Here We Go

7: The Wake

Steve arrived at the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport at 7 in the morning on Wednesday, August 8th. He got to Sam's house about ten minutes later and wheeled his suitcase to the door, knocking quietly. When he heard nothing inside, he rang the doorbell. The door opened to reveal Sam, a grin on his face.

"You look like a lost puppy, man," Sam chuckled. "Come on in." He stepped to the side and Steve walked inside, bringing his suitcase to Sam's guest room. "Want some breakfast?"

"Sure," Steve replied quietly. He walked to the kitchen and plopped down on a stool at the breakfast bar, folding his arms on the table.

"So, where's the rest of you gang?"

"At home. Probably sleeping," Steve said with a shrug. Sam glanced at him.

"They know you left, right?" Steve smiled sheepishly and Sam sighed. "You didn't even tell them you left?"

"I told Peter," said Steve, as though that made up for anything. Sam scoffed.

"You mean your less-than-a-year-old son? The one that can't even talk yet?"

"Yup." Sam rolled his eyes and pulled the carton of eggs out of the fridge, grabbing a bowl.

"Omelette?" he asked.

"Sure."

"O.J.?"

"Sure."

"Can you grab it? And also, get the bread. I want toast."

"Okay." Steve grabbed the orange juice and the bread, popping two pieces in the toaster. He went back to the stool and Sam stopped with the eggs, putting the bowl down and turning to Steve.

"What's wrong with you?"

"What'd you mean?"

"You're not fooling me with your shit, Steve," Sam said sternly. "What's up? You're too quiet. Is this... Is this attitude because of Peggy?"

"What'd you think?" Steve snapped. He sighed and put his face in his hands. "Sorry, I just... I never got to dance with her." He said the last party quietly and Sam reached over the table to pat his shoulder sympathetically. Steve had told him all about Peggy and World War II the last time they had seen each other, so he knew what Steve was talking about.

"You'll see her again," he soothed. Steve laughed dryly and shook his head, tears blurring his vision.

"In hundreds of years maybe." Sam shoved him gently.

"Don't be like that, Steve. I know you have pictures of her. Just remember the happy times and stop focusing on the bad." For a man who has been single most of his life, Sam gave pretty good relationship advice.

"Fine," Steve huffed. Sam smiled reassuringly.

"So, how do you like your omelette?"

***

The next day came far too soon. Steve hoped he'd never have to live to that day. He spent all morning locked up in Sam's guest room, ignoring everything and hating his life.