Page 79 of First Comes Forever

“I don’t think Adam meant anything bad by it. He told me Mr. Montgomery wasn’t eating much of the cafeteria food. I think he’s genuinely grateful.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, Amani. I know he meant well… It’s just the first time in twenty years my son has called me ‘Mom.’”

* * *

I carefully sip my scalding decaf latte, but the sucker still burns the tip of my tongue. Giving up, I pop off the lid and scoot it to the side of the coffee table.

Holly follows suit, setting her coffee aside. “Is yours too hot as well?”

I nod. “Coffee doesn’t sound as appealing these days, anyway.” Her smile is small and tentative, so I invite her to ask what I’m sure is on her mind. “I know it must seem weird, what Adam and I are doing.”

Holly leans back on the plush sofa and shifts so she’s facing me. Piermont is filled with sitting areas where patients and family can sit and chat. We’ve secured a quaint cloth sofa in front of a coffee table with a small stack ofNational Historymagazines.

“Not at all. I’m only worried that Adam is approaching this the way he is because of me. I wonder, after all this time, if his anger toward me is still holding him back.”

A little uncomfortable, I clear my throat. “I don’t think his hesitance about fatherhood is from anything you did.”

She looks out the large window behind us, pressing her lips together like she’s trying to hold back her emotion. “You mean Liv,” she finally says. “There’s that too. But I think Adam learned unforgiveness because of me.”

Chuckling nervously, I say, “Yeah, he likes his grudges.”

“Thank you,” Holly says suddenly, patting my knee so lightly, I can barely feel her touch. “Today was more than I deserve, and I know you had a big part of that. I bet if Adam came to Piermont alone, he would’ve turned around and left when he saw me.”

My eyes fall to my lap. “Oh… That’s probably not true.” It’s most definitely true. There would’ve been an Adam-shaped hole in the wall.

“You must have a magic touch. Not Adam’s dad, his brother, or even wife at the time could get him to respond to a text message. Somehow, you got him to share a meal with me. Even if I never get to see him again, today meant the world to me.”

There’s a guilty twinge in my gut, telling me I shouldn’t be prying, but Holly is helping me fill in the gaps of the big puzzle that is Adam. How can a man be so naturally paternal but not want to be a father? Is he resisting what he wants? Or is he pretending to be okay with this, to keep me?

“I’m sorry if I’m out of line. I know we just met, but why did you…” I trail off, watching her eyes, hoping she can give me permission to proceed with just a look.

“Why did I leave?”

“Is that okay for me to ask?”

She answers with a small nod, but she’s wearing the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. It’s the same smile I put on when I have to pretend like I’m okay. My cheeks bunch, lips spread, teeth show…but there’s no joy.

“It’s complicated. Did Adam mention we were in a terrible car accident when he was young?”

“Actually, no,” I respond.

The faint scars at the top of Adam’s upper thighs come to mind. I noticed them when I was on my knees, my head between his legs, so I thought it was an inappropriate time to ask. Thinking about it now, they’re located where a lap belt would go.

“It was a drunk driver, going the wrong way down the bypass at fifty miles an hour. When our cars collided…” Holly shakes her head, like she’s trying to get rid of a visual. “Adam was eight. Legally, he shouldn’t have been in the front seat. But he begged and begged to ride up front. I caved and told his big brother to swap with him, just once. Alex was seventeen—the airbag would’ve bruised his chest had he been up front. Instead, it broke Adam’s nose.”

“Oh dear God,” I mutter.

“Adam also broke one arm in four places and dislocated his shoulder. There were lacerations across his chest and thighs from the seat belt. They told me I was lucky he wasn’t thrown through the windshield. It surely would’ve killed him.”

Tears form in both of our eyes. I’m not emotional simply from the hormones. I’m picturing a small, scared Adam, bloodied and clinging to life. It makes my stomach sick with worry over something that is long past. I resist the demanding urge I have to abandon Holly and run back to Mr. Montgomery’s room, just to make sure Adam’s still there, alive and okay.

“I struggled with depression for most of my adult life, Amani. It was especially bad after each of my pregnancies, but I ignored it, staying focused on motherhood. It’d come in waves. There’d be long periods of feeling fine, followed by the most harrowing weeks of helplessness. I never knew what was going to trigger it.”

Her story sounds all too familiar. I also have long periods of fine, followed by days of not wanting to get out of bed. “You didn’t tell anybody?” I ask.

“No.” Cocking her head to the side, she clicks her tongue. “I came from a generation where depression is just a feeling that you have to conquer. I never understood that I wasn’t in control. But immediately after the car accident, everything fell apart.”

“How so?” I reach for my latte to busy my hands.

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