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DREAM
You should’ve known. You should’ve known.
The words repeated in my head over and over again as I watched Adam pace back and forth in my bedroom. Fear tensed my stomach. I was scared.
Why did you think meeting him this time would be any different? You knew the kind of man he was deep down. He showed you, remember?
I quieted the voice in my head, trying to get a sense of how I needed to handle this. Adam was drunk and unstable. And more than that, he was in front of the bedroom door. The party was downstairs, and with Christmas music and the sounds of people talking, I knew that it was unlikely anyone would hear if I called out to them.
Going someplace alone with Adam when I could smell the booze on his breath had been a bad idea. But scolding myself for it was about the least productive thing I could do now.
“I don’t get it!” he said after taking a frantic pull of his vodka bottle and twisting the cap back on. “What did I say? What did I do? I told you that I’d change, and I meant it. Why don’t you believe me?”
He leaned against the door when he was done, staring off into space with a stunned expression. Adam ran his hand through his hair, sweaty strands draping down over his glistening forehead. It looked like he hadn’t slept a wink since the phone call when I’d told him we were done.
Adam took another sip of the vodka. I wanted more than anything to get that bottle out of his hands. Each drop he had would only make a bad situation even worse.
He tucked the bottle into his jeans pocket and looked up at me.
“OK.” Adam said the word as if he’d just come to a very important realization. “OK. I think I know what’s going on here. I did something at some point that you’re still feeling uncertain about. And I think I know what it is.” He laughed and scoffed. “It’s when I punched the wall. You’re still upset about that.”
“Adam…”
His eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t, do not, take that tone with me. Do not take that tone with me where you talk to me like I’m a kid. That’s the last thing I want to hear. Got it?”
There was real rage in his voice, rage that scared me. When Adam had punched the wall back in Chicago, he’d been sober. Now he was drunk and unhinged, and I had no idea of how far he’d go.
“So, here’s what we can do. It’s a great plan. I’ll move back here to Charmed Bay. I’ve got plenty of money, and we can get whatever house you want.” He swept his hand dismissively around him. “Dream, there’s no reason you have to be living like this.”
“Living like what?” I asked. “Living on the beach with my best friend?”
It was a bad idea to antagonize him. But there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d simply sit back and let him talk to me like that.
“Living in a rented place with a roommate. You get back together with me, and you don’t have to worry about any of that! You can live your life with financial security and whatever else you want. I’m rich, don’t you get it? I mean, well, I’m not rich yet, but I will be. But my family’s rich, and we can provide for you whatever you want.”
I shook my head. “Adam. After all this time, I can’t believe you think that all it’ll take is promising me money. How, after knowing me for this long, can you still think that’s what I want?”
“Isn’t that what everyone wants?” he asked. “I mean, why are you doing all this art stuff if you’re not planning on making a ton of money from it?” Adam quickly slipped out the vodka and took another pull.
Adam said the word art with the same disdain that he’d used for roommate, the same disdain with which he spoke about anything he felt was below him. And on top of it all, he was beginning to slur his words. With each moment that passed he seemed to become more and more unstable.
I wished I had said something to the guys, that I’d told them about Adam before I’d agreed to speak with him alone. I glanced down at the nearby window, the view of the beach and the deck below. Everyone out there was having fun – a total contrast to the fearful situation I was in.
“Adam,” I said. “If you want to keep having this conversation, can you please stop drinking?”
His face tightened into anger, and I understood right away that I’d made a major misstep.
“Are you serious?” he growled, taking the half-drank bottle of booze out of his pocket and shoving it toward me. “You put me through all this bullshit and now you want to tell me not to drink? Dream, I have to drink to deal with you, to deal with how badly it tears me up inside that you won’t give me another chance!”
He pushed himself off the door and started moving toward me.
“I don’t get it!” he yelled, shaking his head. “I don’t get why you won’t give me another chance! What is it, Dream? Is it…is it someone else?”
As soon as he said the words he stopped in place, an expression of terrible realization taking hold.
“There is someone else,” he said. “And I know who it is!”
“What?”
