Page 30 of The Backtrack
“Correct.”
Rachel sat back and put the melted gelato down. “Like the wardrobe in Narnia.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Or, like13 Going on 30, when she goes into a closet or something, and then she’s suddenly a thirty-year-old?”
“That’s right.” Sam crossed her arms and waited for the confirmation that she needed medical attention. “But I’m thirty-two going on sixteen.”
“Did you take anything?” Rachel practically whispered the words, then looked around to make sure no one else was listening. To be fair, no one wanted a pilot on drugs, especially not the hallucinogenic kind. “Like old Tylenol? Or, I don’t know what they do in Georgia, some peach-flavored shrooms?”
“I haven’t, no.” Sam nibbled her bottom lip and carefully weighed her options. She’d already done the hard part of telling the truth. Could she just take it all back? Say it was a weird joke?
After a good, long pause, Rachel finally asked, “What were the songs?”
Sam frowned. “Does that matter?”
“Well, sometimes songs put me in a real dark place. Like that Rihanna and Eminem song, ‘Love the Way You Lie’? That song messes me up. And you’re telling me this was a mixtape your high school boyfriend—”
“Not my boyfriend,” Sam quickly corrected.
“Okay, fine,not your boyfriend. What did he pick out for you?”
“They’re just songs we listened to in high school. Mostly emo songs that meant a lot to us at the time.”
“Is it possible that the most important person in your high school life made you a CD, and the songs are hyper-nostalgic and you’re having super-vivid memories?” Rachel’s hopeful expression told Sam that what her friend needed was reassurance, because in that moment, Sam wasn’t making any sense.
“Yeah, that could be...” Sam didn’t say that she’d already considered this possibility, and then quickly abandoned the theory entirely.
“You’re not buying it, huh?”
“These are not the memories I have from high school. They’re totally different, like an alternate version. And they feel very real.” Sam peeled a thigh off her leather chair and winced as her skin stuck to the material—sure to leave a stubborn mark. “And I’m just kind of freaking out, because what does this all mean?”
Rachel didn’t answer. She blinked a lot, looked off and put the phone down. Sam stared at the ceiling of the airport lounge for a few tedious seconds. When she eventually picked the phone back up, Rachel asked, “I’m just wondering if maybe you should go to a doctor and get checked out?”
And there it was: the decision had been made that something was not quite right with Sam. This was a problem that couldn’t be solved with a phone call. She needed to go be evaluated.
“You think I’m making it up?” Sam asked, maybe a little desperate to hear the opposite.
“I didn’t say that.” Rachel tucked a thick strand of hair behind her ear. “But, Sam, if I told you this exact same thing, what would you think?”
“I’d think you were...” Sam of coursewantedto say that she’d believe her, but she wouldn’t. Not even a little bit. “You’re going to come visit me now, aren’t you?”
“I can’t just leave you in this aughts vault, hallucinating. What kind of friend would I be?” The overhead airport intercom blared, and Rachel put on her pilot’s cap and stood from her seat. “We’re being called back to the plane. Text me the address, okay? I won’t call a priest until I’m there and can confirm the demons need to be removed.”
Sam knew she’d do the exact same thing, but still...this was a part of her life no one had seen and it was about to be cracked open. Her shoulders sagged with the realization that she’d no longer be able to pretend this wasn’t happening. “I just don’t want to be here anymore.”
The trip had been a nonstop whirlwind of blow after blow. And if it was up to Sam, she’d leave—but she couldn’t, not until she finished this job for Pearl.
“Then do something about it.” Rachel gave Sam a tough but fair look. “The Sam I know doesn’t just sit around. Stop tripping balls with your sad emo songs and get packing.”
“Okay.” And Sam was relieved to have someone telling her what to do—even if it was what she’d already been up to.
“And don’t touch that CD player anymore,” Rachel added. “Lock it up, or put it somewhere you can’t reach, like the roof. I know you never really ask for help, but I’m bringing some, whether you like it or not.”
Sam blew out a massive breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Being out of control was her least favorite thing, but ever since arriving she hadn’t been able to get her land legs under her. At least Rachel could help dig her out of this mess and get her back in the air, far away from Tybee.
12
