"I don't even know!" I cried in frustration when Birdie asked me about Sam a few days after I met Paula. We were sitting in kitchen after midnight, sharing a pint of brownie batter ice cream in the dark.
"Do you have feelings for him?" Birdie asked gently.
"No, I don't have feelings for him," I said, wanting to push the idea out of my head. "I can't."
"Why not?" she asked, popping a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and talking around it. "It's not like he's dangerous, right?"
"No, of course not," I replied, waving my hand to dismiss the thought. Sam would never hurt me, I knew that. "I just can't like him. I can't like anybody. Not after everything. It's just not possible."
Birdie put down her spoon and laid a gentle hand on my arm. "It is, Abby," she urged.
I shook my head. "No, it's not. I don't know how to love anymore."
In an attempt to make me feel better, she said, "You didn't love him."
"Yes, I did," I groaned, because it made everything worse. "Before everything."
"No, that was a very different type of love," she tried to explain, but I cut her off.
"It was still love," I snapped. "And I most certainly don't love Sam as anything more than a friend. No, I don't even love him as a friend. I can't even do that."
She was quiet a moment, not arguing. "Then what do you feel about him?"
I took a minute to consider. What could I possibly feel about Sam? "I appreciate his friendship," I concluded. "I like hanging out with him. I don't have to be nervous around him. He's not a threat."
Birdie put her hand over mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Don't be afraid of it, Abby."
"I'm not afraid of it. I can't be afraid of something that can't happen. Besides, Sam would never like me like that. No, he wouldn't. So there's no reason to like him. No reason at all. So I don't have to worry about it, because nothing is ever going to happen." I stood, letting my empty spoon drop on the ground beneath me with a clang. "I'm going to bed."
As I shoved out of the room, Birdie called after me. "Abby."
"What?"
"You're never going to get better if you don't let yourself feel."
I shook my head and disappeared back down to my room. The only person I wanted to be around was my cat. Lizzie had mopped up a ton of my tears over the years, and today there were an abundance for her to soak up into her fur.
The next day at school, I saw Sam before first period right as he was getting to school, later than usual. He was changing out of a ripped t-shirt and pulling on a spare sweatshirt he hand stored in his locker just for this purpose. His olive skinned chest was covered in deep scratches that were in the process of healing.
I knew better than to freak out--things like this happened all the time to Sam.
"What happened this time?" I asked as he pulled the sweatshirt down over his toned abs.
He looked down, wiping the dried blood off his hands on the soiled tee-shirt. "A little girl was being attacked by a dog on her walk to school," he replied as if it were no big deal. "I had to intervene."
I frowned. "I don't think I'm brave enough to be immortal, Sam."
He snorted softly. It was a distinctly French sound. "You do not just start out like this. It takes years to build up confidence in your healing abilities and in your bravery. After a while, actions comes without thinking."
"Like the fire after the museum?" I realized.
"Yes, like on the way home from the museum. I should not have done anything when you were there, but I could not help myself." He shrugged, as if to say oh well.
"You wanted me to stay in the car so I wouldn't see you with all your immortal-strength and serious injury healing," I remembered.
He shook his head, pulling on his backpack as we headed across campus. "No, I wanted you to stay in the car because it was dangerous. And because I could have handled it on my own."
"I didn't understand that part," I pointed out.
"No. You did not." He turned to me then, and smiled. "Even if you do not do heroic things, I think you would make a wonderful immortal."
I blinked in surprise, turning to look at him as we walked. "How come?"
"The world would be blessed to have you around eternally. With your emotional maturity, kindness and responsibility, you could spread a lot of good."
I seriously doubted that. More like I would spread my cynical attitude and misery. "Hm."
He put his arm around my shoulder with a grin, guiding me towards Econ. "I have enough faith in you for the both of us."
That afternoon, I introduced Nate and Paula. She would be attending Nate's school, and they would be in the same grade together. I assumed Paula had been to school plenty of times before, but with no one to watch her during the day—Emile worked most days at the hospital, and Sam would be busy at school himself—she had to go somewhere. Paula said she didn't mind it, and that she enjoyed the social aspect of school.
Sam and Paula joined me and Nate in the kitchen after school, getting out crackers and peanut butter for a snack. Before I could introduce Paula, she strode confidently up to Nate and stuck out her hand. "Hello. My name is Paula."
"You talk weird," he said warily.
"Nate," I hissed in chastisement. "That's rude!"
Paula just laughed, a broad smile on her mouth. "Oui!"
Nate looked confused. "We what?"
She smiled ever further. "No, oui. The French word for 'yes.' I am French, from France. It's a country in Europe. Do you know where Europe is?"
Nate looked affronted. "Of course I know where Europe is. I get A's in geography."
"Good. Europe is a good place."
"So you're not American?" he asked.
"No."
"Doesn't that make you sad?"
Paula huffed in a particularly French way. "Of course not. The United States isn't the only good place in the world. You should be sad you aren't French."
Nate looked about to argue back, but Sam stepped in. "Okay, let us move on to another topic. Paula, how about you show Nate what you are reading?"
Paula brightened immediately, turning back to Nate, almost-argument forgotten. "Do you like graphic novels?"
Nate nodded uncertainly. "Yeah."
"Have you read the Dog Man books?" She beamed hopefully at him, excited at the thought of one of her favorite books.
Nate's interest visibly piqued at the title. "Only the first one. I really liked it, it was so funny!"
"Sam can buy you the rest of the series!" Paula said. "Then you can read them all."
Sam nodded at her words, pulling out his phone as if to order them.
"Hold up," I said, holding my hand up to stop him. Expensive purchases were happening way too fast. "Sam's not buying us books."
"But the library at my school doesn't have them!" Nate protested. "I had to read my friend's copy, and he doesn't have the others."
"It is really no bother," Sam interjected.
Nate turned back to me and pleaded with puppy dog eyes. "Please, Abby? Why can't he buy them for me?"
Because, I couldn't teach Nate to rely on others to meet any need that he had. I couldn't teach him to throw money at every problem, every want.
But there wasn't extra money to be had at our house for him to buy the books himself. There was no money to reward Nate with for doing extra chores, and the only money he had access to were the few dollars his grandma sent for his birthday. That wasn't for months, and it wasn't enough to buy expensive books. So if the library didn't have the books, then he really had no access to them.
There was a lesson to learn in not getting everything he wanted, but still... it was Nate. He was a good kid. He worked hard, in both school and at home. He wasn't spoiled. What would this one thing hurt?
"If Sam's going to buy them," I finally said, "He can buy them for the library, so lots of kids and read them."
Nate brightened. "But I get to read them first, right?"
I sighed. "If Sam buys them, then yes. But you don't have to," I told my friend.
"I want to," he assured me with a smile, looking up from where he typed on his phone.
If it was for me, I would have protested further, but it was for Nate. I couldn't deny him anything that made him happy. Plus, the books would be a bridge between him and Paula. They would hopefully be spending a lot of time together—if they got along, then Paula and Sam would hang out with us after school—so anything that could bring the two kids together was valuable.
I sighed in defeat. "What word do you say, Nate?"
Nate brightened, sensing success. He turned to Sam, pleading, "Please, Sam? I'll be your best friend forever if you buy the Dog Man books."
Sam made a show of considering his offer. "Abigail and my cousin Emile are my current best friends, but I suppose you will do as third."
Nate clasped his hands beneath his chin, and Paula copied the expression. "Please, Sam?" they both begged.
Sam tapped a few more times on his phone, then looked up with a smile. "Done. They will be here tomorrow."
"Yay! Thank you, thank you!" Nate cheered, giving Sam a hug.
Sam smiled back and patted Nate's shoulder.
"Come on," Paula said, grabbing Nate's hand and pulling him into the living room, backpack in tow. "I'll show you the book I have right now. It has alien robots!"
"Cool!"
They dashed off until it was just Sam and me. I turned to my friend. "Thank you, Sam. You didn't have to do that."
He smiled. "I know."
"You're really kind, you know that?"
He shrugged self-consciously, then snatched a sleeve of crackers off the counter with a graphite smeared hand. He stuffed a few in his mouth so he didn't have to respond. Mouth full, he smiled close-lipped and winked at me.
I laughed, and let him distract me. Giggles bubbled in from the front room where Nate and Paula sat talking. My heart lightened with hope.
This was going to work.