You’ve Reached Sam: A Novel

I couldn’t wait another day to see Mika. I couldn’t leave things the way they were. The guilt was eating me up, making it hard to focus. The sun casts shadows along the driveway as I reach the front door to her house. The van is parked outside the garage, so her parents must be home, too. I hope it’ll be her mom who answers when I ring the doorbell. Whenever there was bickering between us, she was the peacemaker.

The sound of footsteps lets me know someone’s coming. Mika’s front door has multiple chains and locks. I listen from the other side as somebody undoes them, one after the other. The door cracks open.

Mika peeks at me through the length of a chain. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could talk,” I say.

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Mika says nothing. She just stares at me through the doorway.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

Mika considers this. Then she shuts the door on me, and I think the answer is no. But the last chain unlocks from inside, and the door opens again. Mika looks at me without a word before turning back inside. I take off my shoes and follow her into the hall.

Steam rises from the kettle as Mika goes to shut off the stove. I hang beneath the archway of the kitchen as she grabs a few things from the cupboards. I sense something different about the house. I sniff the air. Incense? It’s coming from the other room. Since Mika seems busy at the moment, I decide to follow the smell.

There is a wooden cabinet in the living room. On the middle shelf, whiffs of smoke rise from a silver bowl where the incense is burning. A beautiful bowl of fruit sits beside it. I noticed the cabinet the first time I came over to Mika’s house a few years ago. It’s always full of photographs. Portraits of people in Mika’s family whom I’ve never met. She once told me they were pictures of ancestors. She said it is a symbol of respect for the dead.

And then I see it. A picture of Sam that wasn’t there before. He’s smiling in his plaid shirt, a blue sky behind him. Something cold moves down my back, sending a shiver through me. I keep forgetting that to the rest of the world, he’s dead.

“It’s the best one I could find.”

I turn around. Mika is holding a tea tray.

“The picture,” she says. “My mom and I picked it. She said he looked handsome.”

I can’t seem to find words. I just stand there, staring at his photo.

Mika sets the tray down on the coffee table. “I was making tea before you got here,” she says.

We sit on the couch together. Mika lifts the teapot and pours me a cup without asking. I notice her left eye. It’s a little bruised. But not as bad as I’d expected.

“It’s chrysanthemum,” Mika says.

“Thank you.”

I blow on my tea. I can see Sam’s picture from where we’re sitting. It’s like he’s watching over us. I notice Mika looking at it, too.

“I wished they asked me for his picture,” she says.

“Who?”

“The school. I didn’t like the one they used in the paper. They should have asked me.”

I remember the article. It was his school photo. Sam would have hated it, too.

“The one you picked is perfect,” I tell her.

Mika nods. She takes a sip of tea.

“I’m sorry about your eye. How did that happen?”

“One of Taylor’s friends threw a purse at me when I wasn’t looking,” she says.

“I’m so sorry, Mika.”

“It was a cheap shot. But I’m okay.”

“I forgot to thank you earlier,” I say. “For sticking up for me.”

“I wasn’t doing it for you. I did it for Sam.”

I lower my gaze, unsure of what to say.

Mika blows on her tea and takes another sip. After a long silence, she says, “When I saw Taylor talk to you like that … I thought of him. I thought of what Sam would have done if he was there. He’s always better with his words than me, you know? That’s why everyone liked him better.

“Even though he’s gone…” she continues. “I keep expecting to see him again. Whenever someone comes through the door, I wonder if it’s going to be him. If it’s Sam. It’s those moments when I forget he’s gone and remember again, that I feel the most sad.” She stares into her tea. “I know you don’t like to talk about Sam, but I really miss him. I don’t know how people can let go so fast.”

“I haven’t let go,” I say.

“But you’re trying to.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true anymore.” That was me two weeks ago. Everything’s different now that I’m connected to Sam again. If only she knew this.

“It doesn’t matter anymore if you do,” Mika says, looking at Sam’s portrait again. “Sometimes, I wish I stopped thinking about him, too. I don’t care about the vigil. I don’t even care that you missed it. But you were so busy trying to forget him that you were willing to forget me. You forget there were three of us. It wasn’t just you and Sam. I was a part of that, too…” She pauses, and looks at her phone on the edge of the coffee table. “I know this will sound stupid, but I still read through our group messages. Between the three of us. I thought about sending something the other day, just to keep it alive, you know? So that it wouldn’t just end … But I couldn’t. Because I was scared neither of you would answer. And I don’t want to be alone in there—” Her voice breaks, sending a pain to my chest. I deleted our group chat. It never once occurred to me that I was deleting Mika, too. I want to say something to fix this, but I know there are no words good enough.

Mika stares deep into her tea again, and continues in almost a whisper. “The other day … my mom was looking for pictures of me and Sam together for a photo album. But she said it was hard to find one without you in it, too. So instead, she made it about the three of us.” She wipes her eyes with back of her sleeve, trying to keep herself composed. “You know, when it happened … When Sam died … I remember thinking, how are you and I going to get through this? What are we going to do, you know? I kept waiting for you to text back, return my calls, and show up at the door. But you never did. You didn’t even want to see me—” her voice gives out, as if she’s holding back tears. “It was like when I lost Sam, I lost you, too.”

She wipes her eyes with her sleeve, and goes on. “His family came over a few days ago. I guess his mom still wakes up to the shock that he’s gone. For the first few days, she kept checking his room to see if he might be there. Like it was a dream or something. She called my dad to come over to help move Sam’s things out, but then she changed her mind again. They’re just sitting in boxes in his room. Like she’s keeping it for him … in case he comes back or something.”

My eyes are watering at this point. I should have been there with her at the beginning. I should have shared some of this pain. I take her hand. “Mika, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone like that, okay? I promise I never forgot about you and Sam. I still love him, and I think about him every day.”

Mika pulls her hand away. “It doesn’t look that way to me,” she says through tears. “Seems like you’ve moved on with your life. I see you with your new group of friends. All of you at lunch, laughing like nothing’s wrong. Like Sam was never even here.” She wipes her eyes again. “Did you even cry once when he died?”

The question stabs me. I hate that she thinks of me this way. “Of course I have,” I answer. Had she asked me this back at the diner, I might have said otherwise. But I’m not the person I was then. Because I found Sam again. If only I could just tell her this. “I know it might not seem like I care about him, but I do. Of course I do, Mika. But it’s complicated. You have to understand—”

“I know when you’re not being completely honest, Julie,” Mika says. “I know when you’re keeping things from me, too. I also know you meant what you said at the diner that morning. How am I supposed to believe you changed your mind since then? Just like that—”

“Because something strange happened since then,” I tell her. “I wish I could tell you, but I cant. I’m sorry. You have to believe me, though.”

Mika dismisses this with a shake of her head. “I can’t do this, Julie. I’m tired of all these nonanswers,” she says. “And I can’t take being ignored anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve called you a dozen times since he died,” Mika says. “And you never picked up. I know you didn’t want to talk to me. When I needed you. And yet you expect me to sit here and listen to this?”

Mika’s been calling me? I stare at my phone again, trying to remember when. It’s Sam’s calls, isn’t it? When I’m on the phone with him, nothing else comes through. That’s why I keep losing text messages, calls, and I don’t know what else. It’s like our connection is blocking me from everyone else. It’s keeping me from Mika, the person Sam asked me to make sure is okay. And I can’t even explain myself to her. “It’s my phone…” is all I can say. “Something’s wrong with it.”

What else am I supposed to say? How do I fix this without telling the truth?

“Maybe it’s time you go,” Mika says abruptly. She looks away, letting me know she doesn’t want to hear more. Like she’s about to get up, ending our conversation. I wish I could tell her everything. So she will understand why I’ve been acting the way I have, and know I haven’t let go of Sam because I never needed to. Because he never left me. But I don’t want to risk our connection. My hands clench and unclench as I hesitate on the couch, deciding … After all, Sam left it up to me, didn’t he? And there’s still a chance nothing bad will happen if I tell her. I can’t keep letting Mika think this way. I can see how much she’s hurting. I need to be there for her, like I promised him. I can’t let her go through this alone anymore. And I can’t lose her, too. I want to break down this wall that’s building between us. I don’t even know if she’s going to believe me, but I swallow my breath and tell her anyway.

“Mika, listen—” I take her hands before she gets up. “The reason I’m not getting your calls … or why I’m not grieving over Sam, is because we’re still connected. Me and Sam, I mean. He isn’t gone yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is going to sound strange…” I start to explain, carefully choosing my next words. “But I can talk to Sam. On the phone. I can call him and he picks up.”

“Our Sam?”

“Yes.”

Mika gives me a look. “What do you mean, you can talk to him?”

“I mean, he answers me. Through the phone,” I say. “I can tell him something, and he responds. We’ve been talking for hours, almost every day, like old times again. And it’s really him, Mika. It isn’t anyone else, or some sort of prank. It’s Sam.” My heart pounds inside my chest. I don’t know what else to say.

Mika takes this in. “Are you sure about this?”

I lean forward, squeezing her hands. “I promise it is. It’s his voice, Mika. It’s him, it’s Sam. You have to trust me.”

Mika squeezes my hands back, nodding slowly. “I believe you. I’m trying to.”

I’ve been waiting so long to hear her say this. But there’s something in her voice that doesn’t give me the relief I expected. There’s something in her eyes that makes me second-guess myself.

“And when did you start talking to him?” she asks carefully.

“The week after he died.”

“Only through the phone?”

“It’s the only way to reach him.”

“Can you show me the calls?” she asks.

I hesitate. “I can’t do that…”

“Why not?”

“Because none of our calls show up on my phone,” I explain. “I still don’t really understand why. And we can’t text, either—only calls.”

Mika leans back, her face deep in thought. There’s a long silence. My chest tightens. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” I ask.

“Of course not,” she says. “Losing someone is a difficult thing for all of us, Julie. But, do you think there’s a chance this might be all in your head?”

“I considered that at the beginning. But it isn’t, Mika. It’s really Sam. It’s really him I’ve been talking to, I know it.”

Mika takes in a deep breath. Her voice softens. “Sam is dead, Julie. You remember that, don’t you? You know we buried him, right?”

“I know, I’m not saying he isn’t, but it’s hard to explain. It’s—” My voice gives out, because I don’t have the answers. “I know this doesn’t make sense, okay? But I need you to believe me.”

When Mika says nothing, I know she doesn’t. My head aches as the room starts to spin. I’m beginning to lose myself, too. There’s only one way to prove this. One thing that will explain everything. “Here, let me just call him…”

“Julie—” Mika starts.

But I’ve already made the call. And it’s ringing.

This doesn’t have to be long. Just enough for Mika to hear the sound of Sam’s voice, a couple words, maybe a quick conversation to prove it’s him—this will convince her. My chest tightens with every ring as I wait for Sam to pick up already. I can’t believe what I’m doing. I finally get to share this secret and prove all of this is real.

But the phone keeps ringing. It rings for so long, I lose track of how many seconds have passed. Mika sits in silence, watching me. The ringing goes on and on, building more pressure in my chest. I don’t know what’s wrong. Where are you, Sam? This isn’t like him. He usually picks up right away. My hands are trembling, so I clench the phone tighter. The phone keeps ringing and ringing, and I wonder if he might not pick up this time.

And then it hits me. A terrible thought. Like a bullet to the chest. The missing call history, the texts not going through, the secrets to keep, and the calls themselves. Oh my god. Has this has all been in my head? Have I imagined it all? I lower the phone, as the room blurs and everything goes still. A chill moves through me, and the pressure that’s been building in my chest bursts, leaving a massive hole that makes me want to disappear.

No one picks up this time. So I end the call.

I don’t even look at Mika as I rise abruptly from the couch. “I—I have to go.” I nearly knock the teapot over as I hurry to leave. I struggle to put my phone back into my stupid pocket, but it won’t go in.

“Julie, wait—” Mika grabs hold of my arm to stop me, but I pull away.

I force a smile. “I was kidding! It was all a joke. I made it up, okay?” But the trembling in my hands and the petrified pitch of my voice betray me, and Mika isn’t laughing things off. She follows me into the hallway as I’m leaving. When I catch the look of worry on her face, I’m so embarrassed, all I can say is, “I’m not crazy, I swear. It was all a joke.”

“Julie, I don’t think you are. Just wait—”

Something vibrates in my hand, followed by a strange noise that startles us both. I’m so thrown off guard, my phone slips through my hand, bounces off the tip of my shoe, and slides across the rug.

I stare at my phone and see it’s ringing. This surprises me, because I never have the ringer on. It’s always on silent. I glance at the screen, and see the number is unknown.

Mika and I look at each other. She glances at the phone, wondering if I’m going to answer. I hesitate before I slowly pick it up from the floor. It’s still ringing. I accept the call, bringing the phone to my ear. The sound of my own heart beating is the first thing I hear. “Hello?” I say.

Now, maybe it’s because of the frenzy of emotions I was worked up in seconds ago, and the adrenaline that came with it. But I don’t remember what is said or why. All I remember is after: me holding the phone out to Mika, saying, “It’s … for you.”

Mika blinks between me and the phone. Then she takes it from me, and holds it to her ear. There’s a pause before she speaks.

“Hello? Who is this?”

My heart races as I stand there. I can’t hear anything from the other end.

“Sam? Which Sam?” Mika looks at me, her brows arched. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”

A silence as she listens.

“How am I supposed to believe this?” she says into the phone. “I don’t know. This just can’t be true…” It continues like this for a minute or so. Mika puts a hand over her other ear, as if to hear him better, and wanders off. It’s a nervous tic of hers—pacing around—especially when she’s on the phone. I follow her into the kitchen, leaving some space between us. I don’t want to overwhelm her with this. A call with Sam.

“I don’t know if I believe this … Is this some sort of a joke?” Mika asks. Another silence. Her brows arch and come together. “Ask you what?”

It’s strange to only hear one side of a conversation. Like skipping pages in a book, trying to piece the scene together. I wonder what Sam is saying back.

“What kind of a question?” Mika says, sounding confused. “You mean, that only you would know? Let me think then—” She looks at me for a moment, then looks away. She whispers into the phone, “Okay. If you’re Sam, tell me … the year Julie moved here, after I met her for the first time … what did I say about her that I told you never to repeat?”

Mika pauses to listen. The answer must have been right because her eyes widen. She shoots me a look of surprise, and asks, “Did he ever tell you this?”

I shake my head, somewhat confused. What did she say about me?

Mika turns away, continuing the call. “Okay, something else? A harder one? Let me see…” She pauses to think. “Okay. What about this. When we were seven … when Grandpa was dying, you and I went to visit him in his room when we weren’t supposed to. Do you remember? He let us play around by his bedside. On his nightstand, there were four things sitting there. We never touched them, and we never even talked about them after. But if you’re really Sam, you would be able to recall those things in Grandpa’s room, because I can. So what are they?”

I close my eyes, and imagine the nightstand as Mika listens over the phone. As Sam answers, she repeats each object out loud, one by one, as if recalling them herself. A single white feather. An origami swan, tied to a string. A ceramic bowl, painted with the face of a dragon, filled with incense.

“And the last thing?” she asks.

I don’t get to hear what the last object is, because Mika doesn’t repeat it. Instead, she goes silent for a long time. When she turns around to look at me, her eyes are watering, and I know it must have been right.

“It’s Sam,” she gasps. “It’s really him.”

A sensation goes through me that I can’t explain, one not only of joy, but relief. I almost pinch myself to make sure this isn’t a dream, that this is all happening, and that Mika is here, too. Telling me it’s really Sam on the line. Telling me I’m not imagining it. Telling me this is all real, and has been all along.

Mika stays on the phone with Sam for a while, asking a dozen questions, crying and laughing all at once. She keeps glancing over at me, smiling. She squeezes my hand, and rests her head on my shoulder, maybe to let me know she believes me, or to thank me for this. Even though I’ve been talking to Sam for a while now, I still can’t believe this is happening. That the three of us are connected again.

When the call ends, and we hang up, Mika and I hug each other, both of us crying, neither one able to speak. I can feel her trying to grasp how she found herself here. In this impossible alternate world where time moves in another direction, where the fields are endless, and where the ground beneath us has never been more unstable. Although I’m beginning to lose track of which way is up or down, it’s a wonderful sense of relief to have someone else here with me. Someone who can look, see what I see, and tell me I’m not dreaming. Or maybe we’re dreaming together, I’m not sure. But it doesn’t matter right now. Neither of us wants to wake up from this.

Later that night, when I’m back home, I call Sam again to talk about everything that happened. He picks up right away this time, like he was expecting me. I thank him for talking with Mika, and for letting me share this connection with someone else.

“I wasn’t sure if it would actually work,” I say, holding the phone tight. “How come you never mentioned you could call me before?”

“Because I’m not supposed to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want you to know yet. Because if I ever call and you don’t pick up, our connection ends right there.”

“You mean, forever?”

“Yeah.”

A chill goes through me. “How do you know that?”

“It’s one of the few things I know for sure,” he says. He doesn’t explain things further.

I swallow hard, thinking about this. “That scares me, Sam. If that’s true, you shouldn’t call me again. From now on, I’ll only call you, okay?”

“That’s for the best,” he says.

A breeze blows in through the open window, swaying the curtains. I go over to shut it. Outside, tree branches creep up like fingers, tapping against the glass.

“I’m sorry,” Sam says, a bit out of the blue.

“For what?”

“Not picking up earlier. I guess I was nervous. About what might happen.”

“But nothing happened,” I remind him. “Everything worked out fine. It’s even better now! Because Mika knows, and now she understands everything. You guys even got to talk again! Aren’t you glad we did this?”

A silence.

“Sam?”

“It’s sort of complicated…”

Before I can ask what he means by this, the sound of static comes through the line.

“What’s that noise?” I ask.

“Noise? I don’t hear anything,” Sam says, and suddenly, I notice something strange with his voice.

“Sam, you sound like you’re moving farther away.” Like the receiver is drifting from him. “Is everything okay?”

More static comes through. I stand and tilt my head, adjusting the angle of the phone to try to get a better signal.

“Everything will be okay, Julie,” Sam says. “I promise. But I have to go now, okay?”

“Wait—go where?” I ask him. But he doesn’t answer this. All he says is, “I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

The call ends abruptly. I stand by the window in silence, wondering if I should call him back. But something cold I can’t explain creeps up my spine, telling me not to. That I shouldn’t. So I go back to the bed and hold the phone close to me. I stare at the blank screen all night, trying to stay calm.

Did I ruin everything again?