The rest of the week passed slowly and painfully for Samantha. With the exception of work, she didn’t leave the quiet darkness of her apartment at all. She ignored the messages that were blinking on her answering machine – most of which she had heard being left, but hadn’t answered when the phone rang.
She couldn’t get the memory of the pain in Richie’s eyes out of her head. It was haunting her in her sleep, during the day, throughout whatever she was doing at the moment. What had he meant when he said he had been hurt before? All that talk about crying yourself to sleep, having your broken heart ripped out of your chest and then shoved back in…she knew exactly how that felt. When had he felt it? And why didn’t she know about it?
Probably for the same reason she hadn’t told him about Shane, she told herself. Because he didn’t want to face it. But he was doing a hell of a better job at mending his broken heart than she was at mending hers. She was too damn hung up on Shane, and really for no good reason. She and Richie both had these monsters in their past that had jaded them both, but he had gotten “the courage” to fall in love again.
Why couldn’t she?
________________
By Friday, Samantha knew she had to call Shane. It was her job, he had contacted her, and she needed to get over this childish stubborn refusal to do the piece. She was a professional, damn it, and she needed to start acting like one.
Forefinger trembling, she punched out the numbers he had given for his cell phone. He answered on the fourth ring, and Samantha’s stomach contracted at the sound of his voice again.
“Samantha! I thought you weren’t going to call,” he laughed.
“Yeah, I almost didn’t. But it’s a good story, and we want to publish it.” Samantha got right to the point, but left out the part about her boss ordering her to call him.
“You know what the story’s about?”
“I actually already knew about you working with Habitat For Humanity,” Samantha admitted. “I read about it in the paper a few days before we…ran into each other.”
“Oh, well that’s great then!” Shane sounded sickeningly pleased. “We’re actually launching the construction on Monday; do you think you could stop by the work site so we can talk?”
Samantha clenched her jaw. “Why do we need to talk?”
“Well, I assumed you’d want to see what we’re working on…do you want to make this a phone interview?”
“No,” Samantha said shortly. “But something tells me you’re not just interested in this interview. You have an ulterior motive.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The message you left me, Shane. About being in charge of getting this thing noticed by the media. You and I both know that’s not your responsibility. You’re a hot-shot contractor, I know you have people who do that for you.”
Shane was quiet for a moment on the other line. “All right, you caught me. But how else was I supposed to get you to talk to me?”
“What in the world do you want to talk about?!” Samantha’s voice rose.
“Well, it’s been something like ten years since we last saw each other, right? With the exception of that brief meeting at the bar,” Shane’s voice was calm, which infuriated Samantha.
“And…?” Samantha spat coldly.
“And…oh, come on Samantha, let’s not do this on the phone. It’s not the right time.”
“Sure it is! Sure it’s the right time! It’s about fucking time, as a matter of fact,” Samantha was spinning out of control. “You want to talk? Really? All right, Shane, let’s talk. Let’s talk about the last time we saw each other – do you remember when that was? Yeah, it was something like ten years. Ten years ago this December, actually. Do you remember where? A courthouse. A fucking courthouse with a judge and attorneys who finalized the end of our marriage on paper and sent us our separate ways. But they weren’t the ones who ENDED the marriage, you know. They just finalized it. You know why? Because you ended it, Shane. You ended it the second you slept with that whore, which apparently was even before our wedding!”
Shane was quiet, letting her rant. She refused to be deterred by his silence, and she went on, releasing bottled emotions that had begged to be released for a long time coming.
“I cried for a long, long time after you left, Shane. Too long, really. You messed me up big time,” she laughed, a cold, evil laugh. “You made me feel like shit, like I was worthless. But that wasn’t true. The truth is that you were the worthless piece of shit who destroyed our marriage and our lives.”
She drew a deep breath. “I’m going to publish this story because I can’t let personal conflict stand in the way of it. But I’m not going to write it – I’m going to send a team of writers and the camera crew out to the work site on Monday. Give them the story, let them do what they need to do, but keep in mind that this is about the project Habitat is doing. It’s not about you.”
She slammed the phone down and stood there for a minute, surprised at what she had just done. Her outburst had bubbled up from deep within and she felt a brief twang of guilt for yelling at him.
However…it was a very brief twang.
_______________________
Richie glanced at his phone as it rang – it was Jon. Again. He had been calling for a few days now, leaving messages asking when they were going to be able to rehearse. Samantha’s debut at Madison Square Garden was only a week and a half away, and the band had the five nights at the Prudential Center to get through first, starting Monday night.
Richie knew Jon needed answers, and he knew he’d have to pick up the phone sometime. But for now, he was tired of talking to people. He needed some alone time to think and sift through the tangled web of thoughts in his weary mind.
He didn’t know what to do. He had finally recognized Samantha’s behavior: pushing others way, not quite ready to trust anyone just yet, retreating into yourself and becoming two separate people, it felt like. He knew what that felt like. He had been through it himself, although he had felt dangerously alone in his situation at the time.
So what did that mean? Samantha had just broken up with someone? Or…hadn’t broken up with someone else…? Richie shook his head, refusing to believe she would do that to him. He thought back to their heated conversation Wednesday night.
Shane. She had mentioned a guy named Shane. Who was he and what the hell had happened between them?
These were the questions he had asked himself for days now. The questions he tried asking her on Wednesday. They were driving him mad.
As much as he loved Samantha, he couldn’t keep sitting at her heel, waiting for her to decide if she wanted him or not. But being without her was killing him. What was he supposed to do – give her an ultimatum? Even then, he was scared of what she would choose.
“Fuck,” he growled, heading to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and pulled a can of beer out of the plastic 6-pack ring. Staring at the rest of the cans, he hesitated briefly, then grabbed the whole pack and headed upstairs to bed.
________________
Although she felt slightly better after telling Shane off, Samantha was still in a funk. It broke her heart to imagine Richie hurting, and she hadn’t heard from him since Wednesday night.
She kept wondering what was going to happen with their rehearsals – they were going to be so awkward. And what was going to happen with the show? What if she and Richie didn’t work it out before then?
Samantha ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t even been practicing lately. Her mind was like mud, sluggish and slow and full of the sticks and twigs of her thoughts. The last thing she wanted to do right now was deal with the anxiety of singing and performing. It was coming up too soon…she wasn’t ready. She needed more time.
Her cell phone rang and she rushed to her room to pick it up. As if knowing what she was thinking, it was Jon.
“Samantha…” he sounded relieved to hear her answer. “I’ve been calling you and Richie both all week, where have you been?”
“Oh, I’m sorry Jon, I’ve just been busy with work and stuff,” she lied.
“What about Richie? Is he with you?”
“No,” Samantha said truthfully. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Really?” Jon sounded surprised. “I can’t get a hold of him – I’m getting worried.”
Samantha didn’t say anything. Though not ready to see him yet, she hoped Richie was okay.
“Well, listen,” Jon went on. “I need to know when we’re going to rehearse for the show. We’ve only got a week, you know, and we really need to work on it since we had such a long lapse these last few weeks. Have you been practicing?”
Samantha hesitated. “Yeah, I have, but Jon…”
“Excellent,” he went on, seemingly deaf to her hesitance. “Like I said, I can’t reach Richie, so do you think we can just go on without him today?”
“Today?”
“Do you have plans?”
“Well, no, but I –”
“We really need to practice, Sam,” Jon sounded anxious. “Is there any way you can get over here this afternoon? I’ll take you home tonight if you need me to.”
Samantha closed her eyes. She really didn’t want to do this anymore. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be over there as soon as I can.”
“I appreciate it, darlin’. See you soon.”
Samantha flipped her cell closed and stared at it. She hadn’t felt like going anywhere today, but…
Suddenly restless and hateful toward the confines of her apartment, she called a cab and headed to Jon’s place.
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