VIII. Boston

Adam didn't know how long he had been standing there on the dimly torch-lit patio, with his arms and shoulders hanging limp and his eyes trying to bore holes into the darkness of the back garden. He wished he could say he was feeling numb, but he felt traitorous and rotten, mean and verminous, villainous and nefarious, ignoble and—

No. He had to stop that. He knew there were at least twenty more synonyms he could find for how he felt, for how Fiona had every right to designate him, but to list them all and more would not conceal the fact that he also felt very relieved.

However, he had no right to feel relieved. He should feel ashamed, and he should go and apologise to Fiona. Well, he felt ashamed, and he would go and apologise, just not tonight. He'd only hurt her more if he spoke to her now (if she'd even let him at all) and it certainly would be for the better if he'd figured out what went wrong before he tried to explain it to her.

The funny thing was that he knew exactly what he didn't want, but he hadn't had the faintest idea of what he was precisely looking for.

He sensed the presence of another person more than he heard one approaching, but he knew it was Etienne, even before his friend spoke up. At the Ponderosa it would have been Hoss; here, far from home, it was always Etienne, his brother in everything but the designation.

"Well?" It was amazing how much French accent could go into just one word. And how much concern.

Adam heaved a deep sigh, hoping against hope that it would make Etienne give up.

"That didn't go so well, huh?"

Adam crossed his arms and continued staring into the dark. He even squinted his eyes to emphasise he was busy with...staring.

"Did she say no?"

This time Etienne touched his shoulder; there was no way to feign unawareness any longer.

"Uh, what?" Adam asked, finally turning to face his friend.

"Did she say no?"

"No."

"Then...what?" Etienne threw his hands in the air. "Mon dieu, Adam! When she didn't say no, then why are you sulking out here and Fiona is fuming in there? What happened?"

"I said no."

"You...? What, did she propose to you?"

"Kinda."

"And you said no."

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Etienne made a noise that could only be a choked snigger. "Bon sang, Adam!"

Adam didn't see the humour in it, really; but somehow Etienne's futile attempts to hide amusement brightened his mood and he readily agreed when Etienne suggested they leave the party and talk somewhere else.

On the way through the hall he caught a brief glimpse of Fiona, who looked a bit pale but was surrounded by a barricade of girls, obviously bathing in their sympathy. He was glad the girls were too busy with providing comfort to notice him passing by—he wasn't sure he would have survived the piercing arrows of their glares.

Mrs. Frank was surprised when they excused themselves so early, but after scrutinizing Adam's flushed face and weak smile, she send him off with a "Get well soon!" and a motherly touch to his cheek.

"Adam, Adam," Etienne said as they walked down Beacon Street. "What is it with you and the women? Either they want to marry or they want to mother you."

Adam gave him a lopsided smile. "Yes, or they want to slap me," he said touching his left cheek where he was sure the imprint of Fiona's fingers was still visible. "I never knew they could be so strong."

They went on, alongside the Public Garden where the strong scent of lilac pleased their noses, until Etienne abruptly halted at Spruce Street.

"Madame Monique?" he suggested, gesturing down the road. "If you ever needed to go there, Adam, it would be now."

Adam gazed down the street. He felt the money in his pocket, his billiard-winnings. His money, not his father's or his grandfather's. His money, which wasn't designated to buy a token of love anymore. Could it be squandered on buying a bit of relief now?

"No," he said even before he thought it. "No, that wouldn't be...fair."

"Fair?"

"Fair. Respectful of Fiona."

"Adam, this has nothing to do with Fiona, it's just—"

Adam shook his head. "No. This is all about Fiona, and I wouldn't disgrace her by...substituting."

Etienne stared at him for a full minute, or at least it felt so, before he slapped him on his upper arm and said, "Mon dieu, Adam. Come, let's go to the riverbanks."

They walked down Spruce Street, passing Madame Monique's without even giving it a glance, and then turned into Mt. Vernon Street until they reached the riverbanks. The landfill had left something that faintly resembled a beach. Not like the white sands of San Francisco Bay, though, merely soil that slowly became overgrown with grass and weeds. There was a low dike separating the new land from the older parts, and even though Adam knew you weren't supposed to step on those, he and Etienne raced up and down the elevation after his friend cried out, "Last one with wet feet buys breakfast tomorrow!" and sped straight ahead.

As usual they reached their destination at the same time, both with one foot firmly anchored in the soft soil and the other stretched out as if they'd really planned to ruin their shoes in the muddy waters of the Charles River.

"Looks as if it's going to be Mrs. Bostridge again," Adam laughed breathlessly, fully knowing that that was what Etienne wanted to hear. His grandfather's housekeeper made the best pancakes in the whole known world, and if there was one thing Etienne loved, it was pancakes.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is so," Etienne said deadpan, and then he grinned. "Hallelujah!"

The starry sky illuminated the banks just enough to ensure them safe footing as they slowly made their way along the riverside. They walked quietly, until they saw the lights of West Boston Bridge in the distance, and they simultaneously stopped to admire the play of the gaslights on the dark waters.

"Adam," Etienne eventually spoke up. "What happened tonight? I thought you loved her."

This time Adam didn't try to avoid the conversation, only to stall a bit. He picked up a flat stone from the banks and threw it into the river so that it skipped a few times over the surface.

"I do." He threw a second rock, counted the skips. Five, not bad. "I really do love her," he said, and he heard the surprise in his voice. "I just don't want to spend the rest of my life with her."

Etienne's rock beat his by two skips. "What's wrong with her?"

"There's nothing wrong with her. She's completely...she's just like all the other girls. They all seem to have the same dream: to find a husband, have children, and care for their families."

"And you...don't like that?" Etienne threw another stone. Four skips only.

Adam chose a particularly flat stone. He studied the welts and scratches on it and weighed it in his hand. "It scares me," he said finally. "It scares me, because if it is their only dream, and if I marry such a girl, then her dream will be fulfilled. And then? What's left of a person who hasn't got a dream anymore?"

He threw the stone with a vengeance, and satisfied he watched how it hit the water hard and with a hefty splash, and then sank down unceremoniously.

"A person without a dream is dead." He looked at Etienne. "I don't want to be responsible for the death of another person, and I don't want to be married to a dead woman."

"Adam..." Etienne said quietly. "What is it that you are looking for then, mon ami?"

Adam gazed over the water, sniffing. There it was again, the smell of the sea. "I want the impossible, Etienne. I want a woman with a spark. A woman with dreams, with plans and ideas, with a longing for something everybody thinks is impossible to have; a woman who's never fully satisfied. A woman who lives."

"That's not impossible, Adam. There are women like that."

"Yes, but I also want her to be loving and kind, to be loyal and caring. And I want her to dream of having a husband and children, and of caring for her family, too." He looked back at Etienne and smiled sheepishly. "I know that you can't have both, but I still want it."

Etienne grinned. "You give up too easily, Adam." He turned and went on a hunt for the perfect stone closer to the dike. "It's not impossible to find such a woman," he said from back there. "The Queen of England, for example, is a woman with visions and ideas, and still she's a devoted wife to that enviable husband of hers."

"I don't want to marry a queen." Adam knew he sounded like a child, but really, what was his friend thinking.

"But you have to. The woman you want is not an ordinary woman, she is a queen. She will try to rule over you, and you will try to rule over her, and apart from the tussling you two will have a wonderful life."

It sounded...good. Strange, yes, but good. A queen. Why n— no, he wouldn't say "why not" ever again.

Etienne came back to the shore, and let his find skip the water six times. He grinned at Adam and presented him a stone from his new collection. "Your try."

Adam looked down at his hand and saw a consummate throwing object. He leaned back slightly, took careful aim, and then, with a long fluid motion, swerved the stone onto the water.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

"But that's impossible!" Etienne cried. "What have you done? Magic?"

Adam laughed. "That's not impossible, that's a question of technique and determination."

"Oh, really? You can do it again? The impossible?"

"Of course, I can—" Adam faltered. "You sneaky buzzard!"

They grinned at each other; Adam pushed Etienne, Etienne pushed Adam, they scuffled, nearly falling over; then Adam gave Etienne a slap on the back of his head and they dissolved into laughter.

"You are right, though," Adam said when he regained the ability to speak. "The impossible is only impossible if you don't try."

"Mais oui!" Etienne sang genially, spread his arms out to and bowed to an unseen audience.

They slowly wandered back the way they had come, crossed the dike at Mt. Vernon Street and sauntered through the quiet night of the town.

The closer they came to his grandfather's house, the stronger the smell of the sea seemed to become, and once again, Adam felt the longing, the urge to see what was on the other side of the big pond. The impossible, possibly, he thought wryly.

Yes, he always wanted the things that seemed impossible. And in the end, he realised with sudden clearness, I manage to get them.He had survived the way to the West. He had learned to trust and love yet another mother. He had taught his brother Joe the rule of three. He had kept his father from the bottle when Marie died. He had been accepted at college.

He could have everything he wanted if he only tried.

Maybe even a queen.