“Xan,” his mother said with disdain.
“A lot of kids shorten their names these days,” Adam said. “It’s not his name I’m worried about,” she said.
About an hour after he took the first dose of Klonopin, Adam felt like it was wearing off, so he took another pill and a couple of Valiums, too. He didn’t bother to check for warnings about drug interactions, as at this point his health wasn’t exactly his top priority.
In the morning, when he went downstairs to the kitchen, his mother was already preparing for the second day of the shivah. It was hard to be in the kitchen and not think about what had happened there- that the floor around where the body had been was stained lightly pink didn’t help- and it was still hard to be on the front staircase and not think about the shooting and all the blood.
“How did you sleep?” his mother asked.
“I didn’t,” Adam said.
“Oh, you poor thing, why don’t you take a nap?”
“If I could sleep I would’ve slept last night.”
“At least go lie down on the couch. You need your rest.”
What he needed was some more Klonopin.
“I’ll just have a cup of coffee. Can you do me a favor and bring it out to me in the dining room? It’s hard for me to be here with the floor like that.” A couple of minutes later his mother brought his coffee and said, “So I didn’t go to bed till after midnight, and Xan was still here.”
“I know, he slept over,” Adam said.
“He sleeps over already? How long has he known her?”
Adam took a sip of coffee and winced. His mother always made coffee too strong.
“Do you need another sugar for that?” she asked. “I put two packets in, but-”
“It’s okay, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure, becau-”
“I said it’s fine.” He managed another sip, then said, “Dana and I had discussed it. We didn’t feel comfortable with her bringing boyfriends home we hadn’t met, but we met Xan and we approved him.”
“Approved him,” she said.
God, she was already starting to annoy him, trying to say everything she could possibly say to aggravate him. Not surprising- they were at the two- day mark. When she got like this it was hard for him to believe that she wasn’t being passive- aggressive and doing this intentionally. The fact was, in this case he was actually on her side- he didn’t like the idea of Marissa having guys stay over either- but his mother had the uncanny ability to force a person into taking an opposing point of view.
“Do we really have to discuss this?” he said. “Sorry, but I really don’t think Marissa’s boyfriend situation is the most important thing in the world right now.”
They sat across from each other in silence for several minutes, but Adam knew his mother wouldn’t let it go. He could tell that her brain was churning, and he even saw her lips moving as she mumbled silently to herself.
“What can I tell you?” she finally said. “I feel the way I feel.”
“You never had problems when I had girlfriends over,” Adam said.
“What’re you talking about?”
“You and Dad,” he continued. “I had girls up to my room all the time and you never had a problem with it.”
“When did you have girls over?”
“All the time. Come on, don’t you remember my girlfriends? Stacy Silverman? Julie Litsky?”
His mother looked lost. She’d done it again, hit on another of his issues, how he’d felt ignored and emotionally neglected as a child. He’d always felt like his parents were too wrapped up in their own problems and didn’t pay enough attention to what was going on in his life. Was it possible that he’d re- created this dynamic in his relationship with Marissa?
“You really don’t remember Julie Litsky?” he asked, suddenly very agitated.
“Did she have red hair?”
“She had brown hair.”
“Oh, okay, I think I remember her now,” she said, but it was obvious she still had no idea who Julie Litsky was.
“And you don’t remember that you and Dad let girls sleep over in the house when I was in college? I used to have my girlfriends over all the time over the summer, for spring break, the holidays-”
“That was different,” his mother said. “They were girls you knew, who you went to school with, who came from good families. Who is this Xan? Some stranger off the street?”
“You don’t know anything about his family.”
“Neither do you.”
“Okay, I’m serious now, I really don’t want to discuss this anymore.”
Adam left the dining room. He went into the kitchen, just to get away from his mother, but then he noticed the pinkness on the floor and went back out toward the front of the house, avoiding looking at the staircase. Jesus, could he feel any more trapped? Then he peeked outside, saw a couple of news trucks, and thought, Yes, I can. There were fewer reporters than yesterday, but it was still early. There would probably be more later on, and then they’d start ringing the bell, trying to get him to come out and comment. One thing was for sure- this story wasn’t going to go away on its own. Until the police arrested Tony or someone else for the murder, Adam knew there would be constant speculation about his possible involvement. There would be newspaper and magazine articles, TV features, you name it. Actually, the real nightmare scenario would be if the police didn’t make an arrest and the case went unsolved. If that happened, no one would care about the evidence or facts in the case- Adam would be presumed guilty for the rest of his life.
Adam went upstairs and took a Klonopin and a couple of Advils. He felt nauseous several minutes later, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from anxiety or some side effect of the medication. He lay in bed for a while but decided this was making him feel even worse and returned downstairs.
His mother was alone in the living room, and the trays with bagels and doughnuts were untouched.
“I think it’s disgusting,” she said.
He knew she was referring to the lack of friends and family who had shown up for the shivah. Fewer than ten people yesterday and no one so far today.
“Eh, it’s expected,” Adam said. “People read the papers, they watch TV.” He noticed that the TV was on and picked up the remote and turned it off. “Sorry, but I’d rather live in a plastic bubble for a while, if you know what I mean.”
“But it’s not about you, it’s about Dana,” his mother said. “These are people who loved her, who supposedly cared about her, and they can’t be here for her now?”
His mother had pushed yet another button as he felt a pang of guilt for the way he’d treated Dana before she was killed. It was bad enough that they hadn’t been speaking to each other and had been on the verge of divorce, but even before then, over the last several months, he hadn’t treated her very well. She’d obviously been suffering, going through whatever internal conflicts had caused her to cheat on him, and she’d tried to talk to him so many times, but he’d been oblivious. He was the psychologist. He should have recognized the signs of the failing marriage and insisted that they go into counseling. There was no excuse for it, none at all.
“You can’t control what other people do,” he said, mindlessly ripping a bagel in half and then biting into one of the halves. Actually, he didn’t mind that no one had shown up today. He wasn’t in the mood to make phony conversation, especially with people who hated him.
Adam took another bite of the bagel, then realized he didn’t have an appetite and put the rest on the plate. He started pacing the living room, and then Marissa and Xan entered. They all exchanged good mornings, but when his mother spoke he noticed that she was looking at Marissa but not Xan.
“Can I talk to you a sec?” Marissa asked Adam.
“Sure,” he said.
“In private,” she added.
“I’ll wait in the hallway,” Xan said. Clearly he didn’t want to be left alone with Adam’s mother.
