in mock impatience. His heavy-lidded eyes speak to sleep deprivation more than anything else.
I may not be a practiced drinker, but I pride myself on preparation. Last night’s before-bed ibuprofen and bottle of water did the trick. Aside from a mild case of cotton mouth, I feel pretty good. Might also have something to do with the much needed shower I took when I woke up.
“What are you writing about at eight a.m.? Better yet, tell me again why we are awake right now.”
“Sorry,” I say. “Meant to finish before you got here.” I smile my apology.
He’s just rolled out of bed wearing the same jeans as last night, the same ones he fell asleep in, causing Duncan to insist on walking me back to my flat. We only stayed for one more drink at the pub before heading out, both of us exhausted from travel. I don’t know what I was expecting going back to Griffin’s room. He said he wanted to show me around since he’d seen my place, and that’s actually all he did. He didn’t try to kiss me, which left me half relieved and half disappointed. After seeing Noah, I wanted to wash away any memory of his lips on mine, and Griffin could have done that in a heartbeat.
The pub was big enough that I never saw Noah or Hailey again after finding Griffin and Duncan, but the whole exchange left me sort of cloudy. Now, looking at Griffin’s bed-head, wrinkled jeans, and his mouth open in a perpetual yawn, I wish more than ever that he had kissed me last night.
I cap my pen and thumb through the pages of my journal, my going away present from Sam and the only gift that has ever made me cry.
It was the night before Sam had to head back to campus in late August. We were hanging out at her house. I helped her with some last-minute packing while we watched a slew of Friends episodes piled up on her DVR. I hadn’t expected a gift, and she waited until I was standing in the doorway ready to leave to give it to me.
“I know you’re going to text me every day,” she said, “but I want you to write everything down, for you . Pictures are one thing, but you need to remember how you felt. You need to watch how you change because you will change. And I’m so happy for you that you are doing this, but that’s also the part that scares me the most, that when you come home, we won’t know each other anymore, not like we used to. Maybe, if you write it all down, you’ll be able to better share it with me.”
When I opened my mouth to interrupt her, she held up her hand.
“Let me finish,” she said. “Because if I don’t get this all out now, I’ll never say it.”
So I listened, silent tears slowly trickling down my cheeks, Sam’s voice always at the point of breaking.
“I love you, Brooks. Most people annoy the shit out of me, but I love you, and this is my desperate plea not to lose you.”
Then she handed me the journal, a simple, leather-bound, black Moleskine, and pools of tears gathered in her eyes.
I hugged her, tighter than I thought I would.
“Don’t you fucking forget me, Brooks. Okay?” The words were soaked with tears and laughter, the laughter no doubt from embarrassment. This was not a side of Sam many got to see, and I loved her more for it.
“As if I could after a speech like that!” I said, but no words could accurately thank her for all she meant to me.
I flip to the last page in the journal now, the one I didn’t see until I got home that night, and hold it up for Griffin. Sam left me with more than just directions to carpe diem . I rub my fingers over the blocked letters that form an indent on the page, Sam having neatly and painstakingly filled them in with a fine-point pen, a brand on the surface of what will be a year of my life. The Hebrew letters— Alef, Hey, Vet, Hey —the word, ahava , simply means love. I understood. Her inscription was insurance. If she couldn’t tell me how she felt about our friendship, I’d have found out eventually.
I’m still tracing my fingers over the