“What can you tell me about Sam?” she asked.

There was a short pause, and he wondered if that had been a question or a demand.  It really didn’t matter.  He was quite taken by her.

“Sam is a unique personality,” he said.

Her brother was driving, and conversation had been mostly up to the two men until now.  Upon hearing the remark her brother laughed.

“That’s a hell of a description, Bob.  You couldn’t have said it any better any quicker.  Sam is a unique individual, Nicole.  Yes he is.”  He gave a low chuckle after the final line, amusing himself mostly, Bob a little, and his sister none.

She was all business most of the time.

To his credit, her brother had managed to get through the morning without drinking much, though mostly it was due to his having to see his sister.  Later he would drink a great deal.  That would be due to his having seen her and also having gone the morning without drinking much.

Their relationship was tainted in part by the bitterness she felt for her father having devoted the later part of his now spent life to the care of his son.  Wasted, she thought, on a lost cause.  Her brother wouldn’t have argued.  He was convinced he was a lost cause some time ago.  He never complained, though.  He drank instead.

Bob couldn’t help but like him.  He liked most people.  The brother’s drinking would probably kill him.  That was a goddamn shame, but the world is full of goddamn shames.  It would never notice the weight of this one.

Christ might, but He seemed quiet on the matter.

Bob couldn’t help but like him any more than he could help being taken by his sister.  That might have been a goddamn shame too.  The world was no heavier for it either.

“What else can you tell me about Sam?” she asked, ignoring her brother, and casting her eye across the fence to Sam’s property.  “I’m going to have to negotiate with him.  I’m looking for what I can use for leverage.”

She would let Bob into how her mind worked from time to time.  I suppose he was supposed to be impressed by it.  It seemed it worked in a way that was geared to getting others to do what she wanted.  She took pride in that.

In life she hadn’t always got the best end of the deal.  She trying to make amends for that, but in her line of work others had to do what she wanted.  Outside, in the real world, the weight of what we want others to do is of no consequence either.  That’s another goddamn shame.

What do I tell her about Sam? he wondered.

Once Bob and him had too much to drink.  Drinking had drowned the anxiety first, and the inhibition, and they had eventually got down to what we work so hard to cover up in our sobriety.  Sam had described slipping extra painkiller to a family member in hospice, after they had pleaded with him for days to simply let them die.

Sometimes people feel guilty about how all of that works.  It was never clear to Bob whether it was because of what we’ve done, or the fact that we have to work to cover it all back up again.  Later, when he was sober, Sam never appeared to mind.

Maybe he wanted to be found out, Bob thought.  I wonder how any of that would work for leverage?

“You won’t have any trouble with Sam,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because at the end of the day, I’m sure you will be able to convince him of anything.”

She smiled.

A goddamn beautiful woman, he thought.  Probably doesn’t drink a drop.

Later, when her brother left, she asked him how he’d been.  She hardly ever asked that.

“I’ve been fine.  Doing well.”  Looking into her eyes he said, “I think about you.”

“I think about you too.” She said in an awkward way that made him think she was being open.  He wanted to move closer to her.  So he did.

They continued to speak until she got emotional.

“Damn it, Bob.  What is it with you?  Why do I get like this around you?”

“I don’t know.  Is it a bad thing?”

“No,” she smiled, wiping an eye.  “It’s not a bad thing.  It’s a good thing, but I am afraid I’ve got to go,” and she approached him opening her arms for a hug.

He placed the tips of his fingers in her back, holding her as tight as she held him.  He would have to let her go.  So he did.

As she walked away he wondered how long it would be before he saw her again.  Instinctively he grabbed her arm, pulled her back one more time, and raised her up with his fingers in her back again.  Spinning her around, he set her back on her feet, and slowly tried to kiss her.  She turned her head down slightly, and he settled for a cheek and her forehead.

Afterwards she would tell him it had been a long time since anyone had picked her up like that.  Later still he would get an email informing him she was seeing someone else.  It would be distant, even harsh.

Why she didn’t mention it in person, or in any of the months which preceded it, he didn’t know.  Nor did he know why she couldn’t have afforded just a bit of kindness.

In the end perhaps it was all about leverage and doing what she wanted him to do.