Page 67 of Never Forget
"Ready to go?" Sam was carrying Rosie on his hip. She had Biscuit, the stuffed dog he'd bought her that morning, tucked under one arm and the envelope of drawings clutched in the other.
He'd slipped out of the hospital at dawn to buy us clothes so we wouldn't have to leave in hospital gowns. For Rosie, leggings and a soft long-sleeved shirt in the dusty pink she loved, small sneakers with velcro straps. For me, jeans, a flannel, a tank top, practical boots. The kind I always wore. He hadn't just grabbed whatever was on the rack. He'd grabbed what I would have grabbed for myself. And everything was in my size. I didn't want to think about how he'd figured that out.
"Where do we go now?" Rosie's voice was small. "Our house is gone."
Sam shifted her on his hip so he could look at her face. "You're staying with me," he said. "Until we find a new house for you."
Rosie was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded. "Okay."
She pressed her face into his shoulder, Biscuit squished between them.
We went to the mall that afternoon to grab some essentials—toiletries, a few more changes of clothes, some things for Rosie. Sam insisted on getting me a phone—I’d dropped mine in yesterday's chaos—added to his plan so I wouldn't be cut off.
I tried to keep track of what I owed him. He told me to stop.
By late afternoon, we were standing in Sam's apartment.
I'd never been here before. It was small, just big enough for a bachelor living alone. One bedroom, a modest kitchen, a living room with a couch that had seen better days.
Sam used to live in the house across from ours. But when his father died, his mother had to sell to make ends meet. She passed not long after we graduated high school. Sam had been on his own ever since.
"You and Rosie take the bedroom," he said, setting down the shopping bags.
"Sam, we can't take your bed."
"I can't let you sleep on the couch."
I sighed. "Thank you, Sam."
"It's nothing."
It wasn't nothing. But I was too tired to argue.
"We'll move out as soon as we find a new place," I said. "I promise we won't be in your way for long."
Sam shook his head. "Stay as long as you need. I mean it."
The evening passed quietly. We made dinner together, nothing fancy, but it was warm and filling. Sam showed Rosie how to work the remote, and she sat cross-legged on the floorwith Biscuit in her lap, watching cartoons while Sam and I cleaned up.
It felt strangely normal. Like we'd done this a hundred times before.
When Rosie started yawning, I carried her to the bedroom. Sam had already put fresh sheets on the bed and set out towels for us.
"Good night, Uncle Sam," Rosie mumbled.
"Good night, Rosie." He crouched down and kissed the top of her head. "Sleep tight."
He closed the door behind him.
I changed Rosie into her new pajamas and tucked her into bed, Biscuit wedged between us. She was asleep within minutes.
I lay in the dark taking in the scent of the sheets that smelled like him.
Stay as long as you need. I mean it.
But we couldn't stay at Sam's apartment forever. Eventually we'd have to find a new place and start over.
I stared at the ceiling and thought about the note I'd found on our doorstep the night of the fire.
