Calm Like Home (20 page)

He finally walks me down to my car well after dark and envelops me in his arms. I take one last deep breath, soaking in the way he smells, the glint in his eyes, the way his chest lightly rises and falls as he breathes. I’ll want to be able to conjure this exact moment during lonely nights in my bed, on boring walks to class, when I’m missing him terribly at Milano’s. He presses his lips to mine, lingering, then steps back so I can climb into my car. As I’m about to pull the door shut he murmurs, “Thank you for coming, Alexa. I already miss you.”

My eyes flick back to his and I try to fake a smile. He seems to see right through it because he leans down to kiss me again, hesitating before finally pulling away. His eyes are dull when they meet mine. The sparkle is gone.

“Please drive carefully. I should’ve made you leave when it was still light out. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

This time I smile for real. “Worth it!”

I give him one last look then tug the door shut and force myself to back out of the stall. He stands in the parking lot with his hands shoved in his pockets watching me go. I recognize the look on his face; it perfectly reflects the gloom I feel engulfing my heart. It feels like we turned a page this visit. The last thing I want is to watch him fade away.

The drive back is slow and monotonous. It is nothing like the drive up. I feel every mile that stretches between us, every inch of highway that is keeping me from him. It weighs heavy and oppressive. It brings me down. All I want to do is turn the car around, to see his ornery smile, and feel complete for one more day.

Chapter 20

Apart, the hours seem to tick by so incredibly slowly. Nothing’s quite the same without him by my side. Every inch of me longs for him, aches with his absence, yearns for his touch. I feel unsettled, antsy, aloof, plagued by an impeccable slideshow of memories and fantasies intertwined. All I want is to wrap my body around his, to feel his touch and his kiss and his eyes lighting me up. I want his head on my chest listening to my heartbeat and reassuring me I’m more alive than ever. Instead I have work and school to occupy my time and three hundred miles separating me from him.

My first day back I take the long way to class, snaking around the Union, weaving between withering flowerbeds and trees changing from green to brown. The rhythmic slap of my feet against the sidewalk does little to soothe me. I see Adam everywhere: in the dark-haired guy across the quad, in the couple holding hands in front of me, in the crowd of freshman frat boys wearing their khaki pants and navy sport coats. I arrive to class slightly sweaty from the long walk and try to get swept up in the lecture, try to let the professor's delivery carry my thoughts from that perfect smile, those vivacious eyes, but I find myself doodling distractedly in the margins of my notebook. Long looping
A
s. Boxy
A
s. Two
A
s side-by-side, entwined.

Now that it’s mid-October the halfway point of the semester is here, which means a midterm speech in public speaking. For this speech we have to take a stance on a hot-button issue related to our company and present our viewpoint. I throw myself into the research, letting hours slip by in front of the computer screen so I don’t have to face my lonely reality, my silent phone, the gripping uncertainty surrounding the only thing that truly matters: when is
next time
? How long will I have to go without?

When I finally head to work, Annabelle bounds over gleefully. “So..?”

I force a smile; it doesn’t reach my eyes. I know I should feel excited telling her about my weekend, but every time I picture his face I just feel this gripping loneliness spreading through my chest, pulling at my lungs, bringing me down. Words can’t do my time with Adam justice anyway. They’re never enough, too vague and imprecise to convey the depth and magnitude of even a single minute alone with him.

“It was great, Annabelle. It was absolutely amazing.” The words fall flat leaving my mouth.

“Then why do you look so damn sad?”

“Saying goodbye effing blows,” I groan.

“Well at least you have someone you don’t want to say goodbye to.” She looks wistful for a moment, which is completely unlike her.

“You’re right.”

I hate myself for whining, hate the pathetic mess I’m becoming. I dig into my apron pocket and hand her a chocolate, trying to make up for my insensitivity.

“So how was it really?” she asks, her eyes eager for details.

I weigh whether or not to tell her about the fight. It seems like I’m giving away one of Adam’s secrets by telling her, but maybe she can help me understand.

“The whole weekend was one huge party and we had a really great time. The best time really. But it was weird. On Friday, Adam got into a fight with this guy from another house. He totally took the guy out, just went nuts on him.”

“Adam? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She stares at me in disbelief, her blue eyes wide and her mouth slightly ajar, trying to ascertain whether or not I’m messing with her.

“I was just as surprised as you are. I knew he used to box, but this was intense. He annihilated the guy, Annabelle. Completely knocked him out and then some. And Damien made it seem like this is perfectly normal behavior for him.” I leave out the part about Damien being sincere, almost protective of Adam, telling me I don’t know the whole story. The part that worries me the most.

“Was it deserved?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a guy thing, territory or whatever. But it seems like there’s more to it, something he isn’t telling me.”

“Well you know Adam. He’s not one to give much away. I’m sure whatever it is he’ll tell you when he’s ready. In the mean time, just enjoy him.”

I nod, knowing she’s right, and yet there’s still a nagging in the back of my mind. Maybe I don’t know what this is, but I do know Adam well enough to know this incredible rage didn’t come from nothing.

Everything inside me screams for me to do something. I want to fix this. I want to fix him. I want to be the thing that changes it all for him. I want to be the one to save him. I don't know how yet, but I know I can. I can be enough. I can turn things around. Our love can turn things around. Because when we're together it's almost like it already has saved him. When it's just him and me, there's nothing else that matters. There is no history. There is no sadness. There is no deep-seeded aggression he needs to let out. There's only love and laughter and two people who'd do anything to be together.

Marcus and I meet for coffee later in the week to go over the research I found and finalize our plans for the speech. We decide to give it on the treatment of animals in facilities processing beef, pork, and poultry for consumption. As usual, the outlining process goes smoothly. Marcus is never short of good ideas and has a talent for organizing points into a coherent argument. I try to take copious notes to distract myself, but I just feel flat, despondent, completely uninterested in coffee or Marcus or colored pens.

As we’re packing up to leave Marcus leans over, concern on his face. “You all right? You seem like something’s on your mind.”

I choose not to tell him. It feels weird to be complaining about something that must come across as so trivial, even when it’s all I can think about. I don’t just
miss
him. It’s something more, something all-encompassing, something powerful and debilitating. Together is the only place I ever want to be, pushing his demons away, making them fade, relaxing their grip on his mind. I know I can't be that for him over the phone. When left to my own devices, just voice and phone line and too many miles, I feel false, guarding my own truth. That I miss him unequivocally. That I only ever want to be with him. That I love every last broken bit, every smile, every silent barrier. I love it all. And when we're together, side by side, touching, laughing, kissing, I swear he knows it’s true.

That night, with his absence still fresh and raw, I dream of him. It's the vivid kind where I fully expect to wake up and find him there. It’s disorienting. I blink my eyes open and stare up at the ceiling and it slowly comes back to me that I’m on my own. He isn’t here. But then I close my eyes and all I see are brown eyes looking back at me and I never want to open mine again.

Marcus greets me in our next class with a tentative smile. “Feeling better?”

I nod, feigning truth. Adam and I are still hundreds of miles apart. I still feel like I’m letting him down by not being there for him. I still haven’t told him I love him. I’m far from good.

“I’m good,” I lie. “How are you?”

“I’m really good. I actually have tonight off from work.”

“How’d you swing that?”

“Someone was trying to pick up so I gave my shift up. Thought it’d be nice to be off on a Friday for a change. You know, actually enjoy a weekend for once. You have plans?”

“Party at Annabelle’s.” I take out my cell phone to text him her address. “You should come. It’ll be fun.”

At work that afternoon Annabelle reclines against the line drumming her fingertips as she waits for a table’s food. I stand beside her, feeling melancholy, trying unsuccessfully to keep my mind off missing Adam. I haven’t heard from him all week and I’m drifting, feeling listless. Last weekend was so amazing and yet we’ve fallen into the same old pattern, the distance feeling all the more oppressive by his silence. I’ve thought about texting him, but there’s no way to approximate the connection we have when we’re together through flat words on a phone.

Annabelle jostles my shoulders. “You ready for tonight?”

I force a smile and nod, trying to reciprocate her enthusiasm. “I think Marcus was looking for something to do so I invited him to your place.”

“Oooh, Marcus! Too bad for me I already invited Brant. I could’ve taken advantage.” She chuckles and her eyes turn inquisitive. “Have I told you about Brant?”

“No, but he must be good if you’re inviting him over.”

“Oh, he's exceptional. He took me to Mercado last night for drinks.”

“Wow, Mercado. Classy.” I raise my eyebrows at her. ”So… Does that mean you’re falling for him?”

“Meh. He's nice to look at while I'm waiting for my one true love.” She gives me a sassy look, her pale eyes sparkling
.

“You can’t be contained!” I laugh.

“But you love me anyway.”

“I really do.”

After work I head to Annabelle’s, eager for the night’s distraction. She presses a glass of wine into my hands as soon as I walk in and I take a hefty gulp, trying to drown out the sorrow I feel, knowing I’ve officially reached the despondent stage of missing Adam. It’s made all the worse because I have no idea when I’ll see him again. There’s nothing to count down to, no reprieve in sight. Just one day stretching into the next, each one endlessly alone.

I try to let the alcohol and companionship improve my mood, but the truth is it does little to satiate my longing. Javier shows up and enlivens the party with a story about a table full of girls he had in the bar tonight who were out for a bachelorette party. Apparently they brought in penis-shaped pasta and asked him to secretly have the chefs cook it up for the bachelorette in place of her penne. His storytelling is impeccable; the whole room is practically in tears with laughter by the end.

Marcus arrives not long after and settles in beside me on the couch. In a rare playful moment, he does a wicked impersonation of Annabelle dancing wildly with Brant in the middle of her living room. It feels good to be joking around, even if it is half-hearted on my part. When he stands to get us fresh drinks from the kitchen, I retrieve my purse to reapply my lip gloss. As my fingers sift through the contents, I feel my phone vibrate to life. My stomach clenches, hopeful. I flip the display around and catch sight of those four letters lighting up the screen, the same four that light up my whole life.

I race down the hall to Annabelle’s room and fling the door shut, then take a deep breath to collect myself. I’ve never known anyone who could make my heart flutter from three hundred miles away. He knocks the wind out of my chest, forces my knees to quiver from a simple call. My entire body is weak for him; I just wish he were here to enjoy it.

“Hey,” I finally whisper into the phone.

“Hey.” His tone matches mine exactly.

And suddenly I’m beaming. I can’t even help myself. The sound of his voice wakes me up, makes me smile.

“I miss you,” he says after a moment. He doesn’t sound drunk at all, just pure, honest Adam, and it takes me a little by surprise, especially on a Friday night.

“You miss me?” I reply brightly. Always light. Never down. Never letting it seep into my voice. Never crossing that line when we’re so far apart. Never really letting him know what he means to me.

“Yeah, Lex. I really miss you. I swear I saw you out today. Damien and I were at The Landing and I was sure I saw the top of your head across the bar. I even walked over to investigate. It looked so much like you. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since. I can’t get you off my mind.”

“Would you want to?” I ask after a beat, my voice for once betraying all I feel for him across the miles.

He pauses. “No, I don’t think I would.”

The alcohol coursing through my veins has me feeling bold and I’m missing him more than ever, with his voice in my ear, his truth seeping out, so I bite the bullet and ask him the one thing I’m dying to know.

“When can I see you?” It comes out soft but hopeful.

“Our semi-formal is in a few weeks. You want to go with me? We can get all dressed up and dance the night away.”

“I’d love to, Adam.”

His voice becomes suddenly lighthearted. “I can’t wait. I’m going crazy here! Do you know my bed still smells like you?”

“Now you know what I’ve been going through!”

“It’s pure torture!” He chuckles and my heart swells at the sound. “And I’m pretty sure it’s making me dream of you.”

“You have dreams about me, Adam?” I ask in my sweetest voice.

“I have lots of dreams about you, pretty much every nap, every night, nothing but Alexa Clausen. Most of them are not suitable for conversation though.”