by Emily Nealis
It would have been perfect for him. He’s a hard worker and I knew he would be successful if he could work for himself. I encouraged Adam to pursue the business plan. I even offered to work with him on the administrative side. He knew all the people, the manufacturers, the dealers, and the clients who would follow him if he ever chose to leave his current company to start his own business. He decided to think about it over the winter, look at our finances, and evaluate the feasibility of such an endeavor. More and more over the past month, the possibility crept into my mind and I was considering broaching the subject again.
Because of the direction it seemed our life was going, I couldn’t argue with Carolyn whenever she became envious of my life. Clearly, I was fortunate in many ways. Other couples might have divorced as soon as life became complicated. Problems don’t just disappear after one fight. They’re like a chronic illness, having to be managed constantly for a lifetime. Instead, I was sitting around a bonfire in my backyard in the middle of thoroughbred country, drinking wine and listening to Carolyn talk about how lucky I was. Instead of agreeing with her, I internally critiqued her interpretation of my life. The fact I was even doing this made me feel like a brat. I did have a spectacular life and a wonderful family. However, I felt as though I was slowly, somehow, falling behind. When we decided to get married, I also decided it was going to be my job to stay home and raise our kids. But what about after that? I thought the past few months were the biggest hurdle I had to overcome. It should have been a sign. What would I have done if we hadn’t made it? What would I have done if we didn’t decide to honor our vows and be there for one another, for better or for worse? But I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to consider that. At that moment—again—in the middle of my perfect life, I decided to think about it later.
Later that evening, after the last straggler had finally driven off the gravel road leading to our house, the torches were extinguished, the bonfire doused with melted ice from the coolers, and the house locked up for the night. I marveled at how quiet it was, as though no one had ever been there at all. I stood over the bathroom sink, swishing water and toothpaste in my mouth, barely able to spit it into the sink with enough energy before making it across the bedroom to our bed. I stepped onto the mattress and tugged the chain on the ceiling fan, switching it to the highest setting. I sunk onto the bed, leaned back against the pillows, and pulled the sheet over my legs. I heard Adam’s boots on the hardwood in the hallway, switching off the lights as he went. His walk had always been heavy—he never walked softly, as if he was constantly on a mission. He crossed the room to the closet, reemerging a minute later with bare feet. He pulled off his t-shirt as he entered the bathroom, dropping it into the hamper by the door. I heard the shower turn on.
Minutes later, I saw Adam’s reflection in the foggy mirror, dragging a towel down his face and furiously drying the back of his buzzed hair. The top fell over his face, which he immediately brushed back with a comb. Often—and that night was no different—I found myself envying him. Whether it was his constant, intense physical activity or just good genes, he had the same sharp jawline and muscular physique as the first day I met him. I knew Adam made a concerted effort to stay in shape, vowing to be a good role model for our children, but a small part of me always resented how easy it seemed for him. He was never anything but supportive, but I’ll never forget how difficult it was coming back from giving birth to two children.
Switching off the bathroom light, he reemerged from the bathroom in a fresh pair of boxer briefs and walked around to the other side of the bed. He collapsed next to me, face down. He turned his head to the side and hugged the pillow with both arms.
“I think that was a success. Everyone seemed to have had a good time.” I yawned, looking down at him. Adam rolled over onto his back, one arm bent back behind his head.
“I think so.” He nodded, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. I scooted down in the bed. He raised his arm so I could fit against his body beneath his shoulder. I rested my head on his bare chest and inhaled the scent of soap still on his skin.
“Are your parents bringing the girls home tomorrow or do we need to pick them up?” I closed my eyes, the breeze from the ceiling lulling me to sleep. Adam reached over to his bedside table and switched off the light.
“I need to pick up dad’s air compressor, so I can get them in the morning.” My head rose and collapsed with his chest as he yawned. I mentally reviewed my plans for the next day, which would likely include packing up what was left outside and putting our yard back together. If it was nice, I would banish the girls outside and begin evaluating plans for the garden, as the threat for frost was diminishing by the day. I kept thinking about my conversation with Carolyn that night and the way she envied our life while seeming to lament her own choices.
“I think Carolyn is getting tired of Travis’s foolishness.”
“You mean she’s not enjoying being the only adult in their relationship?”
“She kept telling me how lucky I am that I live here and how lucky I am to have you.”
“You are.” I felt Adam smile. I stifled a laugh and nudged him in the rib cage with my fist. He was never one to be overly modest, but that was how our life was. He worked hard for everything he had, so he could agree with the envious comments from other people. But because he was the kind of person who worked hard, he was able to relate to the struggles of others, which is why he’d never met a stranger. Adam could speak to someone and, minutes later, it was as though they’d known one another for years. He never hesitated to help anyone he could, which is why so many people look up to him. That’s the reason our property was overrun with people that night. And that’s the reason Carolyn thought I was so lucky.
“I guess we do have a pretty good life.” I yawned in response, beginning to drift off to sleep. Adam’s cheek, still smooth from shaving that day, fell against my forehead.
“Yes, we do.”
Diana
I didn’t see Adam Hunt again for another eight months. Honestly, I didn’t think I would ever see him again. I thought about him for about a day after the wedding when he drove me home. I did wonder what would have happened if I’d taken him up on his offer. If I hadn’t had such a crisis of conscience, I’m sure the night would have ended much differently. However, I also knew that he was just another guy at a summer wedding trying to entertain himself. It didn’t mean anything, especially because I didn’t engage in his peacock-like presentation. My life continued as it always had, and I had no cause to think about him until Carolyn left me a message one afternoon, inviting me to Adam and Haley’s house that evening.
Arriving home from work, the last thing I really wanted to do was get ready to go back out. I didn’t even know where this place was or who would be there. Standing in the middle of my bedroom in my underwear, I debated whether to reach for a pair of running shorts or a pair of jeans. In my head, Anna was already making fun of me, ridiculing me for choosing to stay in on yet another Friday night. I freely admitted I was a homebody and I liked it that way. However, it was a beautiful day and warmer than early April usually is. Diana, you’re such a hermit, she would say. And she was right—if I didn’t go to the shindig, I would watch one hour of Cold Case Files reruns from 5 to 6PM, then retire to my bedroom to read and putz around on my phone, falling asleep at approximately 9:30. But was that such a terrible thing? There were much worse things I could be doing on a Friday night. Then again, I’d spent the last four evenings doing this exact thing. Finally deciding, I reached for the running shorts. I wasn’t in college anymore. It was unseasonably warm and who has the time to get dressed up for an outdoor barbecue?
I still watched one hour of Cold Case Files and at least took the time to shower and brush my hair. I wasn’t a total slob, after all. After requesting an address from Carolyn, I was on my way out of town by 8:00, taking the county road lined with stone walls and signs for a drive-in long since abandoned. Twenty minutes later, I turned left at a mile m
arker lined with neon reflectors that just so happened to also mark a driveway, a wide metal gate held open by the overgrown grass and weeds. Halfway up the long driveway, I pulled my SUV off into the grass into a line of cars parked along the horse fences. I inhaled deeply, the air smelled of fresh grass and the horse barns that dotted the surrounding hills. The sun dipped below the trees by the time I arrived, tinting the entire sky a wash of pink and orange. I strolled up the drive, surveying the mess of people strewn around the property. As I approached the end of the driveway next to the house at the top of the grassy hill, I caught a glimpse of Carolyn down by the bonfire in the middle of the backyard. She was sitting next to Haley, both sitting in folding lawn chairs, feet propped up on the jagged rocks outlining the fire.
I was about to start down the hill when I heard someone call my name. Andy Henley waved at me from the concrete porch, motioning for me to come closer. He was sitting on the edge of the porch, his legs dangling from the four-foot ledge. Travis was standing next to him, leaning against a support column. Travis jumped down, landing on the grass next to me.
“So, you made it! Carolyn said she called you and told you to come.”
“Yeah, she did. Last minute decision.” I nodded.
“I’m glad you could fit us into your busy schedule.” He swung an arm around my shoulder. Travis’s mannerisms were not those of an old friend. He spoke with sarcasm laced in poison. And although I couldn’t see his eyes through his dark sunglasses, I knew he was nothing more than a snake in the weeds, sizing up his next victim. He would have been a predator, had he not the subtlety and couth of a Jack Russell caged up for too long.
“It was tough.” I replied, stepping away from him, refraining from breaking his nose with a swift palm to the face.
I sat on the edge of the concrete porch for nearly an hour, after which I decided I’d had about enough of Travis and Andy and stories involving people I’d never met. After about thirty minutes, I began to wonder why I was even on that farm. I hadn’t seen any sign of Carolyn and the vague acquaintances I did see didn’t warrant a trip down the hill or across the driveway to initiate a conversation. In general, there are times I can be incredibly social. However, this was a time when solitude seemed much more appealing. My vehicle was calling to me from the end of the driveway, tempting me with the long drive home filled with a warm breeze and the company of loud music pounding through my speakers.
I don’t like goodbyes—they always seem to prolong a person’s presence rather than initiate an exit. I didn’t even bother finding Carolyn; I knew it would lead to more time spent in a place I was trying to vacate with the increased risk of being drawn into another conversation about Travis’s glory days before he was forced to become an adult. Instead, I quietly slipped away, disappearing into the shadows where the porch light couldn’t reach. I took my time strolling down the driveway, as there was no reason to rush. There’s something about springtime and summer darkness. It’s warm and loud like a balmy quilt filled with the boisterous songs of tree frogs and night insects. I could have stood in the middle of that gravel drive listening to it for hours.
As my eyes continued to adjust to the darkness, I saw my vehicle finally start to materialize in the distance. A moment later, I saw movement further down the drive. A tall shadow was walking toward me from the road.
“Hey, lady.” A deep voice broke through the chorus of night life. I recognized Adam Hunt by his stature and his black hair, buzzed on the sides and the pompadour top brushed to the side. This was the first time I’d seen him dressed as the real Adam; in jeans, Redwing boots, and a plain black t-shirt, shadows of tattoos poking out of his V-neck and stretching down his arms. He stopped in front of me.
“You leaving already?”
“I’ve been here for a while.”
“I know, I’ve been trying to catch you before you disappeared.”
“What are you doing out here then?” He turned and nodded toward the blackness at the end of the driveway.
“The gate keeps swinging shut, so I was chaining it open.” We stared at one another for a few moments, listening to the distant buzz of activity around the house.
“You should stay.” It was more of a declarative statement rather than a question. I looked back at the house, glowing at the top of the hill. My desire to retreat to the comfort of my home had quickly overshadowed the idea of mingling further.
“I just left.”
“You don’t have to go back up there.” He motioned for me to follow him as he stepped off the gravel and into the grass. He continued past the line of vehicle bumpers, further into the field. When he got to the edge of the black horse fence, he sat down, his back against the fence post, extending his legs and crossing his Redwings over one another. I didn’t want to go back to the party, but oddly enough, I did want to sit in a dark field with Adam Hunt. I followed him, taking a seat in the grass next to him, leaning back against the railing of the fence. When I looked at him, he was smiling as though he was genuinely glad I decided to stay.
“Can I ask you something?” I began, now that we were sitting next to each other once again.
“Of course.”
“The last time I saw you—what was that?” I chuckled to myself. He tilted his head back against the fence post, eyes squeezed shut, grinning through clenched teeth. After a moment, he exhaled, letting his head fall before looking over at me.
“A lost opportunity.” He brushed back his hair, shaking his head. After a moment, he turned his head to look at me, “Tell me about what you do.”
So, I told him what I did and how I arrived there. I told him about going to school for seven years, moving hundreds of miles away, and moving back for the opportunity to advance professionally. I told him where I wanted to be in the future and why I love analyzing data from cutting-edge research studies. He asked me questions no one else thinks to ask, either because they don’t care or it’s too tedious to understand. I found myself explaining the minute details of what interests me and what I think about the future of my profession. He listened to me, engaging me every so often, responding thoughtfully yet critically. I had not anticipated his intellectual capability, assuming he was more interested in the physical mechanics of his own profession than how they applied to the broader aspects of the industry. As we spoke to one another, it was as though we’d both found someone else to identify with in a strange way that no one else could. As I continued sharing my thoughts, rather enthusiastically, I noticed him staring at me, a grin spread across his face.
“What?” I paused, assuming he was going to start laughing at me.
“Nothing. I like listening to you talk about what you do. From the way you talk about it, I can tell you really love it.” He was right. I loved what I did, and I was ecstatic to have found someone who I could discuss it with without it being a one-sided, obligatory conversation.
“This is a wonderful place you have here.” I spun my index finger in the air, motioning to the vast property, illuminated only by the lights from the house and the night sky devoid of light pollution. Adam nodded slowly, as if considering my statement.
“I’m fortunate.” He went on to explain how his uncle had left the farm to him after his untimely death, and he made it his job to maintain it how it had always been.
“But it wasn’t always this way.” He pointed to the shed off in the distance, beyond the house. It would have been invisible had the moon not been casting light on its whitewashed siding.
“Troy found me in that shed with a Beretta in my mouth a few seconds before I was going to pull the trigger.” Adam told me how he was discharged from the Army, unaware that he couldn’t reenlist until after the fact, and how he’d spent the next year in a deep depression until that day. After his uncle found him in the shed, he finally got help and decided to go to school to get his life back on track.
“Troy didn’t even act afraid. I was so out of it that I didn’t even know he was in the shed until he smacked the gun out of m
y hand. He knocked it out of reach and just threw his arms around me, so I couldn’t move. I just collapsed onto the floor and cried and screamed at him to let me die. I just wanted it to end. That was a bad time.” Adam paused as if he was deciding whether to continue, still looking off in the distance at the shed.
“He told me he saw a lot of himself in me. But not in the way people normally mean when they say that. I knew he went to Vietnam right out of high school and he never talked about it, but that day he told me how much it messed him up. When he got back, he did the same thing I was doing, just sitting around being lost. While I was losing my shit on the floor of his shed, he told me he tried to kill himself because he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d seen at war. His friends were dying around him, and he saw people murdered every day, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He told me he knew the pain I was in because I couldn’t go to war and serve my country, but he was glad I got hurt and couldn’t go. He was glad I couldn’t fight, and I couldn’t reenlist because he knew it would be easier to come back from that than come back from a war.”
Adam told me more about his uncle Troy, what kind of man he was, and why this place was so important to him. At that moment I realized how proud of a person Adam was, speaking of the property as a sacred responsibility not to be shirked, as if he would be buried on that land and it would be his last will and testament. After he finished speaking, I just sat staring at him, trying to decide what to make of this man who had just divulged a very private piece of his life to me as we sat at the edge of a field in the dark. He looked back at me, and after a moment, tilted his head as though he was questioning my silence.
“You’re more interesting than I thought, Adam Hunt.” I admitted this to him freely at that point. He laughed, turning his head back forward to face the open field. After a moment, he turned back to me.
“Well, tell me something no one knows about you, Diana Sanderson.”