“I had to make sure you were okay,” he said, following her up to her house.
“I’m fine.”
“You can’t possibly be fine after reading what they wrote about you.”
“Which is why I didn’t read it.”
She opened up the front door and entered, dropping her purse and grocery bag to the floor as she squatted to plant kisses all over Fido’s dirt-covered nose. She spotted the pot of mutilated kale Fido had gotten into.
“Are you my hungry boy?” she cooed as the pony’s muzzle smeared potting soil all over Sam’s cheeks.
“Sam, you can’t just pretend this isn’t happening,” Raul persisted.
“I’m not pretending anything,” she countered.
“Fine, ignoring.”
“I’m not ignoring it either.”
“You just said you didn’t read the latest article dedicated to bad-mouthing and discrediting you.”
“In which paper? There are so many to choose from these days.”
“Newsbreak.”
“Oh, then no, I didn’t.” She glanced up at Raul while Fido rubbed his neck all over her, demanding the massage she was too distracted to give.
“What about the Pittsburgh Post?”
“Not that one either.”
“Any of them?”
Sam stood, looking so ridiculous with dirt all over her face while Fido rubbed around her legs like a cat that Raul couldn’t help but grin.
“Why would I want to read any of that garbage?”
“Oh, I don’t know, so maybe you could demand a retraction for the theft accusations. Point out Thomas Cook’s lies.”
“But I did steal the ledger. Technically they aren’t lying. So there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Raul hated how defeatist Sam was being, as if she had already lost. “Sam, you have to take this seriously! You’re being accused of two different things: theft and falsifying documents. It’s either one or the other. It can’t be both.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Sam shot back. “I’m not an idiot, Raul.”
“You sure are acting like one,” Raul yelled, wanting Sam to at least fight for herself. “You could go to jail for theft. But if Newsbreak is reporting that you falsified documents, you need to lean into that. At least then you will stay out of jail. And the worst you can get charged with is slander… and that’s a big if. At the very least you should give your side of the story.”
“I don’t have a side. And it’s not a story. It’s fake news, Raul.” She leaned over, grabbed her purse, and hung it on the coat rack before heading to the kitchen to grab plates for the sandwich she wasn’t hungry for anymore.
“But the reporters and readers don’t know that. You need to clear your name of the theft and redirect the story.”
“Why bother? No one will believe me.”
“You have a column that thousands of women read—all of them are your supporters.” He waved to the endless stacks of letters still covering a large corner of the living room. “Use that to prove your innocence.”
“What innocence am I supposed to prove, Raul? Like I said, I did steal his ledger, and I’m not going to stoop to his level and lie that I made it all up. No matter what I do, I’m either made out to be a thief or a liar. Neither looks good on me. And even if the smoke does clear, what will I be left with? Worst-case I’ll end up in jail, and best-case I lose my job, my home, everything.”
Only now could Raul understand Sam’s inaction, her silence. “No matter what happens, you’ll still have me, Sam. You’ll always have me.”
But Sam couldn’t give him the response he wanted.
“And how long will that last when you’re visiting me at Allegheny County Jail?” Sam could already imagine the fateful walk across the Bridge of Sighs that connected the courthouse to the jail.
From personal experience, Raul had felt that tight spot between the rock and hard place where Sam now found herself stuck. He’d had his fair share of obstacles in his career, but he always managed to wiggle his way out of them. Why? Because he was a man. Sam didn’t have that luxury, considering her boss was just as eager to throw her to the wolves as Thomas Cook was.
“You’re not going to jail, Sam. I’ll find a way to clear your name.”
“Even you, with all your media connections, can’t promise that, Raul. If there’s one thing I know—especially as a woman—it’s better to do nothing at all. Trying to force my will doesn’t work. It only ends in regret.”
He nodded as if he understood, but he didn’t and not just about the ledger. Because this felt like a conversational shift into something else: them.
Raul had been dreaming about the day they went from Sam and Raul to SamRaul. So badly he wanted it that he was certain he wore it on his face, in the way he looked at her, the way he waited for her calls. Other people noticed it too, like the man on the sidewalk outside of Raul’s building who stopped to comment on them last week. Sam had showed up at his apartment, eagerly chattering about the sales record the magazine had just passed. Excited as an eager beaver, she grabbed his hand, and he twirled her around under a cascade of crisp burnt orange leaves while every part of him wanted to swoop her in his arms. As she danced with him across the concrete pads, satiated on the anticipation of snuggling by bonfires and sipping hot cocoa, the stranger had approached them.
“You make a beautiful couple,” he said out of the blue. “You both deserve a wonderful life together.”
When Sam didn’t correct the stranger, Raul’s heart floated. And yet still Sam resisted him. Raul could always tell. And so he resisted himself too.
Each time they’d seen each other over the past seven months, despite his urge to cup her perfect face in his hands, he exerted every effort to vibe nothing but friendship. Wasn’t that what she still wanted? So he avoided anything remotely romantic when he’d taken her out to lunch—since dinner implied something more intimate—and even let her pay. He never told her she looked pretty when she clearly went the extra effort to apply lip gloss or the occasional barrette. His intention was to make this whole friendship label easier on them both, but it was only becoming more excruciating by the day.