The words stuck there in my brain and echoed among all my thoughts about not being enough. But it shone brighter than all of those.
Adam continued, “Just so you know, I want us to be more than… friends.”
“We are more than friends, I think…” I said, thinking back to when he was balls-deep in me at the lakeshore.
There was quiet. Then he said, “I want you to be mine and only mine.”
“I want the same,” I replied simply, letting the words slip out like a wish.
Ask for what you want, ask for what you want, urged a small, brave voice in my mind. “But I also need you to tell me the truth about who was texting you. Tell me everything.”
To Adam’s everlasting credit, he told me everything. I learned that he used to be with his old submissive, Brian, for a year and a half. Brian wouldn’t go with him to family events and only lived around the edges of Adam’s life. He’d only come over to do submissive sex stuff, and that was that.
When Adam tried to connect with him on a deeper level, he was met with a wall. Over and over again, Brain pushed him away.
“But it wasn’t his fault,” Adam said. “He told me what he wanted out of it. I’m the one who lost my footing and started to fall in love.”
I tensed. He… he was in love with this person?
Then my rational mind came to the rescue, and reasoned that of course, Adam was in love with someone before; he was an attractive man in his thirties!
Adam continued on, describing how his relationship with Brian went. Even though it was a tough thing to talk about, he went into detail. He told me, with an admirable level of maturity, the things that he’d done wrong in the relationship, and the things Brian had done.
By the end of our conversation, I believed him.
“So, that’s all there is to that. Do you have any questions?” he asked sternly.
I pursed my lips. “I’m going to need to sleep on it,” I said.
Despite my logical mind forgiving Adam — everything he said made perfect sense — I was still carried to the green island of jealousy by my emotions.
“Alright,” he said, disappointment thick and heavy in his voice. “I’ll… I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said flatly, then hung up the phone.
I couldn’t deny the pang of guilt in my gut. I’d made Adam tell me everything about his past, but I couldn’t muster up the strength to tell him about mine.
That I saw him on Instagram — the guy that had turned my life upside-down.
I shuddered to think about him, smiling and pretending like he was normal. Like he was anywhere even close to human.
Just when I was about to click into Instagram to study the photo more, the front door swung open.
“Honey?” My mom called into the dark house in her shrill voice.
“Mom!” I cried, treading over to greet her carefully.
As soon as I saw her standing there in the foyer, I could tell something was off.
Even though she was the image of perfection and never looked disheveled, something about her was alarmingly wrong. Like she was an imposter, and only my subconscious could pick up on the subtle ways she was pretending.
“Come here, give your mom a hug,” she pleaded.
Cautiously, I walked into her embrace, wrapping her in a big hug.
There was silence in the air as we stood together in the dark, and then she finally asked: “Do you hate me?”
“What?! No mom, that’s ridiculous… I love you, why would you think that?”
She buried her face into my chest and started crying.
If anyone ever tells you that the worst thing to see isn’t your mother crying, they’re a liar.
I wanted to shake her and ask who did this to her so I could kill them. But I already knew.
“Everyone hates me…” she sobbed, pulling me into a tighter hug.
“No one hates you. Everyone in this town loves you. Why would you even think that? Where were you tonight?”
We pulled apart and she blinked a few times, clearing her eyes. Then she stood still as a statue and stepped away from me.
I was suddenly aware of a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. She was about to become Scary Mom.
Then in a voice that was low and hollow and strange to me, she said, “I followed him.”
“What? What are you talking about mom, followed who?”
She looked up into my eyes and said, “Followed your father.”
“Followed him where?” I asked, my heartbeat racing.
“I found out who… who he left me for…” she said in that low, dangerous voice.
“Mom, let’s talk about this in the kitchen—”
“—DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” She exploded.
I jumped back a bit, my heart in my throat.
But for some reason today I was stronger. My heart was racing, but the impending anxiety attack was still far away.
“Mom, I’m just trying to help you,” I said gently. “What did you do?”
Then as soon as it had come, Scary Mom was gone. She blinked a few times as if she’d just woken up from a dream. “I didn’t do anything,” she said cluelessly. “I just followed him, and found out who he’s been sleeping with.”
The conversation I’d overheard earlier between Jake and Adam came to the forefront of my mind. The fact that Jake’s wife had been sleeping with my dad.
“I’m so sorry, mom…” I said, not really knowing what else to say. “Come here…”
I pulled her into another hug.
“It’s late, you should get to bed. We can talk more in the morning,” I promised.
She nodded and followed me. I took her hand and guided her to her bedroom. Then I made sure that she had some Advil and a glass of water.
“I love you, Mom. Never forget that,” I said as I bid her goodnight.
“I love you too, sweetie,” she croaked from the room.
I closed the door. Only then did I realize that the anxiety monster inside me never woke up. The
