Page 33 of The Backtrack
“I’m a shit friend,” she said.
He chuckled. “I didn’t say that.”
“I know, because you’re a good friend. But it’s true. I’m a shit friend. And I’m sorry for not being there. Really, I am.”
“Thanks.” He licked his lips. “I did reach out, but you—”
“Changed my number and didn’t tell you, yes, because—say it with me now—‘Sam is a shit friend.’”
He wasn’t going to say it, which just spoke to how much better of a person he was than her. But he gave a look like he wanted to move on. So she added, “You’ve been doing a lot for me the last few days. How about I try to make up for lost time by taking you out tomorrow?”
“I have work in the morning,” he hedged.
“After work. I’ll pick you up. It’ll be a big surprise. Come on, we’re old friends, right?” Why was she pushing this when he so clearly didn’t want to? Maybe because she was wildly guilty about ditching him so long ago. And even though she knew that one day of her planning activities wouldn’t fix things, the gesture could be a start.
“Okay, you can pick me up at the brewery when I finish up at two tomorrow.” He offered a small smile, and that made a weight lift from her. “You know what song just popped into my head?”
Sam squinted and pressed her fingers into her temples, as if trying to mind read. “‘MMMBop’?”
“Underrated anthem, but no. ‘Ocean Avenue’ by Yellowcard. Remember that summer we listened to it on a loop?”
“Yeah,” Sam said with a knowing look. Unlike most emo songs, “Ocean Avenue” wasn’t about a relationship. It was about a place, and a feeling and wanting to go back to a memory. “I told you the lyrics weren’t romantic, but you wrongly said they were.”
“Having nostalgiaisromantic,” Damon insisted. “It’s the ability to never forget something you love.”
He looked at her, and while he was talking about the lyrics, she also sensed that he might be talking about something else. About them, maybe.
Damon started to sing the song under his breath, breaking her thoughts. Sam playfully hip-checked him, and he lost his balance, which made his octopus flail. It jerked toward Sam’s kite, and the lines tangled. The dragon dragged down the octopus and one of the long arms whipped Sam in the face. She shrieked as Damon tried to regain control, which is when a voice over the loudspeaker called out, “No drinking and flying!”
“That’s a rule I should’ve known.” Sam tipped her rosé can up and took a few long sips.
“You think he’s talking to us, or those five-year-olds?” Damon pointed his beer bottle to a pair of twin girls slurping juice boxes while flying a small puffer-fish kite.
“It’s anyone’s guess,” she said. “Just to be safe, we better head out.”
The sun began to set, and the temperature was starting to drop. She’d need to get dinner going for Pearl. Sam reeled the kite back in and glanced over at Damon. He stared back, looking like he wanted to say something. But then thought better of it, and reeled his goofy octopus in, too.
As they drove home, soft light from the boutiques and homes along the road gave the night sky a warm glow. Maybe it was the rosé, but Sam wasn’t nervous to be on the motorcycle this time. She wrapped herself tightly around Damon and let her head rest in between his shoulder blades. She was sleepy and happy nestled against him.
When Damon parked the bike, she unfurled herself, shook out her arms and handed over the helmet. She didn’t want the night to end, but it was late and she knew he probably had to get back home...or to Marissa.
Her disappointment showed, because Damon leaned back in the motorcycle seat and considered her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’ll sound weird because you live here.”
“I do.” He held her helmet in his lap and his fingers tap-tap-tapped the top of it.
“I was just thinking that I feel sort of rooted here, in this moment, and this place... And with you,” she said, surprising herself.
The words slipped out as easily as the wine had gone down, and now that she’d said them, she wasn’t sure how to take them back. So she decided to plow forward and hope for the best. “I’ve been going nonstop for the past few years, and I haven’t been forced to come back to Tybee until now. Because of my mom, I just have a lot of mixed feelings when it comes to being here. But when I’m with you, I don’t know... I feel a lot happier than I thought I would.”
Sam shifted on her feet, suddenly aware she had no security blanket to grab and she’d just revealed way too much truth. She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to associate Tybee with comfort. Hadn’t she worked hard enough to put it all behind her? But as she stood close to Damon, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that for the first time in a long time, she wanted to stay still.
Damon licked his bottom lip before he looked off toward the house.
“Doyouwant to talk about it?” Sam asked, mimicking his initial question.
Eventually, he looked back with an expression that was unmistakably torn. Like he was testing the words out in his head. “I feel good with you, too,” he eventually said. “But I’ll be honest, I’m sort of nervous about that. I know you’ll leave in a few weeks. And then what? You’ll probably just be gone again.”
