“Why’s it early?” she asked, avoiding eye contact, taking off her coat.
“I don’t know. Usually when you go to Sharon’s you don’t get back till ten or eleven.”
“We just had coffee,” she said flatly, hanging up her coat in the closet.
“So anyway, you wouldn’t believe it,” Adam said. “Good Day New York wants me on tomorrow.”
“Great,” Dana said in a monotone.
Adam didn’t expect her to be excited, but he didn’t feel like playing their usual I-can- be- cold- and- distant- longer- than- you game either.
“I really think we need to talk,” he said.
“Later, okay?” she said.
“Wait a second,” he said, and she stopped and stared at him. Her expression was so void of emotion she could’ve been staring at a piece of wood.
“I don’t think it was right what you said before,” he said.
“What did I say?” she asked.
For a moment he couldn’t remember himself; then he said, “About how I’m screwing up your life or however you put it. How exactly do you think I’m screwing up your life?”
She let out a breath, looking down, and said, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way at all.”
Was she actually giving in? She almost never admitted any fault in an argument, or at least not until after hours of not talking to each other.
“Well, I accept your apology,” he said, “and I’m sorry, too. I shoudn’t’ve just left like that. I know how much you hate it when I do that.”
“It’s okay,” she said and took a couple of steps toward the stairs.
“No, it’s not okay,” he said, and she stopped. “I was wrong and I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
She nodded tentatively, now looking like she might start to cry. She didn’t usually get so emotional during their arguments; he figured it probably had to do with Gabriela and not him.
“Hey, come here,” he said.
She didn’t budge, but he went over to her, kissed her quickly on the lips, and then hugged her. She seemed uncomfortable, pulling back a little.
“Is that a new perfume?” he asked.
“What?” She seemed a little startled. “No… I mean, not really.”
“I like it,” he said as his cell started ringing. He took the phone out of his pocket and looked at the display, which was showing an unfamiliar 212 number.
“The hell is that?” he asked, squinting at the phone.
As he answered the call-“Yes?”-Dana rushough Adam couldn’t imagine any logical scenario where he or his family could be in danger, he was glad he would be prepared for the worst nevertheless.
He microwaved leftover chicken and string beans and was eating at the kitchen table while rereading the sports section of the Times when he got a call on his BlackBerry with the ID fox broadcasting. He figured it was another reporter with a follow- up question, but it turned out it was Karen Owens, a producer from Good Day New York. She asked Adam if he would like to appear as a guest tomorrow morning.
“You’re kidding,” Adam said. “Why do you want me?”
“Why do you think?” she said. “You’re a big local news story, Dr. Bloom.”
Adam couldn’t think of any reason not to go on, so he said yes, figuring, What the hell? She told him how much she was looking forward to meeting him, and they arranged for a limo to pick him up in front of his house at six tomorrow morning and take him directly to the studio on the Upper East Side.
A few minutes after he got off the phone with the producer from Fox, he heard the front door opening. Still blown away by the call- was he really going to be a guest on Good Day New York?- for a moment he forgot he was angry with Dana and called out, “Honey, that you?”
He went into the foyer, noticing right away that she didn’t seem very happy to see him. Then he remembered the way they’d left off before and how angry he was at her and he said. “You’re back early,” tempering his enthusiasm.
“Why’s it early?” she asked, avoiding eye contact, taking off her coat.
“I don’t know. Usually when you go to Sharon’s you don’t get back till ten or eleven.”
“We just had coffee,” she said flatly, hanging up her coat in the closet.
“So anyway, you wouldn’t believe it,” Adam said. “Good Day New York wants me on tomorrow.”
“Great,” Dana said in a monotone.
Adam didn’t expect her to be excited, but he didn’t feel like playing their usual I-can- be- cold- and- distant- longer- than- you game either.
“I really think we need to talk,” he said.
“Later, okay?” she said.
“Wait a second,” he said, and she stopped and stared at him. Her expression was so void of emotion she could’ve been staring at a piece of wood.
“I don’t think it was right what you said before,” he said.
“What did I say?” she asked.
For a moment he couldn’t remember himself; then he said, “About how I’m screwing up your life or however you put it. How exactly do you think I’m screwing up your life?”
She let out a breath, looking down, and said, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way at all.”
Was she actually giving in? She almost never admitted any fault in an argument, or at least not until after hours of not talking to each other.
“Well, I accept your apology,” he said, “and I’m sorry, too. I shoudn’t’ve just left like that. I know how much you hate it when I do that.”
“It’s okay,” she said and took a couple of steps toward the stairs.
“No, it’s not okay,” he said, and she stopped. “I was wrong and I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
She nodded tentatively, now looking like she might start to cry. She didn’t usually get so emotional during their arguments; he figured it probably had to do with Gabriela and not him.
“Hey, come here,” he said.
She didn’t budge, but he went over to her, kissed her quickly on the lips, and then hugged her. She seemed uncomfortable, pulling back a little.
“Is that a new perfume?” he asked.
“What?” She seemed a little startled. “No… I mean, not really.”
“I like it,” he said as his cell started ringing. He took the phone out of his pocket and looked at the display, which was showing an unfamiliar 212 number.
“The hell is that?” he asked, squinting at the phone.
As he answered the call-“Yes?”-Dana rushed upstairs.
“Mr. Bloom?” a woman said.
“Who’s this?” Adam asked.
“Grace Williams. I’m a reporter for New York magazine. Do you have a moment?”
The woman explained that she wanted to interview him for a feature story. Adam couldn’t believe it- what was going on here? He arranged to meet her tomorrow afternoon in midtown; then he ended the call and went to tell Dana the news. She was in the shower- he heard the water running- but when he tried the bathroom door it was locked. This was strange- Dana almost never locked the door when she showered.
He knocked on the door and said, “Dana, you okay in there?”
No answer.
He banged harder and shouted, “Dana!”
“What is it?” she shouted back.
“Nothing,” Adam said. “I’ll talk to you when you come out.”
“What?”
“Never mind!”
Adam e-mailed his assistant, Lauren, asking her to move his lunch appointment to another day, and he started looking through his closet for something to wear tomorrow. Normally he dressed professional- casual-shirts, slacks, and sport jackets- but on Good Day New York he didn’t want to come off as some stuffy psychologist. He wanted to look cool, relaxed, hip. Maybe he’d go for the sweater-and- jeans look, or was that too casual? He laid out dark jeans and a black crewneck sweater on the bed, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d wear a black button- down shirt with a black sport jacket over it- the Hollywood player look, show people that he was a successful psychotherapist but wasn’t trying to show off about it.
Dana came out of the bathroom in a robe, her hair wrapped in a towel.
“You won’t believe the call I just got,” he said. “Now New York Magazine wants to interview me.”