The Wave by Kristen Crusoe (ebook reader online txt) 📗

her side facing him, all but her neck and face covered by the down comforter. He reached over and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. Cupping her face in his hands, he gently kissed her mouth.

‘Oh, God no, not now, I have morning breath I know,’ she chided, pulling back, but smiling.

‘I don’t mind,’ he replied. ‘Do you want some coffee, tea?’

‘Hmmm, yes, black coffee please, really strong. I can’t seem to get enough of real coffee. They made us drink decaf on the unit.’

‘Cruel and unusual, right?’ he answered, getting up. ‘I’ll just get it going. Then Clair, I have to go in to work today. Will you be OK, here at home?’

‘Do you mean will I walk into the river, or slash my wrists?’ she answered.

He sighed. Will they ever get past this, he wondered?

‘No, I just want to be sure you’re OK, you know.’

‘Oh, right. Yes, I’ll be fine. I’ll just eat, rest, read, and relax. I have a treatment soon so I want to enjoy my last days of freedom from nausea.’

He turned and walked out, carrying his clothes with him. For some reason, he felt shy dressing in front of her. He decided he would think about that later. Now, he needed to get to work. He took the cup of coffee to her, made certain she had her phone charged, within reach on the bedside table. He felt a deep sense of relief as he settled into his car, looking forward to the day. Enjoying the rain cascading down the windshield, and the hum of the motor as he set off down the drive, he turned onto the river road towards town, and college. He changed the radio to Bluetooth and Spotify, not wanting to hear the latest rounds of political bickering.

The rain was coming down hard now, mixing with the drone of Yo-Yo Ma’s cello. He felt vitalized, as though his purpose as a man and husband, even father was finally going to be realized. He could mourn his son properly now. Tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the piece, he let his mind imagine what their future might be like. The doctor had said she was really sick, and that this cancer could very well kill her, but looking at her this morning, he refused to believe it. Clair was alive, he was alive, and they had their whole future ahead of them. That was that.

Adam parked his car as close to the theater department building as possible. He pulled his anorak hood over his head, tucking his leather messenger bag up under his arm. Walking across campus, he was greeted by students and faculty, welcome backs and well wishes. It felt good. He felt good. Settling into his office, turning on the coffee maker, adjusting the thermostat, which didn’t work but everyone did it anyway, he heard a soft knock on the door frame. Turning, he saw Claudia standing there, backlit by the hall lights. His office was still shadowed by the dull rain-drenched morning light. Her hair, a golden sheen, created a halo effect. She was dressed in one of her modern designs, all geometric angles and sharp edges. Thin as a wafer, she reminded him of a spirograph, reds and yellows vying for dominance on a black background.

‘Welcome back,’ she said. ‘May I come in?’

‘Claudia, yes, of course. You’re the boss, right?’

He cursed himself for his edginess. Feeling his former sense of energy draining away, he mentally reframed his attitude to one of ‘get through this and then get her out of his office’. She walked in, shutting the door behind her. She stood there, leaning her back against the closed door. He rearranged items on his desk, moving a paperweight from one corner to the next.

‘So, what now?’ she asked, continuing to lean against the door.

‘I don’t know what you mean, Claudia.’

‘Come on, Adam. We both know you have just been waiting for Clair to be released from the hospital so you could leave her without looking like a total jerk. Well, now, that’s done, right? She’s back home and so, we can now be together again, finally.’ She had walked over to him, leaning over his desk.

He drew back, sitting down in his desk chair, holding his head in his hands. He ran his hands through his hair, looking up at her.

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ he said.

‘Christ, Adam. I’ve been waiting all this time. Putting up with your crazy wife, waiting for you to be free of her and her bullshit. Now you are. And, like we’ve talked about, we can be together. How can you not remember?’

She reached a hand out to touch his face. He pulled away.

‘Claudia, I don’t know how you can think that. I’ve never given that a thought and I don’t understand how you can even begin to imagine this. Since I’ve been with Clair, we’ve never ever had any sort of sexual relationship. I haven’t with any woman.’

‘Well, maybe not literally, Adam, but you led me to believe you were just waiting. All those glances during rehearsals. Those brushes when we stood next to each other… even once, I know you meant to, you touched my breast with your forearm when reaching across me. I didn’t imagine those, I didn’t.’

Claudia was pacing around the small room, her colors flying in the dim light. Bookshelves, stacked tight, vibrated with her movement.

‘I’m sorry, Claudia, I never meant to let you believe that. I was angry, in turmoil, you were so available. I thought you understood; it was a game. A flirtation. We all did it, didn’t we?’

‘But I thought you were different, Adam. We were different. I have waited for you now, for five years. Since before your son was born. Waited through the pregnancy, his sickness, her obsessions, your sadness and regrets. I held you up, so you could do your work, win your prizes for best directing, best stage play, best professor. I saved your