A Life Well-Hidden

by Emily Nealis

  Even after I’d yelled and screamed and demanded answers, Adam seemed to forget the entire thing within a couple of days. I didn’t bring it up again. Although we could lock horns like the best of them, neither Adam nor I were the type of people to make a big production over making up after a fight. This is probably why it became a regular routine in our relationship. Much like that evening 13 days ago, we moved on, and that was that. I’m not sure other people can do that so easily, but it worked for us. This is why I was surprised to find Adam home Friday, September 6th—on our 12-year wedding anniversary. This was surprising for one very specific reason.

  Adam does not subscribe to the cliché gestures that define so many relationships. We don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, he doesn’t buy flowers, he doesn’t buy jewelry or do anything else that you might find described in a Hallmark card. That’s how it’s always been, and I found it refreshing. I still do. Instead, we live our wedding vows every day; by taking care of each other and raising the best children we can. We celebrated our wedding anniversary each year, but this time it seemed bigger, more important. The fact that Adam took the entire day off work was not like him.

  Initially, I started the day in a state of panic. I woke up at 7:00, completely discombobulated. I was late. I usually woke up at 6:30, with enough time to get the girls up and moving and off to school by 7:30. I was completely late. I jumped out of bed and didn’t even bother changing, planning on driving them to the elementary school in my shorts and tank top. I wouldn’t have to get out of my SUV—no one would have to see me with bedhead and no bra. I staggered down the hall, still rubbing my eyes, and burst into Vivian’s room first. Her bed was empty, as was June’s next door.

  As I tried to decide whether I was still dreaming or my children had been kidnapped, I heard movement out in the kitchen. Emerging from the hallway, I saw Adam standing at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee and waiting for the microwave to count down. Before it hit zero, he opened the door to prevent it from beeping, and lifted a mug out. He set it on the counter and tossed a teabag into it.

  “Why are you home?” I questioned, still incredibly confused, “Where are the girls?”

  “I got them ready and took them to school,” Adam slid the mug across the counter toward me, very pleased with himself, “It’s our anniversary, so I decided to take the day off.”

  It wasn’t so much that Adam took care of the girls’ morning routine, but that he turned it into a surprise. He did these things every so often; he liked his own routine, but loved spontaneity if he was the one to initiate it.

  “That’s nice of you!” I walked around the counter and wrapped my arms around his waist. He squeezed me around my shoulders and gave me a kiss. I walked back around to the opposite side of the counter and sat down on one of the three high-top chairs.

  “So, what’s the plan for today?” I asked, dipping the tea bag into the steaming water. The tell-tale caramel ink swept through the water, and as soon as I smelled the familiar aroma, I was immediately grateful that Adam decided to be so considerate.

  “Well,” Adam looked at me, a smug grin across his face, “Drink your tea and then I’ll show you.”

  I sucked down the tea and, 15 minutes later, we were standing in the driveway, next to the front porch. It was a clear, crisp morning, and as I walked down the porch steps, it was apparent that we’d have vegetables well into the fall until the first hard frost hit. Tomatoes seemed to grow overnight and butternut squash appeared out of nowhere. Hopefully, the pumpkins would grow and we’d have a few good ones in time for Halloween. Reaching the edge of the driveway, I remembered why I came outside and soon forgot my concern for surplus produce.

  I glanced back at Adam, following me to the driveway. He was looking at his phone and, a moment later, held it up at chest-height. For some reason, he was recording me. I asked what he was doing. He looked up at me, still holding the phone.

  “OK, just walk down the driveway and I’ll follow you.” He grinned, stifling laughter. I rolled my eyes, laughing at his cryptic directions. I began to walk, barefoot, down the driveway, sloping parallel to the house. I stopped about midway down, looking back at him.

  “What am I looking for?” I asked, hoping to get any information I could from him.

  “Just keep going.” Adam laughed, waving me on with his other hand. I could hear him snickering behind me. I was apprehensive. Adam was notorious for scaring the hell out of me on a semi-regular basis. It was a wonder I hadn’t died of a heart attack yet. It carried over from our high school days and continued, likely because I still fell for it. It wasn’t unusual for him to wait in a dark corner or sneak up behind me and suddenly jump out of nowhere. Eventually, when I made it to the bottom of the driveway, I figured I was probably safe. It was broad daylight, after all. I looked to my left, toward the concrete pad that extended from the back of the house.

  I gasped, my lungs seizing up for a moment. Adam did surprise me, but not with terror. This time, my life didn’t flash before my eyes. Instead, my hands flew to my mouth and all I could do was scream and start prancing in place. In the middle of the pavement, extending to the edge of the grass, was a silver camper with purple streaks painted along the side. A camper was sitting in the middle of the back driveway and I was beside myself. I looked back at Adam, his smile stretched from ear to ear, still recording me.

  I circled the camper, examining it in awe. I couldn’t believe he bought us a camper. He’d changed his life so much, made so many sacrifices to take care of our family, and it was obvious he was serious about putting the three of us first. I never doubted that, of course, but this gift was evidence of that. Like I said, Adam didn’t buy into romantic clichés or materialistic holidays; instead, he lived his life so that each day he showed us how much he cared about us. I was so overcome with emotion, I couldn’t help but run to him, knocking him backward as I threw my arms around him, telling him I loved him. I returned to the camper, moments later, still in awe that it was ours and it was sitting in the back of our house. I turned to Adam, who was, at this point, returning his phone to his back pocket.

  “Where are we going first?” I asked, my mouth stretched into a Cheshire Cat-like grin. I didn’t care if he said we were camping in the back field, I was so excited for the girls to see it when they got home and the fact that this was a meaningful gift for our family.

  “Where do you want to go first?” Adam strolled across the pavement and leaned against the side of the trailer. He kicked the blocks wedged against the tires, ensuring they were secure. Honestly, I had no idea where I wanted to go. Up until then, our vacations mostly consisted of attending family reunions every couple of years and visiting the surrounding areas out of convenience. We’d never actually gone on a true vacation that only included the four of us and one destination.

  “A beach,” I mused, “Or maybe the mountains. I can’t decide.”

  “What about both—like a lake in the mountains?”

  Sometimes it was eerie how well Adam knew me. It wasn’t even 9:00 in the morning and I felt as though my life had completely turned around. I was in such a state of euphoria, I wanted to call everyone—my parents, Carolyn, and anyone else who would listen—and tell them that, yes, I did have the perfect life after all. I realized that nothing is literally perfect, but this was the closest my life had ever felt to being perfect. And it was all because of Adam.

  I spent the rest of the day in a daze. After the surprise of the camper parked in the driveway, my mind was split between being completely occupied by Adam and mentally planning hypothetical vacations. We drove the country roads throughout the county, stopping for lunch at the deli on Paris Pike, sitting outside at a table under the black walnuts. Truth be told, I forgot all about the business idea, the fight, and the skepticism that accompanied each. I was too focused on the possibilities that came with Adam’s gift and how wonderful the day was turning out to be. Which was why I was caught off-guard by what he said as we sat across from one anothe
r, under the shade of the trees.

  “I know you feel like you need to be doing something else,” Adam reached across the weathered wooden picnic table, taking my hand, “I know you were looking forward to the possibility of me going into business for myself.”

  I shrugged, sipping the last of the Coke from the bottom of my Styrofoam cup. I shook the ice pellets at the bottom, jamming my straw further toward the bottom of the cup. I didn’t know what he was going to say. I didn’t even know what I had to say about it, especially since our argument that ended disastrously. I thought all hope of such an endeavor was dashed by my accusation toward him.

  “I was, but I don’t really know what I think about it now. I probably shouldn’t have put all my eggs in one basket since nothing was decided yet.” I freely admitted this now. Honestly, having such grand expectations for something that was only an idea was probably a foolish thing to do at the time. I also let my frustration with my own problems get the best of me. Why was it suddenly Adam’s problem that I felt professionally unfulfilled?

  “I can’t promise that the business will happen—I’d like it to—but I have to do more planning to make sure it’s a good move. You know I count on your support and I never would have made it this far without you—“

  I’ll give it to Adam, he was right about that; I supported him no matter what.

  “—but I just need you to be patient with this. I can’t give you an exact date when it’ll happen, but until then, I’ll do anything to help you improve your situation and help you find something you like to do. I would have kept my eye out for opportunities for you, but I had no idea where to start. So, until then, you tell me what I can do to make you happy.”

  “Maybe that’s why I was so upset; I really don’t know where to start and the business seemed like the perfect option,” Adam listened to me intently, “I do appreciate everything you do for me and the girls. I just feel like I need to do more to contribute, especially since the girls are both in school now.”

  “I understand. I should have been more considerate and tried to understand why it meant so much to you.”

  This was our marriage. Despite Adam’s quirks and his blunt and abrasive attitude, he really was a good person. For every one of his flaws, I could name two things I loved about him.

  A few hours later, Adam went to pick up the girls from school, leaving me on the couch with a fresh mug of tea and the breeze blowing through the open windows. As soon as they returned and the girls saw the silver monstrosity sitting in the driveway behind the house, the silence was inundated with shrieks of gleeful little girls and questions about vacations and road trips and any destination they could imagine. This included primarily “the beach” and the Grand Canyon because those were the most common vacation spots they could think of.

  June carried my laptop over to the couch and sat next to me, searching for the ideal vacation spot that included the keywords, “vacation” and “animals”, the results of which produced destinations like Denali and the Rocky Mountains. Vivian sat on Adam’s lap at the dining table, sifting through photos for her “About Me” homework assignment, prattling away about how she wanted to sleep in the camper in the driveway.

  “Well, the camper’s not completely set up yet,” Adam held up a photo for Vivian’s approval. Vivian examined the photo and shook her head, tossing it into the reject pile, “If you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, you’ll have to go out into the woods, so you should make sure you have a flashlight.”

  Vivian jerked her head around to look at Adam, her eyes wide.

  “But, it’s DARK in the woods.” She drawled in disbelief, appalled at his suggestion.

  “That’s why you’ll need a flashlight.” Adam flipped through a stack of photos, which appeared to be various duplicates from one of the girls’ birthday parties.

  “But, Dad, what about the—“ Vivian glanced around, lowering her voice, “—coyotes?”

  I stifled laughter from the couch. June turned her head, a quintessential look of big-sister skepticism on her face. Before she could say anything, I covered her mouth and turned her face back to the computer screen, shaking my head. Adam was unfazed, holding up more photos for Vivian to choose from. She chose one from his hands, still concerned about the wildlife lurking around her own home.

  “If you take a big stick with you, you’ll probably be fine.”

  “WHAT?” Vivian screeched, the color draining from her face. I should have interjected, but the exchange unfolding before me was hilarious. Adam cracked a smile and shook his head.

  “You’re not staying in the camper. Just wait until we take it somewhere.” And with a sigh, Vivian continued examining photos and arranging various images of herself on a sheet of poster board, her name written across the top in neon purple block letters. Adam held up more photos, studying them from behind Vivian’s head of thick, curly hair. He furrowed his brow and twisted his mouth, dissatisfied by what he saw.

  “These pictures of me are awful.” He called to me from the dining room. I squinted my eyes, peering across the room at the photo he was holding up for me to see. This particular photo was of Adam changing the oil in his old truck with Ryan. It was taken a few years—and a few extra pounds—ago. It wasn’t a bad picture, but I could tell Adam was immensely dissatisfied with it now that he was in better shape. I got up from the couch and walked over to the table, surveying the photos scattered across the table. Vivian was in the process of gluing baby pictures in the top left-hand corner below her birthdate, scrawled in elaborate, magic marker script.

  “Do you have more recent ones anywhere? You could always print some from your phone to use for this.” I suggested, flipping through a stack of photos from a few Christmases ago. Adam reached back and retrieved his phone from his back pocket. He accessed the photo gallery and began swiping through pictures, tilting it toward me as he did so. He evaluated every other picture—a few from Ryan’s house, a few from Travis and Carolyn’s wedding, saved from the gallery Carolyn emailed to all of us. As he swiped through the photos, one in particular caught my eye.

  Between a photo of the two of us in the lobby of the country club and another of Adam and Carolyn was a photo of Adam leaning against the bar in the country club. It was probably the best picture of him in the bunch, as it caught his profile and captured a candid shot of his natural smile. In this photo, he also happened to be standing next to Diana.

  “What do you think?” Adam asked, swiping back and forth through the photos. I extended my hand and he placed the phone in my palm. I stood next to him, evaluating the photos, deciding which ones he should select for Vivian’s project. It would be easy to choose a few, as they were more recent and of better quality anyway. That in mind, I spent the time looking at that one particular photo that caught my eye, examining it, and scrutinizing the elements of each of the subjects. Adam looked as though he was in mid-sentence. She, alternately, stood next to him in mid-laugh, holding a drink. After staring at the photo for another five minutes or so, I returned to the remaining photos. I quickly emailed three of them to myself and set Adam’s phone back down on the dining table.

  As I stood at the printer in the corner of the room, waiting for the images to emerge on freshly inked paper, I knew. It was not a coincidence, and I was not crazy. I was not mistaken. I was not being irrational. There was a reason I couldn’t shake the strange feeling in the back of my mind; the one that gently nagged at me when everything around me quieted down, the one that wouldn’t let me forget why I decided to confront Adam that night. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.

  After the fight, I convinced myself that I just had too much time on my hands and I was overanalyzing the entire situation. I was latching on to insignificant details and projecting my frustrations onto our marriage. But if that was the case, then why was this happening? Why was every shred of evidence of my suspicion linked back to Diana Sanderson in some way? But the rational side of my brain continued to interfere; this could be
absolutely nothing. Everything I’d seen up to that point—this photo included—was circumstantial. It didn’t mean anything except that Diana was at Carolyn’s wedding and spoke to Adam that night. She also spoke to me, after all. Anyhow, even if Adam were going to do something insidious, wouldn’t he have done it long ago, before we had children, rather than now with so much at stake?

  With no tangible evidence of anything, other than a strange feeling, there was no reason I shouldn’t have believed Adam that nothing inappropriate was occurring. He sounded like he always did, after all. He checked his phone every so often and he answered text messages all the time. This was nothing new. But even amidst the absolute perfection of the day, the fight still lingered in the back of my mind, replaying on a continuous loop. We’d fought before—terrible fights with ugly words hurled at one another carelessly—but this time, this fight remained in the background, like white noise.