by Emily Nealis
“You never told anyone else that?” I didn’t believe for a minute that I was the first one he’d told that story to. Clinical depression nearly ending in suicide was not something ordinarily left out of marital conversations. He looked me directly in the eye.
“No one.” He held my eye for a prolonged period until I finally nodded, indicating that I might believe him. A moment later, his face softened, and he shrugged his shoulders, waiting for me to answer his question.
“I don’t have any deep, dark secrets.” I replied, shaking my head. This was half true; I didn’t have a treasure trove of secrets waiting to be shared with some lucky person. However, even if I did have some incredible secret, I wasn’t entirely sure I would share it with Adam Hunt at that moment.
“Everyone has secrets.” Adam stated bluntly, giving me a sideways glance that suggested he knew I had something to say, but was debating whether to say it. He waited, both of us sitting in silence. The residual noise from the house had died down as the night went on. We sat in an empty globe of night air, with nothing but crickets and night sounds to fill the void. The silence was liberating—something I had not anticipated. Before I knew it, I opened my mouth to speak.
“OK, fine. I have something no one else knows.” I gazed out into the empty field, “I moved back here because I was offered a promotion. But I also moved back here to start over. I was engaged to someone. We were engaged for a few months and, right before I found out about this job, I thought I was pregnant. I felt like my life was ending. But it wasn’t because I don’t want kids—I do—but I realized I didn’t want to have kids with him. It turned out that I wasn’t pregnant, but I was offered the job only a few days after that and I took it without a second thought. I went home, told him I was calling off the engagement, and moved back here within the same week. My boss thought I was so efficient and motivated because everyone else who accepted their offers needed more time to get their affairs in order. But it was because I needed to get away as quickly as possible. I felt terrible about it, but not terrible enough to want to draw it out further. And now I’m sitting in a dark field with a married man who I’ve met twice, exchanging personal confessions, and I don’t know how I feel about it.”
When I turned back at Adam, he was looking at me out of the corner of his eye. A faint smile came across his face. His expression was not one of amusement or judgement, but rather one of understanding. He shrugged a shoulder.
“You don’t have to feel any way about it right now.” He looked straight ahead, “To be fair, the last time I saw you, you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with me. But I knew I’d see you again. Sometime.”
“Eight months later.” I rolled my ankles back and forth in the cool grass, my bare feet appearing tiny next to his scuffed leather boots.
Until that point, I hadn’t given much more thought to Adam Hunt beyond that night after the wedding. He made a short appearance in my life and then disappeared back into the night as quickly as he appeared. That night, we sat next to that fence for hours, speaking to one another as though we’d known each other for much longer. Every so often, he glanced back toward the house or at his phone, confirming he wasn’t being missed or sought out by someone. Maybe it was because much more can be said through unspoken language than just words. The most profound moments and the deepest confessions come from brushes of the hand and eye contact held for a moment too long. After eight months, sitting with him in the grass felt like we’d already spent that lost time together.
His presence in my life was unexpected, but after he appeared, it was as though he belonged there all along. Adam didn’t speak in clichés or tired dialogue from outdated romance novels. He was well-spoken and dealt in blunt questions and fearless declarations. It seemed like he said everything that came to his mind, which made me want to speak to him more and listen to what he had to say. And when I spoke to him, even in the darkness that night, I could clearly see his eyes looking at me and listening to me, not just waiting for silence to speak again. When I finally checked the time, two hours had passed. I noticed there were fewer vehicles parked in the grass along the driveway.
“You probably should have been back a while ago.” I nodded toward the house, people still milling around in the shadows. His eyes remained on me, his expression unchanged.
“Not really.” He replied, so matter-of-fact that I almost questioned my own polite insinuation. We stared at one another for a moment, studying one another’s expressions. Eventually, the corners of his mouth curled slightly, growing into a grin I would see almost every time I saw him in the coming months. He picked himself up off the grass and turned around, extending his arms down to me. I took his hands and pulled myself up. He rested his hand on the middle of my back, guiding me back across the grass toward the remaining vehicles at the edge of the gravel. After I unlocked my vehicle, he reached past me and opened the door.
“When am I seeing you again?” Adam asked, one hand leaning against my SUV, the other holding my door open. I hadn’t thought about it until that moment. The last two hours with him had been one continuous moment where nothing existed outside of our conversation while we sat in that field together. I looked back at the house and then at him, not knowing how to respond.
“What are you doing for lunch on Monday?” When I told him I didn’t have any plans, he said not to make any, and that he would think of something. After I climbed into the SUV, he shut the door, his elbows resting on the open window. After starting the ignition, I turned to him, squinting in skepticism.
“Really?” I asked, questioning his sincerity. He tapped the edge of my door with his fingertips and took a few steps back into the grass, allowing me to back out into the driveway.
“I almost lost you once, I’m not losing you again.”
4
April 8 – THE GOLDEN DRAGON
Diana
It was 10am on Monday, and the data report I had started to edit last week was still not done. I had stayed three extra hours at work last Thursday to do a “favor” for the Principal Investigator. Deadlines were looming, as always, and for some reason it became my responsibility to power through even though he was nearly one week late getting the draft to me. But I did it because I didn’t have any plans that night—and to accumulate extra time off. The tables were a mess, the writing was atrocious, and I remember questioning how someone could obtain a veterinary degree and a PhD and still have such horrible writing skills. I skimmed over the actual data, refraining from checking over it one more time. It was peer-reviewed at least three separate times prior to landing in my possession, so if it changed at some point between the third time and that moment, it was someone else’s problem. I anticipated having the draft completely edited within the next two hours. After that, I planned to drop it off at the PI’s third floor office and take off for the day, declaring my allotted project hours officially spent.
After noting the second incorrectly labeled table, I was considering sending the whole thing back instead of spending another minute on it when my phone vibrated. I did not recognize this particular phone number, expecting to see Anna’s number or one of my co-workers’. I stared at the text message, unsure of how to respond.
Hey, it’s Adam. What time are you free for lunch?
I hadn’t completely forgotten about the tentative lunch plan. When I got home from the party I called Anna and told her about spending most of the evening sitting in a field, talking to Adam Hunt. She found humor in my story as well as the opportunity to project her own misfortune onto the situation
So, you called me to tell me you sat in a dark field talking to an attractive man for hours while I’ve been on the phone all evening, arguing with my mom over whether the government is watching her through her cell phone camera? Thank you, bestie.
I didn’t divulge what Adam and I spoke about; I felt a sense of responsibility for keeping his secrets, even after only meeting him for a second time. Lying in bed that night, I decided I wanted t
o see him again. However, it was a hypothetical decision—I wasn’t going to contact him. Even though I only considered him a platonic acquaintance—a friend, even? —I didn’t even know how to reach him. I didn’t have any preconceived notions about the future; after the party I drove off his property, leaving our opportunistic friendship just as ambiguous as it was the night of the wedding.
I thought about our conversation periodically throughout the weekend. I wasn’t fool enough to think I knew him as a person by that point. He was more of a curiosity, appearing out of nowhere and imparting pieces of his life on me, in return, requesting pieces of mine. I didn’t know whether he spoke to everyone like this or if there was reason for speaking like he did to me. I will be the first one to admit that sometimes you just meet people who you can communicate with more easily than others. This is how friendships are formed, after all. So, no, I had not forgotten about that night in the field. I had, however, forgotten it by the time I arrived at my office and consumed myself with work. I didn’t expect him to message me on my phone. I didn’t even know how he had my number. What I did know is that I didn’t have any plans other than escaping the office before another emergency occurred.
I’m leaving for the day at noon. When and where?
There was a Chinese buffet called Golden Dragon about two miles from my building, tucked in a shopping center at the entrance of a subdivision with a guard gate. The roofs of the businesses were trimmed in white to match the post and rail fences that lined the pond across the road, directly in front of the expensive homes that boasted views of horse farms and easy access to the interstate. Adam told me to meet him there after I left work. I set my phone back down on my desk and immediately debated whether to meet him. On one hand, it was lunch, and I needed to eat anyway. On the other hand, it felt as though Adam Hunt was making a significant effort to see me and, as was becoming a common occurrence, I didn’t know how I felt about it. I went out for lunch with married co-workers all the time, even travelled to conferences with them. However, in those cases, work was our common thread. Work was the reason we became friends and shared these experiences together. Those instances seemed different than meeting Adam that day for no reason other than because he asked me.
After depositing the 352-page data report, rubber banded together with a page of suggestions, on the desk of our manager and the project’s principal investigator, I made my exit. Walking back down the hallway where my office was located, I turned the corner and stepped into Sam North’s office. His name was on the report, having compiled nearly half of it along with me and various contributing specialists. He was at his desk, staring at his computer screen. His mouth moved ever so slightly as he silently read whatever was on the screen. I knocked on the door and his eyes darted to me. I would have felt bad about interrupting his concentration if I hadn’t wanted to escape the building so badly.
“It’s done. I just dropped off the report in Scott’s box. And now I’m leaving.”
Sam leaned back in his chair and stretched. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself.
“Nice shirt.” I said, pointing to the logo on his t-shirt. He was the only one I’d ever met who could go into a conference room to meet with senior management wearing a free t-shirt he’d received for purchasing nutritional supplements. Sam glanced down at his shirt, likely unaware of what he was even wearing. This wasn’t surprising, though, considering he probably stayed late into the evening yesterday to finish his portion of the report. In a rare occurrence, he was also wearing glasses today, meaning he’d completely stopped caring at some point in the last 24 hours.
“Thanks, I want to make a statement when I meet with Scott this afternoon about the disaster of a conclusions section in the final draft.” He grinned, raising his fingers and motioning air quotes.
“Wonderful! Let me know how it goes.” I raised my eyebrows facetiously, waving to him as I stepped back out into the hallway.
“Burn it to the ground!” Sam called after me as I started down the hallway toward the stairs. He was right, after all, the conclusions section was a mess. However, that was no longer my concern, as I had done my part and my job was done for the day. I would let Sam North do battle with Scott in the name of science.
The sun finally came out, warming the parking lot and negating the need for layers. After unlocking my vehicle, I peeled my sweater off and tossed it onto the passenger seat next to my bag. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I was still questioning whether to drive to the restaurant or just go home. I sat at the entrance of the parking lot for a moment, my right turn signal on. I let the brake off and, at the last second, flipped it to the left, turning onto the road in the direction of the restaurant. I debated the entire time whether to turn around, but this might have been an exercise in futility, a default response of the conscience. Then again, the fact remained that I still needed to eat lunch.
When I pulled into the restaurant parking lot, I saw his white pickup truck sitting in a space on the side of the building, against the shrubbery facing the main road I’d just come from. The lot was mostly empty. I parked in the space next to him, cut the engine, and tossed my sunglasses into the middle console. When I shut my driver’s side door and turned around, Adam was already standing next to his tailgate, in the space between our vehicles. He looked the same as he did on Friday night, down to his Redwings, except he was wearing a polo shirt that pushed him over the edge into business casual. I turned to face him squarely, still standing next to my door.
“Hi.” I smiled. He walked toward me slowly, grinning.
“I’m glad you decided to come.” He said, as though he’d anticipated my hesitation. Adam extended his arms and, instinctively, I opened my arms to receive him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and when he hugged me, lifted me slightly off the ground until my toes barely touched the asphalt. He smelled like clean laundry mixed with the sharp, clean scent of body wash. His buzzed scalp rubbed against my cheek as he lowered me back to the ground.
Over plates of egg rolls, sautéed green beans, and an assortment of meats doused in sauces filled with MSG, Adam Hunt and I feasted and divulged more details of our past. I felt him watching me from the adjacent side of the table, studying my movements. The side of my mouth full of egg roll, I questioned why he kept staring at me. He replied that he appreciated that I didn’t have a problem eating in front of other people, like most other women he knew. I nodded in understanding, informing him I was not someone who modified my eating habits in the presence of others.
“I don’t know who you normally hang out with, but if I’m hungry, I’m going to eat.” I told him. He grinned, nodding his head.
“So,” I began, sipping ice water from the standard, red plastic restaurant cup in front of me, “Do you do this all the time?”
“Do what all the time?”
“Befriend strange women and ask them to the Chinese buffet?”
“I guess you are kind of strange,” He smiled, “But no, I don’t do this all the time. I’ve never done this before.”
“Is there questionable validity to that statement?”
“You want the truth, or you want lies?”
“You might as well get out of here right now if all you have are lies.” I wiped my fingers on a napkin and tossed it back into my lap.
“I’m not going to lie to you.” Adam gulped water through the straw in his cup, set it back down behind his plate, and leaned his elbows on the edge of the table, “There have been a few times I came pretty close to breaking my wedding vows.” I looked him directly in the eyes.
“Did you sleep with any of them?” He raised his eyebrows but didn’t look away.
“No.”
“OK.” I shrugged, accepting his response and broke a piece of crab Rangoon in half. It was as though Adam was waiting for a specific response from me. He sat back in his chair, watching me chew, twisting a straw wrapper through his fingers. I stared back at him. That was something I noticed about Adam the first few days I spe
nt time with him—he had no trouble confiding in me and sharing the details of his life. Maybe it was because we didn’t know each other very well and our history only extended to Travis and Carolyn’s wedding. That night I first met him, he didn’t strike me as someone who had trouble opening up to anyone. I noticed people seemed drawn to him and respected him, and he welcomed the attention. But I’m aware that everything is not always as it seems. If he felt that he could speak to me freely, I wasn’t going to refuse him that.
“Can I ask you a question?” Adam cracked a smile.
“Sure.”
“Why did you decide to break off your engagement?” I smiled. Part of me knew he would eventually ask his own questions; a request for an even trade, so to speak.
“Will and I—that’s his name—had a lot of fun together, but I don’t believe I really thought about whether we could be married to each other. When I thought I was pregnant, I realized I would essentially be functioning as a single parent. I was the one who constantly thought about the future and worried about being financially stable. I was the one wanting to save money and plan for the future. He was very much someone who lived in the moment. If I tried to deprive him of anything he enjoyed at that time, I was the controlling one who was telling him what he could and couldn’t have. When I think about it, I was already acting like a mom, but to him rather than an actual child. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be a mom to an adult and take on the responsibility of raising a child by myself. I knew, without a doubt, I would become the stressed out, mean mom while he was the fun dad without any responsibilities. I didn’t want that for my kid and I didn’t want to resent my kid because of who their father was.” As I spoke, Adam leaned toward me on the corner of the table, listening intently. It occurred to me the only other people I ever told that story to were my mom and Anna. I suppose he was receiving an even trade of stories after all.