She cried even harder, and then he moved his hands lower, around her waist. She seemed like she’d lost weight; felt a lot firmer, too. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex. Jesus, had it been a month? Two months?
He undid her robe with one hand and started to slide his other hand up over one of her breasts.
“Not tonight,” she said quickly, pulling away a little. “I’m just so worn out. I mean, because of the long day and everything.”
“I understand,” he said, moving his hand away, “but let’s definitely do it tomorrow night, okay? It’s been too long, you know?”
He stayed with her for a while longer, holding her, and then went downstairs to let her get some rest.
Adam was tired, too, but there was no way he was missing watching the news later tonight. He set the upstairs TiVo to record the Channel 5 news at ten and the Channel 4 news at eleven, and the downstairs TiVo to record the Channel 11 news at ten and the Channel 2 news at eleven. Meanwhile he planned to watch the Channel 9 and Channel 7 news on the downstairs TV.
At around nine thirty Marissa came home. “I was just about to call you to see when you were gonna be back,” Adam said. “We have a new code for the alarm, I’ll give it to you in the morning.”
“Cool,” she said, and he could tell she was drunk.
“Went out drinking again tonight, huh?” he asked, trying his hardest not to get angry at her and have a repeat of last night.
“I met Hillary at a happy hour,” she said flatly.
“Seems like a happy five hours.”
“I’m allowed to have a few drinks at a bar with a friend, Dad.”
“I want you to cut down on the drinking, okay?”
She shook her head and went upstairs.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said. She didn’t stop, and he added. “No smoking tonight, and I mean it.”
A few seconds later he heard her bedroom door slam. He didn’t care if she got angry at him; he was going to stay on her case, keep giving her tough love until she got the message and straightened out her life.
At ten o’clock he watched the Channel 9 news. He’d thought his story would be the lead, but it was the third story, after a water main break in downtown Manhattan and a three- alarm fire that had killed three people and one firefighter on Staten Island. There was footage of a female reporter in front of the house, probably taken this morning. The reporter explained how during an attempted robbery Carlos Sanchez, who was unarmed, had been shot and killed by the owner of the house, “forty- seven- year- old Adam Bloom.” Then the reporter commented that Adam claimed he had believed Sanchez was armed when he shot him. Adam didn’t like that word-“claimed”- but he felt vindicated when Detective Clements, of all people, said in footage taken in front of a police precinct, “I believe Mr. Bloom acted appropriately in this situation. He has a license for the gun he used, and the man he shot, Carlos Sanchez, was an intruder in his house who had a history of violence.” Adam was hoping they’d show some of his interview from this afternoon when he thought he’d sounded so good, but instead the reporter was talking about how Gabriela Moreno, who’d worked as a maid at the Blooms’ house, had been gunned down early this morning at her apartment in Jackson Heights and police were investigating a possible link between the incident and the robbery in Forest Hills. Then the reporter was shown again in front of Adam’s house, and finally there was footage of Adam from this afternoon. He was disappointed, though, that they didn’t show his speech to the cameras. Instead they went to a sound bite of him saying, “I feel justified, yes,” and then cut back to the anchor desk. Adam was also disappointed with how he looked on TV. His hair looked okay- his bald spot wasn’t visible from the headon angle, and the gray didn’t seem too prominent- but he looked older than he did in person, and he especially didn’t like the deep dark circles under his eyes. He’d thought the camera was supposed to add five pounds, not five years.
During the next hour or so he watched the other newscasts, including the ones he’d TiVo’d. They all covered the story similarly, with only minor variations. The Channel 4 news didn’t include any comment from Detective Clements, and unfortunately none of the segments showed any of Adam’s great speech. Channel 5 and Channel 11 didn’t include any statement from Adam. On the Channel 7 and Channel 2 news, both reporters paraphrased his quote about feeling justified, but they seemed to take it out of context. Adam didn’t see why all the reporters seemed to love that quote so much, why they’d all chosen to include it in one way or another, while he could think of several other comments he’d made that had sounded equally good. Also, he was surprised that none of the stations had portrayed him incredibly heroically. He’d thought he would be, given the change in the reporters’ attitudes this afternoon and the new interview requests. Then again, the shooting of Gabriela was relatively fresh news, so he might not get the full hero treatment until the morning papers. Certainly after the interviews with Good Day New York and New York Magazine ran people would have a more complete picture of what had really happened last night.
As he replayed the Channel 9 newscast for the second and third times, Adam wondered if any old friends and girlfriends were watching the news to – night. At least a few people in his past must have seen him, and they’d probably said to themselves or to the person next to them, “Adam Bloom? Wait, I know that guy.” He especially hoped Abby Fine had been watching. He’d dated Abby during his freshman year at Albany until he found out that she was cheating on him with his roommate, Jon. He’d read in an alumni newsletter that Abby lived with her family in Manhattan, so there was at least a chance she’d seen him on TV tonight. Adam felt like he looked good for his age and was probably better- looking now than he’d been in his early twenties when Abby had last seen him. He hoped she was watching tonight with her husband- hopefully he was dull and prematurely aging- and felt like she’d missed out.
As Adam shut down the house for the night, making sure all the doors were locked and checking and double- checking to make sure the alarm system was armed, he imagined what tomorrow would be like. After all the media exposure today and the likely stories in tomorrow’s papers, he would have to be recognized on the streets. Just for the hell of it, he might walk to work from the Fox studios to see what kind of reactions he got.
He had to admit that Dana had been right- he was enjoying this attention. He often told his attention- seeking patients that wanting attention was childish. He’d tell them, “Children want attention, adults want respect.” In his own case, although he was aware that he was acting childishly, he also knew that the media interest was fulfilling a deep- seated need in his psyche. While he had a successful practice as a psychotherapist- he made a good living and had helped dozens of people through the worst periods of their lives- one of his big issues was that he felt he hadn’t gotten enough recognition for his work. His doctoral degree from the New School hung on the wall in his office, but he’d never received any other honors or acclaim. He occasionally contributed an article to a journal but, unlike many of his colleagues, hadn’t published any books in his field. Carol, for example, had written several books, and sometimes it was hard not to feel jealous about her achievements. For the most part, Adam had become resigned to the idea that when he died he wouldn’t leave behind any legacy, but he still had a void in him, a strong need for attention that this whole situation was satisfying.
He got into bed and spooned Dana from behind for a while as she slept, then turned in the opposite direction. It was hard to fall asleep. He was so absorbed, replaying bits from the newscasts in his head and imagining what tomorrow would be like, that after about an hour he was still wide awake. He was about to get up to take an Ambien when he thought he heard a noise downstairs.
He sat up in bed and listened again but didn’t hear anything. He knew rationally that no one was there, but he figured he might as well make sure just for peace of mind.
He was on his way to the door when Dana asked, “What is it?”
He looked back and saw her sitting up in bed. The lights were off in the room, but the bedroom door was half open, and there was enough light from the light in the hallway- which Adam had left on- to see her clearly.
“Nothing,” he said quietly. “Everything’s fine, go back to sleep.” He didn’t want to alarm her, so he was trying to talk in an overly calm voice, like an airline pi lot trying to relax his passengers during a period of heavy turbulence.
But Dana knew him too well to be fooled, and on the verge of panic, she asked, “What’s going on?”
Trying to put it as casually as he could he said, “Nothing, I just… I think I heard something downstairs.”
“Oh my God.” Her voice was trembling, and she was covering her mouth with her cupped hand.
“Relax,” Adam said. “I’m sure it was nothing, but lemme go check just in case.”
