Sam hadn’t thought this through. There was more he wanted to ask his ex-wife – there had always been more that he wanted to say to her – but like so many conversations before, he floundered. A familiar feeling of shame choked him as he imagined the face Angela was probably making on the other end of the call, waiting impatiently for him to say something. To say anything. He had to say something.
“Who are you talking to?” Kit had flung the door open with her usual gusto and was now shoving a cup of steaming hot coffee into Sam’s face.
“Hey, I gotta go,” Sam said hurriedly. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“You really don’t have to,” Angela replied.
“Sam,” Kit growled still holding the coffee right in front of his face.
“Yeah. Bye,” Sam said before dropping the phone and taking the coffee from Kit.
“What’s up?” she asked as she pulled on her seatbelt.
“Nothing.” Kit threw a suspicious glance at her partner. She had already put the keys in the ignition, but she didn’t start the car. Sam looked her direction, but was unable to maintain eye contact. “What?” he asked.
“What’s up?” she repeated more slowly.
“I had to make a phone call.” Sam knew he was being awkward, and he knew what Kit would say if he mentioned Angela. And he really didn’t want to think about the teasing that would follow if he explained why he had called his ex. So, to avoid the conversation, he took a nice casual swig of coffee. “Mmmfffg, ahh!” he choked.
“Yeah,” Kit said. “It’s hot.” She maintained a level gaze of scrutiny as Sam recovered and fished for napkins to clean up the coffee he had managed to spit onto the dashboard.
“Sorry,” Sam mumbled, still avoiding eye contact.
Kit just sighed. “It was her, wasn’t it?” Sam didn’t say anything, just directed a particularly intense focus on the little tasks of wadding up the napkins, shoving them into a cup holder, and blowing on his coffee. His face was red, and his mouth was drawn into a thin line. Kit wasn’t going to let him get away with anything though “I thought you weren’t going to talk to her anymore.”
“You say that like it’s easy,” Sam grunted into his coffee.
“Didn’t you delete her number?”
“Yes.”
“So she called you?”
“I . . . had her number memorized.”
With a roll of her eyes, Kit finally started the car. “For god’s sake, Sam. Get your shit together.”
“My shit’s my own business,” he answered gruffly. “Just because you’ve never . . .”
Jaw set tight, but otherwise unmoved, Kit waited. “Well?” she said at last. “Just because I’ve never what?”
“No,” Sam said, feeling a fresh shame rising around him, “Nothing.”
* * *
Story by Gregory M. Fox
Gregory M. Fox 