WHAT LINGERS ON
WHAT LINGERS ON
WHAT LINGERS ON
WHAT LINGERS ON

Carlos Daniel Martinez

Samuel’s morning began as usual. He woke up late. He’d been waking up late for the last three weeks. He changed his sleeping habits, which was not good. He’d stay up late at night, staring at the ceiling. His parents were considerate the first few days, but their patience had thinned. With lack of sleep and lack of interest in high school, he began to cut class, flunk exams, and most of his friends left him alone. Not because he was hard to be around, but they thought the separation was good for him.

Samuel got a talking to from his mother when he came out of the bathroom. If I may add, he stayed in the shower for too long, forgetting that other people needed it too. Ignoring their shouting and pleas, he picked up his book bag to catch the bus, which he missed, again like yesterday, and the day before that.

Before entering the school building, he peeked at some of the local drugheads who were smoking weed at a parking lot across the street. Samuel thought about heading over, but he remembered that someone he once knew wouldn’t like that. He was depressed, but not that depressed. Good Samuel. Every fight in life is different. Every fight is hard. We may get knocked down, but as long as we get up…
“Shut up.”

Gym was first in the list of classes he had today. He went downstairs into the changing rooms, where he met some of his friends, chatting idly about the latest soccer scores. That was something I never got into, the game of soccer. Samuel, on the other hand, is passionate, and played midfield for the school team in freshman and sophomore year. Since then, though, Samuel resigned from the team, but spent his free time watching them play on the field.
“Dammit. Shut up.”

One of his friends said something about who was better. Cristiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi. Samuel didn’t care to comment. Then came a bully who bumped hard into Samuel on purpose in the changing room. Samuel almost fell to the floor, balled his hand into a fist, but the bully was already gone and laughing out loud. I hate him. I hate how he has continued to bully Samuel. Back then, I’d see a cut on his lip or a bruise on his arm and I knew it was that awful kid…
“I would feel better if you stopped talking.”

Today, Samuel did attend his classes, where he improved slightly on a history pop quiz. Still, the teacher looked at him and said he needed tutoring, and that he was sorry for what happened. He said it was a major tragedy for the school, and Samuel remarked, “Then how come it looks like no one cares about it but me?” The history teacher didn’t reply.

I don’t think the whole school doesn’t care. I think they’re all mourning in silence. If Samuel really knew how many people did care, he wouldn’t feel so angry about it.
“I’m not angry at that.”
Well, Samuel, it’s true. You shouldn’t feel so bad about it. And aren’t you happy that I’m still talking to you? I thought you would miss me.

The bell rung for next class, luckily, it was his lunch period, and that gave me time to talk to—
“Great. Narrate lunch, too.”

Look, Samuel, you didn’t talk like that to me when I was alive. I remember spending long days with you, where we hung out right after soccer, then we’d go to our favorite diner, and I’d talk all about my day. And you didn’t interrupt or say anything, because you told me I had the sweetest sounding voice.
“I know. You don’t think I don’t know that?” he looked up, then left and right in the hallways. “I wish I could see you, instead of just hearing you all the time.”
Oh, Samuel, what difference does it make? I’m here, aren’t I?
“Yeah, I know. It’s just that I’d like to know which direction I have to face when I talk to you.”
Okay, that’s fair. Turn a little to the left. Don’t look up. I’m at your eye level. That better?
“Not really. No. This feels… I don’t like this. Can you just go away?”
Okay. I can do that for you.
“Great. Thanks,” he said, before pausing. “Hey, you gone for real? Sophie? You gone for real? Sophie, can you come back? I’m sorry. I like it when you’re near me. Sophie? Come on, Sophie?”

I’m here.
He jumped up, the hairs on his cute head standing up. He looked all around. I’m here, Samuel. Look this way. Again, a little to your left.
“You were here the whole time?”
You can tell me to go away twenty—thirty—forty more times, I’ll still be near you.
“Answer me this, Sophie. For the first few days, you didn’t say a thing. Were you around me, then?”
Yes. I was. I felt that it wouldn’t be proper, speaking to you so soon. So, I gave it some time until it was fine again. You were scared at first, but then you welcomed me, your voice, your company. Like old times, we were happy together again. But lately, you’ve grown cold around me. I miss your body. I miss holding you close, even holding your hand. That’s not to say I haven’t tried in my new state.
“I don’t know. That would be weird if you tried. You have no body. You’re just a voice.”
I’m more than a voice. I’m a spirit and mind. If you could see me right now, you’d see that I’m smiling. Don’t cry, Samuel. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.


After school, Samuel still didn’t go see the drugheads at the parking lot.
“Of course. I know you’d never forgive me. You didn’t like it when I even had a sip of beer.”
Because it made your breath stink, it made you drowsy. That, I didn’t like. Where you going?
“I think I’m going to go check on my old teammates.”
That sounds great! Hey, why don’t you ask the head coach about putting you back on the squad?
“Too soon. That, and I have to get back in top shape before I can be let in.”
Excuses, excuses.
Samuel sat on the bleachers outside and watched some of his old mates pass the ball around with the head coach, with that annoying whistle of his, blowing hard at close distance from their ears. Samuel was a great midfielder. In one game, he carried the game to three-straight wins with two goals and four assists. Unfortunately, in another game he was red-carded because of his temper. This ruined his chances to play in the fourth game where his team suffered a huge 4-0 loss.
“Man, even in the afterlife, you still judge me.”

I’m not judging you. It’s called wanting the best for you. I’m not liking this passive-aggressive tone of yours. Should I go away?
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”
The head coach is looking at you.
“I know. You don’t need to remind me.”
He’s coming this way. My god. His gut has gotten bigger.
“Samuel!” he shouted, “Kid, I know that face. You look ready to put on cleats and jump in.”
“Sorry, coach. I just came to support my mates before the match tomorrow. Where’s it happening?”
“We’re taking a bus across town. These next games are crucial. Playoffs. I know you’re not listed in the roster, but I can make a last-minute change if you want.”
Do it, Samuel. Say yes.
He shook his head. “I can’t.”
“I understand. Sophie was beloved by everyone. She had a heart of gold. You two were perfect together, and if she were still around… Sam, how are you?”
“I’m fine, coach.”
“Are you… seeing anyone?”
“Like what? Another girl? Like, replacing her?”
“That’s not what I mean. Are you seeing anybody who you can talk to you about stuff, you know. How else can I say it?”
“No. I’m not seeing a shrink.”
“Look, there’s no shame in talking out your feelings with someone. I know I can be rough with you boys. But when I see a guy in distress and his head’s not in the game, then it’s fine for him to ask for help. Soccer isn’t everything, you know.”
The coach always looked at you like a son, Samuel. He wants what’s best for you, like me.
“Coach, thanks, but I think I’ll pass. You guys go without me.”
Before he left, the coach said, “I’ll save you a seat if you change your mind. Bus leaves at 9 in the morning.”
You should go. Even if you’re not going to play, it would still be good to support your team. And sit straight, will you? I don’t like how you’re so hunched back.
“My god! Will you get off my back a little?”
I don’t like this new you. Maybe you should go home and sleep.
“Like that’s going to help.”


Samuel walked the way back home after school. It was a nice sunny day.
“Answer me this. Why do you continue to linger around? Don’t you have someplace to be? You know?”
Oh. Well, yes. I do. But for some reason, I can’t. It’s very complicated. Something I can’t talk about with you.
“Between you and God, right? Or something like it?”
Yeah.
“Can I ask, what you look like… now? You still look the same? I can’t see what you’re wearing, what you’re doing, what face you’re making.”
I’m still smiling. As for what I’m wearing, well, I’m wearing regular clothes. Just simple. I don’t look so impressive.
“I highly doubt that. You’re beautiful. I know you still are. I can’t see your smile and that just kills me inside. Sorry. Wrong choice of words.”
It’s fine. And you’re right. I still look the same. The same as always.


Later that night, while lying in bed, Samuel… hey Sam. Are you awake?
“Yes.”
Should I let you sleep? Something is still bothering you. What is it?
“You.”
What?
“You’re gone. You’re… I don’t know. Why did you have to go?”
You know why.
“You didn’t deserve… It’s not fair.”
Nothing is. You can’t control it. I couldn’t either. Not even him. No one could control that driver.
“It’s so awful, Sophie.”
It happens every day to people. Someone takes their eye off the road for a second, the next, well, you know. As painful as it is, it’s not the driver’s fault. He wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t tired. He just happened to look the other way when I was walking. I hate that he’s been charged for it. He has a wife and kids. I forgive that man. I wish my mother and father would too, but they don’t. Do you forgive him, Samuel?
“No, I don’t. I think I’ll go to sleep now. What are you going to do?”
I suppose I’ll close my eyes, too. Do you want me to wake you, to catch the team bus? Please go, Sam.
“Fine. You used to show up to all my games. You were so happy cheering me on, even when I lost. I miss you. Even when you’re here, I miss you.”
Don’t cry. I’m here. Good night, okay? I’ll wake you up, then. Good night, babe.


That Saturday morning, Samuel raced to catch the team bus parked outside the school. Everyone else had boarded. The bus driver was shouting at the coach, who was the only one standing outside.
He waited for you, Samuel. Like a father waiting for his son.
“I knew it! I knew you were coming!” the coach grinned and said. “Let’s go Bulldogs!”
The whole team looked at Samuel and shouted, “Let’s go Bulldogs! Ruff ruff!”
I don’t quite understand team sports.

Samuel took the last available seat next to Roger, a teammate and friend, who said, “They have me playing your position. It doesn’t feel right taking your place.”
“It’s cool, Roger. You’ll do awesome out there.”
“Hey. I miss her too. Remember we used to double-date with you guys and Hannah?”
“Yeah. How is Hannah, by the way?”
“She’s the best. She’s taking a cab ride to meet us there. I promised to pay her back by going out to dinner. You should come. It’ll be the three of us, not to say you’re the third wheel.”
“Man, you suck. Yeah, sure, I’ll join you.”
I miss Hannah. We were besties. I used to root for her during each of her basketball games. Hannah, the three-point shooting queen. Nobody else racked up all those points like her. She wanted me to play ball too, but I said no. I had other interests in mind. I wanted to study medicine. I also wanted to study law, but then I changed my mind. Medicine felt like the better choice. I do regret not getting to play a game of one-on-one with her. Sam, go ask Roger about Hannah and the basketball team.
“Hey, how’s it going with Hannah and her basketball?”

“She’s been trying to quit the team, like you. She says that she wants a couple of weeks from playing, but at the same time she feels guilty that if she does, she might let her team down. She doesn’t really want to talk to me about anything. Maybe she’ll open up to you, you know, seeing as you both were closer to Sophie than me. All I can do is give Hannah space. Everyone mourns different, I guess.”
Poor Hannah. I want to hug her too.
The rest of the ride, the players sang team songs and rock songs, getting themselves fired up. I admit, I was singing alongside them.
“I can attest to that because I can hear you.”
“Hear what?” Roger said.
Oh shoot! Don’t say anything, Samuel.
Samuel turned around to Roger, “Nothing. I’m just thinking out loud. Like some people I know.”
I ought to kick your leg for that. Stop it. I’m mad at you.
“It’s going to be a long bus ride.”

You decided to doze off on the bus. You closed your eyes for ten minutes, then you shook yourself awake. You gasped. What was it? A bad dream? You’re sweating.
Roger noticed it too. He asked you, “Buddy, what’s up?”
“Nothing. A bad dream, that’s all.”
I’ve watched you this month. Those bad dreams have been happening more often. Fine, you won’t tell me. I have a hunch what they’re about. They concern me. You reflect on the day of the tragedy. You won’t confirm it, but I know. I know you more than anyone else that assumes they know you. It’s okay if you want to remain silent.
“Stop it,” you whispered, “Just stop it.”


You were given the choice to play baseball, because of your good throwing arm and speed, but you chose soccer instead in freshman year. Strangely, I prefer you play baseball than soccer, even though it’s so much more complicated to understand. Like, what even is “stealing base,” and what’s a flyball?
“You steal base to get closer to home. And a flyball comes when a ball doesn’t have enough power to reach the stands, so the ball then drops around the outfield into a player’s glove.”
How do you know all this stuff?
“By just watching a lot of games on TV. I like the Toronto Blue Jays.”
Let’s sit closer to the field before the best seats are gone. Or we can ask the coach if he can move us closer. Oh, there’s popcorn! I can smell it.
“You still have your sense of smell? What else do you have?”
Besides hearing and seeing, just smelling.
“But not touch and taste.”
If I could, for just one minute, or even thirty seconds to be able to touch, I’d kiss you. I’d taste your mouth and feel your breath.
“Your lips. Your cheeks. I’d kiss them too. Tell me, I know what your face looks like, but I’d like you to describe it for me.”
How about we get that popcorn?
“You’re changing the subject.”
I look simple, okay? Simple face. Simple smile.
“Nothing about you is simple, Sophie. Tell me. What is it?”
Fine. I lied. My face doesn’t look right. Neither do my clothes. There’s a bright side to you not seeing me.
“What do you mean?”
I want you to remember my face as it was. Not what came after.
“Jesus. You’re talking in code. Just say it.”
My lips, they’re split open and dried with blood. One of my eyes is swollen. There’s a big gash on my forehead and one of my cheeks. And my shirt and pants. Do you remember my blue button-down shirt?
“Yes. It’s one of my favorites. It made you look elegant and stunning.”
Yes, well, if you could see me right now, you wouldn’t say that. They’re stained with blood. My blood. Be glad that you can’t see me, Samuel. I look like a monster. You would run away. You would really know I’m dead. There. Now you know.
You sighed. You looked around to see that no one is listening.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you were in pain.”
I didn’t suffer too long. I died on the way to the hospital. I couldn’t breathe through one of my lungs.
“Oh god. No. I don’t want to see it.”
I won’t say anything more. I’m sorry. Go get the popcorn. I can at least smell it. I can watch you eat it, and it will still please me.
You went to get the popcorn and a soda for yourself. You came back to your seat. Oh, that does smell good. The game’s about to start. I hope we win. Let’s go Bulldogs.
You were quiet for the first half of the game. No score yet. By halftime, you said to me, “I regret not saying this to you when you were alive.”
What regret? You can still tell me.
“I… Sophie… I, which direction are you facing me?”
A little to your right. Don’t look up. Why do you always look up like I’m in the sky? Eye level. There you go. Now you’re looking right at me.
“I should have told you sooner how much you meant to me. That I love you. I love you… Sophie? You there? Say something.”
I love you too, Samuel. Life’s full of regrets. I regret not being able to graduate with you and my friends next year. I regret not hugging my parents that last day. I regret not being able to go to college. Not being able to grow up, not being around to see what surprises life would have. When we’re young, we don’t think these things. We think: “Oh, you’re going to live forever. You’re invincible. Nothing can harm you.” Until the day comes that you realize we’re just fragile. But our spirit isn’t so fragile. That’s where we thrive. Or that’s how I’d like to justify it. Our spirit.
“Sophie, how long will you be roaming around?”
I don’t know. Until the day comes that I can’t. But let’s not think about that.

The game resumes. Second half. Roger passes the ball to a teammate. The same teammate passes it back to him. Roger inches closer to the net and scores. I spot Hannah in the stands cheering him on. That single goal by Roger would be the only goal in the game. The referee blew his whistle. Game over. Bulldogs win. Everyone carried Roger by his legs. Like he was on top of the world. While he was hoisted up by his team, his eyes looked for you. He saw you and waved. You waved back. I’m sure that goal was for you. He dedicated that goal to you.


That evening, the bus drove us back to the school. Roger and Hannah pulled you aside before you could dart out. How dare you! They invited you to dinner and you’re going to ditch them? Come on. You’re better than that, Samuel.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stay.”

You three went to a seafood place where the crab cakes were half-priced and the oysters were ordered by the dozen. You guys ordered them off the menu. Hannah was going “ruff ruff” at Roger’s face. He went “ruff ruff” to her too. And you smiled.

Roger asked, “Are you reconsidering joining again?”
You said, “It’s too soon to tell.”
Hannah said, “Don’t feel pressured to make a decision this instant. It’s no good to rush.”
You said, “Hannah, how do you do it? How do you survive each day? I can’t.”
“Like you said. Each day. One at a time.” Hannah didn’t specify about her basketball life, but she did hint with, “If a person doesn’t feel right doing something, they deserve a break. Maybe it’s a blessing you did. While you’re away from playing, you can try other stuff. Roger here, he’s acting quiet because he’s afraid to hurt my feelings, but I have some respect for him for respecting me back. He stands by me. He doesn’t make decisions for me. He doesn’t persuade me to feel better. He allows me time and distance when I ask him to,” then she chuckled. “Quite the opposite when Sophie was with you. Oh man, she wouldn’t let you go. And she made a lot of decisions for you. It was because of her you kept away from French fries and ate broccoli, because she said so.”
Really, Hannah? I’m bossy?
Roger said in between giggles: “She also made you cut your long hair because it was “uncouth,” she said.”
It was uncouth. Oh, you’re laughing, too?

“Sophie was the best one in our group,” Hannah said. “She made us laugh. She was a bit too much. But she was awesome. And she had the ability to care so much about other people, whether they were good or bad, she cared. For that, I think we’re all better people. I think without her, I don’t know what we would’ve become. After graduation, if we keep in contact with each other—”
“Come on,” you said, “we’ll always keep in touch. No matter how far our colleges might be.”
“So if we do keep in contact,” she resumed, “we carry on Sophie’s spirit. Her loving, caring spirit.” With seriousness in her tone, she changed the topic, “Do you guys feel like a part of her lingers in the air?”
Roger sat up straight, “Say that again?”
“Like, maybe, she’s watching us or something?”
Roger sighed, “I don’t know. You think so? What about you, Sam? I don’t want to sound mean, but I disagree.”
You said, “You don’t want to hear what I think.”
“No, really, I do. What do you think? You were her boyfriend, after all.”
You stood there for a second. You looked around the table for me. I’m here. Turn your head a little to the right. Again, don’t look up, I’m not in the sky. Look straight. There you go.
You told them, “I think it’s whatever you want to believe. If she’s here, she’s here. If she isn’t, that’s fine too.”
You still can’t see me, but you still smile at me.
I’m smiling back too.

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