The Girl He Left Behind. Patricia Kay
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his loneliness with fierce privacy and a facade of boredom.
“Hello, y’all,” he said now. “Thanks for inviting me to come visit and sing for you.”
The crowd yelled out their welcome.
Eve managed to maneuver herself to the back of the room while Adam tuned his guitar from the piano near the doors leading to the kitchen. A few minutes later, among cheers of approval, he launched into his signature hit—the first of his records to go platinum—“Impossible to Forget.”
“I told myself I didn’t care our love was in the past.
I told myself our promises were never meant to last.
But every day, in every way,
I fought heartache and regret,
The truth was there for all to see,
You were impossible to forget.”
As he sang, he seemed to be looking straight at her. Eve wanted to look away, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t. She wondered what he was thinking as he sang. She had always wondered if he’d written the song about her. As their eyes locked, she struggled to contain her emotions. When she couldn’t, when tears filled her eyes, she knew she had to get out of there. And fast. So as the song finished, she used the boisterous crowd, many of whom jumped to their feet to applaud and call out other song titles they wanted Adam to sing, to hide her exit.
She headed straight for the back door, but when she got there, safely out of sight of the people in the dining room, she discovered it was locked for the night. She was going to have to go out the front. She would have to pass by Adam.
He had begun another song. Best to go now, while he was busy singing. Maybe she could make her escape without too much disturbance. Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the dining room.
* * *
About halfway through “Impossible to Forget” Adam realized the attractive blonde he was singing to—he always picked one person in the crowd with whom to have eye contact—was Eve. He hadn’t realized it at first because, after all, it had been twelve years since he’d seen her. At seventeen going on eighteen, she’d been wide-eyed, pretty and sweet looking, a girl who wore hardly any makeup and her fair hair in a ponytail. Now, at nearly thirty, she was a beautiful woman, classy and elegant.
Somehow, though, she’d disappeared during the hubbub after he’d finished “Impossible to Forget” and he’d been surprised—and a little disturbed—by how disappointed he was. As he began his second song, “Trouble is My Middle Name,” he told himself to forget her. She’d obviously not wanted to see him. And you didn’t want to see her, either, remember?
Then halfway through the song, he spied her again. This time she was coming from somewhere off to his left and it was clear she intended to leave because she was heading straight for the door. He made an instant decision not to let that happen. He quickly ended the song after the first chorus and before the notes from the final chord had died away, spoke into the mic, saying, “Eve! Eve Cermak!”
She stopped in midflight and slowly turned as a hush fell over the room. She stared at him.
He grinned. “I thought that was you.” He could see she knew she was trapped. Whether she wanted to talk to him or not, now she would have to.
“Hello, Adam,” she finally said. “I—I was trying to sneak out without disturbing anyone.”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
By now some of the bystanders had begun to murmur, and Adam knew tongues would soon be wagging. “Sorry, y’all,” he said, “but Eve and I are old friends from our high school days, and I didn’t want her to leave without saying hello to her.” He smiled at Eve again. “You don’t really have to go, do you? Why don’t you stay awhile and talk to me when I’m done here?”
He could see the conflict in her eyes. He knew she wanted to bolt. He also knew she probably wouldn’t, because if she did, tongues really would wag. After all, this was a small town. And he was the small-town hero, at least for today.
“I—I guess I could stay awhile,” she said faintly.
Someone moved over on one of the benches to offer her a seat.
Satisfied, Adam grinned, thanked everyone for their patience and began his third song, this time choosing “My Stars.”
And all the while he was singing, he kept his eyes on Eve. And to her credit, she didn’t once look away.
* * *
Eve knew she was trapped. She couldn’t leave now, not until Adam was finished, because if she did, everyone would see her. And they’d wonder, especially after he’d singled her out, why she was leaving. After all, every one of them would probably have given their firstborn to spend time with him, to be able to say they knew Adam Crenshaw. God, even Steve Winthrop, the director of the shelter, and who had been asking her out for months and whom she’d been attempting to let down easy because even though he was a nice guy, he was almost twenty years older than her, and she was not attracted to him, had seen and heard everything Adam had said to her. And Steve was giving her an odd look.
And then there was Alice Fogarty, the nutritionist who volunteered in the shelter’s kitchen, and who was a notorious gossip and neighbor of Eve’s mother. Alice was standing not two feet away, staring at her, avid curiosity on her face. She’d seen and heard the entire exchange, too. Eve could just imagine what that busybody would have to say about all of this tomorrow, especially what she’d gleefully report to Eve’s mother.
Oh, God.
If Eve’s mother ever found out the truth—the fallout, the consequences, didn’t bear thinking about.
Oh, yes, Eve was definitely trapped. She would have to stand here and smile and act as if she was enjoying the entertainment until the very end. And then she would have to talk to Adam just as if he were merely an old classmate of hers. Could she do it? Whether she could or she couldn’t, she would have to. She had no choice.
So she stood there.
And she smiled.
And she pretended to be enjoying herself.
And all the while, inside, she was quaking.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was—in reality—only about thirty more minutes, Adam said he would be happy to take a few questions, and let people take more pictures if they wanted to, but then he needed to go.
Hands immediately flew up. Adam chuckled and called on a skinny young man sitting near the front of the room.
“Did you always know you wanted to be in the music business?” the young man asked.
Adam nodded. “Yep. From the moment I held my first guitar when I was twelve years old.”
Eve remembered how he’d once told her that guitar had changed his life. How he’d found a crumpled-up, dirty twenty-dollar bill near the sewer at the end of his street and how he’d hidden it and added to it doing every odd job he could find until he had enough money to buy the guitar from a local pawnshop. How he’d even taken it to bed with him because he was afraid one of his brothers would mess with it, maybe even break it, if he didn’t.
“Did you always write your own music?” the young man continued.
“Yeah, I did. Of course, the early attempts weren’t very good. I thought everything needed to rhyme and you can’t imagine the goofy stuff I came up with. I remember one song where I used dastard and bastard and mustard!”
The entire room burst into laughter. Even Eve had to laugh, although her insides were still trembling with nerves.
“I’d love to hear that one,” the young man said when the room quieted down.
“Oh, no,” Adam said. “I wouldn’t do that to anybody. That song was pretty awful.”
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