“Sure.” He looked at me peculiarly as I grabbed my phone and headed for the bedroom. I overheard Seth and Chucky making small talk, so it was a relief that Seth at least had that distraction.
I hit the voicemail button and recognized Stacy’s voice immediately. “Hi, Charlotte. I talked to Adam. He wasn’t sure if it was okay to call you after all this time but he would love to hear from you. I also think you and I need to talk if you do decide to call him or see him. I’d rather not discuss it over voicemail, so if you’d like to call me back, I’ll be here for the rest of the night.”
I immediately dialed her number. “Hi, it’s Charlotte.”
“Charlotte, I’m so glad you called. Sorry about all the anticipation. I wanted to go and see Adam myself, and see what state of mind he was in.”
State of mind? He is crazy. “Okay . . . and?”
“He was actually in great spirits.” She paused for a few beats. “Charlotte, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he wanted me to tell you that he’s in the hospital. Adam has a stage four glioblastoma.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a brain tumor. He has cancer, Charlotte.”
I dropped the phone. A guttural sound escaped me. I lost my breath, clutched my chest, and felt a sharp pain radiate through my lungs. The wind had been knocked out of me by one sentence.
It all made sense. Quitting his job. The parking tickets. The Post-it notes. His odd behavior, which had seemed like spontaneity in the moment.
When I met Adam, he was already dying. And he knew it.
I finally gathered the strength to pick up the phone and lift it to my ear. “I’m sorry, I dropped the phone.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in right now. You left quite an impact on Adam. At the time you two met, part of the tumor was pressing on his brain so much that it was affecting his short-term memory. He couldn’t remember what day of the week it was, or who he had met five minutes before. He painted a lot of women during that time but remembered none of them but you. He tried to find you. He painted the name Charlotte over and over. He wanted to tell you that, for a little while, he believed the story you two had made up. I don’t know what that means, but I guess that will mean something to you.”
I was speechless.
Stacy went on. “They removed part of the tumor and now Adam is much sharper, though the cancer is still wreaking havoc on his body.”
I couldn’t respond. Tears were running down my cheeks.
“Are you there?” she said.
“Yes,” I squeaked.
“There’s something else, Charlotte. After Adam moved out, he asked me to get rid of his paintings. I didn’t have the heart to do it, so I called a gallery owner I know downtown. We went through hundreds of paintings, and she realized they were connected to dozens of murals throughout the city. She alerted some preservationists, who are trying to protect the murals, and now the LA art community is calling him the West Coast Banksy. He wants to keep his identity a secret for as long as possible. If it got out that the artist is dying of cancer, the press would go nuts.”
I thought about the wolves. The winged man.
She went on, “But people talk most about the mural of you in the red dress. Adam wouldn’t tell me the story behind it, but he remembers why he painted it.”
I nearly choked on the emotion rising in my throat. “So where is he? What hospital? Is he dying for sure?”
“It doesn’t look good. He gave me a letter to give to you, and I think you should read it before you see him. He’s at Cedars.”
My brain was so overwhelmed that I had to remind myself to breathe. Seth stood in the doorway. He had only been there for a second, but he was looking at me cautiously.
“I’ll come by tomorrow and get the letter and maybe make arrangements to see him. Thank you, Stacy. Thank you so much.” I was hesitant to say this last part in front of Seth. “He made a great impact on me as well.”
We said good-bye and hung up. Seth was still standing there. He came over and bent his head and kissed me delicately on the shoulder. My throat was tight and I was trying desperately to swallow my emotions. “Tell me what’s going on,” he urged.
“That painter, the guy I told you about . . . he didn’t dog me after all. He was dying; he’s still dying. Of cancer. He’s been trying to find me but . . . the tumor . . . his memory . . . he couldn’t remember . . . oh god.”
Seth just stood there quietly.
“His neighbor has a letter for me. I told her I would get it tomorrow and then go see him.” I collapsed on the bed.
After a few moments, Seth finally spoke. “Should I go home?”
“No!” The thought of being alone terrified me.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. I don’t want this to affect what we’ve started.”
I didn’t want to tell him that it was most definitely going to affect what we had started. Right now, I just wanted him to stay with me.
“I shouldn’t be here, Charlotte.”
“No. Please. Stay.”
He shook his head and turned toward the door.
“You’re leaving?” I asked.
“No, I’m going to get you some tissues and water.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying.
When he came back, I said, “Are you mad?”
“I’m not mad. Of course I’m not mad.”
How could I know what Seth was thinking or feeling? Everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes seemed like a dream. I was barely able to get ahold of my own emotions about Adam, the night we spent together, and this new information.
And what was life like for Adam? Was he withering away, alone and confused in a hospital bed, thinking that we had this amazing connection while I was merrily going on with my shallow life, stalking Match.com and sleeping with baseball players?
“I’ll stay if you want me to,” Seth said.
“Yes, I want you to stay.” I wish I knew how to be alone.
“Do you want to get into bed and talk?” he asked.
“Okay.”
He turned off the lights and slipped into the bed beside me. We wiggled out of our clothes and lay in our underwear. “I don’t know what to do,” I said quietly.
“You should get the letter and go see him. He wanted you to have it and he wants to see you. He’s a dying man.”
“Will you go with me tomorrow to get the letter before you go back to San Diego?”
“Of course.”
“Can I tell you something, Seth?”
“Anything.”
“I’ve been all over the place with my life. I’ve had so many jobs and weird boyfriends. My twenties have been a total joke.”
He turned on his side and pulled me into his arms. “So what?”
“Why are you being so good to me?”
“Because I can tell you’re a good person. I’ve had my share of one-night stands and bad decisions. I just try not to dwell on them.”
“I’ve just been lost, you know? Killing time with Helen. I admire her for taking a leap. I could never do that.”
Seth tensed. “Did you really fall for that guy, in that way?”