14. Adam
Chapter fourteen
Adam
I consider texting Nicole after that debacle in front of her apartment last night, but then I think I’ll give her some space and just talk to her when I see her at work tomorrow. But I don’t see her at work. Her office door is closed most of the day. She’s nowhere to be found during the lunch hour. And even her time on the reference desk, where I could have at least walked by to see her, even if we couldn’t have talked, coincides with an online committee meeting I have to attend for a state library organization. She’s elusive; I’m pretty sure intentionally so.
She’s embarrassed. It’s not like I didn’t want to end the night in her apartment. Of course I did. Even now, my body aches to be close to her, to take up the same space. But her invitation was impulsive, and I don’t want to be a regret. Even as she said it, I felt like she was as surprised to hear the words coming out of her mouth as I was .
How do I explain that I hesitated, and would have declined, out of respect for her? Out of the hope for something more between us than a moment of opportunity? It wasn’t a rejection. And how do I explain all that without embarrassing her further, implying that I understood the shrouded intentions behind her invitation, that those intentions were there, as much as she’d like to deny it now?
When I get home, I text her.
Adam:
I didn’t see you around the library today. Everything okay?
Nicole:
Of course. Sorry our paths didn’t cross
Adam :
Can we talk about last night?
I wait a minute. Five minutes. Ten. No response. Sighing, I leave my phone on the kitchen counter as Joan and I take our evening walk.
When we return, she still hasn’t responded. I don’t hear back from her until after I’ve finished dinner and am washing the dishes.
Nicole:
No need. Nothing to talk about
Okay, so we’re pretending it didn’t happen.
Adam:
So we’re okay?
Nicole:
Of course. See you around the library
Seems very not okay to me, but whatever. I groan in frustration. We made so much progress yesterday, just to have it all derailed in a moment. I know she’s attracted to me. I know she feels the pull between us, or at least she did last night. So, she doesn’t trust … me? Herself?
If I can just get her to drop her walls again, maybe we can talk about all this. No games, no pretense. She’ll have to talk to me tomorrow, anyway. We’re meeting about the graphic novel project in the afternoon.
I take it as a good sign the next morning when I don’t find my sweatshirt washed and folded on my desk. She kept it. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? Even if all it means is that she hasn’t done laundry yet. I try to put Nicole out of my mind and instead work on cataloging the graphic novels that, you know, I ordered for Nicole. Ugh, I’m a mess.
I walk into Nicole’s office that afternoon for our meeting and freeze in the doorway. I quickly catch myself, and pasting on a smile, continue into the room. Someone pulled an extra chair into this small space, and Tasha is sitting in it.
“Adam, hi.” Nicole smiles politely, the light not reaching her eyes. “Tasha is going to join us today. I thought it would be a great opportunity for her to learn since she’s considering getting her master’s in library science after she graduates. Plus, we can have her help us with some of the more administrative parts of the project.”
I sit in the remaining chair to the left of Tasha and with an entire desk between me and Nicole.
“Great idea,” I lie. “Welcome, Tasha.”
Tasha flashes me her usual confident smile but glances furtively at Nicole when she doesn’t think I’ll notice. Tasha is a buffer, plain and simple. She’s here so Nicole doesn’t have to be alone with me.
The meeting is short. I give an update on the cataloging. Nicole talks about the faculty members she’s met with who are interested in incorporating graphic novels into their courses. She never meets my eyes. It’s tense, and I’m tense and frenetic, and the quiver in Nicole’s fingers as she writes her notes gives her away, even as she appears otherwise calm and collected.
I can’t. I can’t go back to this. At least let’s be friends again.
When the painfully awkward meeting ends, I head upstairs to the third floor. I don’t know if Dr. Parker is in his office, but I’m going to check.
“Adam, my boy!” Dr. Parker booms when I peek my head into his open office door. “Come in.”
I do, closing the door behind me. Before taking a seat, I squat next to Beans and scratch his ears.
“Hi, Dr. Parker,” I say as I sit in my usual chair.
Something in my tone must catch his attention, because his head snaps up and he studies my face .
“You look and sound miserable,” he finally says. “What’s going on?”
I feel miserable. I’d love Dr. Parker’s advice, but I stop to think about how best to explain what’s happening without saying anything that might embarrass Nicole further.
“The wooing is not going well, I take it?” he asks.
“You could say that,” I answer. “We’ve been spending time together as friends.”
“Well, that’s good! Friendship is the foundation for any good romance.”
“No, yeah. The friendship part is fine. But while we were spending time together, she said something that she now feels embarrassed about. She’s been avoiding me ever since. And when she has to talk to me, she’s super formal and professional.” I run both hands down my face before setting my elbows on my knees, staring at the ground.
“Hmm, that’s tricky,” Dr. Parker muses. “We already know the lady can be a little prickly—any progress on finding out why that is?”
I shake my head.
“Hmm. If she’s afraid to feel vulnerable, and then she lets down her walls a little only to embarrass herself in front of you, she would naturally want to put the walls right back up. How did you react when she said whatever it is she said?”
I straighten in the chair and look at him. “I tried to talk to her, but she ran off. And then I texted her about it a couple days later, but she just pretended it never happened. ”
“You … texted her?” Dr. Parker shakes his head at me in disappointment.
“First of all, texting is a perfectly acceptable mode of communication for my generation, preferred even. Second of all, I didn’t want to just text her, but she’s been avoiding me, remember?”
Dr. Parker’s eyes flash with amusement. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just call me old since I know what a precarious emotional state you’re in right now.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck.
“You’re forgiven,” he says impatiently. “But I think I know what you need to do. You need to show her that you still respect her, still care about her. That her words didn’t affect how you see her.”
“Okay,” I nod. “Yeah, that makes sense. Show her that it didn’t change my opinion of her.”
We sit quietly for a few beats. “Any ideas on how to do that?” I finally ask.
“Adam, I have been happily married for close to fifty years. You’re the one who wants to woo the young lady, so you need to come up with your own grand gesture. I can’t do everything for you.” He shakes his head.
“Yeah, fair enough,” I say.
As I think, my eyes drift to the view outside the window. Dr. Parker’s office overlooks the west lawn and gardens of the college, with the main building and its stunning architecture in the background. Something nebulous niggles at the back of my mind, something I feel like I need to remember. I work at it, pulling it forward until it comes into focus .
Oh.
Oh. I’ve got it. I know what I need to do.
Eyes wide, I jump up from my chair and see Dr. Parker beaming at me from behind his desk, leaning back in his chair.
“Looks like you’ve got something,” he says with a wink. “Come back and tell me about it next week.”
“I will! Thanks, Dr. P.” I call on my way out the door. Mentally, I’m already making a list of everything I’ll need.