I was awake that night when Sam called me, just laying in bed, staring idly out into the dark room. "Hey," I whispered as I answered the phone.
"Hey," he whispered back. "Did I wake you?"
"No," I said, shaking my head against my pillow. "My insomnia is acting up." There was no way I'd admit that thoughts of him were the reason I was feeling hot and couldn't sleep. "Why are you up so late?"
"I cannot sleep either," he replied. "I have been up sketching."
"Sketching what?"
"People I know."
"Like who?"
"Oh, Emile, immortal friends, you."
That caught me off guard. "You sketch me?"
His voice was soft when he answered. "Of course. You mean something to mean, and that inspires me."
I inhaled deeply at his words. Just what did I mean? No, it didn't matter. I wouldn't ask. "Oh."
He was quiet a moment. I wondered if he had a something specific he wanted, or if he just called to waste away some insomnia time.
"Tell me one of your favorite memories from when you were a child," he eventually asked into the comfortable quiet between us.
"Hm." It took me a few moments of deep thinking to come up with something. My childhood hadn't been great, but not overly dismal. My mother had been a mostly absent from my life, so I learned how to take care of myself pretty early on.
"There was this one time my mom was staying the night at a boyfriend's house," I started, "and it was the first time she'd let me stay home alone overnight. I tried making brownies from a box mix. It was my first time baking, but it turned out alright. They were good. I was planning on making a sandwich for dinner, but when I got out stuff to make it, I suddenly realized there was no one stopping me from eating whatever I wanted. My mom wasn't going to check to make sure I ate a sandwich. She wouldn't check to see that lunch meat and bread were gone. She wouldn't even ask. So I decided I would eat the whole pan of brownies for dinner, and watch cartoons the whole night long. I didn't go to bed until one o'clock, sick to my stomach on all the sugar, but feeling like I had discovered this whole new independence and freedom."
"Did you get sick from all the brownies?"
"Oh, violently," I said through my smile. "It was totally worth it."
He chuckled in reply. "Even though you were alone?"
"I spent a lot of time alone growing up."
He hummed his discontent. "That is a little sad."
I shrugged against the pillows, sheets rustling around me. "It was a little lonely," I admitted. "But I took good care of myself, mostly. Expect for the occasional brownie pig out session, I was responsible and well behaved."
"It sounds like you grew up fast."
"A little."
I heard him exhale with empathy. "I am sorry."
"It's okay. I turned out alright." I changed to subject, not wanting to get into it. "What were you like as a kid?"
Sam replied, "I was a daydreamer."
"What would you dream about?"
"Mm. This and that," he said.
"Seriously? That's all you're going to give me?"
"I dreamed about not having to do work," he conceded. "About just laying in the sun all day, lazing about."
"What kind of work would you do?" I asked.
"Farming, mostly."
"You grew up on a farm?"
"No, we didn't own it, just worked in the wheat fields."
I wouldn't have thought he grew up a farmer. He seemed so comfortable in the city. "I imagine it was hard work."
"Very. I always looked forward to winter when we did not work, even though it rained a lot," he replied. "I liked to look out the window and watch it."
It didn't rain often in California, making it a novelty when the rain came. I liked listening to it. "That sounds nice."
"Mm."
We were quiet a while, simply connected through the phone, listening to one another breathing. I started to drift off as I imagined rain trickling outside my window. "Was there something you wanted tonight, Sam?"
"Just to talk. I figured you were still up."
"Okay." I breathed into the silence longer before telling him, "I'm going to go to sleep now."
"Goodnight, Abigail," he whispered.
"Goodnight," I repeated in a matching whisper.
Late night phone calls continued for a while after that. When neither of us could sleep, we'd talk a while on the phone. I found his quiet voice soothing as I laid in bed, searching for sleep.