The Hourglass

Fifty-One

I was pacing my apartment, worried. It was after ten at night, and I hadn't heard from Adam all day. I had tried texting him a couple of times and called him once, but he hasn't responded. Was he okay? Was he in trouble? I've been resisting the urge all day to go to his house and knock on his door. 

What if he was avoiding me for some reason? Maybe he didn't want to see me. I thought back over the past few days. Nothing seemed off between us, and he was happy when we went to Dad's for dinner. Was he upset that Dad had told him he loved him? He didn't seem angry or weirded out about it that night. 

I sighed and wandered into the bedroom to check the hourglass for probably the hundredth time today. The sand was still suspended in the top. There was no trickle. In a way, I was relieved. It meant Adam was okay, right? But then again, maybe this thing was broken. It's been sitting on my dresser for the entire two months I've dated Adam, and for the past month, it hasn't trickled. It should have disappeared by now, right? 

Give me a sign or something, God! I had been pleading with God all day to tell me something, anything so that I would know Adam was okay. I was growing tired, but I doubted I would be able to fall asleep with this much anxiety. I went back out to the living room and turned on the television. I would watch it all night if that's what it took. 

Knock. Knock. 

I wake up, disoriented. The television flashes before me and I'm sprawled out on the couch. I slowly sit up and realize I have dozed off while watching it. I mute it as I try to get my bearings. 

Knock. Knock. 

My head jerks to the door. What time was it? I checked my phone and saw it was three in the morning. I don't have any missed calls or texts from Adam. Who could be pounding on my door this early? Fear trickles into my heart as I slowly rise. I quietly tiptoe over to the door, ignoring the banging as I go. 

My heart beats faster with every step I take closer to the door. I very carefully peer through the peephole, but something is blocking it, and I can't see out. My heart races even faster as different scenarios run through my mind. 

"Rosaline," I hear as the pounding starts back up again. I recognize the voice. Adam? 

I take a deep breath as I prepare to open the door, praying that I don't regret the decision. I open the door just a crack and find Adam slumped up against the door. His weight, mixed with the unexpected surprise of me opening the door, causes him to fall forward a bit, and the door swings open wider before I catch it. 

Adam stumbles into my apartment, reeking of alcohol. He's in his business attire, but his jacket is missing. His tie is loose, and his shirt is wrinkled. I quickly closed the door, hoping he didn't wake the neighbors. The last thing I need is for them to call the police for a noise complaint. 

The room is dimly lit by the light of the television. Adam stumbles over to the couch and sits down, burying his head in his hands. I turn on the lamp next to the couch and shut off the television before slowly sitting down next to him. 

"Adam?" I question softly. "What's going on?" Despite the hour and the fact that I had just been woken up, my brain was on high alert, and I was fully awake. I observe Adam's drunken stupor as I wait for a response. Is he even capable of responding right now? How did he get here? He better not have driven like this, I think. 

Adam sits up. He slowly turns to me. His eyes look like he's been crying. He reaches his hand up to my face and strokes my cheek. "So beautiful,' he whispers. 

I carefully grab his hand and remove it from my cheek but hold it in my lap. "Adam, what's going on?" I repeat. "Are you okay?" 

Adam stares at me for a moment, his eyes barely focused. He leans back into the couch then and stares up at the ceiling, still not saying a word. I sigh, frustrated.