Something More

“I didn’t think you would come.”

Samira’s heart trips over itself at the familiar voice and she whirls around. Theo is much

taller now and his curly hair has been shaved off. His eyes — always so alight with joy,

sparkling like water on a sunlit day — are dim. Despite this, Samira feels like she’s glowing as

she strides up to him.

“You’ve always had such little faith in me,” Samira teases, pulling him into an embrace.

His body feels unfamiliar against her own, so different from their teenage years. Samira would

have known him blind then, but now she feels she doesn’t know him at all. “Hey, Theo.”

Theo squeezes her tight and says into her hair, “It’s good to see you, Sami.”

Samira has to shut her eyes against the strong wave of emotion at that nickname. God,

she’s missed this — being so close to someone, having someone know you so intrinsically that

you trust them more than you trust yourself.

They pull apart. Theo’s lips tug up into a half smile and he asks, “Has it really been

fifteen years?”

“Feels like yesterday we were trying to bury the bloody thing,” Samira agrees. She eyes

the patch of dirt where they’d buried the time capsule, though now you wouldn’t even know it

was there. Time has smoothed it over and nature has reclaimed it.

“Well,” Theo sighs, picking up the shovel. “Let’s get to it.”

By the time the metal box has been dug out of the ground, the two of them are covered in

a thin layer of sweat and a much thicker layer of dirt. Theo has a smudge of it on his cheek, and

Samira’s hand twitches at her side as she wrestles with the urge to swipe it away.

Theo doesn’t say a word as he catches Samira’s eye, nods, and pulls the lid off. He

spreads the contents on the ground and Samira does her best not to let her fear show on her face. She’s come a long way since she was fifteen, but she’s more than a little afraid to confront her past. She doesn’t know that she’ll like what she finds.

“Samira.” She looks up, and something on Theo’s face shifts. He shakes his head.

“Nevermind.”

Samira’s heart threatens to beat right out of her chest, but she forces her eyes away and

onto the pile of objects that their fifteen-year-old selves had deemed important enough to store

away. She picks up a bracelet, strung together with pink string and beads, with a tiny ‘T’ charm

at the centre. Theo had made this for her when they were eleven and she can almost feel the

thrill of emotion she had felt the day she’d first tried it on.

She had put this in here. It had been important to her at eleven, still at fifteen, and Samira

would be lying if she said it isn’t important to her now. She slides it onto her wrist.

She sneaks a glance at Theo, but his eyes are focused on the letter in his hands, which are trembling slightly. His eyes are glassy. He jumps when Samira places a hand on his arm. “Theo? You okay?”

Theo glances up at Samira and away so quickly that she’s almost convinced she imagined it. “I just... thought I would have done more by now, you know? I had such big expectations.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “Do you want to know the truth, Samira? I’m scared. I act so confident, but I’m too scared to go for what I really want. And it’s cost me... so much.”

What do you really want? The question is on the tip of her tongue, but she forces it back

down. “Everyone is scared, Theo. Anyone who says they aren’t is lying.”

Theo finally looks at her, and desperation swims in his wide eyes. “I don’t want regrets. I

already have so many.”

With a wry smile, Samira says, “You’re only thirty. You’ve got all the time in the world.”

“But what if I’m still scared? What if I always am?”

“Then do it scared.”

Theo stares at her for a moment longer, but he reaches down and takes hold of Samira’s

hand, his own palm rough against her own. Samira smiles at him, and he blinks like he’s found

something he’s been searching for for a long, long while. Water in a desert, air for a drowning man.

Samira looks down at the pile and pulls out a photograph. It’s worn with age, but the image is still clear. The two of them are wrapped around each other, Samira on Theo’s back and Theo’s hands hooked under her thighs. Their smiles are so bright it blinds. Theo’s hair is wild and dark, and Samira misses it. She has a flower tucked behind her ear and her own dark hair is loose in a way she hasn’t dared to wear it in years. She hates her curls, but when she was fifteen she had loved them because they were just like her mother’s. There are red spots on Samira’s forehead that she hasn’t covered up and she has dirt under her nails and she looks so alive that it makes her a little queasy to look at it.

What had happened? When did she lose this?

Theo makes a small sound beside her. “We looked so happy.”

“We had eachother,” Samira replies before she can stop herself.

Theo closes his eyes. “Read your letter, Sami.”

She’d forgotten she had even written one. She finds it sealed in a Ziploc bag, and her

hands shake as she pulls it open.

Dear future Samira,

You’ll be thirty when you read this. No offence, but that’s really old. That’s my whole life

over again.

Samira huffs out a weak laugh.

When I’m your age, I hope I’m doing something I love. I want to help people. Animals,

the environment. I want to make a difference. I hope you’re still friends with Theo. I can’t

imagine a life without him. He’s like true north — we might lose our way, but I’ll always be able

to find my way back to him.

Samira’s bottom lip trembles. They hadn’t seen each other for eleven years.

I know I’m still learning about life, but I think that’s the point of it all, isn’t it? Love.

Doing the things you love and learning about the things you love and being around people you

love. I know I’m only fifteen, but I think I’ve got that much figured out.

I don’t know you, future Samira, but I love you.

Samira puts the letter down and looks up at Theo. He’s already looking at her like he

can’t bring himself to look away. 

“I think I’ve been going about this all wrong,” Samira admits.

“Me too,” Theo replies. He releases a breath, like he’s drawing his courage, and says,

“Do you know how many times I wanted to reach out to you, Sami? I’d open my phone and stare at our last messages and type out a new one over and over, but I’d never send it.”

Love is the point of it all, she reminds herself. She reaches across and cups his cheek. “I love you, Theo. I never stopped. I was so scared that you didn’t need me anymore, so I never told you, but I loved you every second you were gone. It’s a fact of life. The sun rises and the stars shine and I love you.”

It’s a ridiculous image: two thirty-year-olds crowded around a metal box in the middle of

the bush, pouring their hearts out like they’re teenagers all over again. Samira hadn’t realised

how lost she had been all these years — going through the motions, waiting for something and

not knowing what. She’s had moments of joy, but she hasn’t ever felt the way she did when she was fifteen.

Maybe that’s just the way it goes. People grow apart. Dreams change and wither away.

Life moves on, and love doesn’t always move with it.

But as Theo reaches up to cradle the hand on his cheek, his eyes wide and hopeful and

sparkling the way they did when they were kids, Samira thinks that maybe that doesn’t have to

be all there is.

Maybe there can be something more.