A Question of Mercy by Elizabeth Cox

Author:Elizabeth Cox
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of South Carolina Press
Published: 2016-12-14T05:00:00+00:00

— 21 —

It was the end of April and the middle of the night when Jess arrived home. They would leave for Cadwell on Wednesday and she had a day or two to be with Adam. When she opened the door, the house was dark. Everyone was asleep. She went to Adam’s room and woke him.

“Hey,” he said, sleepy-faced.

“I just got home,” said Jess. “It’s late, almost two a.m.”

“Is it tomorrow?”

“Well, yes. I guess it is.

Adam looked at the clock. Over the last year he had learned to tell time but with the series of shock treatments he had forgotten some things. “It’s tomorrow,” he said. “Are you home for good?”

“Not for good,” she said.

“Do I still have to go to Cadwell? Don’t make me. I won’t be bad anymore.”

“You’re not bad, Adam.”

“I’m bad for touching. Police man came.” Adam stared hopelessly at Jess, his hand rising up, then stopping in mid-air.

“Listen,” she said. “Let’s go downstairs and get a snack.”

Adam threw back the covers. He wore pajama pants, but no top. His shoulders looked broad but he had lost weight and Jess could see his ribs. He slipped on some socks and Jess told him to put on his robe.

They went downstairs quietly, not speaking until they reached the kitchen.

“I don’t want to go to Cadwell tomorrow.”

“You’re not going tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow now?”

“You’re not going today or tomorrow,” she said. “Not until Wednesday. What do you want to eat?”

“Milk-toast.” Clementine usually made milk-toast, sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon, when Adam was sick. It comforted him, and Jess believed he needed that now. He might not get it again.

They both ate milk-toast and drank the rest of the sugary milk from the bowl. When Adam put down the bowl he reached to touch Jess on the lips, but suddenly halted. Jess’s heart cracked at the thought that Adam could never touch a woman. His normal desires, without direction, were stifled completely. She felt pity for all the tenderness he felt, but could not show.

“It’s okay,” she said. “We’re friends.” So Adam ran his fingers over her lips and cheek, then touched her hair and shoulders, as he might stroke a puppy.

“I like you, Adam,” Jess said. But Adam didn’t speak. Jess rose to turn on the radio over the stove. “You want to dance?” She found a slow song. “Remember when I taught you dance steps, and took you to my school dance? You liked that, didn’t you?”

Adam nodded and stood to take the correct position—the way Jess had taught him. He stood like a manikin as Jess placed her hand on his shoulder, then lifted his other hand into the air. Adam laughed as they glided around the kitchen. Neither spoke, as music softened the room. He leaned to smell her hair. When another song came on, Adam wanted to dance again. He looked excited now and, as Jess moved in close to him, she could feel him grow hard against her. When he did, Adam caught his breath and made a sound.

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