Come Hell or High Water | mxm

3.4

3.4

Fat, fluffy snowflakes drifted through the air outside the window.

The phone rang five times.

Sam fumbled at his screen as he answered. Pressing the phone against his ear, he said breathlessly, "Hello, sorry, lost track of time."

"Lost track of time? You that busy these days?" Gord's voice was amused.

"No, I was just-- never mind."

Gord chuckled a little.

"How are you?" Sam asked, trying to sound normal.

"Doin' fine. You?"

"Oh, I'm--I'm just great." Sam's laughter was a little strained. "I got an interview next week."

"Beauty." Gord's voice was warm. "Knew you'd get one soon."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, sounding far less certain.

"Hope it goes real well. You'll hafta tell me how it goes when you come up."

Sam hesitated. "Yeah, about that."

"What about that?" Gord asked, warily. "You said you were comin' up the week before Christmas."

"I know. I know I said that. I just... can't, now."

"You can't," Gord repeated, flatly.

"I can't."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Charlie and Ben'll be upset," Gord told him. "They were lookin' forward to seein' you again. Didn't stop talkin' 'bout yer paintin' tricks for months after the last visit."

"You know I'd come if I could, Gord."

"Don't know if I do know that," Gord said, coolly.

Sam let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry. Honestly, I'm not very optimistic about this interview. I'm overqualified for the position. I think they're only bringing me in 'cause a friend recommended me. I really need to stay in town, work on this job situation. Network. You know."

"Over Christmas?" Gord asked dubiously.

Pleadingly, Sam said, "You don't understand what it's like here right now. Half my friends are still out of work. No one's hiring. There's still layoffs going on, every other week. Most of us don't exactly have transferable skills."

"Think it's any easier out here?" Gord asked. "Half the folk 'round here depend on rental cheques or a kid sendin' somethin' home from Fort Mac to hold things together 'til the harvest ships. Yer workin' hard on this, I know. But can't say I see why that means you can't make a day or two for me over the holidays, least."

Sam skimmed a palm over his short hair and said unhappily, "It's just bad timing. I need to be around if something comes up."

"What'd be good timin', then?"

"Maybe next month."

"That's what you said last month, Sam."

"It's-- I'm sorry, okay?"

Gord made a frustrated sound. "I'm sick o' the phone, Sam. I wanna see you. It's just a couple hours up the highway. I'm not important enough for that?"

"Gord, you don't understand," Sam whispered.

"Yer right, I don't. You embarrassed to show yer face here or somethin'? No one blames you for anythin'. Well, s'pose the Krasowskys might." He laughed.

"Well, I blame me," Sam snapped. "We screwed you all over. Have you even seen a cheque since August? Mel told me you couldn't pay your bills without that money."