On The Mend

When I wake up I am greeted by the sight of my room. Blinking three times to adjust my eyes, I see that it's my old room that I'm looking at. Grasping the comforter on top of me, I let my eyes wander down to its pattern. Dark purple, silver swirls... I am in the room that Adam and I shared. Knowing that this is scientifically impossible and remembering what I had seen days before, my eyes widen and I instinctively look to my left. There, to my horror, is Adam: shirtless and still sleeping.

Oh my God.

My hands travel from their place on top of the comforter to my body which I find to be completely bare. Hopeful that this is a dream, I pinch myself to no avail. This is real. But my being naked doesn't mean Adam and I had sex. I could have gotten a little too crazy, decided to sleep naked and at my [ex-]husband's house. Without a care I reach over to touch Adam under the covers and it is then that all my fears are realized. He, too, is naked.

Quickly and quietly (but mostly quickly) I gather my things and get dressed. My hands shake as I find my keys in my purse. I hold on to them tightly so they don't make noise and wake Adam up. Princess growls at me from her place in the living room and that's one more sign that I'm not dreaming. In my dreams, Princess doesn't hate me. I walk so fast to my car that I may as well be running. My hands are still shaking as I drive away, guilty and full of shame.

Under no circumstances can anyone find out about this.


Brody calls me as soon as I'm back at the hotel. We haven't spoken since I arrived in Dallas, he's been busy drafting the final plans for the new hospital wing with the rest of his team and hasn't had time to call me. I understand the pressure he's under to make this the best wing the hospital could possibly have so I haven't called him in fear that I may distract him from work.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says when I answer the phone.

I breathe in deeply, “Hey, babe.”

“How are things in Dallas?”

“It feels like I'm in an oven,” I laugh nervously.

“How are things with Adam?” My heart drops into the pit of my stomach. I want to throw up out of guilt and my conscience is throwing rocks at my brain, yelling at it for being so stupid. All it takes is a few beers and I fall into Adam's trap but I should have known that, I should have stuck with soda, because it has always been that way. “Is he going to sign the papers?”

“He's going to make me work for it.”

“What?”

“He's not going to give this marriage up without a fight. He keeps bringing up the note I told you about – the one he left at the house before he went to stay with Kane.”

Brody sighs and I can hear his disappointment all the way from Chicago. “Are you serious?” he asks.

“Unfortunately,” I mumble in response. I look at myself in the mirror and am disgusted with my appearance: my hair is tousled and teased (proof that I definitely cheated on my fiance with my husband), the make-up I had perfected to make a good impression with last night is smudged all around my eyes, making me look like a raccoon, and I can smell the mixture of perfume, sweat, and Adam's cologne coming from my pores. Sighing again, I continue, “I don't think I'm going to be leaving tomorrow.”

My flight is scheduled for tomorrow at nine in the morning. Previously, before any of this went down and before I knew how much of an ass Adam was going to be about things, I thought it would only take a few days to be officially divorced. Obviously I was wrong.

"Yeah,” Brody sighs. “It doesn't sound like it. How much longer do you think it will take? I miss you.”

“I wish I could give you a real answer but I never know with Adam. One minute he's considering signing the papers and the next he's telling me to go fuck myself.”

“He says that to you!?”

“It's not a big deal, Brody. That's how we are.” I realize after I say it that my choice of words makes it sound like I still consider he and I to be a couple. “I didn't mean it like that,” I say quickly though I know he didn't think I did. If I could convince myself that last night didn't happen maybe I would wake up and it would all be a dream. I could be a modern day Dorothy. “We've always spoken to each other that way. Neither of us ever means it.”

“It's still not right to talk to a woman that way,” Brody mumbles. He sighs again, “Well, I have to go. I have to meet up with Bill in Naperville at the expo center. He's convinced that we're going to find the perfect interior materials in one place. He's an idiot.”

“Doesn't it take at least three months to choose, like, the right flooring?” I ask, smiling because I know I'm right. I take pride in my knowledge of Brody's work. Even before I met Adam, I knew about hockey. A bunch of men in tights skating in circles, chasing a puck. It wasn't that hard to learn the details (partially because Adam drilled them into my brain every time we watched a game) but Brody's profession was another story. Architecture was a tough subject to learn but I listened when he spoke of work and actually became interested in his updating the hospital.

“Yes,” he says and we both laugh. “Okay, love, I have to go for real though. I love you and I hope to see you soon. Be safe in Dallas.”

“I love you, too,” I reply and wait for him to hang up first. It's something I always do – I always wait for the other person to hang up before I do, just incase there's more to say that they've forgotten to tell me.

I turn my phone off after we hang up because I know that at some point in the day, Adam will call me and ask me to come over. Thankfully he has yet to figure out where I'm staying and I haven't told Patrick or Kris because they're bound to tell him once they find out. And when he does ask me to come over, whenever that may be, I'm likely to say yes. My plan to be a bitch went out the window last night as soon as I agreed to go as his wife to the Stars event. I don't know what I was thinking – I told myself a million times while getting ready beforehand not to lose my cool and to stick to my guns. I failed to do both of those things. And when I do go to Adam's apartment, I don't know what to expect from myself. I definitely will not sleep with him again (unless I'm drunk which is something terrible for me to say but it will probably happen) but that is the only thing I can soberly count out.

Adam knows how to work me. He knows how to piss me off, how to make me cry, and how to make me the biggest bitch you will ever meet. But he also knows how to win me over, how to make me cry tears of joy, and how to make me have a killer orgasm. I love Brody but Adam beats him by a long shot when it comes to the sex. Because Adam knows every little thing there is to know about me, and even some things that I myself have yet to figure out, I have no idea what to expect at our next encounter.

That worries me more than anything.


It's two days later when I finally turn my phone back on. From the time I hung up with Brody until now, I have done nothing but stay in my hotel room and watch romantic comedies and reruns of Jersey Shore. I haven't showered since getting back from Adam's so I'm sure I smell like a garbage dump but I honestly don't care. I e-mailed Brody after I talked to him and told him that I lost my phone charger at the airport somewhere and my phone was officially dead just so he wouldn't worry about me. Everyone else, however, probably thinks I'm dead. Judging from their text messages, my assumption is correct.

Adam: Call me. Sunday, 1PM.
Mom: hi dan ryan closed don't drive be safe luv u Sunday, 5PM.
Alisa: you'll never believe the guy I nailed last night. coulda been in GQ! Sunday, 5:15PM.
Adam: Soph, please call me. Sunday, 6PM.
Steeger: i need a favor Sunday, 10:30PM.
Sharpie: Adam told me. Are you okay? Monday, 8AM.
Adam: Please, Soph. Monday, 10AM.
Steeger: thanx 4 the help. ass. Monday, 2PM.
Adam: Sophia. Monday, 7PM.
Alisa: new drink: orange juice, vodka, hawaiian punch. you're gonna love it. Monday, 7:04PM.
Adam: Sophie. Monday, 7:09PM.
Sharpie: Abby says to call her. We love you. Monday, 8PM.
Steeger: sharpie called me. i'll kill him if u want. $100 flat rate. Tuesday, 9AM.
Adam: We need to talk about this. Please, Soph, call me. Tuesday, 12PM.
Mom: can u bring red wine to dinner tonite plz? luv u Tuesday, 3PM.
Alisa: wtf where are you? still in Dallas? come hooooome, bitch! I need your hangover cure asap Tuesday, 3:59PM.
Abby: Do not stress out my pregnant ass. Call me as soon as you get your shit together. Tuesday, 4:25PM.
Abby: Love you. Tuesday, 4:26PM.
Steeger: okay i'll do it for free just let me know Tuesday, 7PM.
Alisa: patrick sharp just called me. why did patrick sharp just call me? more importantly why did he just call me at the ass crack of dawn!? Wednesday, 8:06AM.
Adam: I'm going to call the police and file a missing person report. Wednesday, 8:10AM.
Sharpie: Adam is ready to call the cops. Please contact he or I before he does. I don't want to go to Dallas and bail him out when they say there's nothing they can do. Wednesday, 8:13AM.

I look at the clock and it's 8:15. The first call I make is to Patrick, mostly because I don't feel like talking to Adam this early in the morning.

“Thank God!” he says instead of hello when he picks up. “Babe, call Adam and tell him not to call the police. Sophia just called me.” There's shuffling on the other end and three seconds later Abby is yelling at me.

“What is your problem!? You scared the shit out of me, Sophie! You almost stressed me into premature labor!” Unable to stop myself, I laugh. “Do you think this is funny? I thought you were dead!” I hear Patrick talking to Adam in the background, calming him down and telling him that I'm alive. “You're an idiot, Sophia. An idiot. But I love you.”

“I love you, too, Abby,” I tell her, trying not to laugh again. “Let me talk to Patrick.”

“Okay. Don't ever do this again,” she replies. There's shuffling again and then I hear Patrick's voice. “We were so worried about you,” he says. “I even called your friend – you know, the one who is always drunk all the time? – this morning to ask her if she knew where you were.”

“I'm sorry,” I say sincerely. “I didn't realize that turning my phone off would cause such a stir with everyone I know.”

“You can't just run away from this, Sophie.” I know that, of course. Instead of replying, I twirl a strand of my dirty hair with my finger as Patrick goes on. “As much as you don't want him to be, he's still your husband. What you did was not wrong on any level. I assume you were drunk and when you tell Brody, just let him know that. I'm sure he'll understand. He's a good guy, Soph...here for the long haul. Adam, as much as I love him, is an idiot. Yes I want you two back together but I can't make your decisions for you. You need to deal with what happened and fix it as quickly as you can. Chicago misses you, you need to come home.”

Shaking my head, a smile forms on my face. “I think you chose the wrong profession, Mr. Therapist.” We both laugh and I sigh, looking at the clock again. 8:30. “I guess I should call everyone else who blew up my phone.”

“Even Adam?” he asks, knowing I plan on avoiding that conversation for as long as possible.

“Eventually,” I answer. We say our goodbyes and hang up. I call Alisa next and wake her up (again) which makes her a mega-bitch when she answers. After I explain why Patrick called her she calls me stupid along with some other choice words and hangs up on me. Some best friend there. I know she will call me later, though, so I don't care. I don't bother calling my mom – she should have known I was in Dallas but instead asks me to bring wine to a dinner party. What the hell? After calling Kris and telling him that killing Adam isn't necessary and asking him what he needed me to do (he wanted me to look up the Facebook profile of some girl he met at a bar to see if she was in a relationship or not before he brought her home) I put my phone on the charger and head to the bathroom for a shower.

When I smell like honey and vanilla and am wearing something from the Kim K Barbados collection, I slip my engagement ring on and put on make-up for the first time in three days. I let my hair air dry and grab my purse and car keys, heading into the shopping district. Nothing like a little retail therapy to make yourself feel better.


I get back to the hotel at around three in the afternoon and Adam is sitting in the lobby. I try to walk past him without him noticing but the damn woman behind the desk ruins it.

“Hello, Ms. Sophia,” she greets.

Adam's head pops up at the sound of my name and he darts out of his chair. Before I can blink he's got a death grip around me, hugging me so hard that it actually hurts. With my bags still gripped in my hands, I slap his sides until he lets go.

“That was uncalled for,” I say and push myself away from him.

“What's uncalled for is you ignoring the world for three days and making me think you were dead,” he says scornfully.

Mumbling “I wish I was dead,” I head for the elevator. He follows behind me (of course) and I regret pushing the button of the floor my room is on the second I do so. He knows where I'm staying, he knows what floor I'm on. Soon he'll know what room I'm in. Is there a don't allow up service at the front desk for people who aren't famous? I make a mental note to ask. We walk to my room and I open the door with my key, willingly letting him in to the one space I have in Dallas that he wasn't able to find. I throw the bags of new things I bought downtown on to the bed and slip my shoes off. Leaving Adam to fend for himself I then sit next to my purchases and grab my lotion off the night stand, using it to moisturize my feet. He laughs at me and I glare at him. “What?” I ask.

“You're still the same Sophie,” is his reply.

“Shut up, Adam.”

He moves to sit next to me on the bed and I scoot away. “No,” I say. “That is not happening. We are not together. Last night was a mistake and it's never going to happen again.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” he asks cockily. I flash my left hand in his face out of anger and his expression goes from amused to confused in two seconds flat. “That's not your ring,” he tells me like I don't already know this.

“It is,” I reply and stand from the bed then move away so I'm not near him when he discovers my engagement.

“No, it's not. I wouldn't buy that gaudy of a ring for you.”

“It's not gaudy, Adam. It's just not as modest as the one you bought me.”

His eyes meet mine and when they do I see they're brimming with tears. He asks, “Are you trying to tell me that someone else put that ring on your finger?” and I think he knows the answer before it comes out of my mouth. He stays silent after I confirm that I've moved on from our relationship until he blinks, looks down the the floor and then back into my eyes. “How long?”

“I met him the fall after you left.”

Shaking his head, he stands up and walks toward the door to exit. “Wow,” is all he says before leaving me alone, slamming the door behind him. When I wake up the next morning and open my door to go down to breakfast, a manilla envelop is laying in front of me. I open it and breathe a sigh of relief. It's the papers.

They're signed.