You’ve Reached Sam: A Novel
You’ve Reached Sam: Chapter 9

Sam’s voice comes to me in my sleep. It fills the crevices of my mind.

“Where are you, Julie …

 … why can’t I find you?”

A lamp above me flickers on. I’m standing in a soft glow of light, surrounded by darkness. I can’t see anything around me. I can’t hear anything, except the buzzing of the lamp above my head. There’s a suitcase beside me. When mist moves across my shoes, I realize I’m dreaming again. A part of me is trying to wake up. The other part is curious to see a different ending.

And then my phone rings, as expected.

I feel around my pockets, but nothing’s there. I don’t know where my phone is. How am I supposed to answer?

The phone keeps ringing. I can’t tell where it’s coming from. I feel around the floor in case I dropped it.

Where is it? I’m running out of time.

Suddenly, a surge of light zooms through the darkness, blasting cold air at me, and my heart jolts. I rise up in time to see taillights, the sputter of smoke from a muffler, and the vanishing silhouette of a truck.

My throat closes as I stand there, watching. I know exactly where it’s heading. And I need to get there first. I have to get to Sam before it’s too late.

The suitcase falls over as I rush into the darkness, racing after the taillights. But it’s too fast for me. I’ll never reach it in time. Then I notice something. A rope tied to the back of the truck. I seize it at once, grabbing hold of it tight.

It’s a guitar string! I pull it with all my strength, digging my feet into the ground. The string tenses in my grip as the truck stalls in the distance, honking furiously, its taillights flashing violently. This isn’t superhuman strength. It’s the strength born out of fear and desperation.

When I feel the ground softening beneath me, I glance down and see water rising up to my knees. But I keep on pulling with everything I have until water reaches my waist, and my feet feel like they’re about to slip. The truck keeps honking, and I keep pulling and pulling the guitar string—until finally it breaks, and I go crashing back into my bed.

I wake up crying in the middle of the night. Since I can’t go back to sleep, I call Sam, hoping he picks up. As soon as he does, I ask if that was him trying to reach me in my dream. If it was him trying to send me a message.

“I’m sorry, Jules … but that wasn’t me. It was only a dream.”

“Are you sure?” I say hopefully. “Maybe my dreams are another place we can find each other.”

“I wish that could be true. But I think we’re connected only through our phones.”

Only through our phones.

My lip trembles. “It felt so real, though, Sam. It felt like … I had another chance, you know?”

“Another chance at what?”

I don’t answer this. I’m afraid to know what he’ll think. I’m afraid he’ll tell me what I don’t want to hear. Not right now.

Sam exhales. “It’s just a dream, Jules. You should try to get some rest, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow. I have another surprise for you.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Whenever I call Sam out of the blue, our conversation doesn’t last long. It always takes him a while to pick up, and when he does, his voice sometimes fades in and out, like he’s moving around, searching for a signal. I’m not sure why this is. If we want to keep a strong connection, I’ve learned we have to plan out our calls and make them at the right time and place. Even though I’m allowed to call whenever I need him, Sam says I have to be cautious about how often I make the calls. I think about this. Is there a limited number of calls we have left? Are we running out? I wish I knew how this all worked.

It’s hard to pay attention in school. In class, I keep taking my phone out to make sure it’s there. It brings me some comfort when everyone is ignoring me. I can’t stop thinking about how Sam and I are connected again. About how we got this second chance. I’ve started keeping a log of all our phone calls in my notebook. The time of day, where it took place, how long the call lasted. I also write down the things we talk about, along with questions I still have that need answering. Questions like … Why were we given this second chance? And How much longer do we have this for? Sam told me doesn’t have the answers to these things. I wonder if I should bring them up again.

Mika shows up to class today. She comes in a little late, and takes a seat on the other side of the room, several rows away from me. Her clothes are wrinkled, her hair is unbrushed, and she brought no books with her. She hasn’t responded to any of my texts since we spoke on my porch yesterday morning. I want to talk to her after class, but as soon as the bell rings, she grabs her bag and rushes out the door before I get my chance. I wish she would speak to me, give me a chance to explain why I’ve been ignoring her. I think about writing a note and sticking it in her locker. But what would it even say?

Dear Mika,

I’m sorry for missing the vigil the other night. I’ve been talking to Sam these past few days. I think it’s interfering with incoming calls and texts, and causing things to slip my mind. Yes, our Sam. He’s still dead, but he can pick up the phone when I call him. It’s hard to explain because he hasn’t given me any answers on how any of this is happening. Anyway, I hope this helps you understand things now, and we can be friends again.

Julie

She’d probably turn it in to the counseling office to get me checked, and understandably so. I decide to hold off on the letter and wait for another chance to see her. It will give me time to figure out what to say.

Lunch is the only part of the school day I look forward to. Jay, Rachel, and Yuki always manage to brighten my mood. It’s Pizza Friday—Jay’s favorite day of the week.

“It’s America’s favorite pie,” he says, enjoying a second slice of pepperoni.

“Isn’t that apple pie?” Rachel asks.

Jay shakes his head. “Really? I thought it was pepperoni.”

“I don’t think pizzas are considered pies,” Yuki chimes in.

I take out the journal Mr. Lee gave me and open it on the table. I’ve been thinking about what he said the other day. What story do I want to tell? Who am I writing for? The questions bounce around in my head as I stare at the blank page. I wish I could say I write for myself. But maybe that’s not the truth. Maybe I’m always writing for someone else. Like the English professors at Reed who might read this as my writing sample and decide if it’s good enough. What will they think of it? What if none of them care what I have to say? What do I have to say? And what if it’s insignificant to the rest of the world? I guess that shouldn’t matter, as long as it matters to me, right? It’s harder than it sounds, though. To write for yourself. Maybe that’s what Mr. Lee meant when he said we have too many voices in our heads. I wish I could mute them all so I could find my own. I tap the back of my pen against the table and keep thinking.

“That’s a beautiful notebook,” Yuki says. “Where did you get it?”

“Mr. Lee gave it to me.” I close the journal to show her the cover. The embroidered flowers reflect like jewels in the cafeteria light. “Someone donated it to the store last week.”

Rachel leans in to get a closer look. “It’s so pretty. Can I hold it?”

“I know, it’s almost too pretty to write in,” I say, handing Rachel the notebook. “Feels like I’m wasting pages.”

“What are you writing about?” Yuki asks me.

I stare at my hands in my lap, unsure. Then it comes to me, almost like memory. As if I always had the answer. “Sam. I’m gonna write about Sam. About us.”

Yuki smiles at this. “I would love to read it someday. If you ever want to share it.”

I smile back at her as someone approaches the table.

“Mind if I sit here?”

I look up at Oliver. He’s holding a plate of cheese pizza and a chocolate milk. I glance over at the other table with Taylor and Liam, and see them glancing over their shoulders, watching him.

“Yeah,” I say. “Of course you can.”

“Awesome.”

Oliver pulls a chair up right beside me, forcing Jay to scoot over.

“Hey Yukes,” he says, nodding at her from across the table. “How’s choir going? Any new solos?”

Yuki blots her mouth with a napkin. “Hopefully I’ll get one soon. We just had auditions for our next concert.”

“I’m sure you blew them out of the water,” Oliver says, opening his chocolate milk. “Remember that time you and Sam killed it at that karaoke room? Classic.”

I almost forget Oliver and Yuki know each other through Sam.

“We’ll see,” Yuki says, blushing a little.

“I’ll be there regardless,” Oliver says. Then he turns to Jay, resting an arm on the back of his chair. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Oliver.”

“Oh—I’m Jay.”

Oliver rubs his chin. “Where do I know you from?”

“You came to one of the meetings for the environmental club,” Jay says. “But you never came back.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Oliver says, as if remembering it fondly. “You guys were talking about beach cleanups or something. It sounded a little lame, if I’m being honest.”

I nudge his arm. “Oliver. Jay is the treasurer of the club. The beach cleanup was his idea.”

“I’m only teasing,” Oliver says, waving me away. “I’m very impressed with his work.”

Rachel reaches across me and taps Oliver’s shoulder. “Do you want to join our club?” she asks, handing him the form. “We still need six signatures.”

“Of course. What club is it?”

She takes my pen and hands it to him. “The Asian Student Club. We’re hoping to host a movie screening at some point.”

Oliver signs his name without question. “I hope you guys are watching Akira,” he says. “That’s a classic.”

“I can put it on the list,” Rachel says. “We plan to have a vote.”

“How democratic.” Oliver nods as he hands back the form. “Will there be a vote on snacks, too?”

The table bursts with laughter as we talk about the club. I didn’t expect Oliver to sit down with us, let alone get along with everyone so quickly. There’s something different about him today. A softer side I’m still not used to seeing. Maybe things are better between us now. Maybe there’s a chance we’ll be friends after all. I’m glad he decided to finally join us.

The bell rings. As I’m packing up, Yuki turns to me. “Have you decided if you’re meeting us later?”

“For what?” I ask.

“We’re going somewhere after school to think of ideas for Sam,” she says. “I sent you a text last night.”

I look around the table, a little confused. “I never got your text,” I say. “I didn’t know we were supposed to be meeting.” I take out my phone to double check. I’ve had it with me the entire day. Why do I keep losing messages? “When did you send it?”

“It was pretty late,” Yuki says. “You might have been asleep.”

I think back to last night. Maybe the calls are blocking them. I remind myself to check the log of phone calls I’ve been keeping later.

Jay appears beside me. “You should come,” he says. “You know Sam better than all of us.”

“What about Sam?” Oliver asks, looking curious.

“We want to do something special for him,” Rachel says. “With Julie.”

“Like what?”

“We’re still deciding.”

“Oh…” Oliver leans forward, his lips pressed. “Can I … be part of it?”

Everyone turns at me.

“Of course you can,” I say. I look at Yuki. “But I can’t meet you guys after school today. I’m really sorry. I already made plans with someone.” I don’t mention that that someone is Sam.

Yuki touches my hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll get together again. We’ll plan something great for him.”

Although I smile at this, I can’t help feeling a little left out of the group. It’s been a while since I spent time with the three of them outside of school. We used to go over to Sam’s house regularly, listening to music together. Since it’s my last year here, I don’t know when I’ll see them all again.

As soon as school gets out, I head straight into town. Instead of stopping by work like I normally would, I wait at the corner stop for the three o’clock bus out of Ellensburg. I won’t be going too far. Only until the mountain ridges rise into view and the roads become nothing but trees and sagebrush. This is Sam’s idea. He said he had a surprise for me when we last spoke. I’m supposed to call him as soon as I get off the bus.

The bus drops me off near the footpaths where there’s a crowd of hikers, but I wander off the main trail toward the line of trees. I’ve never gone this far off the path before. All around me is nothing but endless woods and mountainsides. I cut through fields of wildflowers, letting my fingers brush along the tops of purple-and-yellow asters. Sam’s voice guides me like a hand over the phone, leading me through a sunlit clearing in the middle of the wood. His voice swells with excitement. It’s the first time I’ve heard him this way since that first phone call.

“I’ve been waiting to show you this forever,” he says.

“But what is it?” I keep asking.

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” he says with a laugh. “You’re almost there. Keep going.”

Tree trunks thicken as the path he guides me through becomes more wooded and narrower. Rods of sunlight shine at different angles through the high branches. Wildflowers color the ground purple and gold. A breeze blows the low-hanging branches, making their leaves brush gently over my shoulders as I pass beneath them.

“There should be a small creek up ahead,” Sam says. “Once you find this million-year-old log, cross over it and then turn right.”

I can’t believe he can recall all these details. It’s as if he can see it, too.

I glance around me. “How will I find my way back?” Town is miles and miles away from where I am. Even though I have him on the phone, it’s only me out here.

“Don’t worry,” Sam says. “I’m right there with you.”

Sunlight shimmers at the end of the wood as I head toward it. Once I break through the trees and reach the other side, I brush my hair back and take in the view that emerges before me. A field of gold stretches from my shoes, spreading out toward the sky. A breeze comes up from behind me, bending the tops of the grasses, sending them rolling like ocean waves. In the distance, a single tree stands in the middle like a boat stranded in a golden lake. I take a few more steps out, letting my hand glide along the foxtails as soft as feathers. It doesn’t take me too long to realize why he brought me here.

“Barley…” Sam whispers in my year. “Just like from the song.”

A breath escapes me. “Sam…” is all I get out.

I close my eyes and breathe it all in. If I listen closely, I can almost hear the hum of his guitar playing somewhere in the distance. “How did you find this place?”

“I wandered off the trail and found it one day,” Sam says. “It reminded me of the song I always play for you. The one you listen to when you write. I know you’ve been having some trouble thinking lately. I thought that, maybe if you saw it in person … the fields of gold … it would inspire you to write again.”

A breeze blows strands of hair across my face and I leave it. “Why didn’t you bring me here sooner?”

“I was waiting for the right moment to show it to you. I had it all planned out. It was supposed to be special. I didn’t know I would run out of time.”

A pain goes through me.

“Is it how you imagined it in the story?” he asks.

My throat swells, making it hard to speak. “It’s so much more,” I say. “Thank you for this.”

“I wish I could see it again,” Sam goes on. “I wish I was there with you. I wish I could see the look on your face…”

Tears form behind my eyes as I stare out at the golden fields, the endless barley, and the sun that’s beginning to set, trying to hold on to every single detail so I will always remember this. So I won’t forget. And then I hear something I never thought I would hear again. Sam’s voice on the phone, singing the song “Fields of Gold,” just like he promised me he would someday …

“I never made promises lightly

And there have been some that I’ve broken

But I swear in the days still left

We’ll walk in fields of gold

We’ll walk in fields of gold…”

We watch the sunset together, just like Sam had planned for us. I find a spot in the grass to lie down, and place the phone beside me with the speaker on. We talk for hours, about everything, laughing like old times as the sky changes colors above us, and I swear it’s like he’s here with me. Sam’s right, it’s even more magical out here at night. The stars feel so close you could reach out and touch them. I look for constellations and tell Sam which ones I think I know. For a long moment, I can feel him lying there besides me. If I turn my head to look, I’d see him with his arms tucked behind his head, wearing his plaid shirt, his eyes opened wide at the sky, his beautiful dark hair, that handsome smile on his face. But I don’t dare to look, because I’m scared no one will be there. So I just stare straight up at the stars, and allow myself to keep pretending.

I close my eyes for moment. “Thank you for bringing me here. I didn’t realize how much I needed to be away from everything.”

“Feels like a different world, doesn’t it?” Sam whispers next to me. “Like Ellensburg is a million miles away.”

“Do you miss it, Sam? Ellensburg, I mean.”

“Yeah I do … I miss everything about it.”

I open my eyes back up to the stars. “I think I’ll miss it, too.”

“So you’re still leaving?”

“That was always the plan,” I remind him. “To finally get out of here, you know? Move to a big city, go to college or something, become a writer.”

“You don’t sound too excited,” Sam says.

“Well, I didn’t want to do it alone.”

There’s a long silence before Sam speaks again. “You’re gonna be okay, Julie. Wherever it is you go, whoever you end up with. You’ll figure things out.”

“There’s no one else I want to end up with. You’re still here, Sam. And that’s all that matters right now. Nothing else.”

“Julie,” Sam says, somewhat tensely. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Hold on to us,” he says. “As if we still have forever.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it won’t always be like this. It can’t. I need you to remember that.”

“But why can’t it be?”

“It just can’t—” His voice cracks a little. “Think about it. You’re not going to live the rest of your life talking to your dead boyfriend on the phone, while everyone else is out there living their lives, meeting new people, moving on with the rest of the world. You can’t live this way forever.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I don’t see what’s so wrong about this,” I say back. “You’re making it sound worse than it is.” I can’t think of anything I want more in the world right now, other than having him be alive again. “As if I care what other people think of me. As long as I have you. And if we can still be together, we should make it work. Even if it isn’t exactly like we planned—”

“Stop it, Julie,” he interrupts me. “You and I can’t do this forever. That’s just not possible.”

“But you said I could take as long as I need to say good-bye,” I remind him. “What if I don’t? What if I refuse to say it?”

Sam lets out a breath. “So is that what you decided to do … to never say good-bye to me?”

“That was always it, Sam. Since the day I met you…”

I think of the day when he will no longer pick up when I call and I can barely breathe. I finally heard him sing; what if I forget his voice? I can’t imagine losing him all over again.

Neither of us say anything for a long time. I stare at the sky as some clouds part, revealing the moon. Out of nowhere, a glitter of white light streaks across the sky, vanishing behind the mountain line.

“A shooting star.” I point at the sky, as if Sam could see it, too.

“I’m surprised you’ve only seen one out there,” he says. “Did you make a wish?”

“You know I don’t believe in stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Think about it. Have you ever heard of one coming true?”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a shot. You could wish for the other bookend back.”

“You’re a real dreamer,” I say.

Sam laughs. “Alright then. What would you wish for, if you could have anything?”

“Anything?”

“Anything at all.”

“No limits?”

“No limits.”

I hesitate. “Do you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t,” Sam says.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. I don’t have to think long because I already know the answer. “I wish you were here,” I say. “I wish you were lying right next to me. I wish I could look over and see you smiling back. I wish I could run a hand through your hair, and know you’re real. I wish we could finish school and graduate together. So we can finally leave this place like we always planned, and find an apartment somewhere, and figure out the rest of our lives together so I don’t have to do it alone. I wish you were alive again … and I wish I had picked up the phone that night, so that all this would be different, and everything would go back to before…”

There is a long silence as Sam takes this in. He doesn’t say anything during or after but I feel him there on the phone, listening. I’m surprised he even let me say all of this. I don’t know if that was what he expected to hear, but he asked for the truth.

The rest of the night is like this. I lie there in the fields, on the phone with him for what feels like forever. We don’t say anything else. We just quietly live in this imaginary world where everything I wish for is still a beautiful possibility.

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