Dear Adam, page 6
I give him an ear scratch, promising to take him for a long walk later, then set off toward the bathroom, eager to shower the last few days off.
Later, I’m settled into the couch with a frozen pizza, about to turn on a movie, when something chimes. I flip over my phone to find a black screen and chalk it up to exhaustion from the past couple of days making me crazy. Two minutes later, I hear it again. I sit forward, listening intently, waiting for the sound. Finally, I pinpoint it to the white bag of my belongings from the hospital and rifle through it until I find a phone that’s definitely not mine.
I tap the screen alight and find a picture of Pretzel when she was a puppy.
Somehow, Adam’s phone must’ve gotten mixed up with mine in all the chaos after the accident. The phone pings again in my hand, and I see Aly’s name pop up.
Unable to stop myself, I attempt to unlock the screen, mentally running through ideas for Adam’s passcode. But, I’m surprised when it opens without resistance. I chuckle because of course Adam doesn’t have any security on his phone.
I click into the text thread with his sister and read.
Dear Adam,
I know you can’t actually read this right now, but when you wake up, I want you to have an easy way to catch up on what you’ve missed. I know how bad you get FOMO. Your dog is weird and has terrible gas but we are starting to get along now. Emma and I took her to the beach and she wanted to chase every seagull she saw. She had fun though. I’ve only caught her chewing on one pair of my underwear since she’s been here, but it was definitely still the crotch she chewed out so idk, maybe you need to have a talk with her about that? That’s kind of weird. I swear it’s like she’s fighting me for female dominance or something. Anyway, I love you and I’ll see you soon.
Attached is a picture of Aly snuggled up with Pretzel, who is chewing on a stuffed unicorn. Aly’s eyes are red rimmed and puffy and her long, sandy brown waves are piled haphazardly onto her head with a pink scrunchy. Gone are the braces and the thick rimmed glasses I remember from high school. Instead, two rows of pearly whites and the most gorgeous pale-blue eyes I’ve ever seen stare back at me. I catch myself smiling when I notice the stack of worn paperbacks on her nightstand. Aly always did have her nose stuck in a book, and I’m comforted by the fact that it seems like that hasn’t changed.
My nostalgia is quickly replaced by guilt when I remember this text and this picture were never meant for my eyes, and it’s my fault she can’t actually share this with her brother right now. I set the phone on the counter, and run my hands through my hair. Tomorrow, I’ll take Adam’s phone to the post office and everything will be fine.
Satisfied with my decision, I return to the couch. Hank joins me, and I press play again on Sleepless in Seattle, which was Aly’s favorite back in high school. I wonder if it still is.
Say what you will, but I’ll take 1993 Meg Ryan over just about anyone famous in today’s day and age…except maybe Taylor Swift.
I stretch out across the couch and Hank curls up at my feet. When I reach the part where Annie hears Sam over the radio and falls for him, my eyelids grow heavy.
How do you fall for someone you don’t even know? I wonder in my sleep induced haze.
My last thought before finally dozing off is Aly, all grown up and more beautiful than I could imagine.
I wake to a whine and a cold, wet nose pressed against my temple. I crack open one eye and squint, realizing Hank’s nose is probably the only thing keeping me on the couch at this point. His mouth is open and he’s panting heavily into my face. My gag reflex threatens to kick in, but before I can get up, he drags his sandpapery tongue along the length of my cheek.
“Have you been in the trash this morning?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. Hank instantly lowers his head and looks up at me through his eyelashes. I swear he watches romance movies when he’s not on the job site with me and learns little things like this to get him out of trouble. I give him a little scratch under the chin.
The rich aroma of fresh-brewed coffee fills my nose as I pour it into a to-go cup and slip on my tennis shoes. I’m attaching Hank’s leash to his collar when I remember Adam’s phone and the entire reason for going out this morning. The whole fifteen second walk from the door to the kitchen counter, I’m wrestling with the thought of checking it again. I decide I will because no one will know, then immediately change to no, because it’s none of my business. But when I flip the phone over from its face down position on the counter, it instantly lights up, and I’m able to see there are no new texts from Aly. Guilt washes over me again as I slip it into my back pocket.
I decide on a longer route into town that follows the water’s edge along the cliffs in hopes of clearing my mind and sorting through my thoughts about Aly. The temperature is in the low seventies and it’s slightly overcast, which I normally wouldn’t mind. Today though, the weather only adds to my pensive mood.
FaceTiming Aly a few nights ago did nothing to keep the memories and feelings that I always keep locked down from resurfacing. Instead, seeing her was like one of those magic tricks where you pull on the end of a scarf and instead of only the one you saw the magician shove up into his sleeve, a million more tumble free, and you’re left wondering how that many things could fit in such a tiny spot and where exactly they all came from. Seeing Aly for the first time in ten years didn’t simply stir up a tiny bit of interest. It brought back all the feelings I had for her and then some.
To make matters worse, I see what kind of message she sends to her comatose brother. I mean, who does that? Who, other than Aly, would think to keep someone updated on everything they’re missing like that? She’s still got the biggest heart and all the love in the world to give to the people she cares about. The realization also does nothing to help the way I’ve tried to suppress all my feelings for her.
My walk does nothing to clear my mind and only leaves me more confused. When we finally make it to the post office, I tug on the door and it doesn’t budge. It’s then I realize it’s Memorial Day. Today was the day Adam was supposed to go back to Charleston.
As if on cue, his phone buzzes in my pocket. I look at Hank. “What do I do?” I ask him. “Should I look at it?” Hank winks, something he does fairly often because he’s a dog, but I take it as a yes. When I pull the phone out, there’s a text from Aly. I read it once, then again, before I slip the phone back into my pocket, promising myself I’ll return it tomorrow. Or the next day. No, definitely tomorrow.
“You’re a terrible influence,” I growl at Hank, kneeling to give him a scratch under the chin. He wags his tail and stares at me, unaware of the inner turmoil I’m facing right now.
Another text comes through and I sigh as I pull the phone back out. This time it’s a picture of Pretzel, the stuffed unicorn clamped between her teeth, its head sticking out one side of her mouth, butt the other. I’m still kneeling beside Hank when I lock the phone and look over at him. “We’re in trouble aren’t we, buddy?”
Chapter seven
Levi
The next day, with the weight of all I’ve refused to acknowledge settled on my shoulders, I’m wrapping up the last job I have scheduled for a while.
I don’t have any more big jobs lined up after this one.
I’ve been working on building a modest, two story home in the suburbs and when the payout hits the bank account, it’ll be enough to live off of for a little while, but what if…
I don’t even let myself finish that thought. Another job will come. It always does. This is simply the name of the game for a small construction company like mine; this is what happens trying to roll with the big dogs. I shake it off and pack up all my gear in the truck, where Hank already waits in the passenger seat.
“Burgers?” I ask, already knowing his answer. In response, he lets out a small howl of confirmation. A moment later, we pull into Buck's Burgers, and Aly’s name lights up on Adam’s phone in the cupholder. I meant to return it this morning, I really did, but when I went to the post office on my lunch break, they were on lunch, too. What a coincidence.
Hank looks at the phone and then at me. “It won’t hurt to take a peek, will it?” I ask him. Drool slides from the corner of his mouth, and I take that as my sign from the universe to pick up the phone and read her latest text.
Hudson is dropping by the store more and more and it’s almost hilarious how little he knows me. Yesterday, he brought me lactose-free ice cream and said he knew of other women who had sensitive stomachs and just wanted to be safe. I mean seriously, what do our parents see in him? I appreciate the ice cream, I really do, but I’d like all the lactose, please.
I’m grinning when three little dots appear again. Instantly, my grin is replaced by pure, unadulterated, hate for this Hudson guy.
He is kind of hot though, just saying.
Aly thinks Hudson is hot? The tool that Adam said works for his dad and has feet so small he wears women’s loafers? That might not actually be true, but Adam swore it’s a possibility. Against my better judgment, I channel my inner scorned woman, do a quick google search of his name and, wow, who cares if he has small feet with a chiseled face like that? There’s no way Aly’s going to stay away from him forever. She’ll fall in love, they’ll get married, have chiseled-jaw, small-footed babies, and live happily ever after. How many times a day do you actually look at someone’s feet, anyway?
My finger hovers over the search bar, and Hank nudges my arm with a warm, wet nose. I know he’s ready to order our burgers, but I take that as another sign to type in Aly’s name. Instantly, pictures of her in front of Bloomie’s, her flower shop, pop up. There’s an article from the Post and Courier about the new flower shop on King Street, so I click on it.
A picture of her holding scissors cutting a ribbon is at the top of the article. Adam is standing beside her, pride radiating from his wide smile. Emma is on the other side, equally as excited. Like Aly, she looks like she hasn’t changed a bit since high school. She’s still got the funkiest style in clothing I’ve ever seen, and her hair is still a shade of neon that I’m sure she changed only the night before from some other color of the rainbow.
The realization that Aly and Adam’s parents aren’t in the shot irks me. They were always a bit pretentious—their noses were so far in the air, they’d drown in a heavy rainfall—but the fact they weren’t there to celebrate their daughter’s major accomplishment doesn’t sit well with me. I shake it off and continue scrolling.
Underneath that picture is another with her holding a bouquet of wildflowers up to her nose, eyes closed in pure bliss, standing in front of the shiplapped walls holding shelf after shelf of vases. Her wavy, sun-bleached hair cascades over one shoulder, the other side tucked behind her ear. Underneath her Bloomie’s apron, she’s barefoot in a golden yellow sundress. If it weren’t for the pair of tortoiseshell glasses perched on her cute little nose, it would look like she just stepped out of the ocean after a day full of surfing. My heart thumps hard enough in my chest at the breathtaking sight of her that I count to three to calm my ragged breathing.
“Should I message her?” I ask Hank. “I mean, it’s only fair to check in on her, and see how her brother’s doing, right?”
I had been staying updated thanks to her texts to Adam, but no one else knows that. Now that I’m thinking about it, I bet I seem like a terrible friend. Hank nudges my arm again, so with wobbly fingers, I find her number from when Adam used my phone to FaceTime her and type out a quick message.
Hey Ali, it’s Levi. I just wanted to check and see how Adam was and if you were doing okay. I look forward to hearing from you.
I hurry and delete the last sentence. I look forward to hearing from you sounds more like a business email. Yuck. I hit send and finally attach the leash to Hank’s collar so we can get some burgers.
A while later, I’m home on the couch in a burger-induced coma, wearing ketchup stains and engrossed in another rom com when my phone buzzes.
Aly: Hey Levi! Adam is back in South Carolina now and is staying stable. He’s still in a coma but his doctors are staying optimistic and hopeful. How are you? I actually called the hospital to check on you a few days ago and they said you had been released and were doing okay. I had to pretend to be your little sister to get any kind of info from them…hope you don’t mind lol
She called to check on me? Grin on my face, I type back, I am doing pretty good, all things considered. I’m really sorry about Adam. I hope you know I would trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.
Instantly, those three dots appear followed by another message. Don’t say that. It was a freak accident that no one deserved to be a part of.
Me: Still…How are you though? Are you doing okay?
The dots pop up and then disappear a few times before a new text comes through. Yeah…I’m doing okay. It’s weird not being able to talk to your best friend like you have every day for the past twenty-seven years though.
Me: I can only imagine. I’m here if you need anything.
Aly: Thank you, Levi.
While I’m struggling to think of a response, another message pops up from her.
Aly: Hey, can I ask you for some construction advice? Our toilet in the back isn’t working right and I’m wondering how to fix it or if it’s even fixable. I checked with my landlord and apparently it’s my responsibility to get it looked at which kinda stinks. No pun intended.
Me: It could be a leaky wax ring or a bad seal. I’d have it checked out sooner rather than later.
Aly: That’s what I was afraid of. Is your dad still in business? Maybe I can give him a call.
My thumbs take on a mind of their own as I type the next sentence.
Me: Actually, no need. I’m flying in tomorrow so I can come take a look at it.
I frown at the screen for a second, anxiety gripping my chest. I jab at the text repeatedly, looking for any way to unsend it. What had I done? I had no plans of going back to Charleston anytime soon, let alone tomorrow. She might not even want to see me. Those infernal dots appear a moment later, and I hold my breath waiting for her reply.
Get a grip, Middleton. You are calm, you are cool, you are collected. Some might even say you’re a nice, handsome, tall drink of water. Or…maybe that’s just Mom. Whatever you are, you are not the middle school girl you’re acting like.
As I’m giving myself my pep talk, Aly’s text comes through.
Aly: You are? That’s great! I have plans around seven tomorrow evening but if you get in before that, maybe you could swing by? Or anytime you’re free!
Relief floods my chest and I send a thumbs up emoji in an attempt to not sound so eager. Then, I open Google and scrounge around for a last minute flight to Charleston.
Chapter eight
Levi
“How exactly did it happen?” my mom asks. Her reading glasses are perched precariously on the tip of her nose and she’s frowning at the piece of pink paper she’s holding.
“We were almost out,” I say, releasing a huff of air. “I could see the exit doors. But a toddler at baggage claim screamed he had to potty, and that word is Hank’s kryptonite. He went nuts.”
“Potty?” Dad asks, his face wrinkled in confusion. He leans against the counter and takes the slip of paper from Mom, scanning it over.
“It’s how I trained him to go outside to do his business,” I explain.
“So you’re telling me, he busted out of his crate, and then just…did it?” Mom and Dad both share a look then do their best to stifle their giggles.
I groan, reliving the memory. “I still don’t understand how. One second he was firmly in his crate, and the next he was free and headed toward a garden of faux plants roped off in the middle of the airport. I tried to stop him but, by the time I caught up with him, he had already hurdled the ropes and hunkered down.”
Dad grimaces then hands the ticket to me before wandering outside. I scan it before wadding it up and shoving it in my pocket, then let out a low whistle. “Two hundred fifty dollars, all thanks to a nervous stomach.”
Hank, relieved to be out of the airport, is laying under the kitchen table, happily snoozing. I glance toward him and notice a couple of the legs on the chairs scattered around the table are a little wobbly.
“Mom, do you want me to fix your kitchen chairs?” I ask, already bending down to examine them.
“Your dad was supposed to fix them months ago. It’s just so hard on his knees to squat.” She joins me and rubs my back. “Don’t worry about it right now. First, you need to eat.” She sets a sandwich piled high with bacon, lettuce, and tomato in front of me. My mouth waters. Nothing compares to my mom’s BLTs on her homemade sourdough bread. She’s added my favorite barbeque kettle cooked potato chips to the plate, and my stomach grumbles louder when she sets down a homemade glass of sweet tea.
I pull out one of the few good kitchen chairs, the scrape finally waking Hank from his slumber. He mopes over and rests his head on my knee while I enjoy one of my favorite meals in the kitchen where I grew up. I glance around the kitchen, unsure of how things have stayed exactly the same, yet feel completely different in the ten years I’ve been gone.
Looking around, I find all my school pictures still lined up in the hallway leading to the bathroom, where lines and dates mark the doorframe, showing my height at different ages. The windows are open and the salty breeze from the inlet outside and sweet scent of roses from mom’s flower garden greet my nose. I’ve missed this place more than I realized. I take a deep breath and swallow the last bite of my sandwich, lost in the memories of growing up here. I’m so deep in nostalgia, I almost miss the buzzing in my pocket.
Hesitating only a moment when I realize it’s Adam’s, I quickly pull it out, eager to see what Aly sent this time. When I open the text, I find a picture of Aly eating an ice cream cone, clad only in a bikini top, and my cheeks heat at the sight of all that golden skin.
