“Uh, good morning,” Adam says.
Ray, sitting at the head of the table, has paused with a slice of toast halfway to their mouth. “Something the matter?”
“No, no.” Adam heads for the counter where a variety of cereal is set out. He reaches for the oats, but pauses when he notices the big green box of limited edition CraftWar Crunch. “Whatisthat?”
The children shrink back. Mal pulls his bowl closer as if terrified that Adam is going to rip it away from him. By all reports their walk went well, but Mal can be particularly nervous around food.
“It’s cinnamon flavored,” I offer. “The green cubes are marshmallows. I haven’t been brave enough to try it but the children enjoy it. Ray got it for them.”
Adam examines the box like it’s an alien artifact. “This is that video game you play.” I’m a little surprised he knows that. “It tastes good?” he asks the children.
They nod in unison, except for Enrique who’s still standing staring at him.
Adam shrugs and pours himself a bowl. No one moves as he settles at the table. All eyes are on him as he tries the cereal. His mouth twists. He swallows, with apparent effort.
“So, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Ray asks.
“No pleasure.” Adam glances at me. “I mean, nothing out of the ordinary. I just thought maybe I should be more… sociable? I suppose?”
He’snervous, I realize. This giant of a man is scared of what the children might think of him.
Ray seems to be fighting a little smile.
“That’s… well, we’re all delighted to have you,” I say cheerfully. “What’s on the agenda for the foundation today? We were going to look at fractals.”
“What’s a fractal?” Ben asks.
“That’s what you’re about to discover.”
Adam chuckles.
Adam starts coming to meals. Dinner is always a large and loud affair, with all of the staff present, exchanging anecdotes or discussing work, while the children tease each other or engage in philosophical discussions about which CraftWar map is the superior.
It’s at breakfast time that his presence is really felt. At least by me. Adam never says much and the children grow accustomed to his quiet presence. Sometimes I catch him smiling at their banter, though he never joins in.
I wish I could ignore him as skillfully as they do. Instead, I’m hyper aware of everything about him, from the cut of his clothes, to how he does his hair. I find myself analyzing his facial expressions, trying to read his moods, staring too long and trying too hard to bring him in to conversation. And sometimes, at night, when I’m all alone in my dark room, it’s his face that I see behind my eyes before I fall asleep.
19
ADAM
It’s nearly midnight one night about two weeks after the storm when I give up tossing and turning and steal down to the kitchen for something to eat. The house is quiet and still, but there’s light spilling from beneath the kitchen door.
Meredith is sitting at the table, nursing a cup of tea in her pink dressing gown, scrolling through something on her tablet.
“Don’t tell me that’s work,” I say as I enter.
She smiles wanly and gives me the briefest glance. “Is he on your mind again?”
My heart stutters.How the hell could she possibly know?
Oh. She means Lloyd.
It wouldn’t be the first time I was up late pining over him, over what could have been. What would she think if she knew the truth? That in reality it’s our employee who I can’t get out of my head?
At first I watched him purely out of concern for the children. At some point, that changed. At some point I started to enjoy seeing his bright outfits and quick smile as he patiently explained complex concepts, or how flustered he got when he was challenged. I started to look forward to seeing him with them in the kitchen, when he’d inevitably get flour on his noseor icing on his cheek. I started to be disappointed when he took them outside—not because it wasn’t a lesson, but because it was a lesson I wasn’t privy to, wasn’t part of. At some point, he became the background to my days.
Not healthy. On any level.