The Last One(19)

“Yeah, but what he said really bothers you. Meggie, I’ve heard people say horrible things about you right to your face. Nothing ever fazes you. You blow it off, or you laugh. Or both. But for some reason, what this stranger spouted off got under your skin. Don’t you wonder why?”

“Are you saying it stung because there’s truth in it? Is this an intervention? Shouldn’t there be a sign?”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re not an alcoholic. I’m just saying maybe it’s not so much what he said but that it was Sam saying it.”

“Why should it?”

She smiled and raised one eyebrow. “Maybe he matters. Maybe you had some kind of ... instant connection. You know, like with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail. Even though he was obnoxious, she was drawn to him.”

I shook my head. “Lo, give it up. This is real life, not a movie, and I wasn’t drawn to him. He’s the equivalent of a grouchy old man, only he’s not old. At least, not that old. And besides ...” I remembered his parting words to me. “It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again. You couldn’t pay me enough to go back to that dinky little town.”



IF I THOUGHT ABOUT Sam Reynolds at all over the next month, it was only a fleeting memory, some little stab of hurt pride as I fell asleep at night. Laura and I were both busy with finals and end-of-the-term projects, and some days we hardly saw each other. Sleep became a scarce commodity as I pulled more than one all-nighter at the studio.

When I did see Laura, I could tell that she was walking around in a state of nerves and excitement. Brian was supposed to come back stateside at the end of May, and they’d planned for Laura to spend the summer living near his new assignment in North Carolina. Brian had to stay in the barracks on base, but Laura was sharing an apartment with one of his buddy’s girlfriends who lived there year-around. I knew she was counting the days until his return, even though she was nervous.

“We haven’t seen each other in over a year.” She was sitting on our living room floor, laying out a chronological drawing project that was due the next day. “What if I’m not the person he expects to see when he gets back? What if we’ve both grown too far apart?”

“Lo, get real. You talk to him once a week, you email all the time ... and I’ve never seen anything like the two of you. No, that’s not true.” I rolled to my side on the sofa, where I’d collapsed after a particularly grueling final exam. “My mom and dad were like that. When my mom came into a room, everything stopped for my dad. He only saw her, and it was the same for her with him. That’s going to be you and Brian. Forever.”

She looked up at me, and I saw the understanding shining in her eyes. “Oh, sweetie, that’s about the most wonderful thing you could say to me. Thank you. I know it’s going to be okay. I’m just—” She put her hands to her cheeks. “You know, a bundle of nerves. Once I know Brian’s back here, on American soil, I’ll feel better. I can’t relax until then.”

“Then we’ll just keep thinking about that. Just a few more weeks, right?” I grinned at her and pushed to sit up. “God almighty, I’m exhausted. That test wiped me out.” I reached for the coffee table to pick up my tablet. “I’m going to check my email real quick and then go to bed. I’m beat.”

“I’ll be up for a while finishing this. Luckily, I can sleep late tomorrow morning.”

I opened up my mail program and scanned the inbox. Junk, spam, a picture of my nephew DJ—I opened it fast and smiled at his sweet chubby face. More junk, something from ArtCorps—

“Laura!” I jumped to my feet. “From ArtCorps! It’s my assignment for the summer.”

She turned to look up at me. “What did you get? Arizona? New Mexico? Ooooh, SoCal?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t looked yet. I’m almost too scared. I’ve been so excited about this. What if I get, like, the mid-west? Or Alaska? I don’t think I’m cut out to be an Inuit.”

“Open it! Come on, inquiring minds want to know.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath, pressed my hand to my fluttering heart and touched the message. My eyes skimmed down the page as I read the high points aloud. “Congratulations, happy to have you on board this project ... report June first, transportation ... supplies ...” My voice trailed off as I read the final paragraph.

“No way. No. Fucking. Way.”

“What? Tell me. Alaska?”

I fell back onto the couch, dropping the tablet onto the cushion next to me. “Someone hates me. Maybe God. Maybe fate or whatever’s out there. I can’t fucking believe this.”