Page 13 of Who's that Girl?
Adam: I talked to Gray, and to Drew. We can do the show. I’m happy to do the show. Guys are gonna come to see the house and the barn and stuff this week.
Adam: Please, talk to me. I’m so so sorry.
I watch and wait for the little bubbles, for any sign that she’s heard me, but Claire does not reply.
~
By the next morning, there’s still no response. So I try again.
Adam: Okay, I get it. It’s not enough. That’s fair. I have to do more.
Adam: I am going to talk to my mom. I’m going to get her moved into her own place and away from your Dad. I promise. In fact, I’m calling her right now.
I do call my mother, and that’s a whole thing. It’s good news in most ways, though I don’t have the heart to describe it all to Claire via text at the moment. I don’t think my mother is the real problem anyway. Or not the main problem. She’s a problem, for sure, but I’m the real problem. I’m the one responsible. So I have to focus on the most important thing. On Claire. On us. My pain-in-the-ass mother is just background noise.
I try again.
I try harder.
Adam: You think the first time I ever talked to you was on the bus after that field trip, right? It wasn’t.
Adam: I know what you’re going to say, too. You’re going to say, “Yes it was, I remember, you sat down beside me and you had no idea who I was, or if you did, it was only because of whatever weird-ass thing you had going on with Jake and it had nothing to do with me!” Am I right? I know I’m right, because I know you, Claire.
Adam: I know you now, but I knew you then too. And you’re wrong, but only because there are things you don’t know. Things I didn't realize you hadn’t realized.
Adam: I’m not making sense. But I will.
Adam: I did sit beside you on the bus that day because of Jake, but only because I already liked you so much and I couldn’t stand the idea of him messing with you. Like he messes with everybody. You know how he is.
Adam: Please, Claire. I can’t take this. Talk to me. I know I’ve been a shit. I know. I want to fix it.
I wait.
I put my phone down, wander into the kitchen, and look inside the fridge. The thought of eating anything makes me feel vaguely sick.
I’ve never been all that great at deep conversation. Claire is the only person I’ve ever really talked to — like, seriously, for real talked to — but she’s right … somewhere along the line I stopped. It was just safer. Easier. We lost our baby and I couldn’t cope. I checked out. I didn’t want to make her more upset than she already was. I didn’t want her to see how devastated I was, because what right did I even have to be devastated? It happened, but it mostly happened to her. Her body. I’m a guy, but I’m not a Neanderthal. I know her connection to our baby was primal. And I know my wife. She blames herself. She always blames herself. And what happened with our baby was not her fault.
My f—ing mother.
No. I can’t think about that. I have to think about Claire. What does she need? And what does she need to understand?
I walk back over to my phone, desperately hoping to see those bubbles appearing, for even a second, even if they disappear again, even if no reply comes through, but the screen stays resolutely blank.
I pick up the phone to try again.
Adam: Okay. So the things you don’t know — they’re not your fault. It’s just that there are things you’ve clearly gotten wrong. I’m sorry — I’m not trying to be a dick by saying that. I know you’re done being a pushover and I’m glad.
Adam: I’ve been catching up on all your tweets, by the way. Amazing. This might sound paternalistic or patronizing, but I don’t mean it to. I’m just proud of you. You have let people walk all over you for way too long (including me, I guess — at least to some extent). But anyway, It’s just that there have been some pretty major misunderstandings between us.
Adam: For the record, I know they’re all my fault.
Adam: Your sister would probably make a joke right now about how there’s no record, right? This is not a courtroom? That’s Di. I called her looking for you when you didn’t come home the other night. Then I called Gray. And Drew. Then I looked at your Twitter and realized where you must be. I’m glad you’re safe, but I want you to come home.
Adam: Please come home.
Adam: I’ve been an idiot. A big, fat, smelly idiot! (Ha ha?) But it’s not because I don’t know you. I do.
Adam: I know your whole family. I know you so much better than you think I do.
