Chapter 20 #2
Adam smiles at me. “I’d love to try them.” He clears his throat and lowers his gaze to his almost empty plate. “And I can come over and help you cook beforehand. I’d like to learn some more. You’re really good at it.”
I blink and then smile. “You think so?”
Adam laughs. “Hasn’t anyone told you how good a cook you are?”
William pushes his chair back with a loud squeak. “Well, I’m going to lie down. Can’t take listening to you kids flirt like this anymore.”
“Flirt?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
“Yeah,” William says, walking away toward his bedroom. “Flirting like damn lovebirds!” He shuts the door behind him.
I frown at Adam, who just shakes his head good-naturedly. “Don’t mind him. He had a bad night. He’s probably going to sleep for, like, fourteen hours now. He needs it, though.” He glances at my plate. “You good? There’s more if—”
“Yes.” I hold up my plate with a smile. “More.”
Adam winks at me as he takes my plate and gives me a generous second helping. He sits across from me, where William was, and pushes his grandfather’s empty dishes away from between us. “So, ah. I have a few more questions to ask you. If you’re up for it now rather than later.”
I nod. “Sure. Go ahead.”
Adam pulls out a little Moleskine notebook from his back pocket, and a black Bic pen from his front pocket.
“Petting the shark this morning. That shark…you were communicating with her, right? When you closed your eyes…and she came. It was like she heard your voice. And understood what you’re saying. ”
I swallow my bite and take a sip of water.
“Yeah. With my gift…it’s like…well. You know how you just sense things without questioning them?
That information is taken into your brain without your permission.
For instance, the feel of the wood under you as you sit, or—” I glance over him.
“How your shirt, that fabric, is soft against your skin. We are in this room, right, and the air-conditioning is going on and off, and the draft is just behind you. So in the same way you and I, too, for that matter, take in these sensory interactions, I feel more. I feel that there is a squirrel on the roof right now, trying to decide if he wants to shimmy down the drainpipe or make the leap onto the juniper right there—” I point through the window into the backyard, and as though on cue, the squirrel makes it onto the tree branch, everything green-gold in the setting sunlight.
“I know the bears, their babies, the birds. I know the creatures underground, too. The groundhogs, the moles…sometimes, oftentimes, or even all the time, really, I can sense that nothing exists without a community of life holding it together.”
Adam is furiously taking notes. After a minute, he stops and says, “Kinda makes you think, doesn’t it?
Everything really does need a community to hold it together.
In ecosystems…and humans, too. That’s what the leaders in my AA meetings say.
That alcohol is often a way to stave off loneliness, and so one way we can stifle cravings is to make sure we are in community. ”
“You have that at least,” I offer. “The whole town loves you.”
Adam frowns at his notes, then looks up at me. His eyes are almost glowing blue against the pumpkin orange of the sky through the window behind him. “They’re not my community, Sky. They think they know me, but they don’t. Community necessitates knowing one another.”
I furrow my brow. “Oh. But…” I shake my head. “But you’re beloved. They love you because of your work, and don’t people get to know you through your work?”
He shrugs. “A small part of me, okay. But they like, more than anything, the idea of me. They think that I can mirror their success with my own. That their being acquainted with me makes them successful by osmosis. Most of them…they want to get to know themselves by the reflections in my eyes.”
“That’s—” I search for the right word. “That’s poetic. And sad.”
“It is sad. You know how many people I had to call for help when I found myself unemployed with nowhere to stay?”
I shake my head.
Adam points to William’s bedroom. “One. And yeah, I know more people would have offered. But only Gramps would’ve accepted me and my fuckups and allowed me the space to figure out how to fix my life.
Most people aren’t there for anything deep or uncomfortable.
They want to rub shoulders. They want to network.
They want a quick fuck. But they don’t want the whole human. ”
I take a deep breath and push my now empty plate away. “I see that. I guess that’s why everyone is so mean to me. All they can see is my wholeness when they look at me. They can’t pretend they don’t know about my weird layers.”
Adam nods slowly. “I’m going to write that down. You’re absolutely right.”
I wonder if maybe my being seen around town with Adam isn’t all he’s doing to help me.
It kind of sounds like this piece might vindicate me.
I don’t want to get my hopes up. But what if it’s published and it makes people realize I’m not insane?
That I’m likable? That I’m valuable as a human being, just as I am, no matter what has happened to me in my past?
Adam closes his book and slides it into his pocket. The pen is next to be returned to its storage space.
I blink. “You’re done with the questions.”
He smiles at me. “I’m done with the questions.”
“But…” Why am I panicking? Maybe because of the idea that once he’s done with this piece…
he’ll be done with me. Sure, he offered to cook dinner with me in a week.
But what then? What about kissing in the woods?
My brain feels like it’s malfunctioning, words flying by at hyperspeed, devoid of all meaning. I swallow.
“But…” he says warmly. Right. I never finished my sentence.
“But what about coming over? You’ve never been inside Nadia’s before. I could show you more stuff that might be helpful for your piece.” I rack my brain. “Old photos and things like that.”
“Ah.” Adam stands and stretches. I try very hard not to gaze at the sliver of his underbelly becoming exposed in the process. I fail. “That does sound helpful, actually. Why don’t we plan on something for…I don’t know. Sunday?”
“Sunday?”
“Sure. Why don’t I come over and bring you food. Since you’re always bringing Gramps food.”
“Oh.” I look down, thinking. “Well. Sure.”
We settle on a time, and after that, I help him load the dishwasher. When I finish washing my hands, the night has fully arrived outside, the streetlamps having lit up orange in the darkness. “I better get going,” I say.
“Yeah. I have to get up early myself.” Adam smiles at me. “I actually got a temporary job helping that guy fix up his house right there.” He points just behind me. “He bought it to flip it, but it needs a lot more work than he anticipated.”
I remember that neighbor, from when I was a ghost, wandering all the neighborhood homes, looking for secrets and other signs of life…“He’s been trying to get that house ready for flipping for a while.” I smile at him. “I’m happy for you. Congratulations on your new job.”
“New temporary job,” Adam clarifies.
“Right. The temporary job.” His emphasis on temporary makes me wonder if his time in Cranberry, too, is temporary. Will I wake up one day, and he’s back in New York City? Living the big-city life, having adventures with a big-city woman?
Probably, to be honest. He lived there for almost all of his adult life, since the second he graduated high school.
He obviously couldn’t wait to get out of here.
It’s something I need to remember. No matter how much we end up…
doing things…like kissing inside an ancient oak tree. I have to remember to protect my heart.
I walk toward the door and smile at him. “Have a good—”
“Wait a second.” He puts his hand on mine, reaching for the knob. “What just happened to you? What are you thinking about?”
I tilt my head. “Come again?”
“You were doing that smile of yours. The real smile. And then it turned into…I don’t know. Not Sky’s smile. A pretend smile.”
“Oh. That.” I close my eyes briefly. “I was just thinking about how you’re going to move away soon.” Oh God. Why did I say the truth? Now he’s going to think I’m a too-attached creeper.
“Wait, who said that?” He furrows his brows.
“I…no one. I just assumed—”
“I don’t have any plans to move. I’m staying with Gramps and taking care of him.
I mean, yeah, I moved in because my life imploded.
But after being here for a bit, it’s clear to me that he needs care.
He’s been lying to me about his independence and abilities.
” Adam runs a hand over his hair and his face.
“And I get it. He’s proud as hell. But he needs help. ”
“Oh. Sorry.” I glance down at my shoes. “I didn’t mean to assume. I just thought you wanted to write my article as fast as possible so you could get your Times job back, or another big-time job—”
“Sky.” He takes one step closer, his gaze lowering to my lips for about half a second before he tears it toward my own. “I can do that kind of work virtually.”
“Virtually,” I repeat, because his proximity and the scent of him—the sea, the forest, the sky—are scrambling my brain.
“Yeah.” He reaches behind me, his arm grazing my hip as he opens the door. His shoulder is to my shoulder, his head just behind me, and he shifts so his voice is at my ear as he says in a lower, firm voice, “I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod. I manage, somehow, to mumble good night and bid him farewell, and stumble out into the night. He watches me until I’m safe inside Nadia’s. I know this because I watched him through the window when I got inside.
I walk upstairs and get through my whole bedtime ritual—the shower, the skincare, the braiding of my hair. I grab my phone and there are two messages.
The first is from Amá Sonya: Sky Temple Flores. You told me you were not being courted by that man. She adds: We will be having lunch early next week to discuss how you can gracefully remove yourself from your current mistakes.
I roll my eyes and delete the messages without responding.
If she’s mad about my “dating” Adam, then she hasn’t heard about the rumors over her own declining memory.
I guess that’s the silver lining. If Amá knew that I had spread a lie that made her look bad?
She’d be speeding on the highway to get here and berate me in person and probably throw some of her Chanel stilettos at me, too.
The next message notification is through the dating app. I’m almost shocked to see that it’s from @tryingsomethingnew. Yeah, we messaged each other last only a few days ago, but so much has happened since then that it feels like it’s been weeks, or even months somehow.
I click it open. Wow. I’d been expecting a line like Hey, how’s it been? But there’s a whole paragraph instead:
In the last day, I realized I have feelings for someone in my life.
I’ve probably been in denial about it for a while now, but something happened that knocked sense into my head.
I wanted to let you know because it wouldn’t be right for you and me to continue amorous exchanges while I feel this way about someone else.
I am open to staying friends and cheering you on as you date others on this app, if that’s something you’d be okay with.
I sit with these words for a moment, reading them once more to take them in. I search myself, my body, to find any place with the sting of pain or betrayal. But it’s not there.
The truth is…if @tryingsomethingnew hadn’t written this message, I would have had to write him something similar. Because these feelings for Adam aren’t going away. After today…and tonight…the old gods know what I feel isn’t going anywhere. Just like Adam. I’m not going anywhere.
Please, no worries. I hope it works out for you and this person. Sincerely. And it would be so cool to stay friends. Truthfully, you’re my only friend.
That seems like the right response, so I leave it at that. Maybe we’ll be friends or maybe he’ll get swept away into his romance. Either way, I wish him well. Not too many men would be honest and decent with a situation like that.
That evening, I glance over the pile of books on my side tables and pull out a few with titles like The Female Orgasm and Mutual Ecstasy, each complete with covers featuring hot couples embracing in little to no clothing, their heads rolled back and their mouths open like they’re in the middle of multiples.
The fact is, I’m not exactly experienced when it comes to sex.
That’s gotta be no surprise to anyone. It’s not like I had ample opportunity to get my back blown out while hibernating in the woods for eight years.
But I’m still a little embarrassed, and so I devote a few hours to some intensive research.
If Adam and I continue on like we have been, then chances are we will have sex at some point.
I don’t want to make a fool of myself when that time comes.
When I lie down to sleep that night, Adam is all I can think about.
I think it’s safe to admit to myself that I want him so bad, it scares me.
But I don’t want to think about my heart anymore, and how I’ve got to protect it.
I don’t want to think about the fact that we haven’t even talked about the kiss or what it means.
I don’t want to think about anything except for this afternoon, when it was just him and me, possibly the first and only humans to ever kiss inside that specific oak tree.
The tree that cradled me as I traveled in the World of Not Quite Living and Not Quite Dead.
The way his tongue slipped into my mouth. How hard he’d been, right on my hip.
I’m still so turned on, I’m realizing. I’m not sure I’ve actually had a chance to recover from what happened yet.
Reading about sex the last few hours certainly didn’t help with matters.
So I slip my hand into my underwear, imagining my fingers are Adam’s fingers.
I gasp when I touch my clit—I’m so ready to come, it only takes seconds, especially when I think about Adam, hovering over me, his forearm working as he fingers me hard and fast. When it happens, I basically levitate off the bed, and my first thought when it’s over is wondering how it would be with Adam for real.