“You lost your job? But I thought you were working for the…” I let my voice trail off, realizing that these details are probably none of my business. But last I had heard, Adam moved back into town to work for theCranberry Chronicle. I guess that’s why I’m so surprised.
Adam sighs. “Yes, after only about six months, they let me go. They said I wasn’t pulling in readers like they had hoped I would, and theChronicle’s tiny budget got hit with more cuts, so…” He shrugs. “I’ve been living off savings. I am moving back in with my grandfather while in my thirties. It’s just been one thing after another, you know?”
“You moved in?” I ask, suddenly more than unnerved by this information. “I thought you were living downtown and only visited William on the weekends.”
Adam laughs. “Kinda hard to keep a place with no income. I’m almost finished packing and should be all settled here within a few days.” He clears his throat. “As I was saying, though. No matter what I’m going through, I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. Again, I’m sorry.”
I take a tiny sip of tea to try and figure out what to say next.I’m still frazzled by the idea of Adam living here, so close to Nadia’s place. It reminds me of when I was a ghost. When he’d stay at William’s for long vacations and I would jump out an attic window to watch him read and write and go in the backyard, put his hands in his pockets and glance up at the twinkling stars, maybe the same stars whose planets have animals that I might be, in some distant, cosmic way, magically connected to.
The words feel as though they come from my heart. “I’m sorry you’re going through it.”
He nods. “Well. Yeah. I’ve been laid off twice in the last two years because of the ongoing decline of journalism. I really need to get my name back there in some huge way, I think. It would be great if, like, an incredibly compelling story just, like, fell into my lap.” He laughs as though he’s said some impossible thing. “Especially considering how Gramps’s medications and doctor visits are adding up. His health insurance keeps dropping the ball. But, yeah. That’s what I really need to get back to newspaper journalism. A big break.”
I swallow. I can scarcely believe what I am about to say next, but…I think of how becoming sharp like a pinecone didn’t workat all. I then remember the immediate regret on Peter’s face, after he’d been heckling me with absolutely no sign of remorse. All because of Adam shutting it down.
Even if Adam’s in the middle of what sounds like a serious rough patch…this whole town still respects him. Peter at the bar wouldn’t have given a crap about Adam’s opinion of his behavior otherwise. Which means…maybe through him, I can getthemto respectme.
Notlikeme. I’m not delusional. But just…treat me like a real human, even if they give me a wide berth most of the time? The idea of going to the store or even taking a walk downtown towatch the sunset along the coast without intense anxiety and panic is too good to pass up.
So I nod. Decision made. I make my voice low and mysterious. “What about the true story of a girl who fell eighty feet in a state park? Whose body was never discovered? But then she was found in the same park, eight years later, with no memory of where she’d been?”
Adam swallows his sip of tea. I can tell that he is sort of intrigued, but then he shakes his head. “No…I mean, that’s a little too…”
I interrupt him by putting my hand over his. He glances down quickly and up again, swallowing, this time without any tea. “But what if she actually does remember where she’d been? And you would be the first person who’s not family to know the true story?”
I try so hard to frame it like a true crime podcast intro. I know those are addicting to a lot of people, Anise included. She always has some episode on when she’s doing mindless work, like organizing books or sweeping. Sometimes I will hang out to listen for a few minutes, even delaying my eventual nesting in my favorite place in the whole world, my desk in the basement. It’s the language they use, and the music, honestly. I need some dramatic theme music attached to my offer right now.
Instead, Adam scratches the red gold of his hair and brings his hand to cup his mug once more. “But what would be in it for you?”
Respect. Dignity. I open my mouth to pick one of these, or a synonym, but then what actually comes out is this:
“A…friend?”
7
Adam stares at me fora long moment, one of his thick brown eyebrows raised. “A…friend.” He forms the word as though he’s never heard it before, as though it’s in an entirely different language even.
I nod. “Yes. Like, you could pretend to be my friend. And, you know, vice versa. ’Cause that’s the way these things go, right?” I cross my legs in the chair, but my legs are so damn long that my knees jab into the edges of the tabletop, and so I uncross them and settle for resting my feet on the seat across from me.
Adam sits back in his chair during my adjustments. “Look, I’m not trying to be snarky or anything like that, but I don’t understand how us pretending to be friends would be payment for the exclusive story of where you were for, what was it? Nine years.”
“Eight years,” I correct, and then shrug. “Look. Everyone in town is completely obsessed with you. You are universally beloved in Cranberry.” I expect him to gloat or even just smile, but instead a hint of a frown appears at the corner of his lips. “Maybeif folks see us being friends, they won’t be so mean to me, you know?”
Adam’s still frowning. “I think you’re overestimating my influence in this town.”
I roll my eyes. “Adam, you literally saw how Peter treated me at the bar tonight. Do you think that’s an isolated incident? Spoiler: It’s not. Not at all. But for the first time ever, heapologized. Someone finally fucking apologized for treating me like garbage, and it’s because of you. Forgive me for saying it, but it sounds like you’reunderestimatingyour influence in this town.”
Adam runs his hands over his face again, chuckling like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation, his voice deep enough that I feel it in my ribs, my hips, and, as much as I hate to admit it, a bit more south than that. I begin to tap at my knees under the table to distract myself from those unwanted sensations.
“People respect you. They like you. And if Cranberry saw youchoosingto be my friend?” I gesture to the window, where nothing but the pitch black of night can be seen right now. Not even the closest plants or patio furniture are visible, but this doesn’t stop me from sensing the raccoon cutting through the backyard, two bruised, sweet apple cores in her mouth. “If people saw you making that choice, they wouldn’t bully me so bad. In theory, at least.”
Adam leans back in his chair. “Okay. So…why pretend, then? Couldn’t we become friends for real?”
“Maybe?” I shrug and stare at my hands. I’m still tapping my thighs with my fingertips, trying to keep my stress levels down with the repetitive motion. “You don’t really know me yet. I’m really weird.”
He stares at me for a moment, starting with my hair, and lowering down to my cheeks, my chin, my belly, down to my tappingfingers. He seems to realize that it very much looks like he’s checking me out, when he and I both know that’s not the case, and so he clears this throat and firmly drops his gaze onto his now-empty tea mug. “You’re not…Sky. You’re not off-putting, or repulsive, or whatever you seem to be thinking about yourself. At all. Trust me.”
“Trustyou?” I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes and stand instead, taking our mugs to the sink. “Youhaven’t been calledfreakorliarorthe devilfor the last two years.Youdidn’t have greasy French fries dumped on your head the last time you decided to try having a meal by yourself. Frankly, you telling me that I seem to think these things about myself is incredibly invalidating.”
