Calm Like Home

by Clark, Kaisa

  When I finally head to work, Annabelle bounds over gleefully. “So..?”

  I force a smile; it doesn’t reach my eyes. I know I should feel excited telling her about my weekend, but every time I picture his face I just feel this gripping loneliness spreading through my chest, pulling at my lungs, bringing me down. Words can’t do my time with Adam justice anyway. They’re never enough, too vague and imprecise to convey the depth and magnitude of even a single minute alone with him.

  “It was great, Annabelle. It was absolutely amazing.” The words fall flat leaving my mouth.

  “Then why do you look so damn sad?”

  “Saying goodbye effing blows,” I groan.

  “Well at least you have someone you don’t want to say goodbye to.” She looks wistful for a moment, which is completely unlike her.

  “You’re right.”

  I hate myself for whining, hate the pathetic mess I’m becoming. I dig into my apron pocket and hand her a chocolate, trying to make up for my insensitivity.

  “So how was it really?” she asks, her eyes eager for details.

  I weigh whether or not to tell her about the fight. It seems like I’m giving away one of Adam’s secrets by telling her, but maybe she can help me understand.

  “The whole weekend was one huge party and we had a really great time. The best time really. But it was weird. On Friday, Adam got into a fight with this guy from another house. He totally took the guy out, just went nuts on him.”

  “Adam? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She stares at me in disbelief, her blue eyes wide and her mouth slightly ajar, trying to ascertain whether or not I’m messing with her.

  “I was just as surprised as you are. I knew he used to box, but this was intense. He annihilated the guy, Annabelle. Completely knocked him out and then some. And Damien made it seem like this is perfectly normal behavior for him.” I leave out the part about Damien being sincere, almost protective of Adam, telling me I don’t know the whole story. The part that worries me the most.

  “Was it deserved?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a guy thing, territory or whatever. But it seems like there’s more to it, something he isn’t telling me.”

  “Well you know Adam. He’s not one to give much away. I’m sure whatever it is he’ll tell you when he’s ready. In the mean time, just enjoy him.”

  I nod, knowing she’s right, and yet there’s still a nagging in the back of my mind. Maybe I don’t know what this is, but I do know Adam well enough to know this incredible rage didn’t come from nothing.

  Everything inside me screams for me to do something. I want to fix this. I want to fix him. I want to be the thing that changes it all for him. I want to be the one to save him. I don't know how yet, but I know I can. I can be enough. I can turn things around. Our love can turn things around. Because when we're together it's almost like it already has saved him. When it's just him and me, there's nothing else that matters. There is no history. There is no sadness. There is no deep-seeded aggression he needs to let out. There's only love and laughter and two people who'd do anything to be together.

  Marcus and I meet for coffee later in the week to go over the research I found and finalize our plans for the speech. We decide to give it on the treatment of animals in facilities processing beef, pork, and poultry for consumption. As usual, the outlining process goes smoothly. Marcus is never short of good ideas and has a talent for organizing points into a coherent argument. I try to take copious notes to distract myself, but I just feel flat, despondent, completely uninterested in coffee or Marcus or colored pens.

  As we’re packing up to leave Marcus leans over, concern on his face. “You all right? You seem like something’s on your mind.”

  I choose not to tell him. It feels weird to be complaining about something that must come across as so trivial, even when it’s all I can think about. I don’t just miss him. It’s something more, something all-encompassing, something powerful and debilitating. Together is the only place I ever want to be, pushing his demons away, making them fade, relaxing their grip on his mind. I know I can't be that for him over the phone. When left to my own devices, just voice and phone line and too many miles, I feel false, guarding my own truth. That I miss him unequivocally. That I only ever want to be with him. That I love every last broken bit, every smile, every silent barrier. I love it all. And when we're together, side by side, touching, laughing, kissing, I swear he knows it’s true.

  That night, with his absence still fresh and raw, I dream of him. It's the vivid kind where I fully expect to wake up and find him there. It’s disorienting. I blink my eyes open and stare up at the ceiling and it slowly comes back to me that I’m on my own. He isn’t here. But then I close my eyes and all I see are brown eyes looking back at me and I never want to open mine again.

  Marcus greets me in our next class with a tentative smile. “Feeling better?”

  I nod, feigning truth. Adam and I are still hundreds of miles apart. I still feel like I’m letting him down by not being there for him. I still haven’t told him I love him. I’m far from good.

  “I’m good,” I lie. “How are you?”

  “I’m really good. I actually have tonight off from work.”

  “How’d you swing that?”

  “Someone was trying to pick up so I gave my shift up. Thought it’d be nice to be off on a Friday for a change. You know, actually enjoy a weekend for once. You have plans?”

  “Party at Annabelle’s.” I take out my cell phone to text him her address. “You should come. It’ll be fun.”

  At work that afternoon Annabelle reclines against the line drumming her fingertips as she waits for a table’s food. I stand beside her, feeling melancholy, trying unsuccessfully to keep my mind off missing Adam. I haven’t heard from him all week and I’m drifting, feeling listless. Last weekend was so amazing and yet we’ve fallen into the same old pattern, the distance feeling all the more oppressive by his silence. I’ve thought about texting him, but there’s no way to approximate the connection we have when we’re together through flat words on a phone.

  Annabelle jostles my shoulders. “You ready for tonight?”

  I force a smile and nod, trying to reciprocate her enthusiasm. “I think Marcus was looking for something to do so I invited him to your place.”

  “Oooh, Marcus! Too bad for me I already invited Brant. I could’ve taken advantage.” She chuckles and her eyes turn inquisitive. “Have I told you about Brant?”

  “No, but he must be good if you’re inviting him over.”

  “Oh, he's exceptional. He took me to Mercado last night for drinks.”

  “Wow, Mercado. Classy.” I raise my eyebrows at her. ”So… Does that mean you’re falling for him?”

  “Meh. He's nice to look at while I'm waiting for my one true love.” She gives me a sassy look, her pale eyes sparkling.

  “You can’t be contained!” I laugh.

  “But you love me anyway.”

  “I really do.”

  After work I head to Annabelle’s, eager for the night’s distraction. She presses a glass of wine into my hands as soon as I walk in and I take a hefty gulp, trying to drown out the sorrow I feel, knowing I’ve officially reached the despondent stage of missing Adam. It’s made all the worse because I have no idea when I’ll see him again. There’s nothing to count down to, no reprieve in sight. Just one day stretching into the next, each one endlessly alone.

  I try to let the alcohol and companionship improve my mood, but the truth is it does little to satiate my longing. Javier shows up and enlivens the party with a story about a table full of girls he had in the bar tonight who were out for a bachelorette party. Apparently they brought in penis-shaped pasta and asked him to secretly have the chefs cook it up for the bachelorette in place of her penne. His storytelling is impeccable; the whole room is practically in tears with laughter by the end.

  Marcus arrives not long after and settles in beside me on the couch. In a rare playful
moment, he does a wicked impersonation of Annabelle dancing wildly with Brant in the middle of her living room. It feels good to be joking around, even if it is half-hearted on my part. When he stands to get us fresh drinks from the kitchen, I retrieve my purse to reapply my lip gloss. As my fingers sift through the contents, I feel my phone vibrate to life. My stomach clenches, hopeful. I flip the display around and catch sight of those four letters lighting up the screen, the same four that light up my whole life.

  I race down the hall to Annabelle’s room and fling the door shut, then take a deep breath to collect myself. I’ve never known anyone who could make my heart flutter from three hundred miles away. He knocks the wind out of my chest, forces my knees to quiver from a simple call. My entire body is weak for him; I just wish he were here to enjoy it.

  “Hey,” I finally whisper into the phone.

  “Hey.” His tone matches mine exactly.

  And suddenly I’m beaming. I can’t even help myself. The sound of his voice wakes me up, makes me smile.

  “I miss you,” he says after a moment. He doesn’t sound drunk at all, just pure, honest Adam, and it takes me a little by surprise, especially on a Friday night.

  “You miss me?” I reply brightly. Always light. Never down. Never letting it seep into my voice. Never crossing that line when we’re so far apart. Never really letting him know what he means to me.

  “Yeah, Lex. I really miss you. I swear I saw you out today. Damien and I were at The Landing and I was sure I saw the top of your head across the bar. I even walked over to investigate. It looked so much like you. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since. I can’t get you off my mind.”

  “Would you want to?” I ask after a beat, my voice for once betraying all I feel for him across the miles.

  He pauses. “No, I don’t think I would.”

  The alcohol coursing through my veins has me feeling bold and I’m missing him more than ever, with his voice in my ear, his truth seeping out, so I bite the bullet and ask him the one thing I’m dying to know.

  “When can I see you?” It comes out soft but hopeful.

  “Our semi-formal is in a few weeks. You want to go with me? We can get all dressed up and dance the night away.”

  “I’d love to, Adam.”

  His voice becomes suddenly lighthearted. “I can’t wait. I’m going crazy here! Do you know my bed still smells like you?”

  “Now you know what I’ve been going through!”

  “It’s pure torture!” He chuckles and my heart swells at the sound. “And I’m pretty sure it’s making me dream of you.”

  “You have dreams about me, Adam?” I ask in my sweetest voice.

  “I have lots of dreams about you, pretty much every nap, every night, nothing but Alexa Clausen. Most of them are not suitable for conversation though.”

  I’m riveted; I’d give anything to know the contents of those dreams. I wonder how similar they are to my own.

  “I’m going to go, but it won’t be much longer. Just hold on, okay?”

  “Okay, Adam. Soon.”

  I lay back on Annabelle’s bed clutching my phone to my chest. Just hold on. It’s like he knows I’m slipping, that each time we say goodbye it gets that much harder to be apart. I’ve always assumed he’s handling this better than me, but maybe he’s going through the same misery, the same hell, the same absolute agony at being apart.

  Chapter 21

  Monday arrives and it’s speech day once again. Even though I don’t have to, I dress up a little, feeling more confident in my public speaking abilities when I’m not wearing jeans. I click into the lecture hall, feigning confidence, and find my seat. Marcus eyes me suspiciously.

  “Did I miss something?”

  I shrug. “I feel more convincing this way.”

  When it’s our turn, Marcus and I stride up to the podium. The nerves are still there for me, bubbling densely in my chest, tying my stomach into knots. Even though he disguises it well, I know they are for Marcus as well. Aside from that, I really think our delivery is improving. Our eye contact is more consistent. We’re using the notecards less and less. I’m not quite feeling like a budding politician, but we’re definitely on our way. Marcus flashes me a thumbs up on the way back to our seats, so he must think so too.

  “Get your ass over here!” Annabelle demands into the phone on Halloween. “We’re going as soap and loofah. I have more pink tulle than I know what to do with. Come over already!”

  I chuckle into the phone at her costume dedication. Halloween is Annabelle’s favorite holiday and she never ceases to amaze me with her creative costume ideas. When I arrive at her apartment she sets to work tufting me in layers of hot pink tulle. By the time she’s done I’m a round puffball. The tulle barely covers my thighs and cleavage though, so apparently we’re going as sexy soap and loofah. Annabelle goes to change and emerges in a skintight, white, sparkly dress and sky-high heels.

  “Why am I stuck in this ridiculous puffball and you get to go out like that?”

  “You have a man. Or did you forget about Mr. Perfect?” She raises her eyebrows sassily then turns to retrieve two boxes of clear, glass Christmas ornaments of varying sizes from her hall closet along with a box of safety pins.

  “Come help.”

  I look at her puzzled.

  “They’re bubbles. Hello?”

  I burst out laughing but help her pin them to her dress. Finally we’re headed to The Berg to find Marcus. As usual, he’s manning the bar, but in place of his customary t-shirt and jeans he and the other bartenders are wearing glasses and partially open suits, beneath which are superhero t-shirts. I guess for tonight he’s Batman.

  “Loving the glasses!” I shout over the bar at him. “You should wear them for our last speech. Give us an edge!”

  “Definitely sexy!” Annabelle yells with raised eyebrows.

  “You two don’t look so bad yourselves. Very clean.”

  Annabelle asks him to take our picture. She wraps herself around me as though she’s lathering me up, and we smile for the camera. It’s a really cute picture, so I text it to Adam. He replies right away, also with a picture. In the photo he has his arm slung casually over Damien’s shoulder. Damien is wearing a black tuxedo, his hair slicked back and a cigar in his hand. Beside him, Adam is shirtless, a white towel wrapped around his waist and a bottle of Old Spice shower gel in his hand. I immediately burst out laughing.

  Annabelle peeks over at the photo and nearly chokes on her drink. “Damn, girl! That’s what he’s been hiding?” She takes the phone from my hands so she can examine further.

  “Okay, Adam’s I get. Old Spice guy.”

  “Yeah, did you guys plan this?”

  “I swear we didn’t!” Her face is lit up animatedly, but I believe her.

  “What the hell is Damien supposed to be?”

  “I have no idea.”

  I text Adam.

  Damien????

  He’s a beautiful man.

  Annabelle reads the words over my shoulder and we both break into furious laughter. I get the overwhelming urge to hear his voice, so I take a chance and press the call button instead of texting him back. I’m still cackling when he picks up.

  “What the hell?” I manage.

  “He’s basically a slacker and didn’t have a costume so that’s what he came up with at the last minute.”

  “Well with you next to him, no one will even notice. I’m going to have shirtless Adam on my mind the rest of the night.”

  “Are you kidding me? What about you? I never thought I’d be so attracted to a shower accessory! All I want to do is unwrap you.”

  My insides clench at the thought of his fingers deftly unwrapping the fabric, slowly baring me to him. There’s nothing I want more than to feel his fingers softly caressing my skin. Without meaning to, I lightly exhale with longing into the phone.

  “From the sounds of it, you want it too.” His voice is low, seductive.

  “Adam, you have
no idea how much I want it.”

  “You shouldn’t say things like that, bear. You run the risk of making my costume very awkward.”

  I giggle at the image of the towel tenting over him. “Have fun tonight.”

  I hang up the phone and smile forlornly at Annabelle. “God I wish he was here.”

  She hands me a green, slimy-looking shot. “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for getting drunk with your bar of soap.”

  The sight of Adam in his costume stays with me long after Halloween is over. His picture is the first thing I look at every morning; it’s the last thing I see before I fall asleep. I soak in his smile, his dark eyes. I imagine the way he would smell and the way he would taste if he were here, shirtless and sexy, driving me wild. When I get too worked up, when the distance feels insurmountable, I head to the gym and I run. I run to take away the ache of missing him, to quiet my busy mind. I run hard and fast and long, until my stomach cramps and my legs scream. Only when I'm completely drained do I slow, allowing my breathing to return to normal.

  I trudge back to my apartment after a particularly excruciating session, the first withered, brown leaves of the season crunching beneath my tennis shoes. I pause by the pool enclosure, snaking my fingers around the wrought iron bars. The lounge chairs are all packed away, the pool covered in a sleek, black tarp, a smattering of leaves dotting its surface. My mind flashes back, conjuring the warmth of the summer sun, the heat between Adam and me, the passionate fire that has burned ever since. Summer feels so far away. Adam feels so far away. I can count the distance between us in days; I can count it in the miles separating me from him. I can count it in the myriad ways he impacts my day. I miss him. Plain and simple. I miss him and there’s nothing I can do.

  With him gone, I do the next best thing: I text Annabelle.