Aftermath

Part XX: Adam

Christina…Christine…Christie…  Upon hearing that name, I could’ve sworn that the world had stopped spinning.  I watched as the little girl pranced back to her mother, excitedly showing her the napkin where I’d signed my name.  For another few seconds, it was like everything around me was going in slow-motion.  The girl, with her long, dark French braid, took off in a fluttery dance, back across to the other side of the restaurant.  Her eyes were the same color as Christie’s.  Tommy was calling my name but, of course it sounded faraway and in slow-motion.

“Adam.  Adam.”

I could even see him waving his hand in front of my face, but my mouth wouldn’t open; and even if it did, I’m not sure I could form the right words to tell him what was wrong.  So I did the next thing I knew to do: I got up from the table and bolted out of the restaurant to go back to the car.

Outside, a cold wind was whipping all around me so I tugged up the hood of my jacket and stuffed my hands into the pockets.  I yanked open the passenger-side door and slid into the seat, slamming the door shut.  Still in a state of “is this real or not?”, I crossed my arms on top of the dashboard and lowered my head, burying my face into the fabric of my coat.  No sooner had I closed my eyes, tears began leaking from the corners and sliding down my face.  Blood thumped in my ears, drowning out the sound of Tommy getting back in the car.  He placed his hand on my shoulder but I shrugged him off.

“Adam…” he said gently.  “Adam, are you okay?”

“No,” I murmured, my head still hidden in my arms.  Once again, he gently clamped his hand on my shoulder and this time I didn’t resist his touch.  Instead, I slowly lifted my head and he took my tearstained face in both his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.  “This was a mistake.  We should’ve just gone straight home.”  He brushed away my tears with his thumbs.

“No,” I repeated, swallowing down the rest of my tears.  “Don’t blame yourself; I needed to get out of the house for a while anyway.  I mean, you’re not a psychic—at least, I don’t think you are.”  Tommy cracked a small smile.  “You couldn’t have known something like this would happen.  Hell, I didn’t even think of it either.”

Tommy’s brow puckered.  “But I do blame myself.  I should’ve known you weren’t ready yet.”

“It’s okay.  I’m just too sensitive right now.”

“Well, if you say so.  Come on, we’ll go home now.  I want you to stay at my place for a few days,” Tommy insisted.

“But—”

“This is non-negotiable, Adam.”  From out of the corner of his eye, Tommy gave me a stern look and I just decided to shut up.  It was rare that I ever won an argument with him.

So we drove back to my apartment and since he knew that there was absolutely no way I was gonna go in there and get my stuff myself, I gave him my key and he went inside to grab some of my stuff for me.  He came back about five minutes later and tossed a duffle bag into the backseat of the car.

“Ya know,” I said, “you really don’t have to do this…”

“And you can’t possibly stay here when you’re like this right now,” he countered, putting the car in reverse and heading back out onto the freeway.  “You know you’re gonna have to sell it sometime,” he added.

I nodded.  “Yeah, I know.  Soon.”

We rode back to Tommy’s place in silence, although when we were at a stoplight, Tommy took my hand and kissed my knuckles.

“Look, I know I shouldn’t say this right now—”

“Then don’t say it,” I suggested tiredly.

“—but things are gonna be okay.  I know you don’t wanna hear that right now, but maybe it’ll just…”

“Alright, I get it,” I sighed, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose to stem an oncoming migraine.  “Just…please don’t mention it right now, okay?”

He nodded in compliance.  “You’re still not going back, though?”

“Nope.  I’m sellin’ the place A-SAP.”

When we arrived back at Tommy’s apartment, he grabbed my duffle from the backseat and together, we headed up to his apartment on the sixth floor of the complex.  He tossed my bag onto the nearby couch and then went to the kitchen.

“You hungry?” he asked.

I’m sure he was expecting a “no”, but I surprised him when I replied, “Sort of.  What do you got?”

He took stock of the contents of his refrigerator.  “Uhh, some leftover sweet and sour pork and lo mein, mashed potatoes, I’ve got some Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer…”

“Oooh, yes, please!” I requested eagerly.

Tommy pulled out two pints—Cherry Garcia and Half-Baked.  I indicated to the carton of Half-Baked and Tommy retrieved a spoon from a drawer and I greedily snatched up the eating utensil and frozen carton, ripping off the lid and attacked the sweet, creamy contents.

“Mmmmm…”  I closed my eyes in a state of total bliss.

“See?  Food is good,” Tommy pointed out.

“This kind is.”

As I continued to shovel the ice cream into my mouth, savoring every frozen bite, Tommy made his way into the bedroom to put away my clothes and organize the rest of my stuff.

“Ya know,” I said in between bites, “you really don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t want you making a mess of my room,” he called back as I heard a drawer open and close.  “If you’re gonna stay here, you’re gonna have to abandon your messy habits for a little while.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” I whined.  I placed the empty carton on the coffee table and walked back to the bedroom.

Tommy glanced out into the living room.  “See?  I just told you that you need to pick up after yourself while you’re here, and what do I find?”  He held up the empty carton and spoon.

“Sorry,” I chuckled.

After tossing away the empty ice cream container, Tommy returned to the bedroom where I lay on the bed, on my back with my hands tucked behind my head.  He turned and lay down next to me, and rested his head on my chest, and I took one of my arms out from behind my head and wrapped it around his waist.

“So, how ya doing?” he asked, turning his head to look directly into my eyes.  I knew I couldn’t lie to him now.

I hummed briefly in thought, staring up at the ceiling, then looked back at him and admitted, “Hurting.  I miss her, Tommy, I really do.  Life just won’t be the same without her.”  This time I’d managed to hold back the tears.  “And I’ve still got so much to do before the…the…”  I just couldn’t say the word “funeral.”  If I did, it was sure to make this nightmare real.

“The funeral?” Tommy finished for me.  All I could do was nod in response; I closed my eyes to drive away the approaching tears.

“We should…uh…go out tomorrow and look into buying a headstone and figure out what to put on it,” I suggested.  “The—it’s in a little less than a week now.”

“I know.”

For nearly the rest of the night, Tommy and I just laid there on the bed, holding each other, not speaking.  Really, there were no words to say at all.