Page 28 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
“I’ll tell him,” I say, making my mind up. “He deserves that much.”
“Good. When?”
“Soon. First, I need to figure out how to say it without everything exploding.” I rub my face, the weariness settling into my bones and aging me fifty years.
The rain picks up, hammering against my window with renewed force. Downstairs, Adam and Robbie are shouting about who gets to choose what to watch on TV. Normal Sunday sounds that might not be normal for much longer.
“For what it’s worth,” Rita says, “I think you’re being really mature about this. Most people would have immediately confronted him or shouted it from the rooftops.”
“I’m not mature. I’m terrified.” I adjust my laptop, pulling it closer to me. “What if this changes everything? What if we can’t come back from this?”
“Kevin, listen to me.” Her voice is firm. “You three have survived eighteen years together. You’ve survived Adam’s overprotective phases, Robbie’s practical jokes, your dramatic theater kid moments. You’ll survive this too.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Because at the end of the day, you love each other. That doesn’t change simply because you end up in different time zones.”
I want to believe her. I want to trust that we’re strong enough to weather the potential consequences of Adam choosing a different path. But I’m too uncertain.
“I should probably go,” I say. “Think about what I’m going to say to him.”
“Text me later?”
“If I survive the mental stress, yeah.”
“You will.” She blows me a kiss through the screen. “Go be brave and channel your inner Elphaba.”
“Elphaba gets vilified by an entire country and ‘dies.’”
“Okay, bad example. Channel your inner…Elle Woods. She’s brave, and things work out for her. Plus, you can do a mean bend and snap.”
I laugh. “Better.”
After we hang up, I close my eyes and take a nap. In my dreams, telling Adam goes smoothly. He understands why I was in his room, appreciates my honesty in coming forward, and we have a mature discussion about his life plans.
I relish it because the reality is going to be a nightmare.
Dinnertime rolls around,and I’m no closer to figuring out how or when to break it to Adam that I know. Dad made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. The steam rises from my plate, but all I’ve been doing for the past fifteen minutes is pushing the noodles around with my fork.
Dad waves his hand in front of my face to get my attention. “You haven’t touched your food, kiddo. You feeling okay?”
I blink and realize I’m being stared at. Adam twirls his spaghetti with practiced ease. Robbie has sauce on his chin. Diana sips her wine and watches me with those perceptive eyes of hers.
“Sorry, I was thinking.” I force myself to take a bite. The marinara tastes like cardboard.
“About what?” Adam asks. His voice is casual, but I detect something underneath. Does he know that I know? Is this some kind of test?
“Nothing important.”
Robbie grins and leans back in his chair. “You know what I was thinking about today? How weird it is that we park in driveways and drive on parkways.”
Usually, this kind of observation would make me groan or laugh. Tonight, I can barely muster a weak smile.
“And,” Robbie continues, clearly warming up to his audience, “why do they call it a building when it’s already built? Shouldn’t it be a builting?”
Still nothing from me. The pasta turns to cement in my stomach.
“Wow. Tough crowd tonight.” Robbie’s grin widens. “Okay, okay, I’ve got one that’ll get Kevin. What do you call a penis that plays piano?”
