Page 139 of You Are Not Me

“Because I can’t—even at the expense of things blowing up with Sarah—I can’t be party to an ongoing lie. If it’s over, if it’s done—then I don’t see any reason to break Leslie’s heart or risk my relationship with Sarah.”

“It’s done.”

“And you won’t see him again?”

“I hope not.” Heaviness pressed against my chest. I wasn’t going to cry. Not now.

“If I hear that you’ve been coming around, or that he’s gone up there to see you, I won’t have any choice.”

“I know. Believe me, I get how you’re feeling. But I’m done with Adam forever.”

“And you don’t think he’s fucking around with anyone else? Just you?”

Adam’s voice echoed in my mind.We’re monogamous, aren’t we? It’s just us. You, me and Leslie.

“Just me.”

“You’re sure?”

I thought about it, my chin falling to my chest. “I’m sure. I really think if I’m not around, he’ll be faithful to her. He loved me—loves me, I guess—but he doesn’t sleep around. If I’m gone, he’ll be true to her. He really does love her too.”

“Okay, man. I admit that’s what I wanted to hear. It makes things easier for me with Sarah. But I’m serious, if I suspect anything, I’ll spill what I know to Leslie.”

“That’s fair.”

“And, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Be happy, okay? You deserve that. We all deserve that.”

After the call, I locked my bedroom door and opened the filing cabinet. I went through each photo of Adam, choosing out only a few: the pictures of his feet from last weekend, the sleeping nudes from last spring, a few photos from the beach, and two pictures of him at Beans. The rest I dropped at my feet until I had a thick pile.

Once I heard Mom and Dad leave for their usual Sunday grocery run, I crept downstairs, found the things I needed, and headed out into the backyard. In the far corner was Harry’s grave, and I walked out to it, the photos in hand.

“Hey, boy. Turns out Adam was a dick. I’m glad you never knew. You loved him.” I touched the large stone Dad had dragged over to the head of the grave. “I loved him too.”

The sky was thick and blue, swathed with stretched-cotton clouds. I headed back to the patio and tossed the stack of photos onto my dad’s iron firepit. After pouring on lighter fluid, I stood back and threw a lit match onto the pile.

The orange flames turned blue as the pictures twisted and blackened, and the fire burned out quickly. With a violent kick to the firepit, I knocked the ashes onto the concrete patio.

“Fuck you,” I whispered.

Snatching up the garden hose from the side of the house, I washed the ashes away.

***

Kennedy answered againwhen I called Daniel after lunch with my parents. The meal had started out with too many questions about Adam, but ended with the three of us eating chocolate pudding and talking about what I could expect tomorrow at my first day of college. Butterflies flapped in my gut, but the sick, persistent nausea was gone.

“Hello?” Kennedy’s little voice echoed down the line.

I sat at the counter, tugging fingers through my messy hair. “Hi, can I talk to Daniel?”

“He’s in the bathroom, mister.”

“Oh, okay, well—”

“He’s been in there areallylong time. He should be out soon. Do you wanna wait?”

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