Empire State of Mind

7. Someone's Someone

Waking up in the early Saturday morning, opening the doors to dew covered grounds, a chilly breeze and sunny skies, also a hundred and one texts from Sam.

As I began the process of reading all his SOS texts, I received a call from him.

"Good morning," I smile, answering the phone to his panicked face, "Dr. Amòr here, what seems to be the issue?"

He was exasperated, "April. Told. Me. Will. Likes. Me."

"Yes, that is a statement, and how do you feel?" I act like I'm taking notes.

"Jessica! I'm panicking!" He squeals, "Can you please come over and I'll explain?!"

"It's like 8am on a Saturday, and you want me to come over. Sam, I love you, but I just woke up."

He signed deeply, and no matter how badly I wanted to curl up in my blankets with a cup of coffee and scroll through mindless video clips of cute cats, I knew that Sam would do the same thing for me if I needed him to. So, I washed by greasy hair, threw on my clothes, and went to Sam's place, after stopping for latte's first. Duh.

He lived in a quaint-er part of town, the gravel road was not kind to my low-riding beast of a car, but I had to, he would to the same for me. I pulled up to a small little Nissan sitting on the gravel in front of a cute, quaint house set in the picturesque woods. Blooming flowerbeds sat next to the front porch; my boots clicked softly against the creaky stained wood. The dark front door had a pine wreath hanging in front of the window, pillars, white fences, and soft colored fences encased the porch. It was perfectly Sam. I didn't even bring my knuckles to the door before it swung open, a pair of arms were thrown around me, a squealing Sam squeezing me tight.

I cough out a few words, "You're! Killing! Me!"

He giggles, "You came!"

"Yes! I am here, speak!" I giggle with him, the excitement in his eyes almost immediately turned anxious, a note I wasn't able to pick up in our previous conversation.

"Sam?"

He checks his shoulder, "Don't judge the house, I didn't have time to clean. Promise?"

I hold up my pinky finger, following him into the house. There was a man, older, and holding a bottle of whiskey, "Samuel, grab me the bottle of pills from the bathroom, will ya?" His voice was rough, groggy, and his words blended together like a smoothie of consequences.

"Dad, not right now. We have company," Sam says smally, like he was afraid of the man.

The man stood up with a grunt, "I see the woman standing there now get me the damn pills," He raised his voice.

A small old woman walked around the corner, "You're in rehab asshole! Leave them in the bathroom! Sam, you and your friend go have fun, I'll take care of this bastard, now get your dumbass in the car for therapy," She beats him with her cane.

Sam chuckles, "That's my grandma. She moved in after mom died, sadly after dad had gone off the rails, but she's trying her best to get him better. He's one stubborn guy," He crosses his legs on the couch.

"Now I see where you get it front," I joke, "Your grandma is spunky!"

He laughs, so freely, so purely, it was a classic Sam laugh. He was the person everyone needed. His laugh alone could make you laugh, despite his mood, his friends came first. He's trustworthy, kind, and free-spirited. He loves to love, and that's how he is.

"You should've met my mother, you two would've gotten along, she was spunky. I get it from her," He wrinkles his nose, throwing his arm across my shoulder, "But! That's not the point of today! Will."