Remembering Taylor Mason (Rewritten, 2020)

Chapter Eight: Samara

Warning: Mature Themes

I walk down the sidewalk towards the coffee shop Liam and I have agreed to meet at. As I walk, the sun shines down so brightly, that I have to shield my eyes. It soaks right through my hair, bringing warmth. I smile as a swift breeze rushes past me, and into the doorway to the coffee shop that a customer is just leaving.
"Hey Taylor," I whisper under my breath, hoping no one can hear me. "I've missed you."
—
When I get inside, I scan the room, and find Liam standing at the end of the order line, I sneak up on him, jumping up playfully on his back. Maybe if I fake excitement, it won't be so hard to feel.
Liam's whole body jerks around at my touch.
"Dammit Sam, you scared the shit outta me," he screams, a hint of laughter hidden in his frustrated tone.
"Sorry," I say, quickly jumping down.
"Don't worry 'bout it," he replies in a calmer tone. "You've always had a way of keepin' things... interesting.
—
We stand in silence as we near the front of the line, both of us shifting uneasily with our hands in our pockets.
Today will make the first time Liam and I have hung out without Taylor. He is— was? I don't know— the only thing we have in common.
—
"What will it be?" the barista asks from behind the register.
"I'll have a small coffee with sugar and cream," Liam orders.
"I'll have a large iced coffee with three shots of expresso and um extra wiped cream please," I order.
Liam lets out a snort of laughter.
"What?" I smirk, turning to face him.
"With all that's happened, it's nice to know some things haven't changed."
—
We find the cleanest table we can and sit down on adjustable metal chairs across from each other.
"Taylor loved coming here," I blurt.
"Yeah," Liam says quietly, looking down at his hands. "Yeah, he did."
"Oh my gosh, remember that one night a few months ago, the three of us were here, and it was open mic night, and Taylor started playing Hotel California and all the sudden, the whole cheer squad comes in here dressed as ghosts and starts a flash mob?"
"Remember?" Liam booms. "Who do you think organized the damn thing?"
"You did that?"
"Yeah, Taylor needed some cheering up. That was the weekend he and his parents were gonna leave for Jacksonville to visit his aunt. The first family vacation they were gonna take... well ever."
"Oh right, but instead they left for a conference in England and he was alone again. Bet they wish they'd taken it now, huh?" I don't even try to hide the bitterness that has invaded my voice. Liam isn't paying attention to me, though. He's staring absently into the distance, compulsively picking at his nails.
"It's funny, I had everyone dress up as ghosts and now... Now he's the ghost."
All the sudden, I hear someone start to giggle uncontrollably. I glance around the room trying to figure out who this insensitive eavesdropper might be. And then I realize...
she's me.
—
"Oh my gosh." I slap my hand over my mouth so quickly that the outside of it feels tingly from the impact.
"Oh my gosh, Liam, I— I— I'm sorry I don't know where that came from, I swear."
"It's cool," he brushes off. "He's probably laughing at the irony himself... w-wherever he is."
"No, he wouldn't be," I challenge, getting up to grab a stir stick for my coffee.
"If the roles were reversed, he'd be... I think he'd just be.. numb. You know how serious he was," I remind him.
"Yeah, yeah, I guess you're right. Sometimes I'd just wish he'd loosen up though, you know? Like that time we threw him a surprise 16th in the field behind his house. He was so afraid the cops were gonna come bust us, he didn't have all that much fun. And then you and I were gonna light those firecrackers for him, but he had found them before we had gotten to it and..."
"And the unopened package fell on me two weeks later, while Taylor and I were making out in the cold cellar," I finish, really wishing I had filtered what I was going to say before it had come tumbling out of my mouth. Impulse control is not a strength of mine.
"He really did know how to be a buzz kill," Liam snorts, taking a long, exasperated breath, but chuckling quietly to himself, as he takes a sip of coffee.
"Yeah, sometimes," I shrug. "But at least he was looking out for us. Which is pretty cool considering..."
"Considering nobody ever really looked out for him," Liam says.
I feel the block of concrete hit me again, crushing me from the inside out.
"Yeah," I agree. "Yeah."