Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
ADAM
It's six thirty, and I'm fresh from the shower, towel still around my neck as I stare out the window. Eve left a note on the bathroom mirror in her precise handwriting: "Taking the dogs out. Back with coffee. Don't try to solve the world’s problems before I return."
The memory of last night weighs on me. The program I've spent two years building, gutted because of donor politics. The way Eve refused to let me retreat behind professional distance, handing me a crocheted pickle and demanding I talk about my feelings.
And I did. Actually talked instead of deflecting or minimizing.
The pickle sits on the nightstand where I left it, lumpy, green, and oddly comforting in its imperfection. Before I can overthink it, I reach for my phone.
Wes will be finishing his morning run. Mike's at the garage early, getting work done before Jamie wakes up. Kellan's probably on his second cup of coffee by now. Manuel never sleeps past five.
I stare at the empty group text for a long moment before typing.
GROUP CHAT: Adam In a Pickle Again.
Me
Rural vet program got gutted. 60% funding cut.
I hit send before I can change my mind. The responses come almost immediately.
Wes
Damn. That's rough. You okay?
Mike
Wait. You're voluntarily telling us about a problem?
Kellan
Did Eve hack your phone? My brother never admits when something's wrong.
I snort quietly, running a hand through my damp hair.
Me
Very funny. Just thought I should let you know.
Mike
And?
I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. The old instinct to handle everything myself wars with Eve's words still echoing in my head.
Me
And I could use some ideas on alternatives. Maybe contacts for other funding sources.
Wes
Now I KNOW someone hacked your phone.
Mike
My cousin works in educational grants. I'll connect you.
Kellan
This must be the Eve effect. #Evadam #ForbiddenFunding
Me
I'm ignoring that.
Manuel
I know someone at State who ran a similar program. Want me to reach out?
Me
That would help. Thanks.
I finish getting ready, and an hour later, as I’m at the computer looking for solutions and still waiting for Eve and the dogs to go back home, I get another notification.
Unknown Number
Hey, Adam. I’m Landon. Julie mentioned your rural vet program to me this morning. I'm on the board of the Adams Foundation. We fund rural healthcare initiatives, including vet programs. Would love to hear more about what you're working on.
I blink in surprise. Julie—Eve's writer friend. Apparently, Eve's already putting in work on my behalf, reaching out to her friends for me before I even woke up.
Before I can set my phone down, my email notification chimes. A new message from an all-too-familiar address.
From: C.Edison@
Subject: Comment for upcoming medical ethics podcast?
I hover over it for a moment, then delete it without opening. Whatever Chuck has to say, it can wait indefinitely. Some people don't deserve the courtesy of a response.
I switch back to the group chat:
Adam
Julie's husband just reached out about potential funding through his family foundation. Eve must have already talked to her.
Mike
See what happens when you actually tell people what's going on?
Wes
Meeting at my place later? 8pm, I'll get pizza.
Me
I'll be there. Maybe, Eve, too.
Through the window, I spot Eve returning, red scarf bright against the snow, juggling two coffee cups and a bag from Rosie’s while Dorothy prances around her feet. Blanche walks calmly beside her, LoverBoy perched on her back like a tiny king on a throne.
For years, I've been the person everyone leans on. The reliable one who fixes everything without complaint.
But there's strength in this too. In letting people in. In admitting I don't have all the answers.
I pick up the big pickle I’ve been working on, with the Santa hat, turning it over in my hands. Its uneven stitches and awkward shape somehow make it more perfect, more real. Kind of like us—imperfect, a little damaged, but somehow fitting together anyway.
I set it back on the nightstand and head downstairs to help Eve.
I'm not alone in this anymore.
Maybe I never was.