The Downward Spiral of Adam Keir | Chapter 11

When Adam awoke, he was alone in bed. There was no alarm to wake him, no phone call. Instead, he woke up on his own, to an otherwise empty bed. A few minutes went by with him cursing Larisa in his head, believing that she’d left him in the night. But then came the realization that it was Monday morning, and that she must have left for work.
            I have to leave for work at 8:00. So if she’s already gone, then I should get up . . .
            Still groggy, he turned over in bed and reached to the table for his phone. But it wasn’t there. So he sat up, confused, and rubbed his eyes before looking at his alarm clock.
            9:30, it read.
            For a few seconds, Adam stared at the numbers, trying to figure out why his clock was wrong all of a sudden. Then, it struck him that it wasn’t wrong when he reached down for his pants and removed his phone from the back pocket.
            Oh, God. I’m late for work!
            He leapt out of bed, no longer caring about how chilly the room was. He threw on his jeans before his socks, then cursed at himself for doing so. His socks, therefore, were pulled on only halfway. This bothered him, but not as much as being anymore late than he already was. When he reached down and picked up the t-shirt he’d worn the night prior, he thought about calling Jesse immediately and apologizing. But, no, I’d only be wasting more time.
            He returned his phone to his back pocket and pulled on his shirt as he blindly rushed down the stairs. All he thought about was poor Jesse, expecting to see him at work, so he went straight to the front door. After jumping into his boots, not bothering to lace them, he tore his coat off the hook it hung on and dashed outside. Thankfully his keys were still in his coat’s pocket, and with them, he locked the door. Then, he took off running down the street, holding his coat in one hand and his keys in the other. It wasn’t until he made it to 95^th St. out of breath that he finally stopped to put the coat on. But this time he put his keys into the pocket of his pants, as they were less likely to fall out if he ran again.
            And run again he did, though not very far. The rest of the way to Waller’s Pawn Shop, he alternated between jogging and speed-walking. By that point, he could no longer tell if he felt off since waking, or because he had exerted all his energy so soon after.
            He ripped open the door to the pawn shop and was surprised to not hear any music playing. Jesse, not singing, dancing, nor looking at his computer, was standing on the wrong side of their desk. He was hunched over, reading something, and at the sound of Adam’s panting, he turned to look at him and beamed.
            “I was beginning to think you’d never show,” he greeted as he turned himself fully. “Did you sprint here? I haven’t seen you this out of breath since you last ran a mile in our high school gym class.”
            Adam, exhausted, struggled to catch his breath. “Sorry�"I’m late�" . . .”
            Before speaking again, Jesse clasped his hands. “Perfect timing, though,” he assured. “I got a call from my pop five minutes ago. Got to go do an errand for him, and couldn’t leave the shop unattended.
            “Good thing I�"ran, then . . . !”
            Jesse skipped over to him and patted his shoulder. “Sit down for a couple minutes. Once you’ve got your breath back, I need you to move everything on this list out of the storage room for me, all right? I’ll help you if I get back quick enough, but I doubt I will.”
            Adam nodded. “Got it . . .” It’s the absolute least I can do. “Consider it done.”
            “Thanks!” As he dashed out of the shop, he hollered, “Don’t push yourself!” Since Jesse was gone less than a second after, Adam saw no reason to respond; he’d just be talking to himself if he did.
            He sat down behind the desk and spent a minute catching his breath.
            I need to get into shape. When was the last time I ran like that? Was it really when I was still in high school?
            Once he felt that he could focus on it, he reached across the desk and picked up the list. There were various items on it, including instruments and a few appliances. Among them, written in Mr. Waller’s handwriting, was “Jesse’s mini-fridge”. Adam got a small laugh out of it, as the rest of the list had been typed out on a computer. Had he talked Jesse into pawning it?
            Probably against his will.
            He decided that before moving things out of the storage room, he should change into his work shirt. So he made his way into the bathroom. It wasn’t until he was looking at himself in the mirror that he realized that, in his haste, he’d forgotten to actually bring his work shirt with him.
            “Oh, s**t.” I’m such a mess today.
            The t-shirt he was wearing already would have to do. It was black, like his work shirt, but lacked the logo. While he was in there, though, he looked at his hair in his reflection and noticed that it was messier than normal. He twisted on the faucet and used the water to slick his hair back. When he turned the faucet off, he heard a door open and close.
            Was that the front door? Did someone come in?
            He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with a customer on his own, but unfortunately his job required him to. So he dried off his hands and, with a reluctant sigh, stepped out of the bathroom. The words “Can I help you” caught in his throat before he could say them as his eyes fell upon the girl standing in front of the entrance. Instead, he stammered her name: “Ev�" . . . Evangeline?”
            Evangeline tilted her head, looking away from the list that he’d left on the desk, and smiled at him. She still had her scarf and her purse was slung over her shoulder, but today she wore a long, dark coat. With her left hand buried in her coat pocket, she waved with her right and said, “Hi, Adam.”
            He took two or three steps closer in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
            That question earned him the averting of Evangeline’s eyes, and she let out a small, nervous laugh. “Well, uh . . . It might sound crazy, but I wanted to see you again.”
            “But how did you know that I work here?”
            “I waited outside your house for a few hours, and then I followed you here. I waited a few minutes to come in.” She looked around the shop. “Is it only you and that Jesse guy that work here? I saw Jesse drive away, but . . . Are you alone now?”
            Something about her words and the way she kept her left hand hidden in her pocket sent a chill down Adam’s spine. He wondered, frantically, what she had to hide from him.
            Is it a gun? No, how would she even get her hands on a gun? A knife, then? Has to be. She’s going to kill me. She knows where I live, she knows where I work, she’s been watching my house and now she’s going to make me hers forever because she knows that I’m married, and she can’t accept that.
            “No,” he lied. “I’ve got another co-worker in the back waiting for me.”
            She looked at him with her lavender eyes, and he saw malice in them. “You do?”
            “Yeah.”
            “Oh.” The young girl turned around and walked over to one of the displays. “If you’re needed back there, don’t keep them waiting for me. I’m just going to browse for a bit.”
            He didn’t like how she still kept her hand buried out of his sight, but didn’t know how to ask her to show it to him without giving away his suspicion.
            Is it a good idea to leave her?
            There wasn’t anything else he could do. So, reluctantly, he turned his back on her and headed into the storage room. He closed it behind himself and debating locking it, but decided against it; he had to move things out of there, so locking it would only waste time.
            What if she looks in here and finds out that I’m alone?
            There was a flutter of panic in his chest that he couldn’t dismiss. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that Evangeline meant him harm.
            Snap out of it! Even if she does try to injure me, I’m a grown man, and she’s a little girl. I could easily overpower her in a fight. Why should I be afraid of her? Unless it is a gun that she has . . .
            No. I’m reading too much into it. It’s as Jesse said; I’m being paranoid. She doesn’t mean any harm. She’s too innocent for that!
            So, he stepped further into the storage room and tried to forget about his nerves. But then he saw it: a dead pansy flower sitting on one of the shelves. Fear washed over him all at once. Behind him, he heard the storage room’s heavy door creak open. Quiet footsteps moved closer to him. All the while, he kept staring at the ominous, deceased flower.
            “Adam.”
            At the sound of Evangeline’s voice, he turned. He saw her left hand held up in front of him, and from it, a glint of light off of something metal, and with a gasp he flinched, expecting the worst.
            “Isn’t it pretty?”
            Isn’t it pretty?? What?
            He hesitated before looking at her again. When he did, he discovered that the light had merely been glinting off of a silver ring around her third finger. It had a purple gem on it that had made the ring look darker than it was, as well.
            “I bought it yesterday,” she revealed. “You made it hard for me to match with yours, but I think I did a good job.”
            Match with mine? “What are you talking about . . . ?”
            She reached down and took hold of his left hand, lifting it up to hover beside hers. He realized then that her ring was similar to his wedding band�"even more similar than Larisa’s was. There were then two abject emotions fighting for control of him: one of flattery, and one of distress. The latter, being stronger, was winning. Adam looked Evangeline in the eye. Her dimples showed as she twinkled at him, happier than he’d ever seen her.
            “Now we can be together,” she exclaimed.
            “Evangeline, I’m . . . I’m married . . .”
            She nodded at him.
            “No, I’m”�"he shook his head as if that would help him get through to her�"“already married. To someone else.”
            The young girl’s brows furrowed, and for a moment it was unclear whether she understood what he meant. “But . . . we’re soulmates. We were meant for each other. Don’t you feel it?”
            He didn’t answer. Her grip on his hand tightened, and she grabbed his other one with equal force before pressing them both to her chest.
            “I love you, Adam!”
            Slow at first but increasing to a normal speed, he shook his head. “No, Evangeline, you don’t. You’re infatuated with me,” he told her in a gentle, reassuring voice. “In a few months, you’ll see; it’s only a silly crush.”
            “Silly?” She shook her head back, much harder than him. “No. No, it’s not silly. I love you, I know it! In a few months, I’ll still be in love with you. In a few years, I’ll only love you more! I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life!” She bucked forward from emotion and her head landed on his chest. “You have to feel it too. You have to!”
            Inside and out, he was reeling. Seeing her so distressed was killing him. He hadn’t expected it to hurt him so much. In fact, he was pretty sure that it was hurting him more than he was hurting her with his rejection.
            She started to cry into his chest, and as she did, she released his hands and hugged him as hard as she could. “Please,” she begged through her sobs, muffled by his shirt. “Please, tell me you love me too!”
            Flustered and desperate to stop her crying, he choked out “I�"” before catching himself. He didn’t dare lay his hands on her. His heart was racing, and he felt a rush of what he assumed to be adrenaline.
            Please get off of me. Please stop crying and let go of me.
            “I’m sorry, Evangeline, I am, but . . . I’m not yours to have,” he told her. “I have a wife, and”�"he gulped�"“and I’m too old for you, anyway.”
            “But I love you more,” Evangeline countered. “It’s not fair. I love you more than she does! Don’t you know she’s cheating on you?”
            Adam’s guilt disappeared, and he looked down at Evangeline with a sharp and surprised look. Sensing this, the girl looked up and met his eyes with hers, which were puffy and red from crying. She smiled, though her eyes still displayed anguish.
            “I can help you find out with who,” she offered. “We can catch her red-handed, and you can divorce her, and we can be together! You’re not trapped with her, Adam!”
            “How do you know she’s cheating?” Adam demanded in a low near-whisper.
            “Her selfies,” Evangeline answered, “on Facebook. They all have comments from guys that aren’t on either of your friend lists. She replies to them all to cover her tracks. I’m a girl, too, so I know the tricks even if I’ve never used them . . . She’s definitely sleeping with one of them!”
            Adam knew that she was right, but felt that she had no place spying on his wife to make such an accusation. For all he knew, she was making things up! Thus, he refused to believe her. Staring at his unwavering glare, she seemed to realize that, as her smile turned into a frown.
            In a collected tone that gave away his anger only in how quiet it was, he told her, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
            She pulled away from him, keeping her hands close to her chest in fright. “But . . .”
            “I don’t care whether you claim to have proof or not. When you come up to me and say such things about my wife, you’re insulting me as much as her.”
            “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.
            “Leave,” he ordered.
            On slow, wobbly feet, she backed away before turning and walking out of the storage room, head down in shame. He followed her with long strides and watched her to make sure that she actually left, and didn’t hide somewhere instead. When she pushed open the door to leave, she turned back and looked at him with tear-filled eyes.
            “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you . . .” Then, she rushed out, and he kept his eyes on her until she disappeared, out of sight.
            Once alone, he turned and leaned against the doorframe. All at once his anger dissipated, and in its place emerged both guilt and regret. He let out an uneasy breath and turned his eyes up to the ceiling.
            He felt horrible, as if he was the one in the wrong. But he hadn’t known what else to do. He hadn’t lied to her, at least; she couldn’t be in love with him, not so soon. It had taken him at least a year and a half to fall in love with Larisa. There was no way that she could actually be in love with him, not after only a little over a week.
            She called me her soulmate . . . God, I must have broken her heart. I’m such a terrible person. I feel I’ve killed her, like her blood is on my hands. . . . She wouldn’t hurt herself because of me, would she? He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if she did. He already felt bad enough . . .
            But there was nothing else he could do at that moment. So with another sigh, he stood up straight and tried to do as Jesse asked despite his inner turmoil.