talk to me about whatever was bothering you. That, last night, you would rather have crawled into bed than talk to me. I wanted you to want to talk to me about it. So I was pouting.”

Lydia fidgeted with a slice of apple. “Sam. That's really sweet. And, as always, honest.”

“Well, maybe we should talk about honesty for a second,” he
said. “Look, I don't think you're perfect, or lead a perfect, rosy life. In fact, I
know
that's not the case; I knew that from the very first conversation we had. So you don't have to pretend that it is. You
don't have to only tell me or show me the good stuff. That's…
dis
honest. It's not the real deal. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do,” she said quietly. “And you're right.”

“Alright, good.” A sharp, brisk wind blew, she could hear it
whistling through his phone. “From now on, when something's wrong, I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I hope you can try. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said. Her heart expanded a size, maybe two.

“I'd like that. And you know what else was bothering me?” he said. “That I haven't seen you in over two weeks. And I won't until
next weekend. I miss you. I really want to see you. I really just want to get in bed with you, and strip you naked, and make love to you,
and lie there lazily with you, and talk and laugh and
be
with you. So there.”

“That sounds amazing. I want that too.” Lydia gave a short
chuckle. “You don't hold much back, that's for sure.”

“I don't see why I should. I'm in this, Lydia. I'm
in
.” The wind whistled again, making a ruffling sound through the phone. But his
voice came
through strong and clear as he asked, “So how about you? Are you
in?”

“I'm in,” she said, with quiet resolution. “I'm absolutely in.
Deeper
than I thought I'd be at this point, truth be told. And I really miss
you too, and I'd love to be in bed with you, and just to see you smile at
me, and I can't wait to be with you too. There, how's that for
openness and honesty?”

“A valiant effort. It’s a start. Thatta girl.”

LYDIA HAD HER FIRST
group of the morning in her small classroom, her five fourth-graders, all with reading problems and
developmental delays. They sat around her table in silence as they all slowly read
the passage she’d assigned. Lydia took advantage of the quiet
moment to steal a sip of her coffee.

The intercom buzzed, making everyone in the room jump. Lydia smiled at the students as she pushed the button to answer. “Yes, Mrs. Garland?”

“Mrs. Powell, you have something to pick up in the main office,
as soon as you get a chance,” came the head secretary's voice
through the speaker.