Whatever the reason, the possibility of beginning medical school in a few short months dictated that I was going to have different priorities on my time. So I spent days drafting long emails…one to Johns Hopkins University’s Dean of the College of Medicine, some to other schools, some to my key readers and contacts in the blog world and to the original company that had made an offer on my blog.
Because I had a plan.
About a week before the wedding, we drove down to Orange County to pick up Mom’s dress for the final fitting. The wedding was not going to be a gala affair. The bride and groom had invited family only and they’d chosen to tie the knot at one of their favorite places, the beach at Crystal Cove State Park.
But I had other errands to run while we were there. I borrowed the car from my mom and told her I’d be back in a few hours, after dropping her at Peter’s. Mom assumed it meant I didn’t want to chance running into Adam there. I figured that was as good an excuse as any. But I had other business to attend to.
And then, there was a week left and as my mom’s giddiness grew, there were feelings bubbling inside me too. I couldn’t wait to see Adam again. It had been over two months. I wondered how his journey had gone. Had he made any interesting self-discoveries? Had he found he couldn’t live without me or did he think it best we walked away while our souls were still intact?
I had no idea.
And the waiting was starting to kill me.
I had my bags packed two full days before the wedding. When the happy couple and their children and close friends gathered at a dinner the night before the wedding day, I paced the entire day, chose and then discarded no less than five different outfits. Could not sit still more than five minutes to the point where my ever-patient mother had ordered me out of the room to go for a walk.
Because in just a few minutes, I’d see Adam again. And sometime in the next twenty-four hours, I’d know if there was hope for us to move forward together. Or if that hope was lost forever.
Chapter Forty
Adam
I dreamt about her every night she was gone. Since I’d loaded her bags up in the Tesla and watched her pull away, my thoughts were not far from her. She’d texted me a few hours later when she arrived at her mom’s house and that was it. Radio silence.
It was better that way. This would be my forty days of trial in the desert. A long stretch of time without her where I figured out what the hell was going on in my own brain. Since that horrible string of days where we’d found out about the pregnancy and her cancer, I’d barely had time to think about anything else but the one prime imperative—her survival.
I spent long days working, of course. It was always my primary method of coping. I spent my nights in solitude—running along the beach at Newport, mostly. Or just spending long periods sitting on the sandy beach, watching the relentless tide come in, the thunder of the waves sounding over and over again—a rhythm so ancient and primal—until it meshed with the beating of my heart. My mind was always working, always trying to find ways around the problems that cropped up. I was by nature a problem solver. So to spend long periods just losing myself in the beat of the waves on the shore with no thought to anything else was like meditation.
Because oftentimes the quiet mind could see and hear things the busy mind could not.
I also spent far more time sleeping than I had in months. I had months and weeks of pure exhaustion to recover from. I hadn’t let myself rest or sleep before this, when she’d needed me to be there for her. With her gone, that pressure was removed. And with the sleep and rest came rejuvenation.
Taking care of myself physically was key to recovering my mental health. And eventually I found myself in circumstances where I could seek help from others—in some of the unlikeliest places of all.
One night, about a month after Emilia had left, I was at work after hours. Someone knocked at the door to my office and since my secretary had already gone home, I called to the person to come in.
The door opened and Katya’s red head poked around it. “Well, hello there, boss!”
I sat back with a grin. “Well, well. If it isn’t my newest playtester.”
She strutted inside, pumping a fist. “Best job ever, by the way. You are my new favorite person.”
“Glad you like it,” I said, reaching back to rub my aching neck.
“Yes. So I know you don’t fraternize with your employees and all that but we’re going out for pizza tonight and I’m kidnapping you and bringing you along.”
“I’d like to but I have a ton of shit to get done…”