Chapter 53
It’s a bright though cold winter day. The sun is shining through the glass panels which make up the entire side wall of the airport hall. A lot of people around me shield their eyes with their hands.
I don’t.
I squint, but I want to feel the sun on my face.
Sam is holding my hand as we walk, and every now and then he looks at me and smiles. It doesn’t feel like a goodbye at all. It feels like we are going somewhere together.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
I stay silent for a moment. I don’t want to mention my thoughts of goodbyes. Saying it out loud might make it more real. So instead, I ask, “Why did you give me the Phantom of the Opera CD?”
“It was Christmas. I thought it would be nice to give you a present.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I frown. “Why did you give me that CD and not something else?”
Sam looks forward again and waits a few moments before responding. “I guess . . . I guess I wanted to tell you more about me . . . without telling you directly.” He looks at me and shrugs.
“Do you think you’re a monster?”
“I don’t think.” He looks away. “I know.”
“Oh, rubbish!” I say quickly and shake my head.
He looks at me in surprise.
“If you were,” I explain, “I’d be dead!”
He smiles, but it’s a sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Bad people can still fall in love.”
My heart skips a beat hearing him say that. Then I stop and turn to face at him. “Sam, you are not a bad person. Because of you, many people are alive today who might otherwise not be. You can’t be a bad person!” My eyebrows are raised as I wait for his response.
He gently puts his arm around my shoulder and continues walking, nudging me forward. But he doesn’t answer.
We follow the signs for my departure gate and within a minute we reach the security control. Sam places his jacket and his belt on the conveyer belt. Then he takes out his wallet and passport, and puts it in the tray to pass through the X-ray machine. All this time, I keep looking at him, expecting an answer, while I place my belongings on the conveyer belt as well.
We pass through the metal detector.
He seems calm as he puts his belt and shoes back on, hooking his jacket on a finger, hanging it over his right shoulder.
Not even a hundred feet from the security control is my gate.
Sam stops next to a row of free chairs and drops his jacket on the backrest of the nearest one. Then he turns to me, puts his hands on my shoulders, leans his head to one side, and says quietly, “I am, Jane. I killed many people—”
“But they deserved it!”
He looks down for a moment, then back at me. “I like to think that. That’s why I did it. But in an ideal world, no one should take another person’s life.”
“Sam,” I whisper, “you’re about to destroy one of the potentially most dangerous strains of bacteria in the world: a biological weapon that could kill thousands, millions of people! That counts for something.”
Sam smiles at me gently. Then he picks a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “I don’t do it for thousands or millions of people, Jane. I do it for you. Because, somewhere, at some point, you might be among those thousands. Among those millions. And I will never let that happen.”
And I am speechless.
What do you say to a person who doesn’t care if the whole world falls apart as long as I’m safe?
So I don’t say anything. Instead I close my eyes, stand on my tiptoes, and kiss him.
After a long while, we part, but I keep my palms flat on his chest, my gaze unfocused somewhere on the pattern of his shirt. “What if it’s too big for you?”
I finally asked the question that had been boiling in my mind.
I look up to see him smiling. “I’m pretty resourceful.”
Leaning my cheek against his chest, I slide my hands behind his back in a tight hug. “I thought you’d say that,” I whisper.
He laughs and hugs me as well.
“I love you, Jane,” he whispers. “I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you talking on the podium—energetic, clever, passionate, and drop-dead gorgeous—though it took me a while to realize it. Soon after the conference, Dr. Rosenberg asked David for help on the project, and David picked you.
“You were part of the project before you even knew about it. And I, of course, was very eager to communicate this to Sentinel. Subsequently, they assigned me to track you. So”—he shrugs—“I bugged your phone, hacked your laptop, set up the video surveillance . . . I even made sure your door didn’t squeak so I could get in and out without making a noise—”
I look up at him. “You fixed my door?”
He winces. “Creepy, I know.”
I smile. Not really. Not when it’s you.
“But moving in next to you had nothing to do with the project. I told myself that it did, at first. I told myself I would be able to monitor you better if I was closer. But in reality, I was just fooling myself. I’ve always observed people from afar before. I tried to convince myself that this was just a job and my only interest in you was because of the Crazy Gro project, nothing more. And I believed it . . . right up until the moment you got in danger the very first time.”
I look at him. “What do you mean?”
“After your celebration at the bar, remember?”
Yes. Yes, I remember. “It was you who stopped those two men?”
He nods. “Yes. Gave them enough cuts and bruises that they’ll never think of doing that again.”
I hug him tightly again, not wanting to let go.
“I figured then that it was more than just a job. But I couldn’t see a future for us. Not . . . not with me being what I am. And I tried to push you away. I really did, but . . .” He takes a deep, serene breath. “You didn’t let me.”
He kisses my hair and then rests his cheek gently on the top of my head. “You saved me, Jane. You saved me in the best way a person can be saved. Thank you.”
My throat feels tight and I need to swallow.
“You make it sound like a definite goodbye,” I finally whisper.
He sighs with a smile. “People tend to say things like that in airports.”
I hug him again, leaning my face against his shirt, and he hugs me closer. We stay like this until the official at the gate announces that the boarding will begin shortly.
I see people gather and pass through the gate with one open eye; the other one is pressed against Sam’s shirt.
I don’t want to go.
I tighten my grip.
“I love you, Sam.”
He hugs me tighter too. “I love you more.”
We stay like this for a long while. There are no people passing through the boarding gate anymore. I am the last one. But I don’t want to. I can’t go.
Sam finally releases his embrace. “Time to go, honey.”
I move half a step away but don’t look him in the eyes. He gently lifts my chin with his hand.
“Catch you later.” He winks at me and smiles. Then he turns around and leaves, not looking back once.
He disappears around a corner, and I keep looking at that corner hoping that this is not it. That he will return, that he will come back and get on the plane with me.
But he doesn’t. And I keep looking at that corner, my back to the gate, hopelessly waiting.
“Miss?” I hear a female voice next to me.
I turn my empty gaze toward a young flight attendant wearing a pleasant smile on her face.
“Miss, we are waiting for you.”
I blink at her. Then I look back at the corner where I saw Sam last. I look for a few more seconds, hoping.
Then I turn to the young woman again. “Yes.” I can only whisper, because my throat is closed shut, a terrible dull pressure building behind my chest. I swallow and clench my jaws, fighting the tears.
I look one more time at the corner.
Come back to me, Sam . . .Please, come back…
Then I take a heavy breath, turn around and pass through the gate.