A Year to Remember (27 page)

“It’s complicated.”

“Because I’ve been an asshole to her for years and I wanted a fresh start. Especially since I’m in love with her,” Adam declared.

My jaw must have hit the ground from my surprise that he announced he loved me to a group of almost strangers.

“And I’m in love with him. I have been for a very long time,” I admitted to Adam, my new friends, and myself.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise and his whole face lit up from his smile. He took my hand in his and squeezed.

“Okay, that’s weird, but good for you,” Hannah said.

“Ah man, that’s one less available girl for me,” David whined jokingly.

“You looked pretty comfy with Amy last night,” Hannah teased.

I didn’t follow the rest of their conversation because all I could think about was Adam and the way he made me feel.

I expected Israel would pale in comparison to pleasures of the bedroom, but instead I discovered my love for Adam only intensified my Israeli experience. I discovered the veracity concerning the clichés about love. Fruit tasted sweeter, the sun shone brighter, the ocean seemed bluer.

We visited Independence Hall where on May 14, 1948, David Ben-Gurion announced the establishment of the State of Israel. Then we toured Machon Ayalon, an underground ammunition factory that had been built by the Jews under the noses of the British during the struggle for independence in the 1940’s.

In the afternoon, a few of us had lunch at McDonalds, where I learned an Israeli Big Mac tasted radically different from the ones in the States. So did Diet Coke to my chagrin, but I drank it anyway, needing the caffeine desperately by the late afternoon. The rest of the afternoon, Adam and I strolled hand and hand through
Nachalat Binyamin
, a pedestrian mall with outdoor shops, art, and outdoor cafes. It reminded me of a cross between a flea market and an arts and crafts fair.

When we returned to our hotel, Adam and I sat on a rocky cliff overlooking the Mediterranean talking and laughing with our newfound friends. I had never felt more content in my life, all my problems waiting for me in Michigan forgotten for the moment.

Before dinner, I packed my belongings and brought them to Adam’s room to get ready for the first official party of the tour, a dinner and dance at a place called
Ganei Yaar
, an outdoor forest-garden. With fifteen minutes to spare, we quickly made love, giving me just enough time to reapply my makeup and throw on some decent clothes.

We met Jews from all over the United States at the party, but we only had eyes for each other. Adam held me in his arms as we slow danced, both of us relishing in the ability to kiss on the dance floor without the prying eyes of my brother.

We returned to our room at night exhausted, falling into bed without even a goodnight kiss, but waking at some point during the night hours to make love.

One night in Jaffa, we enjoyed a meal that wasn’t comprised of deli meats and hummus. We sat outside absorbing the essence of the city. Suddenly, a dozen cats circled our ankles, begging with incessant meowing for our food.

“What’s with the cats?” David asked to no one in particular.

One of the organizers of the trip explained to all of us that traditionally, the people of Israel treated stray cats not as pets but as vermin. With an overpopulation of cats, the Ministry of the Environment created laws against feeding the feral cats. My heart nearly broke when told I’d be violating the law by giving my food to the cats.

Adam caught the tears in my eyes and wiped them away with his fingers. “I have three.”

“What?”

“I have three cats. Leia, Luke, and Yoda.”

“I thought only little old ladies had three cats. Isn’t that a rule or something?” I teased.

His eyes narrowed and for a brief second, I caught a glimpse of the man I used to know. That’s when I identified one of the causes of his spitefulness. I had hurt his feelings.

“I’m sorry. That was mean of me to say.”

“You must be a dog person.” He smiled, and I knew he had already forgiven me.

“I don’t know. I grew up with dogs. Does that make me a dog person?”

“Everyone is either a cat person or a dog person.”

“I don’t know. What’s the difference?”

“Cat people are better.”

“No, really I want to know.”

“Those people who prefer cats tend to be more neurotic than dog people, but open to new experiences while dog people are extroverted and agreeable.”

“What if you can’t decide whether you’re a dog or a cat person?

“Then you’re more like a dog person but a bit neurotic.”

“You’re making this up!”

I punched him on the shoulder thinking how silly it is to define a person by the type of animal they prefer. Then it occurred to me I did the same based on coffee. Adam didn’t seem to mind what kind of coffee he drank as long as he drank it hot. Based on my superior analysis of a coffee drink, I would label Adam as indifferent and apathetic. That didn’t match his personality at all. Had I been wrong to label a person simply by one insignificant choice? Was my theory as equally silly as Adam’s cat and dog theory?

“No, I’m not. They did some study at the University of Texas.”

“You think of yourself as neurotic?”

“Very. You haven’t figured that out by now? You’re a psychologist!”

“Yes, but I treat teenage girls, not immature thirty-year-old boys!” I laughed, even though I felt slightly insulted by his remark.

“Twenty-eight.”

“What?”

“I’m twenty-eight. Remember, I’m younger than you.”

“Age is a state of mind,” I retorted, ready to end the conversation.

“Only if you’re older,” he responded nastily.

“And more mature,” I added angrily.

“What’s your problem, Sara?”

“Why do you want to fight, Adam?”

“I’m not the one who can’t even decide if she’s a cat or dog person.”

I opened my mouth to say something in response, but nothing came to mind.

Up until that point, my friends had sat and listened to our banter without saying a word. Alison caught on to my need for rescue.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom before we leave. Anyone want to join me?”

I grabbed my purse and followed her, grateful for the excuse to get away from Adam before I said anything I’d later regret.

“What was that about?”

How could I answer when I didn’t even understand what happened?

“Honestly, I don’t know. We’ve always had a contentious relationship. I hoped he had changed, but maybe I was wrong.”

“Can I be honest with you, Sara?” Alison started shifting from one foot to the other as if debating on how to phrase what she wanted to say.

“Of course,” I answered, wanting to say no because nothing good ever followed the words can I be honest with you.

“You and he need to have a talk. There’s something he’s not telling you.”

“How can you possibly know that? Are you a therapist?”

“No, I just have experience.”

“With therapists or men?” I giggled.

“Both. I’ve had a lot of fucked-up relationships with men which led to me seeing a lot of therapists through the years.” She gave me a hug as I pondered her observation.

Adam sat with David on the bus and I sat alone, resting my head on the windowpane. As a psychologist, I spend a great deal of time helping others get in touch with their feelings and identifying their motives for their behavior. Rarely have I participated in self-examination.

Maybe, it was time.

I couldn’t decide whether I should spend the night with Adam or sleep in my own hotel room. In the end, he made the decision for me.

I don’t understand how men think, but when we returned to the hotel, Adam seemed to have forgotten all about our little argument at the restaurant and directed me back to his room. He began to strip me before the door had fully closed behind us.

I could have waited until after we made love, but I feared I would lose my nerve if I didn’t bring it up now. I stopped him from unhooking my bra and pulled out of his embrace.

“We need to talk.”

Adam reacted by covering his ears with his hands and falling face forward onto the bed. Then he laughed and flipped over, resting casually on his elbow. “Couldn’t we talk later?”

“No.” I didn’t need to say anything more. He patted the bed and I sat next to him with my legs crossed, far away enough from him that he couldn’t distract me for having our conversation.

“Why were you so angry at me at the restaurant? I apologized for insulting you.”

He moved over to be closer to me and put his head in my lap. I couldn’t help myself as I started to run my fingers through his hair. He sighed, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to contentment or because I was making him talk rather than having sex.

“It wasn’t because you insulted me or belittled me, although I appreciated that you recognized and apologized for it. It’s because you don’t know how to make a decision for yourself,” he said without looking at me.

I almost started to argue with him, but it occurred to me he was right. I couldn’t even figure out if I was a cat or a dog person.

“What happened between you and Missy, if you don’t mind me asking?” He started to caress my thigh, but it didn’t feel sexual. It felt comforting. I could trust him.

“She told me Caleb wasn’t right for me.”

Adam interrupted. “He isn’t.”

I nodded, then closed my eyes to suppress the tears. “I know, but I didn’t want to hear it. She admitted she had been in love with me and instead of validating her feelings, I told her she was using me as an excuse to keep from getting hurt in a real relationship.”

“You were right, but you used her, too.”

“How did I use her?” I kept my temper under control, but I suddenly had a craving for chocolate. Running low on my supply, I wondered if I could find a few candy bars somewhere in the hotel.

“You let her make all your decisions for you. She’s the one who got you on JDate right? I’m surprised you can get dressed by yourself.”

“I don’t need her for all my decisions. I didn’t ask her whether I should have sex with you.” I immediately regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. He yanked back his hand as if my thigh burned it. I felt his rejection of me to the core, and the tears started flowing before I could stop them.

“You’re the best decision I’ve ever made,” I cried. His head cradled in my lap, I reached to kiss him and discovered his face wet with his own tears. How had I never known how sensitive a man Adam Goldman was?

When he sat up with such sadness in his eyes, I knew. My heart ached and my gut twisted in a sense of foreboding for what I understood down to my soul. I didn’t want to hear the words, but they needed to be said out loud.

“Sara, I haven’t told you the complete truth.”

Alison had been right. My mind shouted no, don’t let him say it, but all that came out of my mouth were the words, “Go on.”

“I’ve always wanted you. The truth is, I don’t want to get married. Ever.”

“To me?” I squeaked out, barely able to control my anguish.

“To anyone. I don’t think marriage works. My parents have each been married and divorced twice, and I promised myself I’d never do that.”