I opened my eyes to Adrian leaning over me.
“Mind if I sit down?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He sat down beside me and ran his hand through my hair. His fingers smelled of cigarettes. I buried my face in the pillow, trying to recapture the feeling of the dream, unable to do so.
He didn’t say anything; he just ran his fingers through my hair, over and over.
“I don’t think I will have any trouble sleeping tonight,” I said finally.
“How is the baby?” he asked, placing his hand on my stomach. At that, I felt my walls crumbling. I held my breath, trying to keep it back, but I couldn’t do it; I began to cry. Adrian leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me tightly, his lips at my ear. He was crying too. He rarely cried and when he did it broke my heart. I couldn’t help it: I turned and put my arms around him, and the two of us lay holding each other in the dark.
“I know you love me,” he said. “I don’t know why you can’t just let things be.”
I did not respond. He pushed my wet hair out of my face and forced me to look into his eyes. The darkness, the hot tears, the foreignness of Alexa’s bedroom, all felt like earlier times we’d had. I was transported back to my twenties again, to the passion and drama that I had once embraced instead of shunned. I felt his power over me.
“I love you so much,” he said. “I need you.”
Which way are you going to go? I asked myself.
I closed my eyes because I never could think when he was looking at me.
I love you too. I need you too, I thought.
But I was as strong as I could be. I didn’t say a word.
Chapter 65
The next day Adrian got up early and drove to Chicago to meet with a client, and I came up with a plan: I was going away. I was really going to do it.
I decided that January 1, 2008 would be the day I started over. That gave me a month and a half to get everything in order. Not much time. As soon as he left I sat down at the computer and started looking at motorhomes. I needed to find one near Savannah, so it would be ready when I got back.
After just an hour I stumbled upon the perfect one. Big enough to live in, but not so large that it would be scary to drive. I called the telephone number and told the owners I would buy it. I knew I needed to act fast: Adrian would be home by late afternoon and I had a lot of work to do.
“Leave it unlocked. I have a friend who will be coming to do some work to it,” I said.
“It don’t need no work, Sugar,” said the lady on the end of the line.
“Oh, I just have a couple little changes in mind,” I told her.
Then I phoned Bruce Dash Design. They are miracle workers. Every year they win the Best of Savannah Award.
“I want Bruce. Not some assistant,” I told the girl who answered. For what would likely be the last time in my life, I said, “Money is no object.”
Bruce suggested Provincial blue walls and cream-colored Irish linen on the little bed.
“When can we meet to look at fabric swatches?” he asked me.
“I’m out of town, so you will have to go crazy without me. The sky’s the limit, Bruce! I want it to feel like a tiny palace on wheels. Just be sure there is room for a baby and plenty of oranges.” To emphasize my point, I sent him ten thousand dollars via Paypal as we spoke. I felt very, very out of control. How would I explain this missing chunk of money to Adrian? A Christmas present he would have to just trust me and wait for? My heart was racing so badly I was afraid I would have a heart attack.
“Oranges?”
“Yes, we will be going on a little road trip, and we will be selling oranges to finance the trip. Please do keep this all to yourself,” I warned him, feeling as crazy as I sounded.
He suggested I get a refrigerated trailer for the oranges, to preserve the precious, limited room in the motorhome. I agreed that was an excellent idea and asked him to arrange it.
“Of course,” he said, expertly hiding his miffed feelings, treating me like the royalty that sharing Adrian’s name still afforded me. Every suggestion he presented, I agreed to. Before ending the call, I again swore him to secrecy, telling him the palace on wheels was an anniversary present for Adrian.
As he descri
bed the drawer pulls he had in mind, when I thought our conversation should have already wrapped up at least five times, I removed my wedding band and placed it on one of Alexa’s modern, crystal trays. My story when Adrian asked why I was not wearing it would be that my fingers were becoming too swollen to comfortably keep it on any longer. I felt a bit hollow, realizing I would never again feel its platinum weight on my finger.