remembered the way they’d left off before and how angry he was at her and he said. “You’re back early,” tempering his enthusiasm.
“Why’s it early?” she asked, avoiding eye contact, taking off her coat.
“I don’t know. Usually when you go to Sharon’s you don’t get back till ten or eleven.”
“We just had coffee,” she said flatly, hanging up her coat in the closet.
“So anyway, you wouldn’t believe it,” Adam said. “Good Day New York wants me on tomorrow.”
“Great,” Dana said in a monotone.
Adam didn’t expect her to be excited, but he didn’t feel like playing their usual I-can- be- cold- and- distant- longer- than- you game either.
“I really think we need to talk,” he said.
“Later, okay?” she said.
“Wait a second,” he said, and she stopped and stared at him. Her expression was so void of emotion she could’ve been staring at a piece of wood.
“I don’t think it was right what you said before,” he said.
“What did I say?” she asked.
For a moment he couldn’t remember himself; then he said, “About how I’m screwing up your life or however you put it. How exactly do you think I’m screwing up your life?”
She let out a breath, looking down, and said, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way at all.”
Was she actually giving in? She almost never admitted any fault in an argument, or at least not until after hours of not talking to each other.
“Well, I accept your apology,” he said, “and I’m sorry, too. I shoudn’t’ve just left like that. I know how much you hate it when I do that.”
“It’s okay,” she said and took a couple of steps toward the stairs.
“No, it’s not okay,” he said, and she stopped. “I was wrong and I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
She nodded tentatively, now looking like she might start to cry. She didn’t usually get so emotional during their arguments; he figured it probably had to do with Gabriela and not him.
“Hey, come here,” he said.
She didn’t budge, but he went over to her, kissed her quickly on the lips, and then hugged her. She seemed uncomfortable, pulling back a little.
“Is that a new perfume?” he asked.
“What?” She seemed a little startled. “No… I mean, not really.”
“I like it,” he said as his cell started ringing. He took the phone out of his pocket and looked at the display, which was showing an unfamiliar 212 number.
“The hell is that?” he asked, squinting at the phone.
As he answered the call-“Yes?”-Dana rushed upstairs.
“Mr. Bloom?” a woman said.
“Who’s this?” Adam asked.
“Grace Williams. I’m a reporter for New York magazine. Do you have a moment?”
The woman explained that she wanted to interview him for a feature story. Adam couldn’t believe it- what was going on here? He arranged to meet her tomorrow afternoon in midtown; then he ended the call and went to tell Dana the news. She was in the shower- he heard the water running- but when he tried the bathroom door it was locked. This was strange- Dana almost never locked the door when she showered.
He knocked on the door and said, “Dana, you okay in there?”
No answer.
He banged harder and shouted, “Dana!”
“What is it?” she shouted back.
“Nothing,” Adam said. “I’ll talk to you when you come out.”
“What?”
“Never mind!”
Adam e-mailed his assistant, Lauren, asking her to move his lunch appointment to another day, and he started looking through his closet for something to wear tomorrow. Normally he dressed professional- casual- shirts, slacks, and sport jackets- but on Good Day New York he didn’t want to come off as some stuffy psychologist. He wanted to look cool, relaxed, hip. Maybe he’d go for the sweater-and- jeans look, or was that too casual? He laid out dark jeans and a black crewneck sweater on the bed, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d wear a black button- down shirt with a black sport jacket over it- the Hollywood player look, show people that he was a successful psychotherapist but wasn’t trying to show off about it.
Dana came out of the bathroom in a robe, her hair wrapped in a towel.
“You won’t believe the call I just got,” he said. “Now New York Magazine wants to interview me.”
“Did Clements call?” she asked as if she hadn’t heard him.
“No,” Adam said.
“That’s not good.”
“It’s not good or bad,” he said, “but isn’t it crazy? First TV and now a magazine interview?”
“Sorry,” Dana said flatly, turning away. “I guess I just can’t get as excited about your fifteen minutes of fame as you are.”
“I’m not excited,” he said, ignoring the not so subtle put- down. “I’m just surprised. I really didn’t think this would get this kind of attention.”
“Is that what you’re looking for? Attention?”
“Of course not,” he said.
Dana glanced at the outfit laid out on the bed.
“So I want to look good on TV,” he said. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I just don’t understand why you have to go on the show in the first place.”
“What do you mean? They asked me to. It’s helping me emotionally, with my glossophobia. And, besides, it could be some good publicity. Maybe I’ll get a few new patients out of it.”
“You could’ve said no. I don’t know why you want to bring more attention to us, I don’t see how that’s going to help make things any better.”
Adam, frustrated because he knew she was making sense but he didn’t want to hear it, said,“I thought we made up downstairs. Can we just stop this nonsense?”
“That’s a good idea, let’s stop the nonsense,” she said. “I’ve been through a lot today, and I really don’t want to get into this again right now.”
Adam was thinking, And what was that supposed to mean? I haven’t been through a lot? It was so typical- making him out to be the bad guy- but he didn’t want to argue anymore so he took the high road instead, taking a long deep breath, then saying, “Look, I understand how you feel, okay? You’re afraid, and I’ll admit it, I’m afraid too. I mean, I think it’s highly unlikely anything’s going to happen, but I admit I won’t feel one hundred percent safe until it all blows over. But, honestly, I really don’t think running away to Florida is necessary, and I’m not even sure we could do that with a police investigation going on. Besides, the house is secure now, I’m confident about that.”
“What about the gun?” she asked.
He breathed deeply again, then said, “Okay, I’m willing to compromise. Right now I want it in the house, just in case, but when this blows over, when the police make an arrest and figure out exactly what’s going on, I’ll get rid of it.”
“You really mean that?” she said.
“Promise,” he said, raising his right hand as if he were on a witness stand. “I still think the gun saved our lives last night, but if you really don’t want it in the house, if it makes you this upset, I’ll get rid of it, okay?”
She was teary eyed again.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Aw, come here,” he said, and he hugged her.
Now she was crying. He had no idea why she was so upset. Maybe she was just letting out stress.
“Come on, don’t be sad,” he said. “Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this, I promise.”
