We promised, and he went into his apartment building.
Patrick and I weren't sure how much Craig actually told Sam. We both hoped he gave her a "soft" version of the truth. Enough to make her stay away. But not enough to make her doubt everything about everything. Maybe it's better to know the whole truth. I honestly don't know.
So, we just made a pact that we wouldn't tell her unless we found out that Craig made it sound like "nothing big," and Sam was ready to forgive him. I hope it doesn't come to that. I hope Craig told her enough to make her stay away.
We drove around to all the places where we thought we might find the girls, but we couldn't find them. Patrick figured they were probably just driving around, trying to let Sam "cool off a bit."
So, Patrick dropped me at home. He said he'd call me tomorrow when he heard anything.
I remember going to sleep last night, and I realized something. Something that I think is important. I realized that throughout the course of the evening, I wasn't happy about Craig and Sam breaking up. Not at all.
I never once thought that it would mean Sam might start liking me. All I cared about was the fact that Sam got really hurt. And I guess I realized at that moment that I really did love her. Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn't matter.
It was hard walking up the steps to Bill's town house that afternoon because I didn't receive a phone call all morning from Patrick. And I was so worried about Sam. I called on the phone, but nobody was there.
Bill looks different without a suit. He was wearing his old graduate school T-shirt. Which was Brown. The school. Not the color. His girlfr was wearing sandals and a nice flowered dress. She even had hair under her arms. No kidding! They looked very happy together. And I was glad for Bill.
Their house didn't have a lot of furniture in it, but it was very comfortable. They had a lot of books, which I spent about a half an hour asking them about. There was also a picture of Bill and his girlfr when they were at Brown together in graduate school. Bill had very long hair then.
Bill's girlfr made lunch while Bill made the salad. I just sat in the kitchen, drinking a ginger ale, and watching them. The lunch was a spaghetti dish of some sort because Bill's girlfr doesn't eat meat. Bill doesn't eat meat either now. The salad did have imitation bacon bits, though, because bacon is the only thing they both miss.
They had a really nice collection of jazz records, and they kept playing them all through lunch. After a while, they broke open a bottle of white wine and gave me another ginger ale. Then, we started talking.
Bill asked me about The Fountainhead, and I told him, making sure that I was a filter.
Then, he asked me about how I liked my first year of high school, and I told him, making sure that I included all the stories in which I "participated."
Then, he asked me about girls, and I told him how I really loved Sam, and how I wondered what the lady who wrote The Fountainhead would say about how I came to realize that I loved her.