Between the Stars

Chapter Eighteen

Two weeks later, the house was packed. Boxes sat in precarious piles by the front door, ready to be put in the van in the morning. His parents had decided to go home a few weeks early and when they brought it up Sam didn't put up a fight. He'd barely left the house. Even now, all he could do was lay in his bed. He couldn't bring himself to go anywhere that reminded him of Charlie, but even his room held too many memories. He'd helped his dad repair the curtains after he'd torn them down and they stood open day and night now. He couldn't stand the idea of being closed in like that ever again.

He stared at Charlie's urn where it sat on the dresser. He'd set it there the day they'd come home from the funeral and he hadn't touched it since. He couldn't bring himself to. Dan had given it to him so he could say goodbye on his own, but he didn't know how.

"Sam, bring your bags down!" His mom called up the stairs.

He tore his eyes away from the glass container and rolled over, grumbling to himself for a minute before he pushed himself out of bed. As he bent over to pick up the box that held his things, the bit of pink post-it note from the book Charlie had given him stared up at him from where it was jammed in a corner.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and refused to look at it as he kicked his duffel bag down the hall ahead of him. He gave it one more nudge and sent it bouncing down the stairs, then carefully followed. He stepped over the bag and set the box with the others as his mom walked around the corner.

"Is that everything?" She asked as she set down another box.

He nodded.

"I got us some sandwiches," she said over her shoulder as she headed back towards the kitchen. "Tony said to tell you goodbye, by the way."

A dull ache spread through his chest as he clenched his jaw. He'd been avoiding everyone for a reason. He didn't want any more goodbyes.

"Remember, we're leaving first thing tomorrow morning," his mom reminded him as he trudged back up the stairs.

He sat heavily on his bed and stared around the empty room. It looked just like it had when he'd first gotten here; the only things left were his backpack and Charlie's urn. He stared at the blue swirled glass until his vision blurred, and only when he finally blinked did he realize his eyes were full of tears. He'd spent so much time worrying about how to say goodbye to Charlie but never once had he considered he might not get to at all. It was like reading a book with the last few pages torn out, robbing the reader of the closure they deserved.

He didn't like it one bit.

The longer he sat there, the angrier he got. It wasn't fair that the chance had been taken from him. It wasn't right.

Life isn't fair.

Charlie's voice echoed in his head and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then glared at the urn.

"Then I'm going to make it fair," he grumbled to nothing in particular.

He swiped the urn from the top of the dresser and stormed out of his room.

"Sam?"

His mom's voice sounded from the kitchen as he jogged down the stairs. He paused, his hand on the doorknob.

"Where are you going?" she asked as she came around the corner.

He turned around. Her eyes fell to the urn in his hand, then flicked back up to his face.

"I need to say goodbye." His voice was rough to his ears.

She studied him, her expression sorrowful, then nodded. He turned to leave when she spoke again.