Chapter 20
“Amani, would you like another slice of pie?” Adam’s mom, Holly, asks me.
“Oh, no, thank you.”
“Are you sure? Maybe just a sliver?”
I smile at her from across the tiny kitchen table in Mr. Montgomery’s room. “Only if you want to see it again on your shoes.”
She chuckles sweetly. “Excuse me. I’ll admit it’s not my best whipped peanut butter pie but also not my worst.”
I hold up my palms as my eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, no! I didn’t mean it like that. It’s delicious. I meant I’m far too stuffed and a little queasy these days.” I pat my belly.
In unison, Adam’s mom and dad both perk up in their seats. Adam notices and quickly clarifies, “Amani is undergoing IVF. She’s queasy from the hormone treatments.”
“You two are struggling to get pregnant?” Mr. Montgomery asks.
The award for most resilient and go-with-the-flow human on the planet definitely goes to Mr. Montgomery. About an hour ago, I watched silently as Adam calmly explained to his father that most of his memories are jumbled and he’s stuck about eight years in the past. I believe Adam’s mom already alluded to the seriousness of his condition, but nothing prepared Mr. Montgomery for the news that his son is no longer married, his wife was carrying another man’s baby, and that he’s been single since.
Until me, that is.
Adam gleefully introduced me as his girlfriend, effectively taking our summer fling and making it undeniably official. Now I really am going to have to tell my friends. Not right now, by any means. Not when my best friend just smashed Adam’s best friend’s heart to smithereens. We need to let that settle before we parade our happiness anywhere.
“Amani, do you want to explain, or should I?” Adam asks, then glances at his mom. “Or we don’t have to talk about—”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I cut in, calming his worried expression. He looks nervous, like he just crossed a line he wasn’t supposed to. “I was told about six months ago my fertility window was closing, likely because of POI.”
“POI?” Holly asks.
“Premature ovarian insufficiency. Follicles produce the eggs, and if they are not working or their numbers are diminishing, it makes conception very difficult,” Mr. Montgomery chimes in before scouring everyone’s surprised faces. “What?” he asks. “Did everyone forget I went to medical school and practiced medicine for nearly thirty years? I have a working knowledge of a woman’s reproductive system.”
“Dad. Please don’t say reproductive system—or follicles, for that matter—in front of my girlfriend.”
Holly and I both laugh. “The point is, I figured if I was going to have a baby, it was now or never. I had already made plans before I met Adam, which is why, in this matter, he’s supporting me as a friend.”
“It’s not your baby?” Mr. Montgomery asks.
“There is no baby,” Adam explains. He quickly puts his fingers on my bare knee and traces soothing circles. “Yet,” he adds. “But I’m right here for whatever she needs.”
“That’s wonderful of you, Adam,” Holly says, making Adam flinch.
He nods but doesn’t respond.
Adam’s been angry with his mother for over twenty years. It’s not like all that dissipates because he agreed to have a meal with her. Admittedly, it was awkward when we first walked in and he hugged his dad but only shook his mother’s hand. But he’s trying. That’s the important part. He took a big first step today, and we got a delicious lunch out of it.
I know I’m supposed to be skeptical of this woman and maybe even a little bitter on Adam’s behalf, but Holly is lovely. She’s sweet, warm, soft-spoken, and beautiful. Her shoulder-length hair is exactly Adam’s shade of brunette. They have the same big, chocolate-colored eyes, and matching dimples.
“Holly, would you like to hunt down a cup of coffee with me?” I ask, scooting my chair out.
“Babe, I thought Dr. Michel didn’t want you having caffeine right now?”
I inhale and roll my eyes at the IVF police. “Adam, I’m not actually getting coffee. I’m subtly excusing myself so you and your dad can have a moment alone to talk candidly about me and our whole weird situation.”
“Yeah, that’s real subtle,” Adam grumbles as he rubs the back of his neck. Mr. Montgomery lets out a deep belly laugh.
Leaning down, I kiss his cheek. “I know. I’m smooth like that.”
Holly rises as well, then clears our paper plates with scant remnants of peanut butter pie. “I learned a few visits ago that the espresso machine on the fourth floor has better coffee than the cafeteria. I believe that machine has a decaf option.”
“So you’ve been here a few times?” Adam asks, finally addressing his mom directly. The tension in the room grows thick and I clutch my thumbs inside my fists. It was such a pleasant lunch. I silently plead with Adam not to hurt his mom’s feelings.
“Yes. More lately,” she answers.
He looks her in the eye, and my heart pounds so hard, it’s nearly painful.
Please, please be civil.
“I can tell,” Adam says. “Dad looks like he’s finally put on a little weight. Thank you for cooking for him, Mom.”
Holly inhales sharply, a squeak slipping through. She covers her mouth as her eyes fill with tears. “It’s my pleasure,” she huffs out, then hurries out of the room. Adam shrugs at me and I shrug back before following Holly. I find her in the hallway near hysterics and I don’t know what to do except wrap my arms around her and pull her into a hug.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She hugs me back, rubbing the sides of my arms, then steps away. She’s mopping up her tears with the back of her hands. “I’m sorry, silly me with the theatrics.”
“I don’t think Adam meant anything bad by it. He told me Mr. Montgomery wasn’t eating much of the cafeteria food. I think he’s genuinely grateful.”
She shakes her head. “No, no, Amani. I know he meant well… It’s just the first time in twenty years my son has called me ‘Mom.’”
* * *
I carefully sip my scalding decaf latte, but the sucker still burns the tip of my tongue. Giving up, I pop off the lid and scoot it to the side of the coffee table.
Holly follows suit, setting her coffee aside. “Is yours too hot as well?”
I nod. “Coffee doesn’t sound as appealing these days, anyway.” Her smile is small and tentative, so I invite her to ask what I’m sure is on her mind. “I know it must seem weird, what Adam and I are doing.”
Holly leans back on the plush sofa and shifts so she’s facing me. Piermont is filled with sitting areas where patients and family can sit and chat. We’ve secured a quaint cloth sofa in front of a coffee table with a small stack of National History magazines.
“Not at all. I’m only worried that Adam is approaching this the way he is because of me. I wonder, after all this time, if his anger toward me is still holding him back.”
A little uncomfortable, I clear my throat. “I don’t think his hesitance about fatherhood is from anything you did.”
She looks out the large window behind us, pressing her lips together like she’s trying to hold back her emotion. “You mean Liv,” she finally says. “There’s that too. But I think Adam learned unforgiveness because of me.”
Chuckling nervously, I say, “Yeah, he likes his grudges.”
“Thank you,” Holly says suddenly, patting my knee so lightly, I can barely feel her touch. “Today was more than I deserve, and I know you had a big part of that. I bet if Adam came to Piermont alone, he would’ve turned around and left when he saw me.”
My eyes fall to my lap. “Oh… That’s probably not true.” It’s most definitely true. There would’ve been an Adam-shaped hole in the wall.
“You must have a magic touch. Not Adam’s dad, his brother, or even wife at the time could get him to respond to a text message. Somehow, you got him to share a meal with me. Even if I never get to see him again, today meant the world to me.”
There’s a guilty twinge in my gut, telling me I shouldn’t be prying, but Holly is helping me fill in the gaps of the big puzzle that is Adam. How can a man be so naturally paternal but not want to be a father? Is he resisting what he wants? Or is he pretending to be okay with this, to keep me?
“I’m sorry if I’m out of line. I know we just met, but why did you…” I trail off, watching her eyes, hoping she can give me permission to proceed with just a look.
“Why did I leave?”
“Is that okay for me to ask?”
She answers with a small nod, but she’s wearing the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. It’s the same smile I put on when I have to pretend like I’m okay. My cheeks bunch, lips spread, teeth show…but there’s no joy.
“It’s complicated. Did Adam mention we were in a terrible car accident when he was young?”
“Actually, no,” I respond.
The faint scars at the top of Adam’s upper thighs come to mind. I noticed them when I was on my knees, my head between his legs, so I thought it was an inappropriate time to ask. Thinking about it now, they’re located where a lap belt would go.
“It was a drunk driver, going the wrong way down the bypass at fifty miles an hour. When our cars collided…” Holly shakes her head, like she’s trying to get rid of a visual. “Adam was eight. Legally, he shouldn’t have been in the front seat. But he begged and begged to ride up front. I caved and told his big brother to swap with him, just once. Alex was seventeen—the airbag would’ve bruised his chest had he been up front. Instead, it broke Adam’s nose.”
“Oh dear God,” I mutter.
“Adam also broke one arm in four places and dislocated his shoulder. There were lacerations across his chest and thighs from the seat belt. They told me I was lucky he wasn’t thrown through the windshield. It surely would’ve killed him.”
Tears form in both of our eyes. I’m not emotional simply from the hormones. I’m picturing a small, scared Adam, bloodied and clinging to life. It makes my stomach sick with worry over something that is long past. I resist the demanding urge I have to abandon Holly and run back to Mr. Montgomery’s room, just to make sure Adam’s still there, alive and okay.
“I struggled with depression for most of my adult life, Amani. It was especially bad after each of my pregnancies, but I ignored it, staying focused on motherhood. It’d come in waves. There’d be long periods of feeling fine, followed by the most harrowing weeks of helplessness. I never knew what was going to trigger it.”
Her story sounds all too familiar. I also have long periods of fine, followed by days of not wanting to get out of bed. “You didn’t tell anybody?” I ask.
“No.” Cocking her head to the side, she clicks her tongue. “I came from a generation where depression is just a feeling that you have to conquer. I never understood that I wasn’t in control. But immediately after the car accident, everything fell apart.”
“How so?” I reach for my latte to busy my hands.
“Sparing you the painful details, let’s just say I had some dark thoughts that I couldn’t overcome. I didn’t feel like I deserved my family. My twisted thoughts told me walking away was best for everyone. So I did. And it was a long time before I sought professional help. With counseling and medication, I slowly came through the fog. But by then, I’d already lost my boys.”
The temperature of my latte is now tolerable, so I take a small sip, only to confirm that the flavor of coffee has completely lost its charm on me. I’m not even pregnant yet and everything is changing.
“Did you tell them all this?”
Holly nods. “Clay and I started talking again while Adam was in high school. Alex and I reconnected during his residency.”
“Adam didn’t know?”
Holly shakes her head. Her ruby earrings look neon when they catch a glint of sunlight from the window. “No, he wasn’t ready. I’m not sure if he’ll ever be ready, but I’ll never stop hoping. Maybe you can share my story with him.”
“Definitely not. You need to tell him.” Looking up from my latte, I give her what I intend as an encouraging smile. “He needs to see the look in your eyes when you explain what you went through.”
“What look is that?” she asks.
“Genuine. Remorseful. Hopeful. I know you left, but if after all this time you still haven’t given up hope on Adam, that’s showing up in a way, right?”
“I suppose.” Holly grabs her drink, taking more of a glug than a sip.
“Holly, may I ask—your depression? Is it gone now?”
A low hum escapes her lips and her expression becomes concerned. “It never really leaves you completely. For me, it’s always lurking in the background. If I could’ve done anything differently, I would’ve gotten help before I needed it, if that makes sense.”
“Sort of,” I say, squinting one eye. “Since you shared…um…” I thought it’d be easier to admit this out loud, but I have to force the rest of my words out. “I feel much the same sometimes. And I’m not sure if having a baby will make it better or worse.”
“Probably both.” Setting her drink back down, Holly crosses her legs and holds out both hands. I take them without hesitation, a testament to how comfortable I feel around her. “Motherhood will both make you and break you. But the important thing is that you are still independent of your baby. The problems you have before a child, you’ll carry into motherhood. The biggest mistake I made was not realizing that by taking care of myself, I would take better care of my family. Don’t learn that lesson the way I did.”
I nod at her. “Okay. Thank you.”
“All right,” Holly chirps, releasing my hands and patting against her knees. “Should we grab the boys some coffee? What kind of latte does Adam like?”
I rack my brain. “You know what? Come to think of it, I don’t know. There’s actually a lot I still don’t know about Adam.” Outside of the fact that I’m falling in love with him, of course.
“You two have been dating all summer and you still don’t know his coffee order? What do you two do together?”
I widen my eyes and stare at the ground. My cheeks are instantly warm. Don’t say sex, do not say sex. “Like movies and puzzles and stuff.”
I swear I hear her cackle under her breath.