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As soon as Adam was released from the hospital, he went home and started packing. He didn’t own much, and whatever he couldn’t fit into two large duffels and his camera bag he took to the pawn shop, and he pooled the money with the rest he had from emptying his bank account. It wasn’t until he’d secured a train ticket that he even told his parents he was moving.
“Adam, please take some time to think about this.”
“I have thought about it, Mom. As soon as I woke up in a hospital with a busted shoulder and ankle I knew this was what I was going to do.” Adam knew he should feel guilty, but he’d seen enough of his mother’s crocodile tears over the years to not fully believe she was genuinely mourning his impending departure. She’d cried just as hard when he’d dated Scott briefly and pierced his lip and started listening to Korn. Regardless, there was a subtle ache in his chest. His parents were getting older, and he was an only child. They had plenty of family around, but a little part of him felt like he was abandoning them. He chalked it up to his recent acquisition of abandonment issues, however, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I just- You don’t understand. You can’t understand, and I’m really, really fucking grateful that you can’t. What happened to me was- I can’t be here anymore. I just can’t.” She’d insisted on driving him to the train station, and it was all Adam could do to wave to her from the window as she stood on the platform crying while the train pulled out.
As it turned out, Adam liked the midwest, or at least the quiet, rural town he’d ended up in. The cost of living was low enough that it didn’t take long for him to get a small apartment and a cheap used car with the retail job he’d landed. Once his paychecks started coming in and he had a better idea of his monthly expenses, Adam began squirreling away money, and once he had enough, he contacted the local court. And after muddling through the associated bureaucracy and paperwork involved, he had a new name. The geographic distance was comforting, but carrying the same name still felt unnerving. He’d never been particularly close with his father, and when he couldn’t even be bothered to send him off with so much as a ‘fuck you’, Adam decided he was no longer a Faulkner. So he shed it and instead took his mother’s maiden name, Stanheight, as his own. He still felt like himself, and perhaps on a subconscious level, he wanted to still maintain some sort of connection to who he’d been.
The reinvention of Adam Stanheight continued the day he contacted the local community college about their adult GED program, and he enrolled immediately, breezing through with flying colors. Once his exam was completed, his instructor approached him. “I really hope you plan on continuing your education, Adam.”
“I, um… I mean, yeah, I figured I probably would. Just need to see if I can get my work schedule rearranged to accommodate it, y’know? I can’t afford to lose hours.”
So Adam transferred to third shift, stocking shelves until six in the morning before heading to class at eight. Once he completed his veterinary assistant certificate, he found a job at the animal hospital that would eventually help put him through the rest of his education for the next few years. The day the words Dr. Adam Stanheight were added to the front of the building, the staff brought him balloons and cake, and Adam cried for the first time since he’d watched Lawrence Gordon drag himself away from him.
Time marched on, and before long it had been twenty years. Adam was one of two veterinarians at the clinic, still working alongside the doctor who’d supported and mentored him throughout his entire career. He’d long since upgraded from the studio apartment and clunker of a car he began with to a modest house and a decent, albeit still used, vehicle. Life was quiet and good in his happy home, still covered in photos he’d taken and band posters after all these years, and shared with a pair of black cats who had run of the house. It was quiet and peaceful and everything he’d ever hoped for.
And then the phone rang.
Typically Adam would ignore anything from an unknown number and allow it to go to voicemail, but some nagging feeling refused to let him silence the call, and he answered. “Hello?”
“Is this Adam Faulkner?”
He almost didn’t recognize the name anymore, having been Adam Stanheight for so long at this point, but the voice had a familiarity housed in the same part of his brain as his birth name. “Yeah. I mean, I- It’s Stanheight now. But yeah, I’m- I’m Adam. Who is- Wait, Lindsay?” He’d not heard from anyone in his family since he moved, so having one of his cousins suddenly on the line was as jarring as it was unexpected.
“You changed it to Aunt Hazel’s maiden name?”
He swallowed hard and nodded, as if she could see over the phone, before croaking out a soft “Yeah.”
“Then you might care to know she has cancer.”
In any other circumstance, Adam would’ve taken the train back. He didn’t much care for driving long distances anyway, but the nature of the circumstances necessitated expedited travel. So Adam found himself on a plane. It wasn’t so much that Adam hated flying, but he specifically hated landing. It was harsh and sudden, and rolling down the runway always felt a million times faster than the flying itself, so he’d spend the entire flight anxiously dreading it and unable to relax. To top it off, he’d be exiting the plane and walking into a crowded airport, and Adam had never been a fan of crowds, especially after having spent almost half of his life now living in a small farm community where folks were polite but sparse.
Lindsay had offered her spare room, but Adam insisted on staying in a hotel. Once he was adequately settled in, he picked up his phone and called her. “There’s a coffee shop in the lobby. Can you and I meet up there? I don’t think I’m ready to just dive right in to the whole fucked up family reunion scenario first thing.”
Lindsay agreed, and soon they were sitting across from one another at a table tucked into the corner of a small cafe. “Thank you for coming, Adam. I know you wanted to kind of keep this place behind you.”
“Yeah, well, you would too in my position.” They were quiet for a moment before Adam cleared his throat and spoke again. “So how did…”
“She thought it was COVID initially. We tried to get her to go to the doctor, and she refused. She did an at-home test, and it came back negative, so she just said she was going to ride it out. Assumed it was an upper respiratory thing.” Lindsay sipped her drink, mostly to stall, before continuing. “Then she started coughing up blood, so Uncle C called and said he was taking her to the ER. So then there was, y’know, a bunch of testing and all that.”
“Where is…?”
“They don’t know where it started.” Lindsay’s eyes were settled firmly on her coffee, unable to meet Adam’s. “But it’s metastasized and aggressive. Lungs, breasts, bone, fucking blood … It’s bad, Adam. Like… It’s really bad.” Finally she looked up, Adam’s eyes as wide and wet as they were when he’d first woken up in the hospital all those years ago. “She’s in hospice, Adam. She… There’s no coming back from this. She’s a dead woman walking.” They were quiet, and Adam sipped his coffee to keep his tears behind his eyes. “You don’t still smoke do you? That’ll do it in and of itself, but this stuff can be genetic, and-”
Adam shook his head. “I quit a while back.”
“Like, quit-quit? Not, ‘oh I vape now so I’m not a smoker’?”
“Quit-quit.” They met eyes again. “Patches at first and then Wellbutrin to keep me on track. It’s an antidepressant, too, so, y’know, two birds…”
Lindsay shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, before speaking. “God, I- I didn’t even ask how you’ve been. I’m sorry, I just-”
“Well, my mom has cancer and I spent five dollars on a bottle of water at Newark, so it’s rough.” They shared a soft laugh. “No, I’m… I’m good, actually. I’m really good. Which feels just… so shitty to say.”
They were quiet for several seconds that felt more like hours as they sat in the heavy inevitability of what would come next as soon as one of them spoke. “Are you ready to go see her?”
The assisted living facility was nice. Despite the abundance of medical equipment and staff in scrubs, it felt more residential than clinical, with the communal spaces and rooms painted various shades of blue and green and photos on the walls and pretty floral curtains. When he stepped into his mother’s room, it was more crowded than Adam expected, with a handful of cousins, aunts, and uncles standing around, and his father seated at his mother’s bedside. Adam’s eyes scanned the room, and they landed on a photo on the wall. One of the dog he’d had growing up. One of the first ones he’d taken himself. Finally his eyes went to his mother’s, and he hoped his shock wasn’t apparent when he noticed just how sunken in and cloudy they’d become. “Mom…”
“Adam. Sweetheart.” She lifted her arms as best she could, thin and weak with tubes running from them to the machines bookending her bed. He leaned in and hugged her, choking back tears when he felt how frail her body had become, especially in contrast to his own, which had filled out since he’d seen her last. “It’s so good to see you, baby.”
“S’good to see you, too, Mom.” He stood back upright, finally feeling the tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes far too full of them to contain them any longer. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve- Fuck, I shouldn’t have-”
“You’re here now.” She reached up, bony fingers wrapping around Adam’s and squeezing as tight as she could. “You’re here now.”
“I’ll stay as long as you want. Work is fine without me, I’ve got plenty of PTO, and they know, you know, what’s going on and… As long as you want, Mom. I’m… I’m here.”
“Just stay long enough for the funeral is all I ask.”
Adam’s eyes widened, and he looked around the room, taking inventory of everyone present. “Whose funeral?” His eyes went back to his mother’s. “Whose funeral, Mom?”
“Adam…”
His father’s voice surprised him, softer than he’d ever heard it coming from the opposite side of the bed, and Adam responded, his own voice suddenly raised. “Whose fucking funeral?!”
He felt his mom’s hand on his again, another soft squeeze, and she spoke again. “Mine, Adam. My funeral.”
“Your funer…” Adam’s eyes shot up again, scanning the room once more, and suddenly every gaze was downcast.
“We’re counting in days now, Adam.” Her other hand came up, patting the back of his gently, and it felt obscene to Adam that he’d be the one receiving comfort from her.
He nodded at her then looked back up. “And no one thought to tell me until now?”
“Well, Adam…” Lindsay’s voice was tense and curt. “When you fuck off halfway across the country and change your name and number and dont use social media-”
“Well, Lindsay, when you go through a near death experience because you were personally targeted, sometimes you want to fall off the fuckin’ map.”
Lindsay rolled her eyes and groaned audibly. “You’re alive, aren’t you? You outlived him, Adam! John Kramer has been dead for almost as long as you’ve been gone. You’re fucking fine! Your mom isn’t.”
Before Adam could offer a rebuttal, he heard footsteps in the doorway behind him and a soft rapping on the doorframe. “Glad to see you’ve got some company, Hazel. Just popping in to check up on you and then I’ll let you all get back to it.”
Adam’s blood felt frozen in his veins, and he almost couldn’t bring himself to look over his shoulder. He’d know that voice anywhere, branded so deeply in his psyche that it was likely imprinted on his DNA by now. A voice he’d replayed on the nights the nightmares woke him in a cold sweat to soothe himself back to sleep. A voice he never imagined he’d hear again. When he finally stole a glance, the doctor’s back was to him, looking over the white board on the wall, and Adam took the opportunity to slip out of the room before he had a chance to turn around.
The sound of his vomiting and intermittent sobbing was loud enough that it echoed in the broad expanse of the bathroom and out into the lobby, practically summoning Lindsay to the exact stall Adam was knelt in. A knocking on the cold, metal door startled him, and he stood up, quickly flushing the toilet and sweeping away the yellow bile floating in it as he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Adam, what’s going on?”
He swung the door open and breezed past Lindsay toward the sink. “My mother is dying is what’s going on.”
“You looked like you saw a fucking ghost when the doctor walked in.”
“Yeah, well, I felt like I saw a fucking ghost.”
Lindsay walked up beside him and rested her palm tentatively between his shoulder blades, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “You can’t just say shit like that and not-”
“I can, and I will.” He cupped his hands under the faucet, letting the cool water pool there before splashing some on his face and running a palm over the top of his head. “It’s- Being back here is tough, okay? There’s more bad memories than good, and the tide shows no signs of changing on that any time soon, so-”
“Everything alright in here?” The voice echoed around the corner of the bathroom and cut Adam off, growing closer with each word and accompanying syncopated pair of footsteps. “Sorry, I thought I heard shouting or crying and I just…” The owner of the voice rounded the corner, and Adam was forced to turn around, preferring to look him in the eyes directly as opposed to in the mirror. The moment of recognition was near instant, despite all of the years that had passed, and Adam felt his knees weakening under his weight as he held onto the sink for balance. “Adam.”
“Lawrence.”
A heavy silence fell over them before Lindsay broke it. “Oh my… Oh my God.” The realization in her voice was apparent. Despite Adam’s desire to have kept the details of his encounter with Jigsaw close to his chest, there was little to be done about media coverage. And despite his wishes, his family had read the reports and watched the news stories enough to know the specifics of the ordeal. “I didn’t- I swear I had no idea, I didn’t even… It didn’t occur to me that Doctor Gordon was the same… I should go. I’m sorry.” With that, she hurried out, leaving the two of them alone in the vast, echoing emptiness of the bathroom.
“Adam, I’m so sorry about-”
“Don’t be. Please, I don’t need your sympathy.” His eyes fell to his feet, and Adam half expected to see a manacle around his ankle and shit stains and broken glass on the floor. “What are the chances?”
Lawrence took a cautious step forward, dipping his head to try to see Adam’s face and get a read on him. “I don’t know what to say. Nothing feels appropriate.”
“Yeah…” Adam sniffled again and shuffled his feet awkwardly as his mind continued tumbling backwards, deeper, freefalling back to the day he woke up in a room that was only ever meant to be a mausoleum. “Can we, like… Maybe not here? Like, in the bathroom?”
“Of course. Yeah, no, of course we can. My office is just down the hall if you’d prefer privacy, or we can go to the cafeteria…”
“Maybe your office?” He tugged his cardigan around himself, like perhaps he could cocoon himself up until he emerged and escaped on new wings, leaving the shell of himself behind there for good. “Just… Yeah. Privacy would be ideal.”
Lawrence nodded and silently turned around to lead the way out of the bathroom and down the hallway. After a couple of short turns, they reached a door, tucked away at the end of the hall. It was a heavy, dark-stained oak with frosted glass and a gold placard embossed with Lawrence’s name. He opened it, allowing Adam to walk in ahead of him. The room was spacious with wide windows and vibrant green houseplants hanging in them, dark hardwood and leather and brassy accents throughout. “Sit wherever you like, make yourself comfortable. If you’d like something to drink, I’ve got some water and diet soda in the mini fridge.”
Adam chuckled softly as he sank into the large, leather sofa. “Might need something harder than Diet Coke.”
He glanced up as Lawrence pulled open one of the bottom drawers of his desk and retrieved a bottle of bourbon. “That’s doable.” Adam nodded and Lawrence brought the bottle and two rocks glasses over, setting them on the low glass coffee table in front of the sofa and sitting down next to the younger man. He took his time pouring the drinks, as if playing chicken on who would speak first. Finally he took a sip and caved, his voice quiet and smoky with liquor and nerves. “Adam, I’m so sorry I never reached out.”
“How could you have? You didn’t even know my last name.” Adam shuddered slightly at the burn of the liquor hitting his empty belly. “Plus I changed it anyway, so even if you knew it, you, y’know, wouldn’t’ve.”
“So it’s not Faulkner?” Adam shook his head and took another slow sip. “So that means you’re Mister…?”
“Stanheight. I changed it when I moved, it’s Mom’s maiden name.” He took a deep breath and ran his finger idly along the rim of the glass, keeping his eyes on the slow swirl of the liquor as it jostled in his nervous hand. “And it’s, um, Doctor Stanheight actually.”
“That’s…” There was a slight twitch in his hand, almost unnoticeable, but Adam saw it anyway, and part of him wished Lawrence would follow through with whatever he’d intended, some soothing, proud, gentle touch that he’d almost forgotten the feel of. “Adam, that’s wonderful. What’s your specialization?”
“Veterinary. Small animal mostly, but I work at a pretty rural clinic, so occasionally I’ll treat livestock. Our other doctor is more specialized in that though, so I’m more, like, on call for that kind of stuff.”
“Doctor Adam Stanheight… God, I am so happy for you.” As soon as the words slipped past his lips, Lawrence regretted his phrasing, and he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “I'm sorry, this isn’t the time to be- I could’ve phrased that better.”
“No, it's fine. You- I get what you’re saying. It’s- We’ve not seen one another and…” Adam finally lifted his head and looked Lawrence in the eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile softly at just how little he’d changed. “Jesus, how’ve you been?”
“I’m doing well. Um…” Lawrence’s glass was near empty, and he swallowed the remainder down quickly. “You know, it was a while before I got back to work in a full time capacity. Been out of surgery for quite a while now but… Diana is grown, has a family, so I’ve got a daughter-in-law and a grandson now.”
Adam swirled his own glass and brought it back up, sipping it slowly and clearing his throat. “Doesn’t seem possible, huh? How’s Alison?”
“I, um, I don’t know. We separated not long after the whole… And once Di turned 18 we more or less fell out of contact outside of, you know, the wedding and things with the grandbaby…” He shook his head and reached for the bottle again. “For the best, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, really. Like I said, it’s for the best, genuinely.” He poured another modest drink and re-corked the bottle. “What about you? Spouse, kids…?”
“Cats. Dated a little off and on but nothing serious. I haven’t been on a date in… two years I think? Christ…” He shook his head and finished off his own drink, setting the glass gently onto the coffee table. “I’m happy, though. Really. I mean, I was . Suppose I still technically am, y’know, on the whole, but…” Adam dropped his head into his hands, elbows on his knees and palms on his forehead, and he groaned softly before raising back up and leaning against the back of the sofa. “I’ve not been anywhere near here in two decades. I left as soon as I got out of the hospital. I just feel like such a fucking coward now, looking back and seeing where things are now. Like, yeah, my parents weren’t ideal, but I- They’re still my parents.”
“Adam…” Lawrence’s palm rested gently on the younger man’s knee. “I’ve seen a lot of people in your position over the years. And if you like, I can offer you some insight from my experiences, but I’m not going to force any unsolicited advice or commentary on you.”
Lawrence removed his hand, reaching forward for the bourbon, and offered the bottle back to Adam. He accepted it graciously and poured himself another double. “Lay it on me.”
“I say this not just as a doctor, but as a son and a father myself: Your wellbeing comes first. And if your parents were or are a hindrance to your wellbeing, you're doing yourself a disservice by putting yourself on the backburner for them. And that goes for anyone, but it’s an especially tough pill to swallow when it’s your own family, especially those who raised you.” He took another sip and continued. “You can’t look at harm reduction in a compartmentalized way. It’s not their harm and your harm, it's the harm. You needed to leave for your own good. And the amount of hurt you felt being here was greater than the amount of hurt they felt about you leaving. Are you better now for having been gone from here?”
“I’m the best I’ve ever been. I’m everything I’ve ever wanted to be.”
“Including happy?”
Adam nodded and looked back up to Lawrence, and his voice cracked as he finally pulled it past the lump in his throat. “Especially happy.”
“Being human is an incredible experience, Adam. It’s complex and messy and convoluted, but it’s also magical and exciting and so deeply personal while being so inextricably communal. We’re amazing creatures, blessed and cursed with language and self awareness and big, sweeping emotions, all being run by a series of currents and chemicals and flesh and bone. And even still, we’re not simply our own bodies. We’re so much more and bigger than these vessels that will eventually fail us all in one way or another. Being alive is truly a remarkable thing to be.” He sat his glass down and shifted, turning his body more toward Adam’s. “What are we if we’re not experiencing the full range of emotion that we’re capable of? How self destructive are we being to deny ourselves to feel as deeply and in as many ways as possible while we’re here, to explore everything we have to offer ourselves? It’s deeply, intrinsically human for you to feel conflicted about things right now, Adam. And I’m not trying to wax poetic and say you should be grateful for it, because that’s not at all what I’m saying. Just understand that it’s okay and not inherently wrong of you. You love your mother, it’s very clear to me that you do. But you can love people from a distance. You can love someone that doesn’t fit into your life in a way that works. And it’s okay if you have regrets about not being in contact with her over the years, but it is not okay to wish that you’d sacrificed your own happiness for anyone else’s. Joy is not a finite resource.”
Adam nodded silently and found himself leaning toward Lawrence, who noticed and wordlessly opened his arms to the younger man. Soft sobbing broke the silence and filled the warm, comfortable space of Lawrence’s office as he held Adam close to his chest, the younger man’s arms sliding around his middle and keeping him close as he cried into the lapels of his white coat. “My mom’s gonna die, Lawrence. Any time now, my mom’s gonna be dead. What am I supposed to do?” His sobs increased, shoulders shaking against the large, comforting arms wrapped around them as Lawrence pressed his cheek to the top of Adam’s head. “What am I supposed to do?”
The funeral was four days later and mostly a blur of hugs and scripture readings and what felt like hundreds of socially expected empty platitudes offering sympathy and prayers. Adam hadn’t been religious in years, well over half of his life at this point, and each “I’ll pray for you” was nothing more than a twist of the knife lodged deep in his gut, some useless gussying up of a lousy situation that felt more self righteous than sympathetic. The ride to the cemetery was mercifully brief, and the chill of the fall air couldn’t have come soon enough by the time he opened the door of the black Cadillac the family had been driven over in, and the fresh breeze was both welcome and necessary to cool his clammy skin, wrapped up in a black suit that he’d rented for the occasion.
Adam kept his tears at bay as best as he could, finding shapes in looming rain clouds and lamenting his mother’s choice to be embalmed and buried despite the environmental impacts of it as he stood at the edge of the open plot. There was something very impersonal about watching a casket be lowered into the ground, almost intrusive in the way it involved watching someone simply doing their job. Stocking shelves, treating patients, burying bodies, it was all just another cog in the machine that kept the world moving, all necessary but still very cold and mechanical feeling, just tasks that move toward another direct deposit, another mortgage payment, another grocery bill.
“How are you, Adam?” Lawrence’s voice was the only thing softer than the hand he rested on Adam’s shoulder as he walked up beside him, pulleys and chains creaking and clattering as the casket inched deeper into the earth.
“I’m not sure.” They remained quiet until the movement stopped and family members approached, offering final goodbyes and tossing flowers down onto the smooth ivory-painted metal, shiny and pristine in sharp contrast to the dirt and twisting grassroots surrounding it. Adam stepped forward and squatted down, tossing the flower in his own hand down and watching it land, keeping his eyes on it until he heard the familiar words of Psalm 23 echoing around him as the minister led the family in its recitation. He stood up, biting his tongue as the stinging pressure of tears pushed the moisture from his eyes and down his face. Suddenly Lawrence’s hand was grasping his own, and Adam let a sob burst past his lips at the comfort of their fingers intertwining, the tears coming harder when he realized the last person to comfort him when he felt this hopeless was the same man who stood beside him now.
“Do you want to know the worst part?” Adam and Lawrence were back in the latter’s office with their ties loosened and glasses of bourbon in hand. “She didn’t have a single negative thing to say to me. The fact that I was gone and out of communication for two decades was just a nonissue. Literally welcomed me back with open arms.” Adam’s eyes went from the drink in his hands up to Lawrence’s face. “And then you did the same thing.” His eyes fell back to his glass. “That amount of forgiveness and grace just… Why me, y’know?”
“Why not you?” Lawrence studied Adam’s face for a moment. “There was nothing to forgive, Adam. I know that. She knew that. We were just happy to have you back.”
“I don’t deserve it.”
Lawrence shrugged. “I mean, you do , but whether you choose to believe so is up to you. But we deserve to be happy to see you, too, whether you feel worthy of it or not.” He paused and waited for Adam to meet his eyes. “I am truly happy to see you, Adam. Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I thought you’d hate me.”
“I could never.”
They were quiet for a moment before Adam sucked in a deep breath and continued. “I’m sorry, Lawrence.” He sat his glass down and pulled his knees up to sit cross-legged on the couch. “I should’ve reached out. I just… I dunno, I think it would’ve felt more real if I had. And I just wanted to put it all behind me and separate myself from it as much as possible. I didn’t know how to process it all so I just shut down and didn’t . Leaving was the least scary option at the time. But you deserved a thank you. You deserved the world. You still do.” He sniffled and dropped his head toward his lap, feeling young and small and scared sitting across from him, not unlike the day they’d met. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. All the patients I’ve treated, all the tips I’ve left at restaurants, every door I’ve held open for a stranger... Every act of kindness I’ve given for the past twenty years is a direct extension of your kindness toward me. And I felt it every time I’ve done something decent for another person. And then I think about all of the patients you’ve treated and saved over the years and everything they’ve gone on to do… You’ve changed so many lives through so many people, Lawrence.” Their eyes met again, and Adam’s were once more wide and laden with tears. “I’m so glad you made it. The world is so much better with you in it.”
“You made me better.” Lawrence sat his own glass down and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning in closer to Adam. “I left that room a different person, and the mirror you held up to me while we were there was why. If anything, I should’ve sought you out to extend my gratitude. I lacked perspective and was selfish and motivated entirely by the wrong things. I refused to look inward. I was just so accustomed to my life and the things and people in it that it was all set dressing. Your humanity shook me from the emotional stasis I was in. Even my own wife and daughter were more characters in my head than people. And then there you were. Even knowing full well the expectation for me to do you harm, you refused to kiss my ass, and I needed that so badly.” They exchanged a breathy laugh. “I was so caught up on keeping up appearances. If I were alone in there I wouldn’t have survived. I was too far up my own ass to have. And you were both too stubborn and too kind to let me die. You saved me first, Adam.” He reached over and retrieved his glass before downing the remainder of its contents. “I was there because I was a bad person. You were there because you were a good one.”
The nape of Adam’s neck burned, prickly and warm under the familiar but uncomfortable task of receiving and accepting praise. “Not if you ask John Kramer.”
Lawrence’s glass hit the coffee table with a solid thump. “Yeah, well, fuck John Kramer.” He pulled in a deep, shuddering breath and looked to his feet, steeling himself before speaking again. When he did his voice had dropped in volume and pitch, laden with some sort of heavy, apologetic sincerity. “If I could’ve done something before I left, please believe me that I would’ve. I never intended to leave you for dead, and I hate that you were forced to sit there and just wait. ” His voice was trembling by the last word, like weak knees under the heavy load of the remorse weighing heavily on his shoulders for years, finally being offloaded brick by brick, word by word. “I still hear your screams in my nightmares.”
Lawrence clamped his eyes shut, scrunching his nose up under the force of it and only opening them when he felt Adam’s hand rest gently atop his own. “I still hear your voice in my dreams. It’s like a trigger or a- a switch, and suddenly I know I’m dreaming. I know I’m safe.” He wrapped his fingers around the older man’s and squeezed, holding the pressure until Lawrence looked up at him through teary eyes and damp lashes. “I might’ve saved you first, but you’ve been saving me longest.”
Lawrence turned his hand over in Adam’s and squeezed back as their palms met. “I’m so sorry about what brought you back. I know being here is hard for you, and I’m sure you’re ready to get back home, but Christ, Adam, it’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” Adam laced his fingers through Lawrence’s and brought his other up to rest atop their joined hands. “I could be convinced to come back and visit more if you’d like to stay in touch.”
“I would like that.”
The silence between them was not only comfortable but cozy, shared like a warm blanket, covering and calming, and Adam was almost hesitant to break it. “I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”
“Sure you could’ve.” Lawrence squeezed his hand gently and followed it with a gentle smile. “To this day you’re the strongest, most determined person I’ve ever met, Adam. But I do appreciate you allowing me to be a source of support for you. And if there’s anything at all I can do for you, don’t hesitate to tell me.”
“Maybe just sit with me for a while? Give it time to kind of sink in.” He slouched against the back of the couch and let his hands slide from Lawrence’s, and Adam smiled when he felt the older man drape his arm along the top of the sofa behind him. “Thank you, Lawrence.”
“It’s nothing.” It only took a moment for Adam to loll his head over with a heavy yawn and drop it onto Lawrence’s shoulder, coming to rest there so naturally that neither man was fazed by it. Instead, Lawrence allowed his arm to fall down to Adam’s shoulders, keeping him close as the younger man’s eyes fell shut. Within moments, Adam’s breath was slow and steady as he dozed off under Lawrence’s arm. The exhaustion had caught up with him finally, and the force and weight of the comfort afforded him under Lawrence’s graciousness was like a lullaby, easing him into an effortless sleep.
Lawrence allowed him to sleep until Adam stirred of his own volition a few minutes later. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t realize I was so tired. Um, I guess I should probably get a Lyft or something, head back to my hotel.”
“I actually have some work to catch up on here. You’re welcome to nap on the couch.” Lawrence realized he was sweeping his thumb gently along the younger man’s shoulder and stopped, and he noticed some acknowledgement, a subtle twitch in Adam’s facial features, at the sudden ceasing of the movement. “I can’t imagine sleeping in a suit is comfortable, but selfishly, I’d like the company, even if you’re not awake.”
“I’d like that.” They smiled softly at one another, and Lawrence stood up.
“Fortunately, I do have a blanket and a pillow tucked away in a file cabinet here. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve napped on that very couch just to recharge enough to drive home.” He opened a couple of drawers, retrieving the items and turning to face Adam again. When he did, the younger man had undressed down to his undershirt and slacks. There was a bittersweet familiarity in seeing him like that, standing almost awkwardly in a white t-shirt and waiting for Lawrence to make the next move, the next decision. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
Adam shook his head and took the blanket and pillow with shaky hands. “Just your presence. Don’t be afraid to wake me up when you’re ready to leave, I don’t want to make you feel like you’re stuck here if you need to get home.”
“I’ve got all the time in the world.” Lawrence’s palm was warm and comforting on Adam’s shoulder, and he leaned into the touch before setting the items in his hands on the sofa and allowing Lawrence to pull him into a hug. “Get some rest, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”
Adam laid down, and before he could reach for the blanket, Lawrence was shaking it out and draping it over him. “Seriously, Lawrence, as soon as you’re ready to leave, just let me know, and I’ll-”
“Take all the time you need. I’ve got nowhere to be but here.” His palm found Adam’s shoulder, tucked in under the blanket, and he gave it a gentle squeeze before smoothing over it a couple of times. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Adam’s eyes were already closed again, and he smiled softly as his body relaxed, melting into the comfortable couch and letting himself succumb to his drowsiness. “Thank you. I don’t know how many times I can say it, but I’ve got twenty years’ worth to still say, so bear with me.”
“We’ll have time for that when you wake up. Get some sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”
Adam yawned and snuggled in once more, his voice barely a mumble as he slipped into a comfortable slumber. “Promise?”
“I promise.”