Dear Adam (The Pen Pal Romance Series) Page 4

  I read through her email, hating her ex even though I didn’t know him. From what she wrote, she was running ragged taking care of herself and her family. How could he say he cared about her and not understand it? But then again, I didn’t have a girlfriend. Who was I to talk?

  From: ADAM

  To: ThePerfectStranger

  You know you don’t have to keep thanking me, right? It’s kind of my job to write this column. And you’re giving me tons of great practice. Just kidding. But really, it’s fine.

  I guess it’s hard for me to understand where he’s coming from. Ever since my dad left, I felt like I had to be around for my mom. I couldn’t imagine moving away from her. (Okay, is that enough personal detail?) Do you think you could just talk with this guy and explain to him what’s going on if you haven’t already? Maybe he just needs it spelled out in plain English. Guys can be a little slow sometimes, you know.

  And you’re right, having a long-distance boyfriend just because you don’t have time for one IRL doesn’t sound romantic. Are you sure you both shouldn’t just take time for yourselves? I mean, what’s the point in dating if you can’t drag them along to family things? Or at least have someone to hang out with on the weekends?

  I know a little something about expectations. It’s like when people see you, they don’t even see a person. They just see a history, a set of decisions, and they expect everything you do in the future to line up with what you’ve done in the past. I guess it makes sense, but still, sometimes it would be nice to just be able to make a decision without having to disappoint someone or live up to what they think of you.

  Signed,

  Adam

  PS – I kind of agree. What do you want to know?

  Seeing the look of disappointment on Nora Wilson’s face when Mr. Roberts announced me as her lab partner was just another reminder of who people thought I was. And yeah, I had slacked on group projects before, but I wasn’t stupid. Just busy. And dealing with shit other kids had no idea about. You ever see your dad get dragged away from the house in handcuffs and watch the cops rip a necklace off your mom’s neck because it was stolen? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

  I clicked through a few other messages, hoping ThePerfectStranger would reply. If I was being honest, I didn’t really talk to anyone. Wolf and I mostly talked about cars or girls he wanted to lay or band stuff. The guys at work had stuff to do. And even though I taught Janie how to give a good right hook, I wasn’t about to tell a ten-year-old how horrible it felt to live in a garage surrounded by yard stuff with no hope of leaving any time soon.

  I wished emails were like text chains so I could see whether she was typing. But I couldn’t, so I refreshed the screen again.

  One new email.

  From: ThePerfectStranger

  To: ADAM

  I’ll just say thank you one last time because I really am grateful to have someone to talk to. I couldn’t exactly tell my mom about my ex. She has enough to worry about already. So, thanks.

  When we had that big fight about college, I told him why I needed to stick around here, but he said I was just making excuses because I was scared to go out on my own. That I “wasn’t ready to go somewhere where I wasn’t constantly saving the day.” He even went as far as saying I wanted to be a martyr, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  I never thought I’d be that girl who needed to be with someone. I have a friend like that, and it drives me crazy that she can’t be alone, but I guess I get it now. It’s nice to know that you have someone in your corner, not just because you’ve been friends since kindergarten or because you’re related. I loved being the girl on his arm when we went out, and I loved holding hands at the movies. But you’re right. It wouldn’t be the same if he was halfway across the country and I was still here. I’d miss out on all the things I like about having a boyfriend. But my ex is a great guy who’s going places. Would I be insane not to see where it led?

  ThePerfectStranger

  PS-Maybe just...what do you want to do after we graduate? Are you a writer or is this just a hobby?

  Why hadn’t I suggested she talk to her parents about it? I needed to tuck that in my back pocket for advice to someone else. But for me, going to my parents was laughable. Asking your dad about girl troubles through a glass window was ridiculous. And Mom? She hadn’t really talked much since they took Dad away. At least, not to me. Not that we were really chatty or anything before, but still.

  I thought about what Stranger said, about having someone to hold hands with at the movies. It sounded nice when she wrote it like that. But then again, wasn’t she writing me because of the heartache and drama that came with all the romance?

  I started typing out my response.

  From: ADAM

  To: ThePerfectStranger

  You’re welcome. But ignoring the thank yous starting....now.

  Sticking around for your family doesn’t make you a martyr or mean you have a “savior complex.” It means you have your priorities straight. That your world revolves around someone other than yourself. Don’t let him make you feel bad for that.

  Being alone isn’t so bad. I mean, I don’t know what you’re like, but it really sucks when a friend has a girlfriend because they kind of disappear for a while. Maybe ask your friends out to a movie. Just don’t hold hands. That might be weird.

  I can’t tell you what to do—the thing about advice columns is that I just help people figure out what they already know. If you’re honest with yourself, I think you might already know the answer, deep down. You just have to do some digging.

  Adam

  PS – I never really thought about what I wanted to do after high school. Just work, I guess. I’m pretty good with cars, but it’s not like it’s my passion or anything. What about you?

  While I waited for ThePerfectStranger’s reply, I typed out a few responses to other questions—some of which I had to research. Like what asexual meant. (Basically just not being sexually attracted to other people.) Or what a furry was. (People who took on the personas of animals.)

  Another email came through. When the from line didn’t say ThePerfectStranger, a weird disappointed feeling swept through my stomach.

  I clicked it open and read the message.

  From: WAHS Portal [Setting Things Straight]

  To: ADAM

  Hey Adam,

  I don’t know if you remember me or not. I wrote a few weeks back about my mom. I just wanted to tell you thanks. Things are still awkward between us, but thanks to you, I was able to have an honest conversation with her. We don’t get to choose our parents, you know? They’re just people. Thanks for reminding me of that.

  Sincerely,

  Setting Things Straight

  My chest felt tight, and I stared at the screen until it blurred out of focus. “You’re welcome.”

  I’d never felt like this before—needed, not just for money, but for what I actually had to say.

  Another message came in from Stranger.

  From: ThePerfectStranger

  To: ADAM

  Dear Adam,

  I don’t know if I know how I feel about my ex. Maybe I do. Maybe my heart just wants something different from my brain. Have you ever felt like that?

  After high school, I’m going to study political science and minor in Spanish. I want to run for office. I think local government is really important, and with the growing Hispanic population, especially in Oklahoma, I also think it’s important to be able to communicate with your constituents. That’s the plan anyway. Things change. My mom wanted to be a nurse anesthetist. It’s kind of like an advanced nursing position. But then she had me. And Dad wanted her to be a stay-at-home mom, so she hardly even got to work as a nurse. Sometimes I wonder if she would have been happier if she’d actually gotten to follow her dreams....

  You know, this might sound like a load of bologna, but I think you should try to find what your passion is. What do you like doing in your free time? Is there something you do t
hat just sets your heart on fire? Like you would do it for free if you had to? I think the world’s a better place when people do what makes them happy. And you deserve it.

  ThePerfectStranger

  PS-All the post scripts are getting tiring. Let’s just talk. :) If you want.

  From: ADAM

  To: ThePerfectStranger

  It sounds like you’re making the decision between what’s smart and what you want. Which means what you want isn’t a good idea. So are you willing to live with the consequences of making the “right” choice?

  Also, if a career in politics fails, you should definitely consider being a motivational speaker. “What sets your heart on fire?” Hopefully nothing—that sounds painful—but I guess this. I didn’t think I would, but I actually like writing this column. I should be doing homework now, but I just find myself reading through all of the emails and thinking up ways to reply to everyone. I wish there was more space in the newspaper. But I don’t think “advice columnist” is a really secure job title. Doesn’t Abby what’s-her-name have the corner on that market?

  Do you think your mom regrets it? Choosing her family over work? Maybe she’s just like you, selfless. And maybe life isn’t about chasing dreams at all costs. Maybe it’s just about helping others the way you can in the moment.

  Signed,

  Adam

  PS-I agree.

  My eyes felt heavy, and I exited out of the email window. I sighed, rolling my neck back and forth. Dreams were nice and all, but someone had to be practical. Not everyone had parents to fall back on if chasing their passion failed. And passion didn’t pay the bills.

  But maybe I didn’t have to be this guy either—the one people dreaded being partnered with in group projects, the one with all the hard edges. Maybe if things were different, I could give advice in real life, not behind the cover of a keyboard. I wasn’t sure where to start with all of that, but I had an idea.

  I pulled the packet from social studies out of my backpack and started researching campaign plans. I wasn’t going to fall into Nora Wilson’s expectations of me. Even though I couldn’t stand her and that disappointed look, I was going to be the best project partner she ever had.

  Eight

  Nora

  Adam’s name flashed in my inbox, and I hurried to click open his message. Adam wasn’t like any guy I knew or hung out with. He actually asked questions before giving advice. And he didn’t really give advice; he mostly helped me think through my issues. That was probably why everyone had been going crazy over his column. Trey had said that readership had increased since adding the advice column, and he thought they had a better chance than ever at winning a championship at the newspaper contest.

  Adding an advice column might have been the best thing I’d suggested as student body president. But if Adam was a senior, I had no idea how someone else would fill his shoes.

  I read over his email, and his words hit me harder than ever. It sounds like you’re making the decision between what’s smart and what you want. Which means what you want isn’t a good idea. So are you willing to live with the consequences of making the “right” choice?

  What were the consequences of going back to Trey? Risking my heart. Having a long-distance boyfriend. Always coming second to academics. But what about the good consequences? Hearing his motivational speeches. Being on the receiving end of kisses that made me forget my name.

  Was it worth it?

  From: ThePerfectStranger

  To: ADAM

  Dear Adam,

  How do you always ask these questions that hit me right in the heart? I don’t think I’ve ever talked to someone who was so good at cutting straight to the meat of an issue, and you do it wonderfully. Abby doesn’t have anything on you. I think you would be an amazing advice columnist. Have you thought about suggesting the column at The Oklahoman? They would be lucky to have you.

  As for my mom, she never complains. She just does the best she can, even when she needs help. She would do anything for us. Maybe it’s just me that would be unhappy in her position. She relies totally on Dad for all of our income, and I guess the millennial in me thinks that’s archaic. I would want to work, even if I had children.

  I think you have a good point about helping people where you can, but aren’t people the most helpful when they genuinely love what they’re doing? Like, have you ever been out to eat where the waitress is totally energetic and kind and loves what she’s doing? It makes your day so much better than having some grumpy teenager who would rather be anywhere else. I think whatever gives you that feeling is worth it.

  What about your parents? Are they the practical kind? What do they think about you writing the column?

  ThePerfectStranger

  PS-No more postscripts or I’ll start thanking you again!

  I waited for nearly thirty minutes for him to reply, but eventually I got too tired to stay up. I set my laptop on my nightstand and fell asleep, still thinking about the consequences of loving Trey and whether it was worth it.

  When I walked downstairs the next morning, Dad was sitting on the couch between two of my younger sisters, Esther and Opal, holding Edith on his lap. Spongebob was playing on the TV.

  What? Dad was never home on Saturday mornings anymore.

  Dad looked over his shoulder at me. “Hey, Nora Bug.”

  I sleepily walked toward him and pecked his forehead. “Missed you.”

  He reached up and gave me an awkward, over-the-shoulder hug. But I didn’t mind. Seeing him once a week on Sundays wasn’t enough.

  “How was Guymon?” I asked, wanting to know about Dad’s latest stop on the campaign trail.

  He snorted. “Dry. But don’t tell them I said that.”

  “Our secret.” I winked. The smell of bacon hit my nose, and I breathed it in. “I’m gonna see if Mom needs help.”

  “Going to,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Going to,” he said. “‘Gonna’ is for people who aren’t educated at one of the best schools in the state.”

  I nodded, keeping my face even. “Right. I’m going to help Mom.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  I padded to the kitchen and saw Amie wearing sweats, moisture already gathered at her hairline. She must have gone on her morning run already. That girl was dedicated.

  “Morning, honey,” Mom said.

  I smiled. “Morning. Need any help?”

  She lifted a pancake from the griddle and set it on a plate. “Eat this, will you? I need to see someone eat something other than grapefruit.”

  Amie stuck out her tongue.

  My smile grew. “If you insist.”

  I sat at the breakfast bar beside Amie and ate, enjoying the blend of chocolate chips and blueberries Mom always put in her pancakes.

  “I feel like I’ve hardly gotten to talk to you girls all week,” Mom said. “What’s new?”

  Amie swallowed a bite of grapefruit. “Ms. Twindle said there might be an agent from the New York City Ballet at our next recital.”

  Both Mom and I looked at her, shocked. New York City was Amie’s dream.

  “That’s awesome!” I said, rubbing her shoulder.

  Mom hugged her. “You’re going to do great.”

  Amie shoved the empty grapefruit rind away from her, looking down. “Yeah.”

  I could see it in her face. The same worry about what our family would do without her.

  “What about you, Nora?” Mom asked.

  I shrugged. “The mental health initiative is going really well. I think people had issues with meditation and mindfulness at first, but I think it’s really helping.”

  Amie nodded. “The advice column is incredible. People are raving about it.”

  My heart warmed at her praise. She wasn’t just my sister; she was a freshman at the school who’d benefit from these things years after I graduated. “I think the columnist is something special.”

  Footsteps sounded behind us, and Mom smiled at Dad bala
ncing Edith on his hip.

  “Did you hear that?” Mom asked. “Nora said the advice column is a huge hit.”

  Dad looked down at a plate of toast Mom had been building and picked up a piece. “Wish advice columns could solve real problems.”

  I turned my gaze toward my half-eaten pancake, not feeling hungry anymore. Real problems? Adam wrote to people about life and love and parents and rules. And he’d been helping me off the record. Did Dad mean I didn’t have real problems?

  Amie put a hand on my knee under the breakfast bar, and I met her beautiful wide eyes. She understood. And she was on my side.

  My tongue felt thick, and I swallowed. I rubbed my hand on top of hers, then stood up. “I better go get some homework done.”

  Mom took my plate from me and kissed my forehead. “Love you, hon.”