Desperate (14 page)

O
n my way out, I felt like I was floating down the stairs, like I’d just had an out-of-body experience and was still trying to come back into myself. I entered my home in stealth mode, quiet with the key, careful closing the door, quiet with my steps, even though I had every intention of waking Anna.

Rousing her, I soon discovered, was a job easier said than done. I called her name four or five times, first in a whispered voice and in the end shouting it.

“Anna! Wake up! Wake up!”

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking her shoulder.

“Huh? Gage? What? What’s going on?”

She sounded dazed and agitated.

“We need to talk.”

Anna fought against the sleep to open her eyes. “I was having the craziest dream,” she said in a faraway voice. “I was dreaming about the baby.”

I wondered what her baby dreams would be like after she met Roy.

“I just met the father,” I said.

Anna sat up fast, as though the bed had become electrified. She pulled the covers to her chest, craving, it seemed, all the comfort and security they could provide.

“What are you talking about, you just met the father?”

“I went upstairs to speak with Lily,” I said.

Anna looked over at the dresser, but her jogging clothes were blocking the digital clock.

“What time did you go up there?” she said, shoving her clothes aside. Immediately, she groaned. “What are you doing going up there at this hour? What are you doing going up there at all?”

Ire had supplanted any trace of sleep in her voice.

“Don’t be mad at me. I couldn’t sleep,” I said, in my best soothing tone. “I wanted to ask her about the Adderall. I wanted her to tell me to my face it was an innocent question.”

“Won’t you just leave her alone?” she said. “It’s really starting to get out of control.”

“Hear me out,” I said. “When I went upstairs, Lily wasn’t alone. She was with a guy named Roy. She told me
he’s
the baby’s father.”

Anna shook her head, as if she was trying to force my words into a proper place where they actually made sense.

“This is the same guy who kicked her out of her apartment?” she asked. Her eyes were pleading, desperate to pull every nugget of information.

“I think so,” I said. “At least that’s what she said.”

“Was Lily all right? Was she okay, Gage?”

Worry now. Fear for Lily’s safety trumping all else.

“Yes, she seemed more than fine,” I said. “She was glad he was there.”

“Wow, I mean . . . just wow . . . well, what’s he like? Who is he?”

I did my best to describe him. If anything stuck, it was that Roy
Something,
Roy whose last name I didn’t get, was a hard man.

“There’s more,” I said. “He’s done time.”

“Prison time?” Anna’s voice lifted, the situation worsening by the second.

“Armed robbery,” I said. “He served five years in Walpole.”

“Are you telling me that a felon has just moved in upstairs?”

“A felon who just so happens to be the father of the baby we’re going to adopt.”

“What are we going to do?” Anna said. She cupped her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this.”

“Do you want to call it off?” I asked.

There it was again, that little rascal of thought that should remain unspoken, a wish for a clean slate, an adoption do-over. I thought Anna might agree, in light of Roy, but she gave me a horrified look.

“God, no!” she said. “I don’t want to start over. This is our baby. We just need to figure it out. We need a plan. What else do we know about him? Where is he from? Does he have family here? Did he say anything about the adoption?”

“He said he didn’t want the baby,” I told her. “He didn’t use the word
abortion
, but it was certainly implied. I think that was what was really behind their big blowout. As for his background, I don’t know much. I think he’s from down south somewhere, Florida maybe, but he said he was from all over.”

“Is he going to try to stop the adoption? Do you think he’ll sign off?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a new wrinkle. It’s definitely an unusual situation. Maybe we should speak with Margret about it.”

I couldn’t believe this conversation. I wanted Anna to talk about the nursery we were going to build; maybe we’d debate the color scheme (well, I planned on deferring to her). Maybe Anna would even paint one of her amazing murals on the wall. We should have been reading books about what to expect the first few months (it’s been a long time since I parented a newborn), maybe discuss, in a loving way, the latest baby trends. Would Anna want to give the baby milk from a strap-on that mimicked breast-feeding? It was a legitimate question. I’d read about it on some adoption blog, and apparently it helped with bonding.

Would we get the ultra baby monitor, the one with a close view built-in camera and SIDS alarm, or something on the cheap side? What about a stroller, or the best infant formula? How about BPA in bottles? These were all questions I was more than happy to discuss with my wife, but it wasn’t working out that way for us. No, we were thinking about a hard-ass guy named Roy, who showed up unexpectedly in the dark of night and might very well decide he didn’t want to sign the papers giving up his parental rights. This wasn’t what I signed up for when I agreed to adopt, and by the sick and worried look on Anna’s face, it wasn’t in her plans, either.

Anna nodded. “Yeah, let’s call Margret and see what she recommends. Oh, shit,” she said.

“What?”

“I’m going to Minneapolis tomorrow.”

We’d both forgotten about her flight in the morning.

“We’ll wait until you get back to have a chat with her about Roy.”

Anna wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my neck.

“I don’t want anything to go wrong,” she said. “I’m worried about this. I’m really worried.”

“Me too,” I said.

And yet, strangely, I was feeling glad about Roy, too. Thanks to him, I felt like I had my wife back.

We were a team again.

I
t was early morning, and the sun had just begun to paint the sky with a glorious swath of pink, yellow, and blue. The air smelled sweet, birds were already chirping, and there was every indication of a spectacular day to come. It was the perfect day to fly. I waited at curbside with Anna for her taxi to arrive. Her hand rested on the extended handle of her roller suitcase—a black number with lime green handle covers to make it easier to identify hers from all the other black roller suitcases. She’d slung her black canvas computer bag across one shoulder, tilting lopsided. She’d done so much business travel over the years sometimes she stood at a tilt even when the bag wasn’t strapped to her shoulder. We had our back to the street, both looking at our house, more specifically the dark windows of the second-floor apartment.

“It’s so weird that he’s just sleeping up there,” Anna said.

I drank more of my coffee and put my free arm around Anna, pulling her in tight.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Let’s not waste our time worrying.”

“It’s so hard,” Anna said, her eyes still locked on those darkened windows. “I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

I said nothing. So much, so very much could go wrong. My peripheral vision caught a flash of movement, and I glanced down the street to see an approaching car. Anna’s cab.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” I said as the cab neared. “You’re going to get the Humboldt job, so keep your focus sharp and go be your fabulous self. You’ll wow them. You always do.”

Anna kissed me gently on the lips.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” I answered.

The cab pulled to a stop with a little squeak of the brakes. Anna put her suitcase in the backseat, climbed inside, and shut the door. She rolled down the window before the cab pulled away. She didn’t say anything. She just blew me a kiss. I gave her a little smile, toasted her with my coffee mug, and then she was gone: off to Logan, off to Minneapolis, off to closing a deal, off to secure her year’s sabbatical to bond with the baby we were no longer sure would be ours.

At work, it was the day Adam Wang got fired. I came into the office as I did every day—sat down at my workstation, powered up my computer, opened Outlook, scanned e-mails, looked at my calendar, did a bit of web surfing, and then got up to get another cup of coffee. This was the routine of my life, and I loved it. I loved my work. I loved being consumed by it. And I loved my Adderall, which made it possible for me to be here and to be effective.

The morning Adam Wang was fired was a one-pill day—just a regular run-of-the-mill trip at the office. I walked into the kitchen for my cup o’ joe and found a somber gathering of engineers. They were talking in hushed tones, which was saying something because these engineers weren’t loud to begin with.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

They told me and we all got quiet, as if Adam Wang had died and deserved a moment of respect.

“Patrice?” I asked.

My question was understood: did Patrice make the call, or had she been forced into it? The consensus was that Patrice had no choice, and wasn’t happy about it.

Of course it was the demo that did him in. We’d blown a big project milestone and lost the confidence of our CEO, all in one tumultuous afternoon. Someone had to be held accountable, and the only person who didn’t seem bent out of shape about it being Adam Wang was Matt Simons.

We’d never been able to figure out what caused the battery fire. Tests were inconclusive; configuration management checklists were double-checked. The battery should have worked as designed, but it had failed.

For Adam’s sake, I wished I could have figured out what happened. I wanted to clear his name. But it wasn’t my job to build the batteries. I just tested them. Heck, I didn’t even understand all the science, not the way Matt Simons did. And the only person I trusted less than Matt Simons was living directly above me.

I was home for about an hour, post work and post gym workout, when Brad called. He was finishing a job in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by to say hello. He had charged the woman for the water heater he had replaced but not for making contact with her departed husband’s spirit.

Brad sometimes tapped into his abilities the same way I tapped into breathing—it was just something he did without making it happen. He sensed the presence of the woman’s husband while he worked. In a flash, he knew about the man’s passion for fishing and even made a reference to the RV trip they’d been planning. She was going to take the trip now. Apparently, it was what her dead husband wanted.

Brad was my good friend, one of my very best, and yet he was a bit like Adderall for me—a pill in human form. Every time we hung out together, I thought about Max. He was my conduit to my son as much as Adderall was my conduit to focus. Over the year I’d gained more control over my impulse to use Brad than I had over the ADHD meds. I went to Brad only when I
really
needed my Max fix. Maybe if Adderall had the same side effects I got from connecting to Max’s spirit—depression, heartache, upset stomach, a painful longing—it would be a much easier habit to break. Still, Brad was coming over and it would take all my willpower to restrain from asking for a reading.

Brad showed up in his workday uniform, black polo shirt embroidered with his company logo and jeans. I mixed us two summertime cocktails—Bud Lights poured into chilled glasses. We sat on the front porch like a couple of neighborhood old-timers who could predict the weather by the amount of fluid in our knees.

I’d just finished telling Brad about Roy when the front door to the apartment opened and out stepped Lily. She was dressed in a paisley print sundress that hid the slight swell of her belly and ankle-high boots. She came breezing out the door like she’d been carried along on a gust of wind. She was light and airy on her feet, and I wondered if being with Roy did for Lily what my spiritual contacts with Max did for me. Was she high one minute and down the next? Did Roy know how to manipulate her the way I thought Lily could manipulate me? Was he the architect, the tutor of her deceptive talent? I wanted to smile at Lily, invite her to join us, but she was Anna’s girl, and always would be. We were no better than distant relatives with an uncomfortable shared history and a strained relationship.

“Hi, Gage,” Lily said before noticing Brad. When she did see him, her smile widened. “Oh, hey,” she said, breezy as the summer evening. “I didn’t see you here. Nice surprise.”

“Hi, Lily,” Brad said with a tilt of his glass. “How are you doing?”

“Great, really great,” Lily said with a coy (and I’d say trademark) tilt of her hip.

I watched Brad carefully, looking for any indication of some vibe he hadn’t picked up before. But Brad appeared even more enchanted by Lily than he had on their first meeting.

“Gage, I was just talking to Anna,” Lily began. “She called to talk about Roy.” I might have made a little noise because Lily made Roy sound like no big deal. “Anyway, we were talking and I was telling her about Roy and she sounded cool, you know, like you were, but while we were talking she realized she’d left an important folder on her desk. She’s going to call you in a minute. She’s like totally panicked. There are documents in there she needs for her meeting. She wants you to FedEx them tomorrow. Anyway, that’s the message. She’s going to call.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know,” I said, checking my cell phone and making sure it was on. I felt terrible for Anna. I knew the horrible, sinking feeling of being at a critical meeting and not having what you need.

I was going to preempt Anna by calling her when the door to Lily’s apartment opened again and out stepped Roy. He was wearing a faded red T-shirt with an iron cross design on the front, jeans, and black combat boots. The iron cross was filled in with the graphic design of skulls. Without the denim jacket, I got a better look at Roy’s rippling muscles, the envy of any trainer at my gym. I also got to see the tattoos on his arms: tribal designs, mostly. The tats were dark, no color. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses.

“Hey, Gage,” he said to me with a nod.

He acted just like one of my tenants—a guy who paid me rent and never expected our conversations to get beyond “How you doing, I’m fine thanks, you?”

“Roy, this is my friend Brad,” I said.

“He’s the plumber who came over to fix the water,” Lily added. I was sort of surprised she had shared that story with Roy. I was so caught up in the ways of Lily that it failed to occur to me she might just be living a normal life, sharing normal everyday things with this man who now shared her apartment.

Roy and Brad shook hands.

“Nice to meet you,” Roy said, noticing the beers. “That’s what we’re out for.” Roy looked at me but pointed to my beer. “Going to take a little walk into Cambridge to pick up a six. You need anything?” he asked.

“No, we’re good,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

Roy and Lily bounded down the front stairs, and I watched them walk up the street headed for Mass Ave. They weren’t holding hands, but they walked close to each other, as if they were a couple. Brad took a drink, but he wasn’t watching them walk away. He was staring ahead with a distant look in his eyes.

“What’s up?” I asked him.

“Do you remember that dark energy I said was surrounding you?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, it just walked up the street with Lily to go buy a six-pack of beer.”