Hand in Hand

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—Originally publshed in The Roanoke Review, Fall 1996

Continued from page (14)

You love her. You’ll miss her, too. He glanced around for Clarissa. She’s gone to change. The newlyweds are getting ready to leave for the honeymoon.
    Clarissa came down the stairs in a beige suit. The guests pushed forward as she and Jamey began saying their good-byes. Sam turned toward the bay. He heard them move toward him from knot to knot of well-wishers, kissing, hugging, laughing, shaking hands. Clarissa came around the piano and stopped next to him. The dying sunshine filled her face.
    “Sam?”
    He turned away.
    She took hold of his sleeve. “Sam?”
    He glanced at her.
    Her eyes were wide and bright. “Don’t do anything to get yourself killed.”
    He felt the quiver along his spine.
    “Okay?” she said. Her voice broke. “Sam? Hand in hand?”
    She was reaching for him as if all hope were gone. Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.
    He gathered her in his arms. “Hand in hand, Sissy.”
    He kissed her hair.
    For a long moment after she pulled back, she held him in her gaze, as though she wanted to be sure to remember his face. Then she let go of his sleeve, linked her arm in Jamey’s, and waved farewell to the guests. Sam caught the scent of jasmine mixed with salt from the sea before the door shut silently behind them.



(15)