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“Morning.”
Lily looked up from her phone and there was Sammy, heading into the kitchen.
“It’s 11:30,” she replied, focusing back on her twitter timeline.
“I just woke up, though.” Sammy stretched his arms. “I think I’m gonna make eggs,” he announced.
Sammy always did this. He’d wake up a few hours before his shift at the station and make himself “breakfast” in the dead of night. He’d never ask if she wanted any, or offer to share, but whether Lily was awake or not, there’d always be something left out for her. Overnight oats, scrambled eggs, toast just how she used to make for herself back when they lived in Tampa, when she used to actually eat breakfast food.
Lily pushed herself up off the couch and stepped into the kitchen, sitting at one of the stools by the counter.
“Did you make coffee?”
Sammy shook his head. “Not yet. Probably just gonna make some at the station later.”
They were silent like that for the next few minutes, Sammy pushing eggs around in a pan with a fork—Ben broke the last spatula they owned last week, trying to melt gummy bears—and Lily sitting at the counter, playing a stupid game on her phone.
Soon, Sammy was cursing quietly as he shoved the eggs onto plates, and setting one down in front of her. He set the other plate down at the space next to where she was sitting, and muttered, “Be right back.”
Lily was halfway through her eggs when Sammy reappeared, and with a small gift-wrapped box. He handed it to her silently before sitting.
“What’s this?” Lily mumbled around her food.
“Gift.” He shrugged. “Happy birthday.”
Lily’s heart could have stopped. She stared at the box for a second until she’d caught her breath. “It’s almost over.”
“I know. We always used to celebrate your birthday at night, though,” Sammy pointed out, as if Lily hasn’t remembered those nights every year since they left her behind.
Lily didn’t look up at him; she just kept looking at the box. “I hate my birthday,” she whispered.
“I know,” he whispered back. “That’s why I didn’t tell Ben and Emily. You’re welcome.” He smiled awkwardly and nudged her shoulder. “Open it.”
Lily set her fork down and started to pull at the wrapping paper. Inside was a white, nondescript box. She opened it to find a large pair of star shaped earrings resting on wrapping paper.
“Oh my God,” she laughed, pulling them out. “They’re just like my old ones.”
“They are your old ones.” Sammy grinned at her. “Found them when I was going through some boxes a few weeks ago. They probably got mixed in with our stuff during the move.”
“I thought I lost them. You thieving assholes.” She punched Sammy’s arm.
“Ow! Sure as hell didn’t mean to!”
Lily laughed. “I know. Wouldn’t put it past Jack, though.”
Sammy smiled, but didn’t reply.
Lily pulled the tissue paper out of the box. She frowned and pulled out the cassette tape that had been under the paper. “What’s this?”
“It’s labelled.” Sammy pointed to the end facing away from them. Lily flipped the tape over. Scrawled on some peeling masking tape on the side was ‘J+L Bday: 2004.’ Lily laughed out loud.
“Oh my God! We have to listen to this immediately!”
“Jack-in-the-box Jesus, no. We don’t even have a cassette player! Not to mention it’s from 2004!” Sammy laughed.
“Why were you even still using cassettes to make mixtapes in 2004 anyway?” she asked.
Sammy shrugged, laughing still. “Couldn’t tell you.”
“Eighteen-year-old Sammy was such a treat,” Lily said, to which he only laughed harder. “I miss him sometimes.”
“Who?” Sammy asked. He wasn’t laughing anymore.
“Eighteen-year-old Sammy.”
“That’s fair. Sometimes I miss eighteen-year-old Lily.”
“Life was simpler then. Minus all the repression, and stuff.” She was quiet for a second, running her fingers over the tape. “I miss eighteen-year-old Jack,” she whispered.
“Me too,” Sammy replied. “Hell, I miss thirty-year-old Jack.”
“The last time I celebrated a birthday with him we were twenty-fives” she whispered after a moment. “I’m thirty-three. Thirty-four today, actually.”
“Yeah,” Sammy said quietly.
“Everyone always says ‘it gets easier, it gets easier,’” she said. “So why does it just feel like it’s getting harder?”
“I’m the wrong guy to ask, Lils.”
“It was easier when I thought he was dead.”
Sammy didn’t reply, he just looked at her sadly.
“What the hell are we gonna do if we can't get him back,” she whispered.
“I don’t know. I’m not letting myself consider that possibility.”
“I miss him so fucking much, I don’t even know how to put it into words, Sammy. I should have words, there should be words to describe this. But there isn’t. I just… miss him.”
Sammy nodded.
“I missed him for years before he disappeared, but this is different. At least then, I could- I could text him, and he’d answer, or call him. I could reach out, and he was there. But then…” She trailed off.
“The bottom fell out,” Sammy whispered.
Lily nodded. “It’s just like there’s this hole in my chest. A little piece that’s not there.”
“I know.”
“I hate it. I hate that he left me, and I hate that he’s gone, and I hate that he could never give up on shit, and I hate that you’re the only one that gets it.”
Sammy gave her a teary smile.
“I hate that you’re my best friend.”
“Same here,” he replied.
Lily rubbed her eyes. “God, I need a drink.”
“Probably not a good idea. You work at six,” Sammy said.
Lily sighed. “Yeah.” She put her head in her hands and stared at the remains of her scrambled eggs. “I think I need to stop.”
Sammy made a small noise of confusion.
“Drinking. I think I- I think I need to get sober,” she choked out over the massive lump in her throat.
“Oh,” Sammy said quietly. “Whatever you think is best. I agree, of course, but I’m not gonna, like, tell you what to do. That’s not fair.”
“I think I’m gonna try to- to start stopping.” Lily’s eyes would’ve burned holes into the counter if they could.
“Okay. Well. I love you,” he whispered.
“Mhm.” Lily blinked rapidly, not-so-subtly raising her sleeve to her eyes to scrub at runaway tears. Fucking Stevens. Can’t even give her a birthday present without making her miserable.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. In general, or related to— you know,” he said, standing up. “I have to go get ready for work.”
Sammy walked his plate over to the sink. When he headed back towards the door, he stopped, leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Happy birthday, Lily,” Sammy said, before leaving the kitchen.
Once his footsteps faded down the hall, Lily picked up her head and wiped at her eyes, sniffling.