Chapter 44

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"So how is it going?" Sami's voice is soft but steady, barely loud enough to be heard over the humming music playing overhead. It's on theme and festive, guitars and trumpets feeding off of one another in perfect harmony.

Conversations—happier, lighter ones, I'm sure—work to drown out the sounds of clinking forks and bustling servers. Vibrant colors buzz across the ethnic restaurant, bright reds and oranges vying for attention. Chips and salsa are nestled between us, almost untouched. I push the orange rice around my plate, frustrated at both my lack of appetite and the line of questioning I know I am about to endure.

"Fine, I guess. I'm on probation at work for calling off so much. Luckily I brought a union rep with me for my meeting with my manager, or I'm sure he would have tried to fire me," I mumble before taking a drink of my water.

"That's good, at least. I mean, I'm glad you didn't lose your job. How's work going?"

"It's really rough, honestly. Probably the hardest it's ever been for me. I don't feel like I'm all there. And it's kind of scary. For the first time ever, I'm wondering if I really want to do it anymore," I reveal, frowning to myself.

Sami polishes off her second taco, the doubled-corn tortillas breaking easily under her ravenous bite. She wipes her mouth, clearing the redness away before continuing, "Well... how are you really?"

Irritation, ugly and unrelenting, crawls up my spine at her persistent intrusiveness. I know she means well, but fuck. I don't... I don't want to talk about it, or anything really, I guess. I just don't know what else to say.

"Sami," I take a deep breath, "I love you, but please stop treating me like I'm a ticking time bomb. I know you're just trying to help, but I came to see you, not talk about this other stuff. I just... I honestly I don't want to go there."

"I know you don't, but isn't that the problem? You've never wanted to 'go there' and you've always needed to! How much longer do you go on without finally addressing it? I mean... how are you and Logan even getting on?" Her eyes are lit by fire and her brows are furrowed in concentration, passion and concern dominating her features.

My gaze casts downward, my uncertain eyes too timid to meet the intensity in hers. I take a deep breath, "We're trying, Sami. Everyday is a little different. We have brief windows where things almost feel... normal. Like when we're cooking dinner or getting ready for work. And then it's like we remember... we remember that things aren't normal and they never will be again. Guilt settles into us for even having a glimpse of normalcy—of happiness, and then we withdraw into ourselves all over again."

Sami nods, patiently taking in my words as she sips her soda. "Well it's been, what? Five-ish weeks since the funeral? I'd say that's all probably pretty normal, babe. It's probably going to take a very long time for anything to truly feel normal again. Just... just remember to try? Okay? Try to show him you're there for him in every way."

I roll my eyes at her words. "You think I'm not trying?" I scoff, "That's kind of offensive, Sami."

"Stop it. That's not how I meant it. I guess just... I'm trying to say that you guys might need to try other things to help you move forward. Maybe you both need more."

Her words are punctuated with sincerity, and regret bubbles within me for my defensive responses. I've been on the other side of grief, and I know that it's near impossible to pinpoint the right thing to say because—there is no such thing.

There is no such thing.

***

Light shines upon me as my face is met with frigid air. My eyes dance around each shelf and drawer, trying to examine the contents of the refrigerator while one hand holds the stainless steel handle.

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