First Man Page 11

  That was before I ran two miles in ballet flats in fifteen minutes.

  I arrived at Adam’s door soaked with sweat and dizzy with exertion, and I just knew before I touched the worn brass doorknob that he was gone. I pushed the door open. He hadn’t bothered to lock it.

  To anyone else the room would look perfectly normal, but I could see the empty spaces he’d left behind. The blue and gold bird statue was missing from his desk and the perpetual stack of books was noticeably shorter. A haphazard assortment of clothing was missing from his closet, along with a suitcase.

  A note rested on the bed, two words scrawled on thick white paper.

  ‘Forgive me.’

  I sank down onto the mattress, the soft surface where we’d shut out the world and lost ourselves in touch and taste. I ran my fingers over those pale blue sheets, wondering how if what we had was real it could have been ripped away so easily.

  I’d finally gotten what I’d idolized in books and movies. I hadn’t wanted the safe, easy love of my parents; I’d wanted the wild abandon of the misunderstood and the marginalized. I’d fallen in love with a broken man and we had made each other whole, but we’d both forgotten that those books rarely had happy endings.

  Cathy and Heathcliff didn’t ride off across the moors and into the sunset. Guinevere and Lancelot didn’t end up with living together in a lovely cottage in Camelot. Hester Prynne and Arthur Dimmsdale never made it to Paris, and we were both left wearing scarlet shame on our chests.

  He was gone, and I knew in my heart that he wasn’t coming back.

  NEW DAWN

  Adam

  Where did I go?

  Not back to Greece and Edwin’s picture perfect life. I’d interrupted his world with my bitterness and misery too many times. I knew he’d welcome me back into his home and his family with words of hope and starting over.

  I didn’t want his comfort. I hadn’t lost Ember to death or a disease. I’d lost her to our foolish pride in our own invincibility. I’d flown far to close to the flame, and I had no one but myself to blame when my wings melted.

  The wide world had opened itself up to me again, and I wanted nothing of it. The wanderlust that had scratched at the back of my mind for most of my life had fallen silent. The only place I wanted to be was back in my one room apartment in that quiet little town.

  I pulled my car over at a rest stop about twenty miles outside of Boston, frozen with indecision. I knew what I wanted to do.

  I wanted to go home.

  Laughter bubbled up out of me, sounding crazed even to my own ears.

  Thirty-four years of life, and I’d finally found a home.

  And now it was gone.

  What had I done?

  In the end, I reverted back to the only life I had ever known. I chose a city, nearly at random. New Orleans was the sort of place one could easily get lost in a crowd. The endless parade of tourists gave me my elusive anonymity.

  I began publishing again. Even heartbreak couldn’t keep me from academia for long. The American literature books were pushed aside for the comforting familiarity of the ancients. I studied and wrote and sometimes days would pass before I spoke to another human being.

  I lived the life of a recluse or a penitent. I’d had more chances than most men, and I’d shattered them all to dust and rubble. I was done trying.

  A year had slipped away and I barely noticed. A stack of unanswered letters and postcards from Edwin littered my dining room table. He hadn’t given up on me, despite my self-imposed imprisonment. The latest was a gaudy postcard with picture of a scantily clad mermaid on the front. “Answer your phone, Adam. At least let me know you’re still alive. Please.” was scrawled on the back.

  Guilt nagged at me every time I glanced at that growing stack of unanswered correspondence. Edwin was probably the last friend I had left in the world, and he didn’t deserve to be treated this way.

  Sighing, I closed the book I’d been unsuccessfully trying to read for the last hour. I needed fresh air and a cup of coffee, preferably in that order.

  Within a few minutes, I was sitting at an outdoor cafe on Bourbon Street indulging in strong coffee and the ever present sound of jazz music when I saw her.

  The blonde hair was gone, replaced by bright copper waves, and she moved like a woman instead of a girl, but I knew instantly it was her. She crossed the street towards me, her eyes sweeping over every detail the way they always had when I knew her. She had just stepped onto the sidewalk when her eyes locked with mine. She froze, and a dozen emotions crossed her face - shock, elation, anger, before finally settling into amazement. People walked around her, briefly obscuring our view of each other, and she seemed to come to her senses. She stepped over the low wall that enclosed the cafe and stood before me.

  “Adam?” she whispered. There was a quaver in her voice that I had never heard before.

  “Ember.”

  She sank down into the empty chair on the other side of the table, and just stared at me. All the sounds faded to nothing around us. The waitress came to the table and asked if she wanted anything. Ember waved her away.

  A year had passed since we’d been torn apart and I’d slunk from Portsmouth with my tail between my legs. I was 35 now, and I’d spent the last twelve months slipping back into the self-destructive habits Lily had broken me of all those years ago. I hadn’t grown. I hadn’t changed. I’d just given up altogether.

  Ember sat across from me, looking shell-shocked and achingly beautiful. She was 19 with a hard look in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before. Had I done that?

  “I don’t know how to do this,” she began, her words halting. “I’ve thought about this moment so many times. I’ve dreamed about it, and now that you’re here, I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or punch you.”

  “I probably deserve the latter.”

  “There’s no probably about it. Look, I live a few blocks from here, and my roommate’s out for the day. Let’s go back to my place and talk.”

  Louisiana heat made wearing the least amount of clothing the most preferable option. I kissed her in the hallway of her apartment when she paused to find her keys. Her purse clattered to the floor, and some part of my mind was happy that I could still effect her that way. I poured everything into that kiss, a year of longing for her, of living my life in limbo because I had been a coward and walked away from my second chance out of fear and a misguided sense of “doing the right thing.” I buried my hands in her red hair and tried to reconcile this beautiful, adult woman with the teenager I had known. Her hips pressed against mine and she kissed me back.

  Some part of my mind tensed as I realized we were out in the open. Anyone could see us, but that ship had long since sailed. I could kiss her in front of an entire Mardi Gras parade if I wanted.

  I wanted.

  Ember pulled away and crouched down, retrieving her purse and the keys that had spilled out. I pressed against her back as she unlocked to door, our bodies fitting together as they always had. I followed her into the apartment. Later, I would notice the color draped over every surface. I would inspect the photographs covering the refrigerator and the paintings on the walls and marvel how this space was her in every way.

  But not now. There was no frenzied tearing of clothes. I didn’t have my way with her spread out across the kitchen table, at least not yet. She was here, but she wasn’t mine anymore.

  “What happened?” she demanded, taking a seat on the dark blue sofa that dominated the living room. “I want your side.” I sat next to her, relaxing as she twined her fingers through my own, memories flooding back to me.

  “You probably know more than I do,” I admitted. “Principal Moore came to my office to inform me about certain accusations towards me. He wanted me to confirm them.”

  “Why didn’t you lie?”

  I sighed ruefully. “It wouldn’t have mattered, Ember. He guessed it was you. There would have been a hearing, and it would have come out anyway. I was trying to protect you
.” I knew how empty those words sounded, and I waited for Ember to tell me so.

  Instead, she quietly replied, “I know.” I looked up, stunned. “Expecting me to yell? I did that. I cursed you for leaving me. I screamed at my parents and the principal. I almost broke Annie Sargent’s jaw. It’s amazing I didn’t end up expelled.”

  I squinted, searching my mind for who that name belonged to. I vaguely remembered the girl, small and unremarkable in both her work and her appearance. Annie had been in Ember’s class, one of those students who perched herself in the front row of every class with her arm perpetually in the air.

  Annie desperately wanted to be one the students who started the debates and dazzled the class with her insight, but her work was always cursory and her arguments were shallow. She excelled in classes where there was only one right or wrong answer, but when it came to discussions and critical thinking skills, she was lacking.

  “Why Annie?”

  “That little brown-nosing bitch was the one who ratted us out.” she spat. “That time on your desk was fun.” Her face darkened. “And it was the last time. She must have heard us or maybe the door wasn’t locked.” She shook her head sadly. “It doesn’t matter now. What happened next was what you’d expect. She turned around and marched right to the principal’s office with both of our names.”

  Back in those days, I’d had no concept of the depths of teenage jealousy. Annie had seethed every time I called on Ember instead of her, and when she discovered the ammunition to damn us both, she hadn’t hesitated to use it to her full advantage.

  “She was pretty pissed when I didn’t get in trouble too since I was the victim.” Disdain dripped from Ember’s words. “She decided it was her job to make me pay then. She told everyone that I’d been screwing the teacher, and that’s why you left.”

  I hung my head, unwilling to look at her. I’d left to try and spare her from the very thing my absence had condemned her to. I’d wasted a year of our lives, and for what?

  Trying to change the subject, I asked, “What are you doing living in New Orleans? What happened to Boston?”

  “I wasn’t that girl anymore.” She stood up and wandered over to the small desk in the corner of the room. She tugged open the top drawer and pulled out a small framed photo. I didn’t need to look at it to know what that photo was of. Its twin had joined the few, precious photos of my loved ones.

  Ember handed me the frame, and I saw the two smiling faces staring up at me. Ember had snapped it while we laid in bed together. The rain had been pounding on the building and we’d huddled together in my bed, listening to the wind beat the bare branches of the maple tree against my window. Our smiles were relaxed and unworried. Hidden by the storm, we were together and we were so very happy.

  “I had to hide it. My parents would have thrown it away if they’d seen it, but it was all I had.” She sat back down next to me, idly brushing her finger over the glass. “I know it’s only been a year, but I hardly recognize myself. I didn’t go to BU,” she finished abruptly.

  I was stunned to silence at first. Was this something else I’d cost her? “You were so excited about college.”

  “I still am. I start at Tulane in the fall. I took a year off. My aunt owns a bakery in Metairie. She needed an extra pair of hands and I needed to get away.” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “Adam, I know we need to get to know each other again and we can’t just become who we were, but can all that wait? Can you just be kissing me now?”

  Neither of us needed words. I put the photograph aside, laying it on the coffee table with all the reverence I gave any artifact of a place lost in time, and then I was kissing her again and tangling my fingers in those unfamiliar copper waves.

  She was right. Wiser people would have spent more than a few moments getting reacquainted, but we had always been two people who overthought everything except each other. We’d been a year without each other, and those months fell away like nothing as I fell back into her.

  I didn’t ask if the roommate she mentioned would be home soon. The thought that anyone might interrupt us didn’t enter my mind for an instant, but the cramped sofa wasn’t where I wanted this to happen.

  Ember had always seemed to be able to read my mind. She stood up and lead me through one of the open doors, kicking it shut behind us.

  The room was small and draped with color. Swaths of fabric in blue and gold hung over the windows, dampening out the bright afternoon sun. A large four poster bed dominated most of the room, an inviting mound of blankets and pillows covering it.

  Ember had never been shy, and that facet of her personality hadn’t changed. The sundress today was white, but I couldn’t help thinking back to that red silk dress she’d worn that first time. This time, when I pushed the straps off her shoulders, I wasn’t the old man taking advantage.

  She stepped out of the puddle of white fabric at her feet and held my gaze while she removed the last few scraps of lace covered her body to stand bare before me.

  “See something you like?” she asked, echoing that younger version of herself.

  “Many many things.”

  Ember unbuttoned my shirt with haste. A button popped off, disappearing into the recesses of her bedroom. “Oops,” she said, sounding thoroughly unapologetic.

  “I never liked that shirt anyway.”

  I left my last few bits of clothing scattered behind me, and then we were in that bed, and I was kissing her like a man trying to devour his last meal and pulling Ember down to lay flush upon me.

  It had been far too long, but we both still fit together perfectly like the broken puzzle pieces we were.

  In the year apart, I had dreamed of touching her flesh, so I was in no rush. The kiss began as the barest touch of my lips on hers before deepening into something passionate and even aggressive. Anger and regret, loneliness and love, they all poured into that kiss.

  I broke the kiss long enough to breathe the words, “I missed you” into fiery tangle of her hair.

  Ember sat up, and I tried to reconcile the girl she had been to this new creature she had become. The red hair suited her far more the blonde ever had, floating like a halo of fire as she moved.

  I was not the seducer anymore. I was not the teacher or the old man taking advantage. She rose and fell like the tides, her nails raking their way down my chest, marking my skin with the same depth she had marked my soul.

  Words bubbled out of me or her or both of us. “I’ll never leave again. I love you. I’ll never leave.” In that colorful room where we were finally, truly equals, I meant it, and I believed it.

  EVER AFTER

  Ember

  I had stopped believing in happy endings. The prince didn’t ride up on his white horse and take me away. The prince rode off alone, hating himself for crimes both real and imagined.

  And what of the one left behind? How did I fare?

  Not well. My teenage vitriol combined with a broken heart didn’t lead to easy forgiveness. My last three weeks in school were a battleground, far worse than anything I’d endured as a naïve sophomore.

  With less than three weeks left until I could walk out the doors of that school for the last time, I didn’t bother hiding or trying to ignore the jeers. I walked into English class to see an unknown woman sitting in Adam’s chair. The other students filtered in, and Annie Sargent made sure to pause by my desk and smile.

  I went through that first day in a daze, hearing the insults thrown at me and not even registering them. I numbly sat through lunch with Brian and Angie, until Annie passed our table and mumbled, “whore” under hear breath.

  That was all it took. I jumped up from my table and tackled her, sending her tray of under-seasoned spaghetti flying. I punched her, splitting her lip and blackening her eye before Brian pulled me off her. I shrugged off his concern and stormed out.

  I didn’t go back to classes after that. I sat, silent and sullen through a conference with my parents and the principal, listening to words like “
traumatic episode” and “lawsuit” being bandied about. In the end, I stayed away from the school until finals.

  On test days, the other students gave me a wide berth. No part of me cared.

  Graduation day rolled around, and I dutifully went, smiling hollowly in the photos my parents snapped. I couldn’t hate my Mom and Dad, and I couldn’t take the chance to see me walk at my own graduation away from them.

  I searched the crowd for his face as I walked across the stage, irrationally hoping that he’d be waiting for me at the edge of school grounds.

  He wasn’t.

  I walked away from BU, and hopped on a plane to Louisiana and my Aunt Kathy’s house. I wallowed there. Writing Adam endless letters that I had nowhere to send, varying from accusatory to tearful to vaguely pornographic.

  “I’m not going to make you talk if you don’t want to, but you aren’t going to sit around and cry all summer either.” Aunt Kathy was five years my mother’s junior and the black sheep of the family who had run away from a responsible life to bake pies on the bayou.

  I loved her shop with its rows and rows of pies and cakes rested on the gleaming counters. Frosting and meringue, candied fruits and sugared flowers shined through the plate glass window like colored jewels to entice passersby.

  I made my first pie in the early days of June, when the loss of Adam was still a raw wound. Two pounds of strawberries, ripe with crimson juices cooked down on the stove along with a dash of lemon juice for brightness and just enough sugar to enhance the berries. An hour later the kitchen smelled like jam and a bright pink confection was sitting on the counter.

  What started as an occasional diversion became a constant staple of my life. I’d never cooked or baked beyond the occasional chore of peeling or chopping something for my Mom, but I quickly discovered I had a knack for it. I filled the house with the scents of chocolate, blueberry, mango, coconut and for an hour I could forget.