Four Corners by McMurray Kate

Author:McMurray, Kate [McMurray, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2012-08-06T16:00:00+00:00

12

I WOKE up alone in Adam’s bed the next morning. Sleeping next to him had not been an altogether unpleasant experience. He was warm and his skin was soft, and at some point in the middle of the night he’d pulled me into his arms and we’d fallen asleep together that way. No sex, but I felt like the ice had melted.

When I walked into the living room, I found him standing at his window, gazing outside while cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. He didn’t notice me right away, so I got a good long moment to just look at him. His face was softly lit by the late-morning sunlight, and he looked calm, his features relaxed, and also a little sad. It was hard to pinpoint what about him made me think that, just something about his carriage and the way his hands curled around that coffee cup.

I cleared my throat.

He turned and smiled at me, the watery quality of his sadness not quite leaving his eyes. “Oh good, you’re up. I’ve got coffee and cereal. Eat, then hurry up and get dressed. We’re going to take a drive today. I want to show you something.”

“You have not quite got the knack for urban living, my friend. What’s all this driving? I thought that was what the train was for.”

He rolled his eyes at me and for one fleeting moment looked so much like the fifteen-year-old Adam who haunted my memories that my heart ached.

After breakfast and a shower, I went outside with him. He made me wait on the sidewalk while he retrieved his car from the garage down the block. He pulled up to the curb a few minutes later behind the wheel of a black BMW. When I opened the door, I was assaulted by the sounds of the awful angry punk rock nonsense he’d always liked. He was drumming the beat on his steering wheel while he waited for me to get settled.

I grimaced at him and said, “How are your ears not bleeding?”

He put the car into gear, and we rolled slowly down 84th Street.

“Fine,” he said. He pointed to the satellite radio display on the console. “Pick something.”

I scrolled through the stations until I found a song I liked. Acoustic guitar strumming flooded the car. I felt calmer already.

Adam groaned. “Sweet merciful crap. What the hell is this?”

“Patty Griffin.”

He shot me a sidelong glance as he pulled onto 11th Avenue. “So… talk radio? There’s gotta be a ball game on somewhere.”

He pressed a couple of buttons on the steering wheel, and soon the car was flooded with the staticky din of a crowd cheering. It became clear soon enough that the announcers were calling that afternoon’s Cubs-Phillies games.

“That’ll do,” said Adam with a grimace.

“That’ll do? Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve defected to the dark side now that you’ve joined the coastal elite. If you’ve become a Yankees fan, we can’t be friends anymore.”

He laughed. “No. But let’s just say I had a religious experience and have seen the light.

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