Ten
“ Y ou can leave us now,” my lost lover said, waving his hand idly to Sinclair.
A moment later, the door snick ed shut.
I couldn’t stop looking at him. Couldn’t take my eyes away.
He was here.
Adam had survived .
And we’d all believed he’d died.
But there he was, well and whole, not a blemish to his skin, his face as perfect as he’d been before.
It was a face I’d never forgotten. A face I couldn’t forget, even if I tried.
Though the bones of his cheeks were even more severe, the darkness to his eyes, there was a preternaturalness to his appearance that was so intense, he couldn’t be anything other than a hallucination.
His hands steadied me, cupping my elbows, his fingers rough yet smooth at the same time, hard and unforgiving. It sent electricity through me. An exciting zing at the familiarity.
But it also felt like a lie.
“You’re supposed to be dead.” The words came out hot, angry. My disbelief overtook me, and I pulled myself away.
He blinked. “I’m not,” he said so simply I suddenly wanted to scream.
“I thought you were dead .”
I felt like a fool. I had been fooled.
“It’s been six years .”
“I know—”
I shook my head. “You’ve let me believe for six years that you were dead.”
The rush of emotions I’d felt in the last few minutes, the fear, the shock, the anger, pulsed against my skull. The beginnings of an ache behind my eyes.
He kept his mouth shut as I moved away from him.
“ What is going on?” My voice cracked. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, suddenly reappearing after all this time, thinking it’ll all be fine, but this is some cruel game I want no part of.”
This was some joke, he was some imposter, it was impossible —
“Helena, breathe.”
And there were killers here—
I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs.
The anger hurt. Seeing him reminded me of all the grief, the pain I’d ignored for these years, I couldn’t stop it all from coming out .
I didn’t want to feel this way. I didn’t want to hate him, to scream at him. But I could do nothing else.
The backs of my eyes burned.
My ribs were being squeezed, air hardly slipping through to my lungs, short and fast—
My chest heaved, fingers gouging my palms. Biting my lip, the pain was grounding, an iron tang spreading on my tongue.
And he just stood there, one fist clenched at his side, unblinking, as if assessing my every move. He was completely unruffled, the creases still straight in his trousers, his jacket. Only the vague dusting of a shadow at his jaw.
He looked six years older, his shoulders slightly broader, the suggestion of lean muscles at his chest, his arms. But the concern in his eyes was just the same. And that’s what hurt.
He looked at me the same. Just as he used to.
His throat bobbed, gaze zeroing in on my lips.
It wasn’t the expectant gaze of every other man I’d met these past few years. No, it was more like he was reacquainting himself with me, examining the makeup I’d applied, makeup I would never have worn before.
Maybe he hadn’t changed much, but I had.
I’d moved on .
I took a shaky breath, stuttering out, “I need to leave.” I made for the door, but when he stepped toward me, I froze.
“Helena, I understand this is a lot.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Helena—”
“Adam, I can’t .” My hands shook. “Don’t you get it? I’ve grieved for you. I buried you long ago.” I avoided his eyes, couldn’t bear looking at him, couldn’t bear the weight of his stare. “And now, here you are, as if nothing ever happened.”
Lucas.
It was all his fault.
Adam never would have left if not for Lucas.
Tears pricked at my eyes.
A flash of pain darkened Adam’s, but he didn’t speak. He nodded once, hesitantly, then again, more sure. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Just promise me—”
I shook my head. I had promised, years ago, to remember him as he crossed the sea to fight in something bigger than him. And I didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but he stood there before me again, and I wasn’t sure if it was a miracle or a curse.
“Promise me you’ll come back.”
There was pleading in his eyes, a pull to his brow that seemed directly tied to my heartstrings.
I wanted to snip them, to cut them, like the threads of fate.
Without an answer, I grabbed the door’s handle. He didn’t stop me, didn’t tell me to stay, didn’t pull me further into his web. He only nodded once more. His dark eyes watched me as I slipped out the door, and they were the only thing I could think of as I let the tears fall, escaping down the corridor like a princess wronged in one of those fairytales from long ago.
I didn’t wait for my driver to return that night .
I ran down the lawn, shoving my way through the throngs of people, all oblivious to the monsters upstairs. Images of bodies bathed in blood swarmed my mind, and I had to grab one more glass of champagne, throwing it back quickly, to try to push the thoughts away.
He was back, he was back, he was back .
Repeating in my head like a skipping gramophone.
Cars lined the mile-long driveway. Various Fords, Duesenbergs, and others, models I didn’t care to keep track of, most roofless. Black polished exteriors gleamed in the starlight, reflecting the moon high above us. A few white autos thrown in, looking just off the factory floor.
Men stood all about, a few women giggling and hanging on arms.
A group whistled at me as I passed, but it was jarring more than endearing, the sharp tone ringing in my ears.
What I had seen tonight was sobering, and all I wanted was to get home.
He was back .
I ignored the group and walked on, but that wasn’t enough.
“Hey!” one guy shouted.
I waved him off, not even turning to look as I stumbled down the paved drive.
But harsh fingers gripped my arm. A growl nearly ripped from me, wrenching myself away.
I was tired of being grabbed and led around like a dog.
He saw the veracity in my glare and let go, raising his hands in a pose of surrender. “Sorry, just wonderin’ if you wanted to join us? ”
A few guys behind him snickered. I saw them crowded all around one car, presumably one of theirs, one girl chewing gum, her hand tucked into a man’s elbow. She eyed me up and down.
They eyed me like meat, the men. But what was new?
“Can you drive me home?”
“You in the city?”
I nodded.
“Then, sure.” He smiled and led me over. “We were just heading out.”
They watched me approach, eyes roving, the girl grinning and snapping her gum.
I just wanted to go home .
“Where to?” I climbed into the backseat, one of the gentlemen helping me in.
They all clambered in after, and I realized it was one of the first times in a long time that I was totally on my own, with strangers, Flora and Dixon not just a cry away.
“We don’t know yet!” the guy who grabbed me said jovially, and he slid into the driver’s seat after starting the car. It sputtered a few times, garnering a few laughs, and we all jolted together in the backseat, arms and shoulders squished together. The girl sat on her man’s lap.
After a few lurches, the car sped off down the drive, its speed impressive. The wind ran its fingers through my hair, ruining my curls, whipping my hair around my face, sticking to the rouge on my lips.
The wind is free. I was not. Not yet .
I shut my eyes, just to feel the caress of the wind, the press of the other bodies on my arms, all of us packed in like sardines, but it was grounding. When I opened my eyes, I caught the gaze of the girl, and she laughed so carefree, I felt jealousy roil in my gut.
The weightless feeling from before was so distant, it wasn’t real. Like a sensation from a dream. I could only hope to be so carefree.
But Adam—
I slammed my eyes shut and pushed it away. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t think about it. I would shatter.
What came next was hours of being slung around the city. We snuck into a dinner club next, none of the group having an invitation, and treated ourselves to the rich gin-infused drinks that sat for the taking along one wall. There was also a bar, but of course, the tender would likely recognize their usual patrons, and that we were not.
The girl at one point linked her arm with me, pulling me toward the dance floor, and though the band played a tune of soft, soothing jazz, she moved us around the floor like we were professionals. Perhaps she was, she certainly had moves.
My feet ached, my head pounded, and only liquor could help.
I don’t know how many clubs or bars we crashed, but at some point, we were chased out by a shouting doorman, raising his fist and yelling indecipherably. Words went in one ear and out the other.
It was all a fever dream.
I was floating, letting it all happen to me, bobbing along like on ocean waves.
One of the guys had taken a liking to me and stuck by my side, shooing me out ahead of him as we were chased to the street. The whole group laughed, uncaring if there were consequences. I gripped his arm harshly once we were outside, knees nearly buckling.
“Should we get you home now?” he asked.
I nodded, unable to form words in my state, somewhere between incoherence and contentment.
And then somehow, we were on my street.
“Stop!” I shouted, and whoever drove the car broke so harshly I nearly rammed into the seat in front of me. Laughter spilled out of my lips. I stumbled onto the pavement, the door slammed behind me, and they sped away.
We were a few houses down from mine, and the few hundred feet I had to walk felt like miles. But then, I was there in an instant. I had to lean on the front door and take a few breaths before I entered. Already, parts of the evening were escaping me.
When I rolled into my bed, I realized I hadn’t learned any of their names. It was like they had come and gone in a flash.
And in the morning, as Mother and I sat for breakfast, she shook her head at the paper.
“A shame. How indecent people can be nowadays.”
She folded the paper and discarded it in the seat next to her, but not before I saw the headlining story detailing a group of vagabonds stealing a car and causing havoc throughout the city, before they perished in a crash, early in the morning, a photo of the flaming auto front-and-center on the page.