Page 47 of Four Weekends and a Funeral

8:44 AM

Chelsea:

I have to go. The children are here, and they’re forming a mutiny.

A text notification from Adam interrupts the group chat, and I should be mortified by how I beam at it.

8:55 AM

Adam:

Do you like this stain for the cabinets?

A picture of Adam’s arm holding a finished cabinet door in the morning light of his driveway fills my screen. The stain is light and natural. The warm wood tone juxtaposed with the cabinet’s large, modern shape and chunky, matte black hardware looks so contemporary-cozy I’m overwhelmed with the urge to make a potato kale soup.

8:56 AM

Adam:

Everyone likes white, because it photographs well, but I think this will look better in Sam’s place.

My chest smarts. We spent yesterday talking about everything other than Sam. It was as if we were becoming more than forced partners in a funereal task. Or maybe that’s what I wanted to believe.

And then there was the way he looked at me. The way his finger grazed my neck. The way it seemed like he wanted to—

Whatever this is, or can’t be, doesn’t dampen the harmless delight of talking to Adam.

8:57 AM

Alison:

I love it! It’s perfect.

8:57 AM

Adam:

Good because I stained them all last night.

8:58 AM

Alison:

What would you have done if I’d said no?

8:59 AM

Adam:

Nothing.

9:01 AM

Alison:

I see how it is.

Adam doesn’t respond for the rest of the morning no matter how frequently I check my phone. When I can’t stall any longer for my meeting with Daniella, I walk into her office and immediately relax at the sight of a half-full green juice.

---