At eleven o’clock the following morning, I picked up my suitcase and prepared to leave room 613 for the final time. I swung the door open to see Samantha barreling up the hallway.
Samantha appeared relatively upbeat as she shouted out, “The book!”
“The book?” I asked.
“Remember, I said that you should write a book?”
“Yes, I remember, but I’m on my way to the airport now and…” “I stayed up all last night thinking. Now while I don’t think I can
forgive you for conning me, I do understand your dilemma. And if your magazine is never gonna print an article about me no matter what, then I have a dilemma too.” She smiled and continued, “But a book. Don’t you see? Just because they won’t let you write articles doesn’t mean you can’t write a book.”
I hesitated, but smiled. “Wait, you actually want me to come back? And you want me to write a book?”
“I was on my way to the airport now.”
“So what. Stay.”
“I’ve already phoned the magazine. I’ve got a meeting with the
publisher this evening.”
“Screw the magazine!”
“I can’t… I can’t do that…. Wait… I can’t do that yet… Not yet… I’d
have to finish a book first… Line up a publisher… Then I could say ‘screw you’ to the magazine.”
“So you’ll do it?”
I took a long pause. Then I looked her right in the eye and said, “If you forgive me.”
She smiled. Then Samantha said, “Write the book.” I reached out and hugged her.