Chapter 29
I felt the smile on my face as I woke wrapped in Adam’s arms. I leaned up kissing his lips and for once he didn’t taste like liquor. I slipped out of bed and walked out into the living room where my eyes moved to the door. The warmth of happiness was replaced with a cool recognition that I should bring Tara her boxes. I looked over my shoulder where Adam was still sleeping before heading across the way and pushing the door open. The boxes were stacked neatly, and although I was there for Tara’s stuff, I headed towards my boxes. I opened the top one and pulled out the jersey, holding it to my chest as I breathed in Bobby’s scent.
A cough at the door made my eyes shoot open as I jumped back, stuffing the jersey back in the box.
“Hey,” I said, the word sounding strangled as I stared at Adam.
His fists were in tight balls as he stared at the jersey half poking out of the box. “Is this what you’ve been doing?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Your dad asked me to.”
“And you couldn’t tell me?” he asked, and his eyes finally met mine. Their coldness sunk into me, making my chest tighten. His jaw clenched as he stood, nostrils flaring as he waited for my explanation.
“I’m sorry,” I replied as I stepped forward. “I didn’t think you were ready to pack everything up, so I did it on my own.”
He stepped back from me shaking his head. “What else have you been lying about?”
My jaw dropped as I pulled my arms across my chest. “Nothing. I’m not lying to you–“
“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up. “Then what else have you been hiding from me?”
I crossed my arms as I looked at his chest rising and falling in anger. Finally, I spoke, “I could ask you the same thing.”
He scoffed, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. He held a finger up at me to make his point. “One bottle — one — in a guitar case doesn’t mean anything, River.”
Lies. More lies. I stepped towards him, and he ran his tongue over his teeth. I needed to talk to him. I needed to understand, and most of all I needed an explanation for everything I was seeing.
“One bottle, dozens of receipts, not being at your job–” My voice cracked just as Adam cut me off.
“I told you I was out buying supplies.”
My chin began to tremble as I shook my head. I wanted the truth, but I was hardly able to tell him the truth of how I knew there were more lies between us than ever before.
“You tasted like alcohol when I kissed you that day,” I said, and Adam’s jaw tightened before he threw his hands up and turned out the door. I followed him, calling his name. “Adam!”
He kept heading towards the stairs as he held him his middle finger at me. The tears prickled at my eyes as he grabbed his keys out of his jeans. He never so much as swore at me, let alone do that.
“Adam, please!”
He cut me off with a shake of his head and continued down the stairs. I closed my eyes as I tilted my head back, letting them open to stare at the ceiling. Whiplash–that was what I had from Adam. One second he was fine, and the next second he was snapping. Something about the jersey set him off, and I found myself staring at it wondering what the hell that could be. I went back into the room and folded it before closing its box and turning to the ones for Tara. I chose the one with her makeup and other basics before grabbing a bag of clothing and heading back to the apartment. I showered and then sat waiting on the couch for Adam to return. My phone vibrated against the table, and I grabbed it as my heart hammered in my chest.
TEXT FROM Tara.
What happened with Adam? He just let me know he isn’t coming.
I fought the urge to reply I wish I knew, and instead stood and grabbed my keys. The phone trembled in my hand as I stared down it when I got in the car. I wanted to type fuck you to Adam. To tell him I was done. I closed my eyes as the angry tears moved into my mouth.
My hands went into my hair.
I was so close to being done, and no matter how hard I tried to forget that thought as I drove to Tara’s parents’ I couldn’t. By the time I got there, all my makeup was on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I pulled it over my head and used it to sharpen the lines of my dripping mascara before getting out of the car and taking a deep breath. I grabbed the box and bag from the back seat before going to the front door.
“Hey!” Tara said as she let me in, her voice high and airy in its happiness. “You brought me stuff!”
I nodded as I tried to plaster a smile on my face. I didn’t want her to know how close I was to cracking. I swallowed the rush of emotions and replied, “Yeah, some of your favorite outfits and makeup–not that any of your clothes will fit anymore.”
Tara raised an eyebrow as I came into the house, the smell of fresh baked cookies hitting my nose and making my mouth water. “I have no plans on staying a bag of bones. I’m already working on fattening myself up. I need some curves back.”
She was Tara again– at ease and beautiful in her bubbly personality. Her presence helped to force back my anger as I placed her box and clothes down where she signaled for me to.
“Cookies?” I asked. Her eyes narrowed, and I wondered how poorly I was hiding my feelings.
Her eyebrows wiggled as she put her arm into mine and guided me to the kitchen. “You look like you could use a sweet treat.”
I didn’t reply. Instead, I took a cookie off of the steaming plate and shoved it in my mouth. If we were eating, I wouldn’t have to explain my dysfunctional boyfriend.
“So what happened with Adam?” Tara asked, sitting down on the other chair at the island and grabbing a cookie for herself.
“Milk?” I asked, and she pursed her lips at me. I looked down at my cookie as if it was the most exciting thing in the world. She grabbed two glasses from the cabinets before turning and facing me.
“You’re not going to get away with changing the subject,” she said before she turned to the fridge and got the milk.
“What was that? The refrigerator muffled you,” I asked as I finished my first cookie and dove in for another.
She pushed the cup of milk towards me and crossed her arms. “Adam?”
I swallowed the remainder of the cookie and then took a few gulps of the milk.
Tara cocked her head at me. “River?”
I wiped my lip before replying, “He was just tired from the show last night.”
“Then why did it take so long for you to come to that conclusion?” Tara asked, sitting back down next to me and putting her head in her hand as she smirked at me.
I could lie, or wiggle around the truth. I was obviously as good at that as Adam was. I closed my eyes, shaking my head before exhaling and looking up at her. “He didn’t even tell me he wasn’t coming.”
Her lips drifted down at the corners, and she played with the napkin in front of her. “That’s weird, did you wake up and he wasn’t there?”
“No–I went over to get your boxes, and I guess Adam followed me…I was looking through one of the boxes, and he freaked out. Maybe he was pissed I didn’t tell him I was packing everything up. It just didn’t seem like the right time to tell him.”
And then he flicked me off. I decided leaving that part out was best. She didn’t need to know what that made me think about because I knew she would ask and then I would lie. I didn’t need another lie to eat me up alive.
“What else haven’t you been telling him?” she asked, and I found myself blinking at her.
“What do you mean?” I asked, and my mouth felt parched even though I chugged my glass of milk.
Was she on his side?
She shrugged, looking at me from the corner of her eyes. “It just seems like you guys aren’t communicating that well.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I replied, shaking my head as I tipped my head back to look at the ceiling.
“So tell me,” she said, and her voice was flat as if she was already defensive.
I dropped m
y head back down and locked eyes with her. “He hasn’t been going to work, Tara– he’s drunk every night. I wish I could communicate with him, but he won’t listen to anything I have to say.”
“About his drinking.”
My jaw dropped open as I shook my head.”About anything! How can someone listen when they’re bombed all the time?” I asked, and I felt my chest heaving as my hands tightened into fists at my side.
Was he talking to her and not me?
“Maybe you should listen to him,” she said, and she quirked an eyebrow, her expression saying she didn’t think I listened to anyone.
“I would if he would talk to me,” I said, and my chin trembled as I looked back to my best friend, suddenly turned against me.
Her eyes dropped, and she traced the rim of her glass before replying, “You work a lot, Riv. You always have.”
“Seriously?” I asked as I stood. Unreasonable River returned, and as much as I wanted to stay there with my friend, I couldn’t take my finger flipping boyfriend and this– as if I truly was the cause of all of this. My chest ached as the thought crossed my mind and then the unreasonable words came flowing from my mouth in my shaking voice. “What bullshit is he feeding you? That’s he’s alright, and he’s not really drinking that much?” Her face turned red. “I know, Tara. I live every day worrying about him. I can count on my hands how many times he’s been sober or home in the last three months. I’m not enough to pull him out of this.”
“What does that mean?”
I stared at her, and the trembling shifted from my chin to my whole body.
The battle is just beginning.
Bobby hadn’t warned me I’d be completely alone. I didn’t answer Tara. Instead, I turned on my heel and headed towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Tara asked as I yanked the front door open.
I stopped, looking over my shoulder at her. “Somewhere I don’t have to think about this mess anymore.”
Her eyes mirrored Adam’s this morning as she asked, “Work?”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head. I wish. I closed the door behind me without answering. I found myself heading back home, parking next to Adam’s empty spot and then heading upstairs without even looking at our door. I went to Bobby’s apartment and sat on the balcony. The spring breeze, now strongly signaling summer, ruffled my cotton shirt over my skin. I leaned against the warm metal of the railing and memories flooded my brain.
Memories. That’s all that there was left. I was in love with a ghost.
How do you raise the dead?
Make them realize there’s something worth living for? I closed my eyes as my head dropped between my shoulders.
There’s no way to raise the dead.
I swallowed as I looked over my shoulders at the boxes.
Either way, I was digging my own grave at the same time.
Chapter 30
I was vaguely aware of when Adam came home that night, and then vaguely aware when he got up and left without saying anything to me. I woke up and rolled over to look at his side of the bed. The silent tears came down my face as I got ready for work. I didn’t bother putting makeup on, and when I got to work, I didn’t leave my office all day, burying myself in editing files and writing proposals. My cell phone sat on my desk, but the screen never lit up. I left work on time, and my chest tightened when I pulled in next to Adam’s car. I didn’t know if he went to work or not, but he was home. Maybe we could talk.
As the door to the apartment building opened my body froze. The sound of singular guitar reverberated through the air.
It was one I knew all too well.
I tried to compose myself, my chest rising as I took a deep breath and crushed my eyelids down. The talent was unmistakable, but then again, so was the pain. It rippled with the sound of the pick striking the strings, vibrating throughout the building and into the air. Every note screamed out to me and pulled me in; just like it did every time he played. I could only imagine the state he was in as he strummed the guitar, and as I moved up the steps, the squealing of the guitar got heavier and heavier. When I reached the top of the stairwell, our landlord greeted me with a soft smile and sad eyes. He reached out and squeezed my shoulder as he passed me.
“It’ll get easier,” he said, and I wondered how often this happened.
I opened the apartment door and walked slowly across the hardwoods until I reached the bedroom door. Adam lay across the bed, looking at the ceiling with the guitar laying over him. My eyes drifted to the half empty bottle of liquor, and my nerves frayed with anger. I stared at him for a moment, expecting him to notice me and stop, but instead he continued the lonesome riff he was playing. It didn’t feel like I was breathing as I made my way across the room and pulled the cord out of the amp before turning and staring at Adam. He didn’t move, and his hands kept playing the guitar. The notes were tinny against the pick without the amplifier, but he didn’t flinch against the harsh noise like I did.
“Adam,” I said.
He didn’t reply.
“Adam, please,” I repeated.
His hands froze over the guitar, but he didn’t move.
“Have you been skipping work?” I asked as I sat down on the edge of the bed.
He didn’t reply.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you,” I said, but I figured he wasn’t listening. “I just want to help, but I feel like every time I try you just get further away. I don’t know what’s going on in your head — I don’t…I don’t understand, no matter how I try.”
“It’s okay,” he said, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. “I know you work to get away from me.”
I pressed my eyes shut as I shook my head. “I wish I could get away from myself.”
Adam scoffed. “I try to get away from myself, but all I end up is more nauseous.”
Shits like truth serum. Tears pricked at the edge of my eyes.
“Then why do you keep drinking?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” Adam replied. “I want to be strong for you, and then I…I don’t know, Riv.”
I thought of the day before, and Adam’s reaction to my holding Bobby’s shirt.
“Do I remind you of him?” I asked, sliding off the bed to sit on the floor and put my head in my hands. If that was it, there was only one thing that would solve his mess–space.
“I feel like I’m still fighting to win you from him…even though…he’s not here anymore,” Adam answered, and I felt the bed move behind me. He was surprisingly stable as he walked around it and then sat down next to me, putting his head between his knees. “I think he has more of a hold on us now that he’s gone. Now it’s like we can’t let go.”
My eyes widened as I looked at him, shaking my head. The words came easier than they ever had before. “He’s dead, Adam. Dead. He doesn’t have a hold on me now–and,” I paused biting my lip as I stood and looked down at him. My voice cracked as I continued, “The only person who ever had a hold on me was you. There was never a war or game over who I loved. I love you, Adam, and I’m sorry that you can’t see it any clearer now than you could then.”
Adam shook his head at me, eyes red. “You were in love with the idea of me–but not me. Now the idea’s gone.”
My throat thickened as my jaw dropped. I couldn’t stay there; too many hurtful things had been said already. I stood and headed to the door.
“River,” Adam said as I reached the bedroom door.
I paused, holding onto the frame of the door as I glanced over my shoulder. Adam stared back at me, and my chest hitched as I shook my head and then left the apartment. I usually cranked up the radio to try to forget everything, but now I drove in silence. I needed to think, but my mind was just rolling around from one thing to another. My stomach shifted in unease as I pulled into the cemetery. It closed at dusk, but I was sure no one was going to say anything about me being here when it was dark.
Who would see me anyway?
I stopped at the walkway t
hat led to Bobby’s headstone and sat with the car in park before finally deciding to get out. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up before weaving my way through the dead until I stood in front of the headstone.
Son, brother, best friend.
Robert Beckerson.
I shoved my hands in my pockets as I tried desperately to feel something, but everything was so numb. I sat down and stared at the marble stone as if Bobby might magically appear. His face in my dreams, the feeling of his hand on my skin washed over to me, and I pressed my head against the cold rock. “I think I get what you were saying.”
I wondered if he could hear me, or if I was simply going insane for believing it was him in my dreams. “I feel like I’m the one keeping Adam down–that I’m not strong enough to pull him out of this…I almost told Tara, but I think Adam’s feeding her false information, so she believes he’s fine. But he’s not.”
I leaned back, running my fingers over the etching on the stone. “I’m starting to wonder if I ever really knew Adam — if I knew myself. I don’t even know what to think anymore…”
I stood, wiping my slacks before leaning down and kissing the top of the stone. “If things end up…going the way you said they were going to, I need you to help Adam. I’ll be fine. I’ll figure it out, but he’s going to need you– get through the fog. Please.”
Chapter 31
When I got home later that night, Adam was in the same position I left him in. His head was on his knees as he slept, and I grit my teeth as I sat on the bed and pulled him slowly up onto it. He didn’t wake up. I tucked a pillow under his head and covered his body with a blanket before slipping to my pajamas and going to sleep on the couch. Even in my deep, dreamless sleep I felt his lips against my forehead before he left, and I knew when I woke he wouldn’t be there. Still, when I did, I glanced into the bedroom, only to find it as empty as my chest.
I went into auto mode. I exercised, made myself a coffee, poured it in a thermos and shoved a granola bar in my mouth as I opened the door to the apartment. When I turned, I swallowed and the oats sunk hard. Alec stood in front of Bobby’s apartment talking to the landlord. I watched as Alec’s eyebrows furrowed, causing deep creases in his forehead
Faded Perfection (Beautifully Flawed Book 2) Page 14