Across My Heart

5

I put both suitcases in the truck, and when I walked back into my apartment, Sam was talking with her parents. I tried not to listen, but I heard Sam say, "He's fine, Mom. We are getting along okay." Sam was running her hand from her forehead through her hair as she paced back and forth, something she did when she was aggravated. Several times, she said, "No, Mom! You don't need to do that!"

I walked over and took Sam's phone. She threw her hands up and went into the bathroom, closing the door hard. I spoke with her mom for a few minutes, then told her dad we would be in Jacksonville late tonight or tomorrow morning.

Her mom asked me if we were getting along, and I replied, just as Sam had said, "We are getting along okay." Once the call was over, Sam came out of the bathroom and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

We ate breakfast at the corner cafe and then were on our way to Jacksonville. It was our fifth day on the road, and we had about 1000 miles to go. Sam was still irritated from the phone call with her mom but, thankfully, was not taking it out on me.

Sam was driving, and we were making good progress. Wanting to improve Sam's mood, I asked if the yellow suitcase was her grandmother's old suitcase. I knew it was, but I also knew Sam loved that old suitcase and liked to talk about it and her grandmother.

* * * * *

That old yellow suitcase stood out in a world of black nylon rolling suitcases. Her grandmother had bought it in the 1960s, and it looked like something from an old movie. It was rectangular, with an internal wood frame, silk interior, and thin yellow-dyed leather exterior. Given its age, it was still in great shape. The handle was firmly attached, and the clasps holding it closed still worked. Sam had the original keys.

Sam had many childhood memories of her grandmother coming to visit. Her grandmother would always bring a present for Sam, give Sam the key, and then Sam would run to open the suitcase and get her present. Just before her grandmother passed, she had given Sam that suitcase.

There were few things Sam valued more than that old yellow suitcase, and she loved to talk about it. There were many pictures of her grandmother holding that suitcase. Her grandmother would add a sticker from the place they were visiting, then have someone take her photo with the suitcase, showing off the latest sticker.

Back when we were together, one of Sam's dreams was to take that suitcase and have her picture taken in the same spots as the photos of her grandmother—just like we had done the day before, except Sam had not been holding the suitcase.

Sam took the bait and talked for a half-hour straight about her grandmother and that suitcase. When she was done talking, her mood improved dramatically.

* * * * *

In the early afternoon, we were both a little hungry but not in the mood for fast food. When we stopped for gas, I went into the convenience store. I noticed they had smaller-sized jars of peanut butter and jelly. They also had bread, chips, napkins, and plastic utensils. When I returned to the truck with a bag, Sam asked what I had bought. "It's a surprise," was all I would say.

I was driving now, and at the next rest stop, I pulled up near the picnic tables and told Sam we would have a picnic. I got that horrible padded moving blanket and laid it out for us to sit on. Sam made us both a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and opened the bag of chips. We sat very close and ate our lunch. It was nice.

Sam looked beautiful sitting there. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. We chatted and laughed like we were teenagers again, and in those moments, she was the same girl I had fallen for in high school, not the woman who had picked me up at the airport four days ago.