The Unlikely Hero of Room 13B (7 page)

They were finished and Robyn had still not looked at him. And that was tough to do, given that she was seated directly across from him. God, he sucked; nobody sucked as much as he sucked. If only he hadn’t sucked so much, he would have sucked less, and she would—

She lifted her eyes from his shoes. “Uh, hey … so if, uh, do you …? Are we still going to walk home?”

He probably said,
Sure! Of course, yeah!
But it was hard to hear above his heart hammering in his ears. She smiled—five beats’ worth. The smile was like a syringe full
of courage. “For sure, fair Robyn, and if you’d like, how about we stop and get some flowers on the way?”

She would have kissed him if they’d been anywhere but where they were. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew for sure. Maybe. It was as if the Ferris wheel had gone all the way around and Adam was on the very top. That was how Robyn Plummer made him feel. She made him feel stronger than he was, saner than he was. And she needed him. Truth was, Robyn needed him even more than he needed her. But that would stay his secret for now. And God knew, he was good at keeping secrets.

Instead of daisies or roses, which were pretty much the only flowers that Adam could pick out of a lineup, Robyn chose a pot of purple violets. She squealed when she saw them.

“They were her favorites!” Robyn clutched the little green plastic pot to her. “My mom loved violets!”

“Okay, so let’s buy this little hand shovel thingy too and we’ll plant it. Look—” Adam pointed to the hand-lettered “60% Off” sign over the gardening equipment. “They’d, like, live there forever, and she’d like that, right?”

She was going to hug him, absolutely for sure. Adam braced himself. He straightened up and sucked in his stomach, although he wasn’t sure why. Should he try to kiss her when she threw herself in his arms? Too much, too soon? Maybe he could sneak a little one. No, he’d settle for a hug, a nice long, hard hug. He would count it out. Adam needed
to count but didn’t. Instead, he focused on the possibility of a hug, of her amazing body embracing his body, which was less amazing but at least getting taller by the day. Yes, a hug would be fine. He would settle for a hug.

But oh, what he wouldn’t do for a kiss.

He got neither.

Robyn skipped off to the sales counter with the $2.99 violets and the $3.99 trowel. One kiss and he would have died a happy Batman. His disappointment left him agitated. Adam felt flames lick the edges of his brain as they walked to the cemetery. He so needed to count, but couldn’t. There was nowhere to stop and tap, and he had to pay full attention to
her
.

“Isn’t it a miracle that we both use the cemetery as a shortcut home?” said Robyn as they rounded into the Bayfield gates.

“Yeah, miracle,” Adam muttered. That
miracle
cost him almost an extra hour each time he used the “shortcut.” But he didn’t mind the time. He was used to blowing all sorts of time on clearing rituals. So it wasn’t the time.

It was the lie.

Adam felt like he was lying to her every time they walked together, and he had to do so damn much of that already. The flames in his head flared a bit. So he concentrated on her hair. Better. No braid today. Robyn wore her hair loose and parted down the middle. It looked like black glass. Adam wanted to dive into it, or at least run his hands through it. What would it feel like? He almost got his chance when she stopped suddenly near the weeping willow and he crashed into her.

“Sorry.” He reddened.

She ignored him. “Look!” She pointed through the now-yellowing willow leaves. “A purple sky. The sun is shining somewhere while it’s raining somewhere else and we’re in the middle! It’s a good omen. Mom loved purple skies. Purple skies and purple violets—you’re a miracle worker, Batman!”

“I aim to please.” Adam walked over to her mother’s headstone. Struck again by just how massive and empty it was. All that black with only her mom’s name and the birth and death dates. It looked lonelier each time he saw it.

“Uh, here?” Adam pointed with the trowel to the center front of the stone.

Robyn nodded.

He began to dig. It wasn’t as easy as you’d think. The ground was rock hard, and the earth gave way in mean little dirt pebbles. This could take a while. “So back in Group, when you …” Adam wiped his forehead with his jacket sleeve. “Well, that was Group, and …”

“I was the one that found her,” she said simply. “I thought she was sleeping, but I wanted a hot chocolate, so I needed to ask.”

Adam scraped harder.

“I didn’t want to wait until she got up. She sort of slept a lot, you know?”

Robyn hoisted herself onto Marnie Wetherall, 1935–1939. He knew from their first encounter that Marnie’s headstone was surprisingly comfortable. “So I knocked, then I called and called, then yelled, then I went over and shook her hard, then harder and—”

Adam turned. Tears slid down her cheeks, but she wasn’t crying.

“I didn’t know what to do. Maria, the housekeeper, had gone for the day. I think I sort of ran around the house screaming. I must have called my dad at some point.” She wiped her face.

Adam plopped the little purple violet out of its green plastic container and into its new home. He should say something. He brushed back the earth. It needed water. You were supposed to water these things when you planted them, right? Or it would die. It couldn’t die. She’d be hurt if it died.

“When Daddy got home, whenever that was …” She was looking at the plant as if it were replaying the evening for her.

There was a waterspout by one of the weeping stone angels, the one nearest the path.

“When he finally got home, apparently I was lying beside her, fast asleep. Amazing, eh?”

He had to do something. Comfort her. Kiss her? But the plant needed watering. He felt pulled apart. There were fifteen headstones within the stone angel perimeter.
Fifteen was a good number, a fine number. Fifteen …
 Adam stole another glance at the water tap. The plant would die without water
right now
.

Murderer. He tried tapping against her mother’s headstone for three quick sets of seven and only in a rectangle sequence. He needed to get up and hug her; she needed him, but … “Uh, your mom needs some water.”

Robyn started, but he marched off to the tap anyway,
plastic pot in hand. When he came back and dumped the water on the unsuspecting violet, Robyn’s whole demeanour relaxed, softened. She exhaled.

“Yeah, so I started washing and a few other things a couple of weeks after the funeral.” She smiled at the plant, or maybe at him. “I guess it’s why I am the way I am.”

Adam nodded sympathetically, every nerve ending alive with the need to hold her. Then it dawned on him. It would be nice to have a reason.

But something was still off that he couldn’t quite shake. The plant needed more water and Robyn needed holding, but that wasn’t it. It was just out of the reach of knowing, like when his mom talked about the letters.

“Still, hey, I’m tons better now, right? I mean, three months residential, I still see my shrink, Group and … praying helps.” She jumped off Marnie and stepped over to him.

Adam remembered the gift then and patted his pockets frantically. There! “Hey, speaking of praying, I brought you a present.” He fished out a blue and white crystal rosary.

“Oh, Adam! It’s beautiful! Oh my God, is that a holy necklace? Do Catholics wear it? Is it really for me? I bet it’s blessed. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you!”

Was she, oh no, yes, she was going to … yes, yes, yes!

“Oh my God, oh my God!” Robyn leapt right over and actually, absolutely, totally
hugged
him!

Before he could think about it, he put his arms around her, placing one hand at the small of her back. It was full contact. He was in danger of passing out.

“Thank you, Adam-Batman!” she said when she let go. She held the rosary in front of her. “Wow!”

Adam was still reeling from her body being that close to his. He tried to locate his breath. He needed to not move. For one thing, he wanted to linger in the warm liquid memory of what it felt like to hold all of her in his arms, and more critically, if he moved, his body would betray him. Adam visualized Sister Mary-Margaret for quite some time before he dared speak again. Robyn, meanwhile, put the rosary on, took it off, held it up to the sun and counted the beads.

“Here—” He finally exhaled and gently took the rosary back. “It’s not a necklace, it’s a rosary. Let me show you.”

Robyn smiled.

“Catholics
pray
on it. It’s like to count your prayers.”

“Ooh, I saw Audrey Hepburn with a necklace—”

“Rosary.”

“Yeah, like the one that she had in this movie called
A Nun’s Story
. I love it! I love it!” she gushed, and then, yes, she hugged him again, awkwardly and around the neck, but close enough that he thought he would explode.

Adam vowed to bring her a present next week and every week until the day they died.

Robyn leaned against Marnie Wetherall. “Okay, so how does it work?”

“Well, first you make the sign of the cross, remember?”

“Hey, I got that one down pat. Don’t worry, I’m not going crazy with it. Just a few times a day. That’s the God’s honest truth.” She crossed herself as if to prove it.

“Okay,” he repeated. “So this first big bead is the Apostles’ Creed.”

She looked blank.

“Don’t Protestants do the Apostles’ Creed?”

Robyn shrugged. “If they do, I wouldn’t know. We haven’t stepped inside a church since …”

“Right. Okay, I’ll write that one out for you. The next big bead is the Our Father.”

“I know that one!” She beamed.

“Great, then three Hail Marys followed by a Glory Be.”

Robyn groaned politely.

“Okay, so it’s a bit complicated until you get going, you know? Like you’re supposed to meditate on the first mystery on that large bead there and then do the Our Father again. And, well, thing is, you’re supposed to meditate on different mysteries on different days of the week.”

He glanced up, fully expecting her to look dispirited. Instead she nodded eagerly.

“It’s perfect! The perfect thing for me, perfect! I’m going to be a Catholic. I swear to God, I’ll study my brains out. I can’t wait to get at that confession stuff. Do I bring it to confession?”

“Uh, not usually.” Adam could tell she was lost—eager but lost. “I’ll get you a pamphlet or something on how to do the rosary thing. They have them at school, in religion class.”

Robyn cupped the rosary in her hands, brought it to her face and kissed the beads. “It’s so, so beautiful, but you really shouldn’t have.”

“No, it’s okay, I got it from home. We have a million of them.” Adam winced remembering the drawer full of rosary beads. “Literally.”

Robyn turned to him.

“My mom’s a collector.”

She didn’t even blink.

“An intense collector.”

“Hey,” she said. “I should have gotten
you
a present. Wasn’t it your birthday last week? How did it go at the restaurant with your dad and everyone?”

“Good,” he lied. “Mainly. Sweetie and me were born, like, not even a week apart. So we always get these combo deals. Last year we were at Warhammer Day at the BattleCraft store in the mall, and this time it was a private room at La Tourangelle. My brother is like this pint-sized gourmand.” Robyn smiled while fingering the rosary. “Brenda, that’s my stepmom, arranged everything, but it’s cool of my dad to get into it the way he does. He makes it a big deal.” Adam paused. “He tries—we all try—but we just miss, you know?”

Robyn nodded but didn’t interrupt. Adam remembered summoning up the requisite enthusiasm for the Plan B skateboard plus the helmet and pads that his dad had given him at the restaurant. It was the latest and greatest. “Wow, unbelievable, Dad … Too much!” His father had almost bought it. And once again, more than anything, Adam wished that he was
that
guy, the guy who would have loved all that fresh stuff. Sweetie, on the other hand, was not quite as polished about faking his enthusiasm over killer hockey skates.

“Poor guy,” Adam sighed, thinking of his dad. “All he wants is a kid that will kick around a soccer ball with him, and he’s struck out with both his sons.”

Robyn nodded. “And then …?”

“And then Brenda got a bit frazzled and my mom got a bit tipsy. I mean, she was fine—you wouldn’t know unless you knew, you know?—but I was freaking out for the rest of the night about whether she was going to have another glass of Chardonnay, which may have put her over the limit. But other than that, it was
outstanding
!”

“So Brenda
and
your mom …”

“Can both be a little intense, I guess.” He said this more to himself than to her. “My mom way, way more than Brenda, to be honest.”

“Hmm.” Robyn smiled. “You Ross men seem to like your women complicated. Come on, I’ve got to go. Tonight is a ‘Dad dinner night.’ He tries for one every week or so and complains about it nonstop while trying. It’s soooo
almost
, you know? Tonight he cooks his not-so-famous lasagna. It’s like your dad and the birthdays.”

“They try,” he said.

“Sort of,” she said.

It wasn’t until he was halfway home and replaying every word, gesture and touch that it hit him. What did she mean back there?
You Ross men seem to like your women complicated. You Ross men!
She was including him. Robyn was complicated. Did that mean she knew? She knew, right? She had to know. Girls knew this stuff, so she knew. Absolutely she knew. Not only did she know, but she knew and she wasn’t running.

His life was going to be perfect—better than perfect. Adam was on his way straight to
superior
.

Adam painstakingly drizzled a lemon-and-butter mixture onto the free-range, organic chicken breasts. The chicken was nestled in a special glass microwave container. They had a bazillion glass containers. More, even. Despite the fact that you could barely see the stove or the counter surfaces these days, Mrs. Ross was alive and alert to the dangers of Bisphenol A. She would not allow canned goods into the house and forbade her son to use anything but glass in the microwave lest the BPA mess with his hormone health. You couldn’t put your foot down without stepping on a box of something, yet Carmella waged a personal war against a toxic universe. As if to underscore that point, Adam tripped over an industrial-sized box of Greenearth Biodegradable Garbage Bags.