Remembering Taylor Mason (Rewritten, 2020)

Chapter Nine: Liam

MILD TRIGGER WARNING

"Shit! I gotta go, I promised my sister I'd be home by four to watch our siblings," Samara says, practically spilling her ridiculously big, fancy ice coffee as she chugs back the last few sipes of it. "Catch ya later Liam." She turns to run toward the door but I catch her by the arm.

"You walked here, didn't you?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says breezily. "Yeah both my parents are at work."

"Come on, I'll give you a ride then," I say, snatching my keys from my pocket and heading toward the door.

"Oh no, it's fine, Liam, really. It's totally out of your way and its a nice day. I don't mind walking."

"I know," I say, turning to face her. "But it's 10 to 4 right now and your house is at least a 20 minute walk from here. Also, this town is pretty small. Nothing's really out of the way."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, if I wasn't I wouldn't have offered. Now, are we gonna stand here and talk about you gettin' home on time, or are we actually gonna make it happen?"

"Okay. Okay, Liam. Thank you," Samara accepts, marching ahead of me and into the gentle breeze of the mid-afternoon.

---

I drive the car in silence, drumming my fingers anxiously on the wheel, as Sam stares out the open window. Her black hair blows around her face, the tears rushing down her cheeks causing it to stick to her face in clumps. Before I realize it, I'm wondering how someone so sad can still look as pretty as she does right now.

As soon as the thought enters my mind though, I swallow it like a bad taste in my mouth. I can't be thinking about my best friend's girl like this. Even if he's dead.

"So, um, Sam, what's wrong?" I try. Conversation will get me out of my own head.

"He used... He and I used to walk home this way," she tells me.

"We'd cut through on the gravel and on weekends, we'd go for runs together. It was always the most peace I'd gotten all week. Living with five younger siblings isn't always fun," she laughs, as more tears start to form, drowning out the deep blue of her eyes.

"That sounds real nice," I say, though I should have said more.

"Yeah," she says, a smile breaking like the sun through a storm. "Yeah, it was."

"So... uh.." I start. I wish I was faster at knowing what to say.

"Did you know he wanted to be a filmmaker?" she asks, saving me from the awkwardness of having to start another conversation.

"Uh, yeah," I lie. The truth is, I had had no idea. Taylor and I were friends, sure, but he had always just been there. There to toss the ball with, or there to walk beside me in the halls at school. He'd always just go along with whatever I was doing, no questions asked. We never talked about anything he had wanted.

Even when he had us over for bonfires, I'd mostly just sing along to his music, and laugh at all the stupid things we'd done in the past. We never talked about our futures; We never talked about anything real.

"He was so excited to apply to Vancouver Film School," Samara continues, her voice breaking. "I-I asked him once what he'd make movies about. It was a rainy Saturday and we were out for a run. There's something so mysterious about running in the rain, you know. Almost magical... Anyway, I asked him what he'd make a movie about, and he turned to me and all of the sudden it started to pour. I started running faster, trying to beat the storm, but he caught my arm. A-and smiling, he said, "This.""

--

When I get home, I flop on my bed and let out a frustrated sigh. How can you have been someone's friend for almost a decade, and feel like you never really knew them at all?