your hair?”
I didn’t tell Adam that Sydney knew. When he asked how lunch went, I just said that I really liked Sydney, and that he’d made an excellent choice. I didn’t think she would tell him.
I was wrong.
Three days later, Adam came into my office hopping mad.
H e came straight over to my side of the desk so he could chew me out without being overheard. Dr. Maxwell likes to lurk when anyone has visitors, just to ensure that non-work related discussions don’t—as he puts it—“compromise our productivity.”
“I can’t believe you told her?” Adam growled in my ear.
“Told who what?” I had a bad feeling that already I knew who and what.
“ You told Sydney what happened the night before you went to Tampa.”
“I seem to recall you promising never to speak of the night before I went to Tampa.”
“It was a two-way pact.”
“No, it wasn’t. I never said.”
“It was implied.”
“Well, I’m sorry.”
“We’re going to talk about this. Later.”
“What about the pact?”
“The pact is off.”
I didn’t have to ask why. He stalked out without saying anything else. I’d never seen him so mad.
I’d have to stop answering my phone and ignore my doorbell. Not forever. Just until he’d cooled off a little. Maybe he was right. Maybe we did need to talk about it.
I was so sure that he was still angry that I didn’t answer the phone when he called that evening. I didn’t answer the second call. Or the third. He finally texted. CALL ME. I replied: TOMORROW. The next thing that flashed up on my screen were the words: DAD DIED.
I didn’t even reply, I got in my car and drove straight over to his house.
When I walked in, he was stuffing clothes in his washing machine.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I need clean clothes, for the funeral.”
I chalked it up to the crazy things people do when they’ve just received shocking news.
I took the clothes out of his hands and put them back in the hamper.
“Come sit down,” I said. He let me lead him to a chair. “What happened?”
“Heart attack.”
I didn’t have to say how sorry I was. I was already crying. It didn’t seem right that I was crying and he wasn’t.
“When is the funeral?”
“I don’t know, yet.”
“How soon are you going to Dallas?”
“I don’t know.”
He didn’t know anything. All he could do was obsess about how he didn’t have a clean shirt for the funeral. I fired up his laptop and started looking for a plane ticket.
“You could get a flight out tonight,” I said.
“Come with me.”
I couldn’t say no. He needed me.
We didn’t fly out until noon the next day. I’d hurried home to pack at four o’clock in the morning, after Adam had finally fallen asleep. He didn’t even know I’d gone.
We got to the departure lounge alright. I’d found a clean white shirt in the back of Adam’s closet. That hadn’t calmed him down as much as I’d hoped. Now he’d moved on to asking over and over if I was absolutely sure I’d confirmed our reservation for a rental car.
“Did you call Sydney?” I asked.
He hadn’t. Apparently, it hadn’t even occurred to him.
“I think you should.”
He called her. He didn’t cry or anything. I’m sure she didn’t. You don’t cry over the grief of someone you’ve known less than a month. At least I don’t.
“You didn’t tell her I was with you.”
“I’ll tell her later.”
It wasn’t the right time to point out that Sydney wasn’t going to like it.
I had to call the University, for both of us. The head of Adam’s department was very understanding. Adam should take as much time as he needed, he said. Three weeks at least.
Dr. Maxwell was not so accommodating. At first he got the impression that it was my father who had passed away. “I know I’m supposed to give you three weeks,” he said. “But I’ve always been of the opinion that after a loss it’s best to resume one’s normal routine
I didn’t tell Adam that Sydney knew. When he asked how lunch went, I just said that I really liked Sydney, and that he’d made an excellent choice. I didn’t think she would tell him.
I was wrong.
Three days later, Adam came into my office hopping mad.
H e came straight over to my side of the desk so he could chew me out without being overheard. Dr. Maxwell likes to lurk when anyone has visitors, just to ensure that non-work related discussions don’t—as he puts it—“compromise our productivity.”
“I can’t believe you told her?” Adam growled in my ear.
“Told who what?” I had a bad feeling that already I knew who and what.
“ You told Sydney what happened the night before you went to Tampa.”
“I seem to recall you promising never to speak of the night before I went to Tampa.”
“It was a two-way pact.”
“No, it wasn’t. I never said.”
“It was implied.”
“Well, I’m sorry.”
“We’re going to talk about this. Later.”
“What about the pact?”
“The pact is off.”
I didn’t have to ask why. He stalked out without saying anything else. I’d never seen him so mad.
I’d have to stop answering my phone and ignore my doorbell. Not forever. Just until he’d cooled off a little. Maybe he was right. Maybe we did need to talk about it.
I was so sure that he was still angry that I didn’t answer the phone when he called that evening. I didn’t answer the second call. Or the third. He finally texted. CALL ME. I replied: TOMORROW. The next thing that flashed up on my screen were the words: DAD DIED.
I didn’t even reply, I got in my car and drove straight over to his house.
When I walked in, he was stuffing clothes in his washing machine.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I need clean clothes, for the funeral.”
I chalked it up to the crazy things people do when they’ve just received shocking news.
I took the clothes out of his hands and put them back in the hamper.
“Come sit down,” I said. He let me lead him to a chair. “What happened?”
“Heart attack.”
I didn’t have to say how sorry I was. I was already crying. It didn’t seem right that I was crying and he wasn’t.
“When is the funeral?”
“I don’t know, yet.”
“How soon are you going to Dallas?”
“I don’t know.”
He didn’t know anything. All he could do was obsess about how he didn’t have a clean shirt for the funeral. I fired up his laptop and started looking for a plane ticket.
“You could get a flight out tonight,” I said.
“Come with me.”
I couldn’t say no. He needed me.
We didn’t fly out until noon the next day. I’d hurried home to pack at four o’clock in the morning, after Adam had finally fallen asleep. He didn’t even know I’d gone.
We got to the departure lounge alright. I’d found a clean white shirt in the back of Adam’s closet. That hadn’t calmed him down as much as I’d hoped. Now he’d moved on to asking over and over if I was absolutely sure I’d confirmed our reservation for a rental car.
“Did you call Sydney?” I asked.
He hadn’t. Apparently, it hadn’t even occurred to him.
“I think you should.”
He called her. He didn’t cry or anything. I’m sure she didn’t. You don’t cry over the grief of someone you’ve known less than a month. At least I don’t.
“You didn’t tell her I was with you.”
“I’ll tell her later.”
It wasn’t the right time to point out that Sydney wasn’t going to like it.
I had to call the University, for both of us. The head of Adam’s department was very understanding. Adam should take as much time as he needed, he said. Three weeks at least.
Dr. Maxwell was not so accommodating. At first he got the impression that it was my father who had passed away. “I know I’m supposed to give you three weeks,” he said. “But I’ve always been of the opinion that after a loss it’s best to resume one’s normal routine
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