Page 14 of Dear Adam
As I’m walking to my Uber, flashbacks of that night hit me hard enough to make my knees buckle. I stop, leaning against the railing for support.
We had been heading back to the house after lunch one afternoon when it happened. I was driving and although I thought I hadn’t seen anyone coming at an intersection, a teenager had run a redlight and T-boned us. Adam was in the passenger seat, and absorbed most of the impact while I was left with only a concussion, dislocated shoulder, and a totaled truck. Seeing Adam lying in those stark white hospital sheets with bandages wrapping so much of his body and the sound of machines whooshing to keep him alive…guilt settled on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
If Adam hadn't gone to the bathroom before we left, if I hadn’t stopped to tie my shoe on the way back to the car…if…if…if.I regain some of my composure and feebly continue toward the car parked at the curb.
The accident had made me introspective, and I couldn’t help but miss all the time I’d wasted. Now, when Adam and I finally reconnect, he winds up in a coma.
How had I let ten years slip between graduation—the last time I’d seen him—and now? Moving to California after graduation seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now I’m wondering if I made a mistake.
“I’m going to expand your company, Dad,” I had proudly told him one night at dinner. I was newly eighteen with nothing on my mind but graduating. And possibly the girl who had stolen my heart the first time I laid eyes on her. But she was my best friend’s sister, meaning she was off limits, and I knew it had been time I faced that.
Dad had eyed me skeptically. “Things are going so well here that I really think we can do the same thing on the West Coast,” I said, eager to prove my point. That night, I had shown him all the research I had done and numbers I had crunched in an attempt to sway him in letting me open a branch of his construction business in San Diego.
The day after graduation, I had loaded up my beat up old Ford with everything I could fit into it and set out for a reasonably priced office in San Diego that I had found on Craigslist. Two days later, I arrived, exhausted and a little stale, but eager nonetheless to prove myself and make my parents proud.
Thoughts of Aly had filled my mind the entire drive. The way she loved to watch romantic comedies, how her glasses were always precariously close to falling off the tip of her nose, the way she surfed better than any of the boys our age, and the way she could singNo Scrubsline for line; those were only a few of the thoughts dancing around in my mind. Early in the trip, I had popped in my TLC CD and almost turned around right then and there, the thought of leaving her almost unbearable. But I shoved the memories as far down as I could, reminding myself it would never happen.
The night I arrived in California, I had blown up an air mattress in the loft of the office and dreamed about the day I would have enough saved for a little cottage on the outskirts of town.
Before long, word of mouth spread news of my business, and I began picking up enough jobs to break even. It’s been the same ever since. Now, ten years later, I’m still living in the loft of the office and still only making enough to cover the necessities.
The Uber pulls up to the office, breaking me from my reminiscing, greeted by Hank, my German Shepherd, with his nose pressed to the front window, fogging it up. I make a mental note to thank Glenda, my secretary, for taking care of him while I was in the hospital. I push open the door and Hank comes bounding up to me. He gives me a lick across the face while I’m bent over untying my shoes, undoubtedly sensing my somber attitude, then nudges his favorite tennis ball toward me with his nose in an attempt to cheer me up.
“I’m sorry, buddy, I can’t play right now,” I say, my shoulder throbbing dully.
Hank cocks his head to the side, clearly confused.
I give him an ear scratch, promising to take him for a long walk later, then set off toward the bathroom, eager to shower the last few days off.
Later, I’m settled into the couch with a frozen pizza, about to turn on a movie, when something chimes. I flip over my phone to find a black screen and chalk it up to exhaustion from the past couple of days making me crazy. Two minutes later, I hear it again. I sit forward, listening intently, waiting for the sound. Finally, I pinpoint it to the white bag of my belongings from the hospital and rifle through it until I find a phone that’s definitely not mine.
I tap the screen alight and find a picture of Pretzel when she was a puppy.
Somehow, Adam’s phone must’ve gotten mixed up with mine in all the chaos after the accident. The phone pings again in my hand, and I see Aly’s name pop up.
Unable to stop myself, I attempt to unlock the screen, mentally running through ideas for Adam’s passcode. But, I’m surprised when it opens without resistance. I chuckle becauseof courseAdam doesn’t have any security on his phone.
I click into the text thread with his sister and read.
Dear Adam,
I know you can’t actually read this right now, but when you wake up, I want you to have an easy way to catch up on what you’ve missed. I know how bad you get FOMO. Your dog is weird and has terrible gas but we are starting to get along now. Emma and I took her to the beach and she wanted to chase every seagull she saw. She had fun though. I’ve only caught her chewing on one pair of my underwear since she’s been here, but it was definitely still the crotch she chewed out so idk, maybe you need to have a talk with her about that? That’s kind of weird. I swear it’s like she’s fighting me for female dominance or something. Anyway, I love you and I’ll see you soon.
Attached is a picture of Aly snuggled up with Pretzel, who is chewing on a stuffed unicorn. Aly’s eyes are red rimmed and puffy and her long, sandy brown waves are piled haphazardly onto her head with a pink scrunchy. Gone are the braces and the thick rimmed glasses I remember from high school. Instead, two rows of pearly whites and the most gorgeous pale-blue eyes I’ve ever seen stare back at me. I catch myself smiling when I notice the stack of worn paperbacks on her nightstand. Aly always did have her nose stuck in a book, and I’m comforted by the fact that it seems like that hasn’t changed.
My nostalgia is quickly replaced by guilt when I remember this text and this picture were never meant for my eyes, and it’s my fault she can’t actually share this with her brother right now. I set the phone on the counter, and run my hands through my hair. Tomorrow, I’ll take Adam’s phone to the post office and everything will be fine.
Satisfied with my decision, I return to the couch. Hank joins me, and I press play again onSleepless in Seattle, which was Aly’s favorite back in high school. I wonder if it still is.
Say what you will, but I’ll take 1993 Meg Ryan over just about anyone famous in today’s day and age…except maybe Taylor Swift.
I stretch out across the couch and Hank curls up at my feet. When I reach the part where Annie hears Sam over the radio and falls for him, my eyelids grow heavy.
How do you fall for someone you don’t even know?I wonder in my sleep induced haze.
My last thought before finally dozing off is Aly, all grown up and more beautiful than I could imagine.
I wake to a whine and a cold, wet nose pressed against my temple. I crack open one eye and squint, realizing Hank’s nose is probably the only thing keeping me on the couch at this point. His mouth is open and he’s panting heavily into my face. My gag reflex threatens to kick in, but before I can get up, he drags his sandpapery tongue along the length of my cheek.
