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I haven’t heard from Adam in a week. The man who said he’d been serious about me for a lifetime. The same one who asked for my parents’ blessing within weeks of us being reunited. The guy who couldn’t wait a couple of months to move in with me. Also, the same one who’s ignored all my messages, and hasn’t taken a single one of my calls in seven days…
***
“Honey,” my father says, wrapping me in his arms.
He squeezes me a bit stronger than usual, as if he didn’t see me just a month ago, or as if to put back together the pieces of my shattered heart. I hold him just as tightly, inhaling his familiar scent. The most comforting scent in the world. I cling on to my dad for much longer than I’ve done in more than a decade, then let go with a sniffling laugh.
“I’m sorry, daddy. I’ve been a mess lately.”
“It’s okay, baby girl. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for Adam either.”
I nod non-committally. I haven’t had very kind thoughts about Adam recently. “Have you heard anything?” I enquire.
He shakes his head in a slow motion. It’s impressive how deeply witnessing their child’s pain can affect a parent. My strong, always assured dad seems at a loss.
“We respected your request to not say anything to Adam’s family. All we’ve communicated about is preparations for tomorrow, honey. They don’t even seem to be aware there might be an issue.”
You mean they don’t seem to be aware there might not be an engagement party? I think to myself.
My father had to come drive me from Charleston to Magnolia Point. Our trip home, devoid of the usual back-and-forth conversation and teasing. My father focuses on the road, while I let my eyes take in the beautiful landscape we pass by. I miss home. Its wide open spaces, the ocean, the quiet life of a small town. Charleston is amazing, but now that I might go back to my lonely apartment, and risk running into Adam around town, it’s lost its charm.
As if reading my thoughts, my dad pats my knee, saying, “everything will be alright, baby girl.”
I take in a deep inhale and nod. It will be, eventually. I just don’t know how much heartache I’ll have to go through before my life settles again.
***
Lying in my bed, eyes glued to the ceiling, I mentally trace the glow-in-the-dark constellations my dad glued for us when we were little girls. Over the years, some of the stars have fallen, just like in real life. Extinguished, gone. Beautiful miracles, forever lost to the world. Just like Adam and me might be.
Get it together, Maya! He’s not the only man on earth. There will be others. God, I sound pathetic even to my own ears.
Lost in my thoughts, at first I don’t notice the tapping sound on my window, until it becomes more frequent. Frowning, I get out of bed and go to the window, peeking outside to see what could be making the noise. This is good ole Magnolia Point, so I don’t even consider the possibility of an intruder. Maybe a raccoon?…
I almost trip over my feet when I see a tall figure, dressed in flannel pajamas and a gray cotton t-shirt, standing on our lawn. Adam! He must have been throwing pebbles at my window. We stand there for a minute, Adam staring up into my window, me watching him with a strange mixture of apprehension, hope, and anger. His unreadable expression doesn’t give away anything, and my insides churn all at once with anxiety, the relief of finally getting to see him again, and the desire to wring his fucking neck.
I slip into my thick fleece robe and furry slippers, and tiptoe outside.
***
Adam
Maya sneaks out of her parents’ home, and even in her sleep clothes, she’s a fucking vision. My eyes hungrily take in every inch of her. The oversized robe, head-wrap and slippers, all in various shades of pink. I almost smile at the image she offers, cute and huggable. Almost. Cause my girl is not smiling. Her expression is a mix of hurt, worry, anger, and maybe, I pray, hope…
Maya stops a couple of feet from me.
“Adam.”
“Hey, baby. How are you?”
My question ignites a flare of temper in her amber eyes.
“Fine, baby.”
I swallow with difficulty and take a step forward, unable to maintain the excruciating distance I’ve imposed on us for the past week.
“Not me, love,” I whisper. “I’m not doing fine.”
She lets out a broken exhale, emboldening me, and I close the distance between us. But I stop before the temptation to take her hand becomes too strong.
