He would keep drinking until he could no longer feel.
Adam knew it was weak of him, that it would end badly, but he didn’t care. Oblivion was calling to him and he was happy to accept the invitation.
He had no idea where he was, but that suited him fine. He had roared away from his confrontation with Kassie, his car slewing dangerously back into the traffic, but he was too wired to drive and had abandoned his vehicle a few blocks further on. Stumbling out on to the sidewalk, he had chanced upon a bar. The place was filling up with office workers, who gave him a wide berth, keen to enjoy their Happy Hour drinks in peace. Barging his way to the bar, Adam had ordered a whiskey, then another, keeping his eyes away from the mirror behind the bartenders. He had no desire to see his haunted face.
Another couple of shots followed and eventually he quit pretending, paying for the rest of the bottle upfront. It sat next to him, his only company, as both stools beside him remained resolutely empty. Ignoring the discomfort his presence was obviously causing, he set to work on the bottle, but so far it was having little effect.
Kassie’s words continued to spin round his brain, pulling him back to Faith’s studio. To that night. Mindless fool that he was, he had been slumbering nearby, but the two women had been awake, staring at each other, as Faith sketched her subject. He could see her hand faltering, could see her chin resting on her chest, could see the tears running off her nose. Annabelle, she was talking about Annabelle, and her whole body was shaking. Kassie had risen now, was trying to comfort her, placing an arm around her shoulder. But Faith would not be comforted. She wanted to know. And she believed Kassie could tell her.
‘Will I ever have a child?’
Faith’s voice was shaking, as she wiped her tears away. Her face looked ravaged, suddenly older, as it gazed up at Kassie imploringly. As if she somehow was the seat of all knowledge.
‘Will I be a mother?’
Kassie continued to comfort her, but said nothing in response.
‘Please, Kassie, I have to know …’
And now Kassie was speaking. But it wasn’t the teenage girl mouthing the words. Horrifically, it was Annabelle, her dimpled, innocent face perched on top of that gawky torso, who was speaking.
‘No, Faith, you will never be a mother …’
Roaring, Adam lashed out at this horrific image – sending his whiskey bottle crashing to the floor. Snapping out of his daydream, he realized that pretty much the whole bar was now staring at him. Unrepentant, he threw a fifty-dollar bill over the counter and stumbled to the exit. Fuck them, he thought, his only regret was that so much good whiskey had been wasted.
Barging out on to the street, he tried to shake off the nausea that his hideous daydream had provoked, but it was useless. He was sick to his soul. Because of her. She was selfish and sanctimonious, a spreader of contagion and he now bitterly regretted having let her into their lives. When Faith had invited her to stay, he should have trusted his instinct and asked her to leave. Why had he not listened to the little voice in his head? He had followed its promptings many times before now and been proved right.
This was his fault too, of course. He should have stayed home with Faith that day, he could tell she was in a strange mood. Why hadn’t he reached out to her? Why hadn’t he insisted that she tell him what was troubling her? He was tortured by the thought of her alone in that big house, while he was running around with the author of their misfortune. His beloved Faith had been alone for her last day on earth, wrapped in silence, consumed by despair. The thought of this ripped his heart out and he knew instinctively that he would never forgive himself, that he would hate himself for ever.
But not as much as he hated her.