Chapter 15
Chapter
As I’m walking toward the house after rehearsal for a new Off-Broadway show, I see Adam sitting on the stoop.
His hands are fisted against his mouth, pale, and his hair is a mess.
It’s cold for April and he doesn’t have a jacket on.
My instinct is to run to him, and I run faster than I knew I was capable of.
He lifts his eyes to mine and stands up, and I drop my purse onto the ground.
“Adam, what’s wrong?
“My mom” is all he says.
Instinctively, I wrap my arms around him, and he buries his face into my neck. I feel tears on my skin and let out a breath. It’s then I find out Adam’s mom has cancer.
Everything that happens afterward is a blur.
I’m positive I scold Adam for not calling me sooner and he makes some excuse about not wanting to bother me at rehearsal, because he thinks I would’ve dropped everything.
He’s right, but there’s nothing I could’ve done anyway. There’s nothing either of us cando.
“Take a shower and I’ll take care of dinner,” I tell him.
“I’m already feeling bad—you don’t have to make my stomach upset too,” he says.
I open my mouth and then close it again. He gives me a weak smile and it somehow feels like I haven’t seen it in years.
“I’m ordering takeout,” I say.
For the rest of the evening, he doesn’t bring up his mom and I don’t ask any questions.
The only thing I want to do is be there for him, so I wait for him to tell me on his own time.
We end up falling asleep on the couch, and when I wake up Adam’s head is on my lap and Netflix is asking if we’re still watching Friends. I turn off the TV and nudge him gently.
“Adam,” I whisper.
He rubs his eyes and lifts himself so he’s sitting next to me. “What time is it?”
“Almost three.”
“Shit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. We sit there in complete silence for what feels like minutes. “It’s lung cancer,” he says softly. “She did chemo a few years ago and she fought it. But now it’s back, stage four.” He lets out a breathless laugh. “She doesn’t even fucking smoke.”
I can’t see his face, only his silhouette from the moonlight outside. Maybe it’s better this way.
“What can I do?” I reach for his hand.
“Nothing,” he mumbles. He moves his hand to swipe at his eyes, then puts it back on mine. “There’s nothing—”
“I want to do something.”
His hand squeezes mine, and while I can’t see it, I feel him staring intently at me. “This is enough.”
The entire time I’ve known Adam he’s been strong; he never lets anything break his cool. He’s tall, stoic, soft-spoken, and intentional. Yet this man in front of me feels like a child. I want to tell him that everything is okay, but I don’t know if it will be. I don’t know what any of this means.
“We’ll get through this,” I say. It sounds like something you should tell someone in this situation, but I mean it. “Together.”
“I just—I don’t…I don’t know what I’d do without you, June,” he says softly.
While I can’t quite grasp why, it feels like my world is changing just as much as his. “That’s what friends are for.” I lean my head on his shoulder.
We don’t say anything else, but I have a moment of realization. I’ll probably never feel closer to anyone else for the rest of my life than I do right now.
The next day Adam doesn’t leave the house—he barely leaves his room. I swing his door open and enter without knocking.
“Okay,” I huff. “You have to go home.”
He’s lying on his bed, and it looks like he hasn’t moved all morning.
“Are you kicking me out?” He laughs.
“Adam.”
“I’m not doing this,” he says, then rolls back onto his side and pulls the covers up. I know he’s not trying to be stubborn. I know he’s scared.
“You need to see her,” I say.
“June, please—”
“You’re going to regret it if you don’t.”
The second the words come out of my mouth, I regretit.
He sits up and turns to me, his eyes red and hollow. It’s clear he’s been crying. “Close the door.”
“Adam,I—”
“Close the door,” he repeats. “ Please. ”
I close the door and go to rehearsal feeling worked up and frustrated.
We have a little bit over a month before the show opens, and at the end of the day, Diane, our choreographer, pulls me aside and says today my pirouettes have never looked better.
Whatever fire is inside of me, she tells me to keepit.
While heading home, I pick up some Thai food because I know there won’t be anything to eat for dinner. Adam’s sitting on the couch in the dark, but he’s clearly showered and there’s a packed duffel bag at the bottom of the stairs. Our eyes meet, and he looks more scared than I’ve ever seen him.
“Will you come with me?” His voice cracks.
I place my purse on the side table and sit beside him. He smooths his thumb over my knee, and I don’t think about the show, my rehearsals, opening night, any ofit.
“Of course.”
We catch a 6:45 a.m. train to Long Island and then a cab to Adam’s parents’ house.
The car stops in front of a quaint home on a residential street.
There’s an overused basketball hoop above the driveway with the net missing, and I picture a young Adam doing layups while his sister circles him on her bike.
Never living anywhere for more than a year growing up, I’ve always wondered what it feels like to come home.
Adam passes the driver a fifty and I follow his lead before moving any farther.
There’s a cotton pink hue in the sky, the sound of birds chirping, and a brisk morning chill in the air.
Until the sounds from the streets of Manhattan are no longer existent, you realize how silent the world actuallyis.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
He looks over at me, and everything in his eyes is telling me it’s not supposed to be like this.
Any of it. Aside from being with Chloe and her mom, I’ve never done the family thing before.
I don’t know how to act around one; I don’t know how to be in one.
But my nervousness is combated by my wanting to be there for Adam.
My hand finds its way to his and I interlace our fingers, giving him a gentle confirmation that I’m here.
“Yeah,” he says softly.
We start walking and Adam reaches for a key in his pocket. Once he opens the door, his dad is already making his way down the stairs.
“There he is!” Adam’s dad says proudly. “I thought I heard a car outside.” His dad gives him a big hug and a few pats on the back. He’s a handsome man with a full head of white hair and a plaid shirt on. He’s tall—not as tall as Adam, but I can see where Adam gets his height from.
“Hey, Dad.”
“And who is this beautiful lady?” His dad looks at me in a way that shows he knows exactly who Iam.
“Dad, this is June.”
“Hi, Mr. Harper. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” I put my hand out, trying to be mindful of the current climate.
“Oh, none of that Mr. Harper bullshit—call me Ford.” He ignores the gesture and pulls me into a hug. “We’re so happy you’re here.”
The Harpers’ house is exactly how I would’ve imagined it.
Beige carpeting fills the interior and there’s an endless collection of framed family photos all over the walls.
A few snapshots of Adam as a child catch my eye, and I make a mental note to tease him later.
The furniture consists of mismatched suede and leather couches and the television is on, playing reruns of Cheers. I love it already.
“Adam!” A doe-eyed fifteen-year-old with long dark hair emerges from the kitchen.
Adam’s sister is tall and lanky, with a timeless simplicity to her beauty.
Given the right hair and attire, she could be plucked out of the fifties.
With almost a decade between us, I remember this age like it was yesterday.
She’s on the cusp of blooming from adolescence into adulthood.
“Sarah, I want you to meet someone,” Adam says.
“Hi, June!” Sarah immediately gives me a hug. I’m surprised at first by how comfortable she is with me, but I hug her right back. Everything about the Harpers feels like I’ve stumbled into a sitcom family, and I don’t want to change the channel.
“Hi.” I smile. “Sarah, I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Uh-oh.” She gives Adam a speculative look.
I laugh. “Only good things, I promise!”
“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you. ” She raises an eyebrow.
Now it’s my turn to give Adam a look. “Have you?”
“Only good things,” he clarifies, and squeezes Sarah’s shoulders.
I’m seeing Adam in a new light; this environment brings out slight facial expressions I’ve never noticed before and a sense of calmness I haven’t felt in the three years of us living together.
A gentle voice to our right causes the three of us to turn. “Hi, kids.”
“Mom,” Adam says, and I can hear his voice quiver slightly.
“Well, are you just going to stand there or am I going to get a hug?” She laughs.
He wraps his arms around her, and she practically disappears into him. Adam’s mom is beautiful, with piercing blue eyes. She wears a thick, white knit cardigan with two diamond earrings, and a lavender silk scarf is wrapped around her head.
“Mom, this is—” Adam steps aside and gestures tome.
“June,” his mom breathes out, smiling. She looks fragile, but her spirit is strong.
“Finally,” she says, and pulls me into a hug, and it feels like a hug I’ve been waiting for my whole life.
It’s the kind of embrace I never received as a child, the kind that makes you feel loved and protected.
I think of a toddler coming out of a pool and being wrapped in a towel by their mother, receiving a tenderness you would never know existed until you feel it for yourself.
It takes everything in me to not sob and fall apart in this moment, and I think she knows. I can’t tell for sure, but I swear she whispers don’t cry in my ear.