Well, almost completely alone. He was glad his mother was there. Like every other person in the world, Adam had mother issues. Despite his best attempts over the years to achieve resolution, to reach closure, he had petty, unresolved resentments toward his mother that he’d harbored for years and that led to constant bitterness toward her. Although he always tried to confront his feelings and express himself fully, it was usually hard for him not to act irritable when he was around her for an extended period of time- well, for more than a day or two. But today he needed support and unconditional love from his mother, and he’d appreciated it when, shortly after she arrived from Florida, she took him aside and said, “I know my son isn’t a killer.”

This was exactly what he needed to hear. Finally he had an ally. “Thank you, Mom,” he said. “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that.”

As his mother held him, he felt like he was a child again and he’d just scraped his knee on the sidewalk and run home to his mommy.

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay,” she said.

For a few moments, he actually believed her.

Then, maybe because he was with his mother and felt safe and protected, he suddenly felt the need to cleanse his soul. He said, “I made a mistake the other night, Mom. I didn’t have to shoot that guy.”

Adam had talked to his mother on the phone a few times since the shooting, but he’d only given her the general details because he didn’t want to upset her too much.

“Oh, stop it, you did what you had to do,” his mother said. “Somebody was in your house in the middle of the night. What were you supposed to do, let him shoot you first?”

“But I didn’t have to shoot him so many times.”

“So, who cares?” his mother said. “Stop feeling so guilty about everything. You always make yourself feel guilty, you drive yourself crazy. Give yourself a break.”

Her advice wasn’t bad. Forgiving yourself was always a good idea, though it was hard to feel innocent surrounded by people who were convinced he was guilty. It was also hard not to let what the media was saying get to him, especially that crap about how he was a “person of interest.” He didn’t even want to think about the very real possibility that the police could somehow put together a case against him, actually charge him with his wife’s murder. He knew that if he let his thoughts go there he wouldn’t be able to function at all. As it was- maybe because he hadn’t taken enough Valium- during the entire funeral he’d felt extremely disoriented. He wasn’t exactly sure who’d been there or what he’d said or how he’d behaved. He remembered Carol coming over to offer her condolences, and holding Marissa’s hand while he cried, and falling to the ground in front of the grave, but that was about it.

When he got back to the house, he was experiencing major anxiety symp – toms- rapid heart rate, severe dizziness, a pounding headache. He called a psychiatrist he’d once seen, Dr. Klein, and Klein called in a prescription for Klonopin to the local Duane Reade. Adam thought he’d have to get the medication delivered- what with all the reporters out there, he would be a prisoner in his house for days- but Xan volunteered to go pick it up.

After his first dose, Adam started feeling better. Well, he was still a mess, but at least he didn’t feel like he was on the verge of having a heart attack anymore. He joined his friends and family who had come over for the shivah, aware of notable absentees, like Sharon and Mike. Adam didn’t really mind, though. He’d rather be alone than around a bunch of people who were judging him.

When Adam went to get a glass of water, his mother came over to him and whispered, “I don’t like him.”

“Who?” Adam said.

“Who do you think? Her boyfriend.”

Adam looked over at Xan, who was looking right at him. Adam shifted his eyes back toward his mother, then rolled his eyes slightly and walked away, shaking his head. His mother had always been critical of Marissa’s boyfriends, especially the ones who weren’t Jewish.

But his mother wouldn’t let it go. Later, when Marissa and Xan had gone upstairs, she picked up as she if she’d never left off and said, “I don’t care, I don’t like him.”

“Come on, he’s a nice guy,” Adam said.

“Where did she meet him?” his mother asked.

“In the city. I think at a bar or a club, I’m not really sure.”

She gave him a look.

“A lot of people meet in bars, Ma, and Marissa seems happy with him. He’s been great, actually- very supportive throughout all of this. I mean, I had my doubts at first too, but he’s a good guy.”

“What kind of doubts did you have?” His mother was squinting seriously.

“I don’t mean doubts. I mean I was just a little skeptical, about his career mainly. He’s an artist, a painter, and I didn’t want Marissa to get involved with some flaky guy. But that doesn’t seem like the case at all. He seems very dedicated, very passionate.”

“He reminds me of Howard Gutman.”

“Oh, come on,” Adam said.

His mother had told the story of Howard Gutman dozens of times before, but that didn’t stop her from retelling it again and again.

“He sat at our table at your dad’s cousin Sheila’s wedding,” she said. “Everyone was talking to him and thought he was this great, wonderful guy, but I knew something was off about him. There was just something about the way he looked at people. It was as if he wasn’t really looking at them at all. A couple of months later we heard he killed his wife. He took a hammer and pummeled her to death while she was sleeping.”

“And what does this have to do with Xan?” Adam asked.

“I don’t like the way he looks at people,” his mother said. “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something just off about him.”

“Whatever you do, please don’t mention any of that to Marissa,” Adam said. “Just try to give her a break, okay? She’s going through a lot, obviously, and she seems very happy with Xan.”

“Xan,” his mother said with disdain.

“A lot of kids shorten their names these days,” Adam said. “It’s not his name I’m worried about,” she said.

About an hour after he took the first dose of Klonopin, Adam felt like it was wearing off, so he took another pill and a couple of Valiums, too. He didn’t bother to check for warnings about drug interactions, as at this point his health wasn’t exactly his top priority.

In the morning, when he went downstairs to the kitchen, his mother was already preparing for the second day of the shivah. It was hard to be in the kitchen and not think about what had happened there- that the floor around where the body had been was stained lightly pink didn’t help- and it was still hard to be on the front staircase and not think about the shooting and all the blood.

“How did you sleep?” his mother asked.

“I didn’t,” Adam said.

“Oh, you poor thing, why don’t you take a nap?”

“If I could sleep I would’ve slept last night.”

“At least go lie down on the couch. You need your rest.”

What he needed was some more Klonopin.

“I’ll just have a cup of coffee. Can you do me a favor and bring it out to me in the dining room? It’s hard for me to be here with the floor like that.” A couple of minutes later his mother brought his coffee and said, “So I didn’t go to bed till after midnight, and Xan was still here.”

“I know, he slept over,” Adam said.

“He sleeps over already? How long has he known her?”

Adam took a sip of coffee and winced. His mother always made coffee too strong.

“Do you need another sugar for that?” she asked. “I put two packets in, but-”

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, becau-”

“I said it’s fine.” He managed another sip, then said, “Dana and I had discussed it. We didn’t feel comfortable with her bringing boyfriends home we hadn’t met, but we met Xan and we approved him.”