Page 99 of Once Upon a Boyband
Adam holdsonto me for a long moment after he says the words, then he presses a kiss to my temple, murmurs an “I’m sorry” into my hair, and turns and walks out the back door.
I know, instinctively, that I shouldn’t follow him. Adam has shown me that he needs solitude and time to process his emotions, and I get the sense he just admitted something to me that he’s never admitted to anyone before.
So I let him go.
When he’s halfway across the field beside the barn, I call Goldie and send her outside after him, watching until she reaches his side, and his hand falls to her head.
At least he won’t be completely alone.
It feels wrong to just leave, and I cling to the hope that Adam might return, so I do the dinner dishes while I wait. I package up the leftovers and put them in the fridge. I loadthe dishwasher. I hand wash our wine glasses and leave them on the counter to dry.
But that only takes twenty minutes, and there’s still no sign of Adam.
I don’t know what else to do but leave, so I scoop Ringo up from where he’s been sniffing at my feet and go home.
There are so many things I want to say to Adam.
Starting with I love you.
That became perfectly clear when we were standing in his kitchen, and I wished with my whole entire soul that I could hug the hurt right out of him.
But I also want to tell him he’s wrong—that he deserves every happiness. I recognize why he blames himself, but he was just a kid. A kid dealing with a lot of pressure, surrounded by a lot of adults who did not have his best interest at heart. If I were making the call, I would lay the blame squarely at Kevin’s feet. But I’m not the one who lost my mom, so my feelings aren’t nearly as tangled as Adam’s.
When I get home, I send Adam a text asking him to let me know when he gets home safe.
I type out and delete a hundred more messages, but it doesn’t feel right to send any of them. Adam doesn’t needmyreassurances, he needs his mom’s. And I can’t give him that. No one can.
An hour later, Adam finally responds.
Adam
Home safe.
A few minutes later, another pops up.
Adam
Thank you, Laney.
Laney
Thank you for telling me.
I’m here, okay? Whatever you need.
I send the message hoping he’ll respond, but nothing comes through.
So I wait.
And wait.
Tuesday night turns into Wednesday, then bleeds into Thursday, and soon, it’s the weekend, I haven’t talked to Adam in five horrible days, and I’m beginning to think I might completely lose my mind.
Right before Adam walked out of his kitchen, when he said he didn’t think he deservedany of it,I assumed he was talking about fame. But the longer we go without talking, the more I’m starting to wonder if he was also talking aboutme.
If he’s convinced himself that his past actions somehow negate him from experiencinganyhappiness.
It doesn’t make any sense. But grief doesn’t always play by the rules. And while I’m definitely not an expert on these things, I’m pretty sure Adam is still grieving.
