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He looked up and smiled at me.
And although I had been thinking almost exactly the same thing myself, I felt a little bit, I don't know, funny, yes funny and sad, about Adam's saying that.
Disloyal, that's the way I felt.
I was glad that Adam seemed to be so fond of Kate.
But Adam wasn't Kate's father.
James was Kate's father.
And James wasn't here.
It was all so funny and mixed-up and strange and sad.
Why couldn't Adam be her father?
Or why couldn't her father care?
"Would you like to have children?" I asked Adam. "I don't mean now, but, you know, someday?"
He stopped what he was doing and sat very still for a minute. Then he turned and looked at me.
There was such an odd expression on his face. He looked very sad. Lost almost. But before he answered me we were interrupted by girls' voices.
"Hey look, it's Adam," "Great, where?" "Adam, how are you?" "Oh hi, Adam, where were you last night?"
Three beautiful young women, obviously classmates of Adam's, had arrived at the table and were clustering around him.
The way women did around Adam.
They were like beautiful exotic birds. Very colorful and very noisy. They oohed and aahed loudly at Kate and then lost interest in her completely when they discovered that she wasn't Adam's child.
Although why should she be? I wondered.
Adam introduced us all.
"Meet Kate," he said, picking up her little pink hand and waving it at the girls.
It looked so gorgeous, my little girl and this beautiful man, that I thought my heart would break.
Why can't James be here to do this? I wondered.
Even when I was happy, the sadness was only a moment away.
"And this is Claire," he continued.
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"Hi." I smiled gamely at the girls with their young translucent skin and their outrageous clothes, trying not to feel like an old hag.
"And these are..."
And he said three names that might have been Alethia, Koo and Freddie. Or could have been Alexia, Sooz and Charlie.
Or then again might have been Atlanta, Jools and Micki.
Odd names. Cool names.
And, I was prepared to take my oath, made-up names.
The three of them kind of looked the same.
They all had short hair.
And I do mean very short hair.
Sooz/Koo/Jools was nearly totally bald.
And Atlanta/Alexia/Alethia looked like a very unugly duckling, with her little cap of blond fluffy hair.
She looked a bit like Kate, to be honest.
Which means that Adam, the suspected pedophile, is probably mad about her, I thought sourly.
I was feeling a bit jealous.
All four of them talked away about some party that had been on the previous evening. I really wished that they would leave, so I could have Adam all to myself and Kate again, but I tried to be grown-up and adult about these three gorgeous young women clamoring for Adam's attention.
My face hurt from trying to look as if I was good fun too, that I didn't mind being ignored as they chattered and laughed charmingly and effort- lessly. It looked as if the three of them were settling in for a long stay.
My heart sank to my (new) boots as all three pulled over chairs and gathered around our tiny little table, each of them practically sitting on Adam's knee.
They hadn't even bought a cup of tea among them.
But, really, I wasn't being judgmental.
I knew what it was like to be a poor student.
They had to save their money for beer and drugs.
Of course I understood.
But when Freddie/Charlie/Micki started to eat one of the pastries, one of my pastries, I nearly burst into tears. I wanted
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to stamp my foot and shout hysterically, like a child throwing a tantrum, "That's mine. Adam bought it for me!"
I swallowed hard.
I was totally out of place here. It was silly to think that someone like me could have any place in someone like Adam's life. He was young and handsome and had a full and happy life.
And I felt tired and old and silly and foolish.
As Adam continued to talk animatedly to the girls, I stood up and put Kate's sling back on. Then I leaned over and took Kate rather brusquely from Adam's arms (Give me back my child!), interrupting a lively conver- sation about someone named Olivia Burke, who apparently had given Malcolm Travis a blow job at the party last night in full view of the guests.
Even through my self-pity and misery I was pleased to hear that Adam wasn't being in any way judgmental about Olivia Burke's behavior. His censure was reserved for Malcolm because apparently Malcolm had a steady girlfriend named Alison. And Olivia didn't know about her.
"That guy is so low," Adam said. "He's being disrespectful to the two women at once by behaving that way."
Right on, brother!
Kate started to cry when I took her from Adam's arms. I didn't blame her.
Adam turned and looked at me with a surprised look on his face.
"You're not going, are you?" he asked.
"Yes, I think so," I said, trying to sound casual. "Kate's tired and she'll need a change soon."
I turned to the gorgeous girls.
"Bye." I nodded. "Nice meeting you."
At least I could never be accused of being rude, I thought self-righteously.
"Bye," they chorused. "Bye-bye, Kate."
Then I felt ashamed.
They were nice girls. I was the one with the problem.
Jealous and insecure.
Childish and overly sensitive and spoiled.
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Off I struggled, loaded down with a baby, bags and huge quantities of feeling sorry for myself, trying to look dignified and unconcerned as I battled through the unyielding crowds toward the door. I could feel Adam's eyes on me, but I refused to meet his look.
He caught up with me before I had gone two yards.
If I was to be perfectly honest--not always an easy thing to be--I'd have to say that was exactly what I had wanted him to do.
"Claire," he said in surprised tones, "where are you going?"
"Home," I mumbled.
I was hoping desperately that he hadn't realized how jealous I was.
"Look, I'm sorry," he said, looking into my eyes. "Were they really getting on your nerves?"
"No," I protested. "No, they were nice."
He looked up and smiled at me.
And although I had been thinking almost exactly the same thing myself, I felt a little bit, I don't know, funny, yes funny and sad, about Adam's saying that.
Disloyal, that's the way I felt.
I was glad that Adam seemed to be so fond of Kate.
But Adam wasn't Kate's father.
James was Kate's father.
And James wasn't here.
It was all so funny and mixed-up and strange and sad.
Why couldn't Adam be her father?
Or why couldn't her father care?
"Would you like to have children?" I asked Adam. "I don't mean now, but, you know, someday?"
He stopped what he was doing and sat very still for a minute. Then he turned and looked at me.
There was such an odd expression on his face. He looked very sad. Lost almost. But before he answered me we were interrupted by girls' voices.
"Hey look, it's Adam," "Great, where?" "Adam, how are you?" "Oh hi, Adam, where were you last night?"
Three beautiful young women, obviously classmates of Adam's, had arrived at the table and were clustering around him.
The way women did around Adam.
They were like beautiful exotic birds. Very colorful and very noisy. They oohed and aahed loudly at Kate and then lost interest in her completely when they discovered that she wasn't Adam's child.
Although why should she be? I wondered.
Adam introduced us all.
"Meet Kate," he said, picking up her little pink hand and waving it at the girls.
It looked so gorgeous, my little girl and this beautiful man, that I thought my heart would break.
Why can't James be here to do this? I wondered.
Even when I was happy, the sadness was only a moment away.
"And this is Claire," he continued.
183
"Hi." I smiled gamely at the girls with their young translucent skin and their outrageous clothes, trying not to feel like an old hag.
"And these are..."
And he said three names that might have been Alethia, Koo and Freddie. Or could have been Alexia, Sooz and Charlie.
Or then again might have been Atlanta, Jools and Micki.
Odd names. Cool names.
And, I was prepared to take my oath, made-up names.
The three of them kind of looked the same.
They all had short hair.
And I do mean very short hair.
Sooz/Koo/Jools was nearly totally bald.
And Atlanta/Alexia/Alethia looked like a very unugly duckling, with her little cap of blond fluffy hair.
She looked a bit like Kate, to be honest.
Which means that Adam, the suspected pedophile, is probably mad about her, I thought sourly.
I was feeling a bit jealous.
All four of them talked away about some party that had been on the previous evening. I really wished that they would leave, so I could have Adam all to myself and Kate again, but I tried to be grown-up and adult about these three gorgeous young women clamoring for Adam's attention.
My face hurt from trying to look as if I was good fun too, that I didn't mind being ignored as they chattered and laughed charmingly and effort- lessly. It looked as if the three of them were settling in for a long stay.
My heart sank to my (new) boots as all three pulled over chairs and gathered around our tiny little table, each of them practically sitting on Adam's knee.
They hadn't even bought a cup of tea among them.
But, really, I wasn't being judgmental.
I knew what it was like to be a poor student.
They had to save their money for beer and drugs.
Of course I understood.
But when Freddie/Charlie/Micki started to eat one of the pastries, one of my pastries, I nearly burst into tears. I wanted
184
to stamp my foot and shout hysterically, like a child throwing a tantrum, "That's mine. Adam bought it for me!"
I swallowed hard.
I was totally out of place here. It was silly to think that someone like me could have any place in someone like Adam's life. He was young and handsome and had a full and happy life.
And I felt tired and old and silly and foolish.
As Adam continued to talk animatedly to the girls, I stood up and put Kate's sling back on. Then I leaned over and took Kate rather brusquely from Adam's arms (Give me back my child!), interrupting a lively conver- sation about someone named Olivia Burke, who apparently had given Malcolm Travis a blow job at the party last night in full view of the guests.
Even through my self-pity and misery I was pleased to hear that Adam wasn't being in any way judgmental about Olivia Burke's behavior. His censure was reserved for Malcolm because apparently Malcolm had a steady girlfriend named Alison. And Olivia didn't know about her.
"That guy is so low," Adam said. "He's being disrespectful to the two women at once by behaving that way."
Right on, brother!
Kate started to cry when I took her from Adam's arms. I didn't blame her.
Adam turned and looked at me with a surprised look on his face.
"You're not going, are you?" he asked.
"Yes, I think so," I said, trying to sound casual. "Kate's tired and she'll need a change soon."
I turned to the gorgeous girls.
"Bye." I nodded. "Nice meeting you."
At least I could never be accused of being rude, I thought self-righteously.
"Bye," they chorused. "Bye-bye, Kate."
Then I felt ashamed.
They were nice girls. I was the one with the problem.
Jealous and insecure.
Childish and overly sensitive and spoiled.
185
Off I struggled, loaded down with a baby, bags and huge quantities of feeling sorry for myself, trying to look dignified and unconcerned as I battled through the unyielding crowds toward the door. I could feel Adam's eyes on me, but I refused to meet his look.
He caught up with me before I had gone two yards.
If I was to be perfectly honest--not always an easy thing to be--I'd have to say that was exactly what I had wanted him to do.
"Claire," he said in surprised tones, "where are you going?"
"Home," I mumbled.
I was hoping desperately that he hadn't realized how jealous I was.
"Look, I'm sorry," he said, looking into my eyes. "Were they really getting on your nerves?"
"No," I protested. "No, they were nice."
