“Uh, it’s the middle of the night, Sue Ann.”
She simply sighed. Why were men always so evasive? “Is there a law against talking in the middle of the night?” She shifted onto her side then, to peer down at his darkly stubbled face. “It’s just that . . . it’s not like you to be so angry—about anything.”
The glance he cast made her think he might confide in her. “Maybe . . . I just don’t usually let it show when I’m upset about something, and this time I did. I came here thinking I’d be alone, after all. And I guess . . . ” His gaze drifted up, toward the bottom of the bunk bed above them, and she could sense him already getting distant again, possibly deciding that opening up wasn’t a good idea after all. “I guess maybe it was . . . a lot of things, just building up. That’s all.”
“What things?”
She could read his look easily enough. It said, You’re being pushy and nosy. But she wanted to know because she cared about him. And in that moment it occurred to her that as well as she knew Adam . . . maybe she didn’t really know that much about him at all.
Thinking back to what he’d said about making his divorce look easier than it was, she said, “All right—if you won’t answer that, then answer this. Why did you get divorced?”
“Christ, Sue Ann—that’s . . . a little out of the blue.”
“Blue shmue,” she said. Because sometimes she was pushy, and that shouldn’t come as a surprise to someone who’d known her as long as Adam had. “I’ve always wondered why you and Sheila broke up. And we’ve been friends a really long time, right? So I don’t see why it would be such a big deal to tell me.” He never talked about Sheila unless it involved the logistics of dropping off or picking up the boys. And he never gave anything away about what might have caused their breakup—even Jeff knew very little about it, Adam having claimed vague things like “going in different directions” and being “very different people.” Now, after what he’d said earlier, she suspected there was more to the story.
“Fine,” he finally said, though he was back to sounding more belligerent than she liked. She propped herself on one elbow next to him, and he still faced the bunk above but now spared her a matter-of-fact glance. “Our marriage was crappy long before it broke up. Most people don’t know that, but now you do.”
Sue Ann just blinked, truly surprised. “Really? You both seemed happy.”
“We were for a while,” he told her on a sigh. “But we married young—passion and all that stuff—and once that part faded, we just didn’t have much in common. She wanted . . . bigger things than I did.”
“Bigger?”
“A bigger life. In a bigger place. She regretted moving to Destiny with me after college.” Adam and Sheila had met at Ohio State, where he’d played football and she’d been a cheerleader—Sue Ann and Jeff had even gone up to see a few games and get together with the other couple afterward.
“Well, I’m not sure I agree that living in a bigger place gives you a bigger life,” Sue Ann argued. “Or even a richer one.”
“I guess I must agree with you or I wouldn’t have come back home to start my business,” he replied. “But I should have known it wasn’t right for her. She’d always wanted to move to a big city—but I talked her into being a landscaper’s wife in Destiny. It seemed easy then, while we were in school, living it up, living the dream—and I was young and foolish enough to think it would go on that way, no matter what choices we made. But as time passed, she made me feel like our life together was . . . small. And after the boys were born it got even worse—and we just grew further and further apart.”
“And then?” she asked.
“And then what?”
“What happened that finally brought about the divorce?”
He just looked at her, as if sizing her up in some way, as if choosing his next words with
She simply sighed. Why were men always so evasive? “Is there a law against talking in the middle of the night?” She shifted onto her side then, to peer down at his darkly stubbled face. “It’s just that . . . it’s not like you to be so angry—about anything.”
The glance he cast made her think he might confide in her. “Maybe . . . I just don’t usually let it show when I’m upset about something, and this time I did. I came here thinking I’d be alone, after all. And I guess . . . ” His gaze drifted up, toward the bottom of the bunk bed above them, and she could sense him already getting distant again, possibly deciding that opening up wasn’t a good idea after all. “I guess maybe it was . . . a lot of things, just building up. That’s all.”
“What things?”
She could read his look easily enough. It said, You’re being pushy and nosy. But she wanted to know because she cared about him. And in that moment it occurred to her that as well as she knew Adam . . . maybe she didn’t really know that much about him at all.
Thinking back to what he’d said about making his divorce look easier than it was, she said, “All right—if you won’t answer that, then answer this. Why did you get divorced?”
“Christ, Sue Ann—that’s . . . a little out of the blue.”
“Blue shmue,” she said. Because sometimes she was pushy, and that shouldn’t come as a surprise to someone who’d known her as long as Adam had. “I’ve always wondered why you and Sheila broke up. And we’ve been friends a really long time, right? So I don’t see why it would be such a big deal to tell me.” He never talked about Sheila unless it involved the logistics of dropping off or picking up the boys. And he never gave anything away about what might have caused their breakup—even Jeff knew very little about it, Adam having claimed vague things like “going in different directions” and being “very different people.” Now, after what he’d said earlier, she suspected there was more to the story.
“Fine,” he finally said, though he was back to sounding more belligerent than she liked. She propped herself on one elbow next to him, and he still faced the bunk above but now spared her a matter-of-fact glance. “Our marriage was crappy long before it broke up. Most people don’t know that, but now you do.”
Sue Ann just blinked, truly surprised. “Really? You both seemed happy.”
“We were for a while,” he told her on a sigh. “But we married young—passion and all that stuff—and once that part faded, we just didn’t have much in common. She wanted . . . bigger things than I did.”
“Bigger?”
“A bigger life. In a bigger place. She regretted moving to Destiny with me after college.” Adam and Sheila had met at Ohio State, where he’d played football and she’d been a cheerleader—Sue Ann and Jeff had even gone up to see a few games and get together with the other couple afterward.
“Well, I’m not sure I agree that living in a bigger place gives you a bigger life,” Sue Ann argued. “Or even a richer one.”
“I guess I must agree with you or I wouldn’t have come back home to start my business,” he replied. “But I should have known it wasn’t right for her. She’d always wanted to move to a big city—but I talked her into being a landscaper’s wife in Destiny. It seemed easy then, while we were in school, living it up, living the dream—and I was young and foolish enough to think it would go on that way, no matter what choices we made. But as time passed, she made me feel like our life together was . . . small. And after the boys were born it got even worse—and we just grew further and further apart.”
“And then?” she asked.
“And then what?”
“What happened that finally brought about the divorce?”
He just looked at her, as if sizing her up in some way, as if choosing his next words with
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