I'm Not Sam

night before last. One of her favorite movies.”

“And?”

“Well, she paid attention. Smiled at the end.”

“I’ll say this once again. You’re too close to this. It’s not good for either of you. Get her into therapy.”

“I’ll think about it, Doc. Honestly I will. I want to try, though, just a little while longer. Thanks for calling. Appreciate it.”

We hang up. I wipe down the table. Sit and drink my coffee.

I’m unprepared for the second call too. It’s not a half hour later. I’m just finishing up the dishes.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Patrick.”

“Oh. Hi, Miriam.”

“How are you? How’s she doing?”

“Better. A little better, maybe.”

“Good. That’s great. Can I say hi? Just a quick hello? And I promise not to talk shop.”

“I don’t think so, Miriam.”

For a moment I’m tempted to put Lily on the line. Miriam’s a good lady but she’s being nosy. I can hear it in her voice. Two minutes with Lily would give her plenty to talk about down at the office.

And now Zoey’s standing in the kitchen doorway, yowling, her toy — her little stuffed tuxedo-cat — sprawled at her feet. Thought I’d hid the damn thing.

“Good god, what’s that?”

“Our cat, Zoey. She does this sometimes.”

“Sounds like somebody’s murdering her. So, can I talk to Sam?”

Insistent. Zoey’s insistent too.

“Not a good time, Miriam.”

“Will you have her call me, then? We’re concerned about her.”

“I know. Wait. What do you mean?

“We’re… concerned. That’s all.”

“I’m taking care of her, Miriam. I’m not holding her prisoner or anything.”

“I didn’t mean… of course you’re not. Just… have her call me when she’s up to it, okay?”

“Yes. Fine. I will. ’Bye.”

I reach down and grab up the toy. Zoey gives one last long yowl as it disappears behind my back and into the pocket of my jeans.

I don’t know whether it’s Miriam’s call or Doc’s call or Zoey’s whining or all three of them together but right now I’m boiling.

I take a few deep breaths and sit back down at the kitchen table. Zoey ambles over.

It’s not her. It’s never her. I stroke her fur.

I just touch her.

Lily’s outside playing with her Barbies in the sandbox I built for her, pretending it’s a beach and the girls are out sunbathing drinking pina coladas or whatever Barbies drink these days while I’m at the drafting table trying to figure out what the hell is wrong here. Everything looks wrong to me now, not just Samantha’s look and Doctor Gypsum’s and the various loathsome members of the Abominations’ League but perspective again, the framing of the panels strikes me as flat, dull, something I could have done better twenty years ago. I’m well into the third act and it’s just not working for me.

I keep thinking of that conversation with Miriam. I’m not holding her prisoner or anything. Where the fuck did that come from? Why did I have to say that?

Screw this. This isn’t going anywhere.

I lean out the window.

“Hey Lily! Want to go for a swim?”

She looks up, seems unsure at first. Maybe I was a little loud there.

“Okay, Patrick.”

“Suit up.”

Skippy peanut butter and Smucker’s Concord Grape this time. I’ve got them wrapped and packed away in the cooler along with the beer and Pepsi but still no Lily.

She’s not in her room. She’s not in the bathroom. I peer into mine. Found her.

“What’s up, Lily?”

She’s been in the bedroom drawers. Sam’s drawers. She holds an orange and yellow two-piece out to me.

“Could I wear this one instead of the blue?”

“Whatever one you want.”

“This one’s pretty.”

“Well. You should wear it, then.”

She opens the closet door. Sam’s closet. Fingers a strapless blue and white silk dress. Sam bought it in New York City.

“All this stuff,” she says. “It’s really, really pretty. Do you think I could play dress-up later, maybe?”

There’s a buzzing in my head. A disconnect. I think she says something else to me. I’m not sure.

“What?”

“Later maybe, Patrick? After the swim?”

“I… I guess so. Yeah, if you want. All right. Go put on your suit.”

She hurries out of the room and I’m left standing there looking at Sam’s clothes hanging neatly in the closet and disheveled where Lily’s been pawing through the open drawers.

I’ll straighten them out. Only not just now.

I’m halfway through my first beer when I see the snake.

The beer hits the deck and I’m up on my feet with the rake in my hands and it’s coming toward her, its body a black undulating streak in the water behind a raised head as it rises over a drifting branch and she doesn’t see it, doesn’t even know it’s there and I’m yelling Sam! Lily! Get out of the water! Get out of the water NOW! and she hears the panic in my voice and looks confused but starts swimming anyway, Sam’s powerful stroke, yet the damn thing’s gaining on her, no more than ten feet away.

Faster, Lily! I yell and bless her she really pours it on so that she hits the side of the dock and starts to hoist herself up just as it raises its fucking head to strike but I lash it with the steel tines of the rake. It writhes furiously in the roiling water and tries to bite, the snow-white mouth hitting the wooden handle just above the tines and Lily’s out of the water now watching wide-eyed as I flip the rake around and bring it down again and again on its back, on its goddamn head until at last the snake’s had enough and turns and glides away.

I drop the rake as though it’s poisonous.

I’m shaking so hard it’s hard to stand so I don’t even try. I drop down beside her on the dock, our feet dangling over the muddy water. Lily pulls hers in as though that thing still might be out there somewhere.

The look on her face is pure shock. She reaches out for me and I reach out for her and then I’m hugging her wet body tight to mine and we’re both of us trembling in a sudden cold wind of our own devise.

“Anything I want?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s about two hours later and Lily’s at the bedroom closet. Seems she’s forgotten all about the snake. I sure haven’t.

Sam’s got a half dozen conservative suits for work front and center in the closet but she pushes those aside to get at the more interesting stuff in back.

She turns to the drawers and opens and closes them one at a time, inspecting them.

“You go ’way now,” she says. “I’ll come when I’m ready.”