JASON STARR - Panic Attack

It was time to finally start acting like a rational adult again, to get in control of this situation. Enough with the acting out and the childish, inappropriate rage. He had to own his feelings, take responsibility for his actions.

“It wasn’t an actual affair,” he said. “It was just a one- night stand… a oneday stand.”

Marissa looked at him in disbelief, and Adam realized how badly he’d hurt her, too. It would’ve been hard enough for her to reconcile her mother’s cheating, but now she’d found out that both her parents were adulterers. What kind of examples had they set for her?

“You are such a fucking hypocrite,” she said. “Telling me how to live my life, giving me all these rules, when your own life is so messed up. And how could you do that to Mom? With Sharon, of all people? My best friend’s mother? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Adam knew she was right, about everything. She had every right to be angry at him, to hate him. After taking a few moments to absorb what she’d said, all he could say was, “I’m sorry.”

“Un- fucking- believable,” she said and left the kitchen. He heard her heading up the stairs, then the door to her room slammed.

After all the yelling and drama, the sudden silence in the kitchen was glaring, but it also seemed foreboding. The way things were headed, the quiet seemed like a glimpse into the future, when he was going to be divorced, living alone in an empty house.

During the whole scene with Dana, his face hadn’t been hurting him as much as it should’ve been, but now the agony was returning. He washed up in the kitchen, watching the pink water swirl down the drain, wincing when his hands touched the cuts and bruises. His face felt very swollen, and it was hard to see out of his left eye. It was probably too late to do anything for it, but he took a few Advils anyway and wrapped some ice cubes in a dish towel and held it against the most swollen areas with as much force as he could stand. He was afraid to look at himself in a mirror because he had a feeling it was even worse than he thought.

When his face started feeling numb and most of the ice cubes had melted, he left the dish towel in the sink and went upstairs. He couldn’t believe what he’d done during the past half hour, how he’d made one awful decision after another. The feelings of self- hatred and self- blaming were so familiar. He was aware that the way he felt right now was the way he’d felt as a child but also how he’d felt after the shooting. He didn’t know why he behaved the way he did, why he almost willfully seemed to make the same mistakes over and over again. Why did his knowledge and training desert him at the worst times?

He realized that he should probably warn Sharon that Dana had found out that they’d had sex. He called Sharon’s cell, but she wasn’t picking up. It was probably too late anyway. Dana had probably gone over there to confront her and cause more drama; Adam didn’t even want to imagine that scene. He knew Sharon would never speak to him again. He’d once told her that, no matter what, he’d never tell anyone about their affair. He’d done such a great job of keeping that secret.

As Adam was putting down the phone, he noticed he had a voice mail. He checked his incoming call log and saw it had only been Stu, calling back, wanting to hear the rest of the golf story. Adam remembered how happy he’d been after he made that last putt on eigh teen. It felt like that had happened years ago.

The Advils and ice hadn’t done anything, and his face was throbbing. He accidentally glanced in a mirror and was horrified by how awful he looked. The whole left side of his face was bruised and swollen, and his upper lip was badly swollen and looked purplish blue.

He was on his way down for more ice when the front doorbell rang, five or six times in rapid succession. It was probably Dana, who’d rushed out of the house without her keys. He hoped she hadn’t actually gone to Sharon’s house, that she’d done what he should’ve done earlier- taken a walk around the neighborhood to calm down and get hold of herself. He had no idea what he’d say to her, if there was anything left to say.

Without looking through the peephole, he opened the door and saw Sharon’s husband, Mike.

Mike looked enraged- eyes widened, jaw clenched- and there was no mystery why. He was a big, stocky guy- he’d been on the wrestling team in college at Stony Brook- and Adam feared he was in for another beating.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he said, resorting immediately to begging. “I’m so, so sorry. Please, please don’t hurt me.”

Mike looked slightly horrified now, as if he’d noticed what Adam’s face looked like, and he said, “How’d your face get like that? Your psycho wife do that to you?”

Adam didn’t know why Mike thought Dana had beaten him up, but he didn’t feel like getting into the actual explanation. “No, it wasn’t Dana,” he said. “It was… I’m just so sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

Mike glared at Adam hard and then said, “You’re both pathetic. And you better tell your psycho wife to stay away from my wife, because next time she shows up at my house, next time she even rings the bell, I’m calling the fuckin’ cops.”

“Oh, no, what did she do?”

“She tried to strangle my wife, that’s what she did.”

“Oh my God,” Adam said. “Is she okay?”

“Sharon’s fine, but your wife should be locked up at fuckin’ Bellevue.” Mike poked his index finger hard against Adam’s chest. “And you better stay the hell away from my wife, you son of a bitch, or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

He let that not exactly veiled threat linger for several seconds, keeping his index finger right where it was, jamming it in with more force for emphasis, and then he stormed away without looking back.

Adam remained there with the door open for a long time- he wasn’t sure how long- and then he shut the door, feeling thoroughly distraught.

Marissa was still up in her room, blasting music now. Adam had no idea how he was going to rebuild his relationship with his daughter, how he’d ever regain her respect and trust. His relationship with Dana seemed even more hopeless. When she came home, if she came home, what could they say to each other? He felt like his marriage was almost certainly over. He knew from experience that when two people behave so hurtfully toward one another, they reach a point where reconciliation is impossible, and he and Dana had gone way, way beyond that point.

In the kitchen, Adam saw the note from Tony on the counter. He read it again, in a calmer, less emotional mood than he’d been in before. While the note still angered him and made him feel extremely manipulated and victimized, he was able to read it more objectively. Earlier he’d realized that the note looked almost exactly like the threatening note that had been left at the house- it was on the same plain white paper, was written in the same way- and he’d thought that Tony had only left the earlier note to scare him. But what if there was more to it than that? What if Tony really had been the second intruder in the house that night? Maybe there was some connection between Tony and Carlos Sanchez. Or maybe Tony had been over to the house sometime and met Gabriela and conspired to rob the house with Carlos.

The idea that Tony knew Gabriela and Carlos seemed far-fetched, but the facts were that a note had been left at his house, possibly by the person who’d participated in the robbery, and now an identical- looking note had been left by Tony.

Adam did what he should’ve done right away, before he’d confronted Tony and before he’d acted out so selfishly and thoughtlessly with Dana. He called Detective Clements to let him know about the possible lead.