The sixth sense

Chapter 4

Emma

The next couple of days, Adam doesn't look like himself. His Italian girlfriend isn't responding to his texts or calls.
"Does she even read your texts?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "No."
I don't comment on that, too happy to hide my joy. I hope one day, he'll see a woman in me and not just his childhood friend.
"Maybe for her, it was just fall break fun," I say quietly.
Adam shoots me an angry look and says with all the seriousness his voice possesses, "No, Emma. It wasn't just fun. You don't understand how close we were . . . she . . . and I . . ." his voice trails off. He doesn't know how to give a name to what happened between them. And I get so angry at how sure he is of his feeling for her.
"Adam, everyone's different. What was important for you might be nothing for her."
He doesn't say anything. He takes a cigarette and lights it up. We're standing on the school porch, waiting for the bell to ring. I feel like I need to say something to comfort him, but I just don't know what to say because he most likely wants to hear his Italian girl will get back to him eventually and explain her sudden silence. But I don't want to say that. It will sound like a lie. I think if the girl ignored him, she doesn't deserve him. I'm glad it doesn't take her long to disappear from his life, but Adam's sad face confirms my worst fears. The girl has gotten under his skin, deep. It makes me angry and jealous. He can't calm down, thinking she could be in trouble, and trying to justify her weird behavior.
"Let's be honest, Adam. In the twenty-first century, people disappear only when they really want to disappear. Even if she's in trouble, there're ways to let you know about it. Or even if she's dead. Someone from her family will pick up the phone and tell you about it. So, stop overdramatizing. It looks like the end of the fall break also put an end to her feelings for you."
Adam tosses the snipe away. "Stop it, Emma. Stop being a bitch. Yes, it was my fault I didn't call or text you, but she has nothing to do with it. It was me who didn't call or text, okay? And I apologized for that, a million times. So please stop trying to reason with me and try to understand me. I'm far from being a picture of perfection, damn it! I make mistakes too. Enough telling me about the failures of holiday romances! I told you she would never disappear just like that. All you need to do is to believe me."
It's the first time Adam dares to speak to me like that. It's the first time he scolds me and watches me with frustration boiling in his eyes. I wait for him to apologize. Instead, he readjusts his backpack and walks to school. I watch him melt in the crown and I don't know what to do.
"You've outdone yourself, my dear friend," Pauline says, coming closer to me. She can hardly stand on her high heels. "I know you hate that Italian girl and you're ready to burn her alive as if she were the evilest witch in history. But don't forget that for Adam, she's an angel sent from heaven, and he's not ready to hear nasty things about her."
A draw a sharp breath and everything inside me explodes. "She's dumped him! I didn't make her do that. No matter how much I wish for her to sink through the ground forever. She's ignoring his texts and calls and he's still trying to justify her. It can not be justified! We live in the era of social media. People don't disappear without a good reason to do so!"
Pauline puts her hands on my shoulders and says, "Breathe, Emma. You're either emotionless like an amoeba or explode with no reason. I don't care about that girl, I'm not her team. Adam will eventually realize that she acted like a bitch. But he needs more time to accept it. Don't you understand that everything you say backfires? He's being so protective over her, coming up with more and more excuses for her behavior. You need to act like you know exactly how he feels about that. So that one day, he could see how pointless protecting that girl was."
I'm trying to play it cool, but I fail. "I won't say a word about her," I say firmly. "Especially after how terribly he treated me because of her."
"Well, you got what you deserved. You didn't call me, bla-bla-bla, let me cry on your shoulder," she mimics.
"Stop it, Pauline," I say, irritated.
She purses her lips and says after a short pause, "No, you should stop it! Stop whimpering, Emma. Stop being at his disposal twenty-four-seven. Give him a break and some time to start missing you. Stop pleading for his attention."
I leave my friend at the gates and walk through them, heading for school. I know she's right, but I'm too angry at Adam and myself to listen to her lecturing. Once I cool off, I'll apologize for my behavior.
***
I've been avoiding Adam for three days now. I spend most of my free time with Pauline and Paul. He's surprisingly nice to me; no scoffing, no stupid jokes. And I finally accept him as a part of my daily surrounding. When lunchtime comes, we decide to go to Le Bon Marché and eat at La Table Café that is on the first floor of La Grande Épicerie. I like this place. It has a glass ceiling, letting the light fall all over the room. There's so much green everywhere around the café, with the numerous flower pots, and trees growing right from the floor.
"I'll have pasta with pesto sauce and Cesar salad," I say.
Pauline frowns. "What about your diet?"
"To hell with that. I'm starving. I didn't hear my alarm clock going off, woke up late, and didn't have time to have breakfast."
"Whatever you say, darling. Just don't mention you're overweight later."
"Pauline, I can't help it. Food is calling me like an ocean calls Moana," I say jokingly, making Paul smirk.
"I think you're in great shape," he says. "You don't need a diet."
"Great job, Paul! Keep complimenting me. I'm waiting for more," I say ironically.
His eyes spark dangerously. He bends to my face and speaks in a low voice. "I think you're the latest creation of the beauty factory."
I burst out laughing. "You're so charming."
"And it's with no time to think properly about my speech."
"I'm afraid to imagine what you do to the girls when you do have time to get ready for your seductive speeches."
He leans back in his chair, gracing me with his best smile. "Trust me, I know how to make them happy."
"Okay, stop showing off you, Joey Tribbiani," Pauline says, shoving his shoulder. "Now, tell me, if I order pizza, will you help me eat it?"
"A half is mine," he responds, winking.
"Great, then I'll have pizza."
Paul orders steak and chips. The waiter takes away the wine glasses, and brings a meat knife and a breadbasket. We're waiting for our meals. Paul and I sink our teeth into the pieces of baguette and Pauline, as always, does her best to stay away from it.
"How's Adam? Did he apologize?" she asks, typing something on her phone.
At the mention of Adam's name, Paul frowns. It's been three years since the twins started attending our school, but the friendship between Adam and Paul is not on their to-do list. I don't know the reason for their hatred. I once tried to ask Adam about it, but it made him angry and he didn't explain anything.
"For God's sake, Pauline, don't ruin my appetite," Paul mumbles.
Ignoring him, I turn to his sister. "He won't apologize. He thinks he's right and I'm wrong in this situation." Paul and I often quarrel because of Adam. He never watches his language when talking about my best friend. It drives me up the wall. But today I'm not in the mood for another word fight.
Paul gives me a studying look. "Did he hurt you or something?"
"No, he's just an idiot," I say, nervously twitching my napkin. "Let's change the subject. I don't want to talk about him."
It's half true. I would gladly talk more about his behavior with Pauline. But not in Paul's presence. He makes me feel uneasy. I don't want to discuss Adam with the guy who hates him. On the other hand, I'm curious to know why they can't stand each other.
"By the way," I start talking again, avoiding looking at Paul, "I've asked Adam about it many times, but he never satisfied my curiosity with an answer. What happened between you two? Why do you hate each other so much?"
Pauline looks up from her phone and shakes her head slightly. "You'd better not go there, Emma. Can't you see he can hardly control himself when you mention Adam? And then you want to know about the reasons for their hatred."
Paul rolls his eyes and waves it off. "I wanted to ask you out, but Adam thought he had a right not to let me do it. Which is why we had a small fight. It was three years ago. We fought in front of everyone's eyes, right in the school backyard. Our parents had to come to school to smooth the conflict."
Paul's voice is calm and indifferent like he doesn't care about the fight at all. He looks away and I fail to catch the emotions in his eyes.
"You're not being serious right now, are you?" I ask, a bit puzzled.
"He's dead serious," Pauline comments.
"Why didn't Adam say anything about that?"
"Maybe he got scared you would actually want to go out with me," Paul responds, self-satisfied.
"Stop scoffing at me," I bark. "Adam couldn't forbid you anything and you couldn't fight because of me."
"Adam thought Paul's intentions were not noble," Pauline explains in a sly-fox manner. "And being your best friend, he decided to protect your honor."
"Shut up, Pauline," Paul says, rolling his eyes.
So many questions run through my head. I'm shocked to hear the news and I don't know what to say.
"Wait a second . . . you're telling the truth, aren't you?"
Pauline shrugs, pouring the water into her glass. "Believe it or not, but we are telling the truth."
"Why didn't you tell me anything?"
"Well, first of all, we were not so close back then. And second, the two guys were the only people who knew about the real reason for their fight. And third, it was not my secret to share, and you were not my best friend to tell you about it. Paul asked me to keep my mouth shut. I don't even know why he decided to tell you everything today."
With a smug smirk on her face, she gets back to texting.
Paul frowns again. "It's not like I'd been hiding something big and then decided to tell you about it. It's been three years since that day. It's history now and there's no point to discuss it again. You asked me about the fight, and I told you everything. Period."
Silence falls between us. The only two things to break it are Pauline's quiet laughter and the sound of the incoming messages.
"Turn it off!" Paul flares. "It's so irritating!"
She turns off the sound and then returns to texting.
"Why didn't you ask me out anyway?" The question falls from my lips before I can think twice about asking it. But I'm really curious as to why Paul followed Adam's warning and backed off. After all, Paul always does everything to pull at his nerves.
Pauline stops texting abruptly and gives me a meaningful look.
Paul's posture tenses. "Maybe because back then, you started shouting at me, calling me names, and trying to protect your dear Adam."
"He's not my dear Adam," I snap.
Paul searches my eyes and then says, without a hint of guilt in his voice, "Keep telling yourself that, Emma."
I know what he means by that, and my anger starts to boil with a new force. Though I still don't know what to say in response. The waiter breaks the silence between us. He brings our meals, and Pauline, as if nothing happened at all, starts slicing her pizza, dividing it between us.
"Okay, guys, I need your help. If I eat more than four pieces, I'll hate myself for the rest of my life."
Paul rolls his eyes and takes three pieces of Margarita. "You girls have a twisted attitude about food."
Pauline shrugs in her usual indifferent manner and nodding to the pizza, says, "Eat, Paul."
I bring a piece of pizza to my mouth, feeling the hot melted mozzarella burn my tongue. The oily drops slid down my chin and I wipe them off with a napkin. Paul's words are still ringing in my head, but I don't want to justify myself. I think he's right; I need to keep repeating to myself that Adam isn't mine. Pain grabs my heart, but I try to play it cool and steal another piece of pizza from Pauline's plate.
"Hey, I wanted you to help me eat it, not to eat the entire thing for me," my friend flares.
Paul chuckles and takes another piece right out from under her nose. Pauline tries to take the piece away from him, and while her attention is focused on her brother, I sneak another piece from her plate.
"Oh, you jerks," she boils over. Paul and I start laughing.
"I think we need another pizza," he says.
"No, we don't," Pauline objects. "Emma will share her salad with me."
"I will, I will," I agree and give her a part of my salad.
Pauline keeps pretending to be deeply offended. "Remind me to never rely on you or ask for your help."
I chuckle, and her brother winks at me. Sometimes it's so good to goof around. Paul's green eyes are full of fun. Then, for a second, his gaze becomes very serious. And the only thing I can think about at the moment is asking him a question I'll never dare to ask aloud. Don't you still want to ask me out? Paul keeps holding my gaze with his, and my heart skips a beat.
Pauline's voice brings me back to reality. "How about Friday Night Fever?"
Her words are like a splash of cold water. Friday . . . today's Friday. That means Adam will go to Italy again. I don't even know if his tiny girlfriend got back to him. I look at my phone, hoping to see new messages from him. But there are none, and I start scrolling down the new comments on my latest video. No missed messages, no missed calls, nothing from Adam.
"I'll pass," I say quietly. "I'm not in the mood for that."
Pauline bits her lip and nods. "Text me if you change your mind," she says to me, but we both know I won't.
***
I want to hide somewhere. To disappear. To lose my memory and become a different person. A better and stronger one. I wish my heart was made of stone and I had a cold rock in my chest instead of the bleeding thing that won't stop hurting. I want to stop feeling things. I look out of the window, knowing his hands are embracing a different girl now, somewhere in Italy. His lips are kissing her, and his eyes are searching hers. The eyes that I want to look at me . . .
Tears blind my vision; they roll down my cheeks and I feel a salty taste on my lips. I really want to be stronger but sitting on the floor in front of the opened window, I let my emotions consume me. The clock on the wall shows two in the morning. I can hear the voices coming from outside. It's Friday night. The city is overcrowded with people, enjoying the festive vibes of the night. I remember the saying, 'Ajoutez deux lettres à Paris: c'est le paradis – Add two letters to Paris and you get 'paradis' (paradise) .' But I don't feel like being in heaven now. On the contrary, I want to be as far away from here as possible.
I take a deep breath, letting the night air fill me up from within. I love fall for the smell of rain and wet asphalt. Dad isn't at home, which is no news to me anymore. But, all of a sudden, I want him to be here with me now. I wish I could be a little girl again and get into his bed because of the imaginary nightmares. He would wrap his arms around me and promise to eat any monster who dared to attack me. I would fall asleep in no time flat, feeling his hand smoothing my hair, and his lips kissing my forehead. He's not there now and our spacious apartment is empty. I haven't spoken to Mom since her comments on my latest video. I used to think she would change one day and accept me. Then I realized a miracle would never happen. But it didn't bother me much because I had Adam. He accepted me with all my flaws, he would embrace me and say, 'Nice to meet you, weirdo.' My flaws would be happy to meet him too and then fall hopelessly in love with him. Too bad love like that can never be mutual.
The phone on the desk buzzes, breaking the flow of my tormented thoughts. I don't want to get up to answer it, but the buzzing won't stop, and that means someone wants to talk to me at any cost. Considering the time on the clock, it must be something urgent. Absentminded, I get up from the floor and take my phone. Adam. His name flashes on the screen along with our selfie made in the Luxemburg Garden. I swipe to answer the call and hear his sharp voice that sounds like a blaze cutting the silence of the night roughly.
"Ems, are you still awake? Will you let me in? I'm at the door."
I run to the hallway, my thoughts in disarray.
"Of course. Call the intercom," I say in a trembling voice.
My hands are shaking when I push the 'open' button and watch him walk through the door. I open the door for him, not waiting for him to knock. He didn't take the elevator but the staircase. The carpet on the stairs softens the sounds of his steps. A few long seconds later, Adam stops in front of me. He's holding his backpack and a new folder for his sketches. He looks drastic, and I swallow hard.
"Are you okay?"
He nods and enters the apartment. He kicks off his shoes, drops the backpack and the folder, then goes to a small bathroom, washes his hands, and then walks to my room. Not a word follows his actions. He stayed overnight countless times for the past two years. Especially when my dad wasn't at home. We watched TV shows, did our homework, ordered food, and then fell asleep in my bed. He took one side of the bed, and I took the other one. Sometimes I stayed awake to watch him sleep. That's why Pauline insisted on seducing him. She said it was an easy task. But she never understood my friendship with Adam. She has no idea how hard it is for me to become his girlfriend and make him see the woman in me.
I follow him to my room. He lies down on my bed and stares at the ceiling. I lie down wordlessly next to him. The window is still open and the wind's playing with the curtains and our hair. I can feel the tips of my fingers get cold, but I'm scared to move.
"What happened, Adam?" I ask quietly.
His response sounds like an echo. "I missed the train. I didn't go anywhere."
I feel a relief roll over me. Puzzled, I ask, "She never got back to you, did she?"
"Well, she didn't."
"But you still wanted to go to Italy?"
"I . . . we agreed to meet when I was there. Now, I realize it was pointless." His confession is barely audible.
"Why are you so sad?" I ask, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice. "What's so special about her you won't stop thinking about the girl who's been ignoring you for days?"
"You don't understand."
"Enlighten me then."
"She was so . . ." he begins and then becomes quiet again.
"She was so?" I repeat his words, hoping for him to say more.
"Beautiful. Not smoking hot, but simply beautiful. You know?"
I roll my eyes.
"I think you're giving her too much thought. It was just a holiday romance for her, and you thought there was more to it."
He stays quiet for a minute, and then he says, "Maybe you're right. You most likely are. But it was so good to be with her."
"When you're nineteen, with a glass of wine in your hand, and in Italy, it can't feel bad in any way."
He smiles for the first time tonight.
"You know, the studio in Rome became my home, thanks to her. There was something indescribable about her, Emma . . . as if I found the missing half of me in her."
"But you never believed in halves."
"I still don't. It's just that . . . she always knew what to say, when to be kind, or when to stay away from me."
"Maybe because she knew it wasn't for long?"
"I never treated her like a game. On the contrary, everything about her felt so real. She was real and sincere."
"Right. And then she ignored your calls and messages. In other words, she vanished."
"You're right. The truth I'd tried so hard to deny hit me full force, Emma. It happened so abruptly. But I still don't get it . . . why did she do that?"
I look into his eyes. I debate between hugging him and shaking him hard.
"Stop it. Everything's gonna be all right. Do you hear me? There will be many more girlfriends in your life. Maybe even better than she was."
And you still have me, for crying out loud! I don't dare to give that thought a voice, biting my tongue before it's too late to take my words back.
"Better—maybe. But I'll never find anyone like her again."
"You're such a fool."
"I know I am. But . . ." Adam sighs.
"But?" I ask, a little irritated.
"It was the first time in my life that I did care about someone."
I'm lost and lacking in words. I don't know what to do or say. Adam sits up, pulls his shirt, and takes it over his head, then he takes off his socks.
"Let's get some sleep, Ems," he says, getting under my blanket.
"Tomorrow's gonna be a better day," I whisper and lie down next to him.
He closes his eyes and whispers back, "I know. . ."
Ten minutes later, he falls asleep. I can hear his steady breathing. I study his face, unable to sleep. The words he said wouldn't let me go until morning. 'It was the first time in my life that I did care about someone.'