Leap of Fate

He left after a while though, and not long after that, Caleb, Angela’s boyfriend came to pick her up, which left Samantha and I alone. As much as I wanted to tell her everything I felt about her, I remained quiet for most of the day, although I did write one poem, which I accidentally forgot to take with me when I left, yes, it was accidental! We spent the afternoon rummaging through her old collections of TV Week magazines, doing crosswords and assorted puzzles that were inside them. Angela came to pick up her belongings, and left again, leaving us alone once more. It wasn’t until around five thirty that Samantha reminded me I had to catch bus home. Another two hours, and I would have had to stay there the night again, perhaps something that I would have liked, but such was not to happen. Now came the now or never moment, when I brought up the subject of what was going to happen from now on forth between us. The decision came from her point that she wanted to keep things platonic, which I agreed to, half-heartedly.

That lasted an entire day.

Monday night I was home alone, and forcing myself not to call Samantha. I called Jessica and we spoke for a while, catching up with one another. At about midnight, I was in bed and decided to write a letter which, at first, I had no intention of sending, but did. This was about one in the morning, so I knew it would not be delivered until Wednesday. Tuesday night I was on the phone to Angela, who offered to collect it before Samantha could read it, if the mail was delivered after Samantha left for work. It wasn’t. This left me stuck, and Samantha did not call me that night, or the night after. Tuesday night I rang the radio station and asked that they play Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx. That was played while I was on the phone to Angela, who insisted that she ring Samantha and tell her. Unbeknownst to both Angela and myself, Simon was also there at the time, as he had been on Monday night, and as he was, I found out, on Wednesday night also. Here was the point I started to become desperate.

Simon and Samantha had broken up over several reasons, one of which was his heavy-handed treatment of her. He did not hit her, but pushing and shoving was part of his nature it seemed. That angered me, but for Samantha, I could not do anything. I knew what was going to happen, that she would get back together with him, and I hoped there was something I could do to change her mind, because frankly, I wanted her for myself. On Friday night I received sixty dollars from a friend who had owed it to me, so I travelled a little. First into Hobart city, where, at the Akashic, I bought a model unicorn, knowing that she loved them, and hoping that she would realise just how I felt, if the letter and the song had not already spelled that out to her well enough. Friday afternoon I was in the shopping centre which holds the supermarket she works at. Yes, I went there specifically to see her, but she didn’t see me and I didn’t have the courage to actually go up and say hi to her. I left, came home, and then caught a bus back out to Claremont where I left the unicorn in front of her door before she got home, that way if she reacted badly to it, I could deny that it was my responsibility, or so I thought. Unfortunately I also found out later that I can not lie to Samantha either. Yes, so I received a call from Samantha later that night, she even took time out of watching Charmed to call me, special circumstances. She had called Angela first, who had denied any knowledge of my placing the present there, despite my telling her before I left, so Samantha called Simon and asked if he had left it there. He hadn’t, however he had been by her house with exactly the same idea as I had had. The fight had been going since he found out about the song on the radio and the letter, now it was starting to go to the next level. I have no doubt that if Simon Lynch knew what I looked like, or where I lived, one of us would be in hospital from the brawl by now.

Samantha finally rang me, and told me how hurt and annoyed she was that I had disrespected her wish for a platonic relationship. If I had, perhaps things would be less hurtful for me than they are now. Bygones. Angela rang me when Charmed was finished for the night, and I told her everything that had been said between Samantha and myself, which had left me hurt. Angela gave me the relief of at least informing me that Samantha had loved the unicorn, which she hadn’t told me herself. I got off the phone with Angela at around 12:15 Saturday morning, and watched Rage for a while before falling asleep. That being until the phone rang again at 1:30. The three of us do all the important things by phone, it’s easier than having to face one another I guess. Samantha was on the line again, to tell me that she had forgotten to say something before. ‘Here we go’ I thought.

"I forgot to say Thankyou."

"Oh, so you liked it then?" I asked.

"It’s beautiful, I love it."

Some consent was at least given. It wasn’t until afterwards that I realised that such a thing could have been taken as rude. Ring me and tell me off for everything that I’ve done, and then wake me up later, to say Thankyou as an afterthought. That gave me a form of anger for about five minutes, until thinking about Samantha too long made me wish that I could be with her then and there. Again. She’s never been far from my thoughts ever since that first night when Angela rang me from her house. She still remains close to my heart, only because, whether she likes it or not, whether I want it to be or not, she has my heart in her hands. I woke the next day feeling angry at myself for ruining any chance there had been at a relationship between Samantha and myself, and for pushing her back towards Simon. Now it was inevitable, I could see that.

Sunday night I called Samantha, knowing that there were things that we needed to discuss. She didn’t answer, and I left a message to call me when she got the message. I didn’t receive a call back and on Monday night I rang again, still no answer. After the third call I gave up, until about two thirty Tuesday morning, when I tried one final time. I’d been on the phone to Angela, who had said she was calling Samantha, so I knew she was home. Still no answer. I left another message.

"Hey, you know who it is, it’s Kevin. We really need to talk. I’m going to drop by tomorrow to see you, give me a call on the mobile if that’s not ok."

I knew she would be home the following day, because on Monday night Angela had informed me that Samantha had injured herself at work, and was spending the next day off on workers compensation. I skipped school, and went out to Claremont to see her. When I got there, Samantha’s car was not parked outside her unit, but Simon’s was. This worried me. If I knocked on the door would Simon answer it with a gun pointed at my head? That was probably going to extremes, but either way, I chose not to take the chance. I went back home, arriving there at around four PM. I called Samantha’s number, but again received no answer, so I refused to bother anymore. I went to cell group that night, pretty much solely with the purpose of borrowing money from someone to buy myself some more cigarettes. Stress gets you like that, well, that was my excuse anyway.

It was getting on towards 11:30 that night, actually, during the final commercial break before Dawson’s Creek ended, when the phone rang. As always when the phone rang nowadays, I hoped it was Samantha, and expected it to be someone else. What you expect doesn’t always happen, though, and it was her. My heart leapt, and I started by pulling my armchair across the room to settle in for what I hoped would be a long conversation. It was nothing in comparison to twelve, almost thirteen hours, but it was long enough to say everything that needed to be said. By this time I knew that Samantha and Simon were once again back together, and I had settled into the fact that I’d just be a friend, at least for now. I had to take that option, because it was either that or nothing. I decided I could handle waiting, in hope that perhaps they might break up again and I’d then get my proper chance. I told her all this, I told her that I couldn’t deny my feelings towards her, but that I would do my best to push them aside until when and if the time arose where I could allow them to be seen. She was grateful for this, but then, she still had her own bombshell to drop. She was not allowed to go out of her way to contact me in any way. That hurt more than anything, this was not just a friends conversation, this was going to be goodbye, at least, that’s what it felt like.

There are two contrasting thoughts on defining love. First, some people say that true love is shown by how much you’re prepared to fight for it, on the other hand, however, others say that true love is defined by how much you’re prepared to sacrifice. I couldn’t choose which one I wanted to live by, I guess I still can’t because while I sit here and try to wait patiently, allowing Samantha her happiness, I also wish that I could do something, say something that might change her mind and help her see that I really do, honestly love her. I’d tried that tact, though, with the letter, song dedication and the unicorn, and it hadn’t worked. I was down to one option, sacrifice. Do you know how hard something like that is? To be living each day in pain and suffering because you’ve chosen to allow the person you love to be happy, even though that happiness is not, from their point of view, in your arms. You’ve chosen to give up everything that you live and hope for, in order to allow them the exact same thing. All you can do at that point is hope that everything will come to turn around, live by the theory of what goes around comes around, and just wait, so that you’ll be there to catch it when it does come back to you, but what happens if it doesn’t? What do you miss in that time when you’re waiting for one thing, and something better comes by, that you miss because you’re not looking in the right direction? It’s a chance that I chose to take at that time.

I lasted through Wednesday, Thursday, and most of Friday, before the pain got too much that I just wanted to see her, in any way. I formatted an excuse, and caught the next bus from my house to Hobart, and then out to Bridgewater, stopping at Cove Hill Fair about five minutes before a bus was due to arrive there to take me back to Hobart. It worked effectively, I thought, at least hoped. I walked into the shopping center, where the only place still open at seven thirty on a Friday night was Coles, and saw Samantha almost immediately. She was waiting at the cigarette counter, I could have gone straight there, but I also wanted something to eat, and a bottle of Vanilla Coke, which I chose to buy first. I gathered my drink and a bag of chips, and paid for them, by which point in time Samantha had disappeared. I wasn’t sure, but I thought she must have been on break, and I’d just gotten there at the wrong time so she was not on register, and I couldn’t waste time which would have made it obvious that I had been there to see her, so I continued on my way. I saw her for long enough to at least ease the heartache a little, if not much. After buying another packet of cigarettes, I made my way out to wait for the bus, and travelled, home via Chasm a drop-in center, or café, whichever you choose to call it, run by a church in the city. That night I returned home to a missed call from a private number, Samantha had told me at another point in time, when things were better, that Simon also had a private number, so that was where I assumed the call came from. I never found out for certain though.

Saturday came and went, as did Sunday, and Monday, and Tuesday. It had now been an entire week since I had talked to Samantha, and the pain was becoming strong. I called a friend, and she told me that I had two options: call her, or forget her. I knew I could never forget her, and during the commercial break of Dawson’s Creek again, I chose to call her despite not being allowed to. My excuse came readily when she brought up the subject of my being at Cove Hill on Friday night, and I got out of that one readily. She had not been on break, but rather, had just finished, and Simon was waiting to drive her home that night, otherwise she would have said something to me apparently. The real occurrence of the night, however, came when she interrupted the show.

"Sorry for interrupting the show, but why did you call?" She asked.

"I just wanted to say hi, and..." I paused hesitantly, not knowing whether I should say this or not. "...and I miss you."

"Oh."

Silence came, and silence went when the next commercial break came about.

"Simon won’t like the fact that you called me." She declared, slightly hesitantly, admittedly, but still, she said it.

That brought everything to the forefront that I had been fighting from coming out in the past week, past several weeks even. Tears streamed forward, and I simply remained in silence for a time, trying to get my mouth around the following words.

"I’m sorry. I’ll just let you go then." I said, almost inaudibly through the tears

"What?"

I repeated myself, and she still didn’t hear me. I almost had to yell, and force myself to speak audibly the third time.

"Ok." Was all I received. That hurt just as much as anything she had ever told me, such apathy. I knew it had to be hopeless. I hung up the phone, and burst into tears. It couldn’t be held back anymore. I called the friend who had given me the encouragement to call Samantha again, and somehow managed to choke out what had occurred in that conversation. She told me just before we hung up on the phone not to do anything stupid. Having known my past, and the two times I had been in hospital because of depression leading to suicidal tendencies, well, it was wise advice. I don’t know that I could have done anything stupid even if I’d wanted to. I always held onto the hope that perhaps, eventually things would work themselves out in the end. I started really holding onto what had gotten me through the past few weeks. ‘As long as I’m still breathing, things can still get better.’ The following day when I visited my parents, my father put it in the words ‘where there’s life there’s hope.’ Both were fitting to the situation.