Dear Adam (23 page)

When we're not together, I feel suspended,
in limbo.

You’re more real to me than any man I’ve
ever known.

Late summer afternoons were
for Adam. Every other day, Dante would have dinner with his dad so
she would be alone with Adam and they could talk for hours. He was
a night owl anyway, he would assure her whenever she became
concerned, so staying up until 2 or 3 in the morning wasn’t too
difficult. Sometimes he would sing to her old-fashioned love songs,
doing his best to stay in tune. Other times he would read her more
of his poetry.

She insisted that they have dates (“Just
because you’re in another time zone, doesn’t mean you can be
excused!” she told him when he groaned.) One Sunday, when she was
home alone, she made a lovely lunch for herself and propped up her
iPod on the table so that she could talk with Adam while he had his
candlelit dinner in Sicily.

Another Sunday she woke up
early so that they could both watch a movie at the same time –
Annie Hall, something they’d both had never seen before. They
messaged each other the whole time with their thoughts. He was
unimpressed. She thought it was great. They spent the next hour
arguing its merits and flaws, which only ended when he told her he
spent the entire movie wanting to talk to her instead.

There were no guessing games with him like
there were with other men. She never had to doubt that his interest
in her was of a serious nature. A man who professed not to ever
date didn’t waste time with casual flings.

“
We need to spend time
together,” he would say, though they had been e-mailing nonstop all
day or talked at length the nights before.

Even so, they still had an inexhaustible well
of conversation. They discussed books, food, music, the news. Adam
never failed to ask her about Dante, and she began to talk to him
about her son, even trusting him with her worries and concerns. It
was a relief to have a man who was interested in her and did not
see Dante as competition for her affections.

Often they would get into
passionate debates ranging from climate change (she almost choked
when he said he didn’t believe in it) to effective government
(“What do you mean you didn’t vote for prime minister?!” she
sputtered, aghast. “How can somebody with so many strong opinions
not vote for the person who’ll run the country? I love to vote!” To
which he replied mildly, “I refused to choose between two evils.”)
Their favorite and most frequent sparring seemed to occur over
Americans versus Brits (“We gave you the English language and look
what you did with it,” was his favorite lament. “Yeah,” she would
retort, “We made it better.”)

Although they never hid their opinions from
one another, they were careful to dance around the topic which had
almost driven them apart. Eden grew comfortable in thinking that
once they were more established, she would slowly and carefully
change his mind, convince him with sound and effective arguments.
She was confident that she would have plenty of time to do so.

She never had a shortage of questions about
his life and his past, especially his childhood.

She learned about his
father, a hard and emotionally distant man. The mother who left him
when he was two years old. A life so impoverished that he would go
for days without food. Sometimes the only way he could eat was if
he went to the neighbors, who would take pity on him. The constant
fights in school, which Adam described as a war zone. His had been
a bleak and violent childhood.

If she got too distressed with his sad
remembrances, Adam would tell her stories of the many places he had
been and where he wanted to take her.

“
We could go to
Montenegro,” he would say, “I could teach you how to gamble in the
casinos.” He wanted to take her to Formula One races, sailing on
his boat. He asked her if she and Dante would like to spend a week
in Cannes, as he had a friend who had a house there. Eden never
knew what to say to these suggestions. She couldn’t imagine herself
in the glamorous world he described. Or when he talked more and
more about Sicily, as though to entice her with its
charms.

Although she was fascinated by his life
there, Eden knew that fascination only extended so far as it
pertained to Adam. It would be a great place to visit, but to live
there? This was a question that kept surfacing more often in the
undercurrents of all their talks, even though they had known each
other only a short time. With each day of e-mails and hours of
Skype talks, they got closer and closer, more and more
intimate.

“
Would you get married
again?” he asked her point blank in his “business” voice. She was
learning to read all the subtle tones and nuances of his voice, the
nearest thing to tangibility that she had. This was the same tone
he used when discussing work and negotiations. I have no patience
with nonsense, it seemed to indicate, so let’s cut to the
chase.

“
Married again?” she
repeated, more than taken aback. Adam didn’t seem like someone who
rushed important decisions. But he was, above all, a practical man.
What was the point of getting to know each other and building a
relationship if not to lead to something permanent? He had made it
clear from the beginning what his situation was - a man who had
attained financial security and was now looking to the next stage
of his life: a wife, children.

“
Well,” she started,
scrambling for a diplomatic reply. “I am open to it. I always
thought that I would again, if I met the right man. But it’s not
something I think about or plan for.”

“
You stayed single for
almost eight years – no one at all during that time?”

Eden tried to quell her
uneasiness. It was natural of him to ask, yet it was veering
towards dangerous territory. She contemplated diverting him to
another topic, but realized how hypocritical she was being. She had
asked him hundreds of probing questions, which he answered quite
patiently and when it was his turn, her first instinct was
avoidance.

“
Yes. I’d been with Dante’s
dad for all my adult life. I wanted – needed – to see if I could
make it on my own. I wanted to concentrate on Dante first, and
myself, second. And when I was ready, I started dating.”

“
Hm,” he said, “Makes
sense.” He sounded like he believed her, but that there was
something he was turning over in his mind. Something that troubled
him. “It took you a long time to become ready to let someone else
in your life. Troy - was it?”

“
Yes.”

“
Was it
serious?”

“
Yes. Even for its brief
time.”

“
But as soon as he started
to try and control you – you cut it off. No hesitation.”

“
Correct.” She worried that
he would think she was fickle, like he accused her once before.
“I’m willing to compromise, Adam. I think you have proof of
that.”

“
I do.”

“
He started off being very
sweet and romantic and understanding. Then at some point, he began
to get jealous of all the time I spent on other pursuits –
blogging, boxing, reading. He even complained about my wanting to
spend time with Dante. Then when he gave me that ultimatum – either
see him or break up – I just knew it would only get worse. So I had
to end it.”

“
You were afraid it would
get much worse.” It wasn’t a question.

“
I chose to pay attention
to the red flags.”

"The warning signs of deep insecurity?"

"Yes."

"Someone who was controlling?"

"Maybe," she admitted. "Truth was, now
looking back, how could I know someone enough in two months? But if
he was acting that way that early in the relationship then ..."

"You thought he might end up being abusive?"
Adam asked gently.

Eden didn't answer. Her throat had
constricted and she felt claustrophobic. It was an instinctual
reaction - one of wanting desperately to flee. She tried to contain
it.

"Eden."

"Darling, I know this is hard. But it's
something we need to talk about."

"Why?"

"You once asked me if perhaps I sought an
online relationship because it was easier. Do you remember asking
me that?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever wondered if perhaps
subconsciously, you were seeking the same?"

"No, I wasn't, Adam! You were the one who
found me, remember?"

"Yes, darling, I did," he replied patiently.
Adam sounded as if he was choosing his words with the utmost care.
"Let me put this another way. Why are you taking a self-defense
class and a boxing class at the same time?"

"Because of my 36 list. And plus I like it.
It's not peculiar, if that's what you're thinking. Lots of women
are in both my classes."

"Women who have been assaulted in some
way?"

Eden paused before answering. There was no
going around it. He was tugging and pulling at her, forcing her to
come to a place she didn't want to go.

"Some," she admitted.

"Eden, did your ex-husband hit you?" he asked
in a voice she had never heard before, so soft and quiet that she
was afraid of hurting him with the answer. She answered just as
quietly, a very small word that she had difficulty forcing out.

"Yes."

He said nothing. She
couldn't see him. She couldn't hear him. She had known him only a
handful of intense days, but she could sense his mood changing to
something very dark on the other end.

"It wasn't all the time," she said, anxious
about what he thought of her. That she was a weak and foolish
woman, someone who would stay with an abusive man for 10 years. A
terrible mother who would raise her son in a toxic household.

"Just sometimes. And Dante never saw
anything. I mean," she corrected herself, "never except for once.
He came home drunk so I knew something was going to happen. I
stupidly thought if I went to Dante's room, he wouldn't do
anything. But he followed me and ..."

She had only told the story a few times. Once
to the police, once to the District Attorney's Office, once to her
parents, and once to her best friend, over eight years ago. The
memory of her ex-husband growling at her like some ferocious
animal, stinking of beer, and then throwing her to the ground
didn't cause her any pain or fear now. Every detail was sharp but
left her detached, all except for one part.

"He followed me and, and ... Dante woke up
screaming. It's a sound I'll never forget." Her child's piercing
shriek sliced through her like a knife. It hurt her more than any
of the cruel things her husband had ever said or done to her. "I
still hear it sometimes. That put an end to everything. I went to
the police the next day."

"It didn't hurt," she said quickly, when Adam
remained silent. "Not like the other times. And I never went back
to him after that. I filed for a restraining order so he couldn't
do all the things he used to do - call me all the time, saying he
was sorry to get me to come back, follow me everywhere, corner me
until I gave in. He knew he had finally crossed the line so he
straightened up. Went to a batterer’s class and anger management
class as part of the plea deal. Dante and I moved here and started
over and now we're fine. Everything's fine now."

He was silent.

"Adam, please say something."

When he did speak it was with a black calm
that chilled her.

"He had done worse."

"Yes."

"Much worse."

"Adam, it was a long time ago. I don't want
to talk about it anymore."

The few minutes it took to tell the story had
drained her. So much more was left unsaid - the awful fights, the
yelling, the screaming, being thrown about like a rag doll, years
of lying to everyone - doctors, the police, to her parents, to
herself that everything was fine. Until the night she couldn’t lie
to herself anymore.

"I'm sorry darling, but we must. It’s
important to us, to our future."

She was finally ready to have a healthy
relationship. With Troy, she had proven to herself that she could
walk away from something that had the potential to be a repeat of
her failed marriage. She didn't want any of the past to haunt her
and Adam now.

"Please don't make me."

"Alright, darling. Alright," he said, as
though soothing a troubled child. “We will never talk about it
again. But there is one thing you need to know. Out of respect for
you, and out of respect for your son.” His voice changed ever so
subtly, but it reminded her of that first night when he told her of
the time he almost died. It sounded deadly. Frightening.