The Stranger

“What’s up?” Adam asked.

“Old Man Rinsky.”

Adam’s legal expertise was in the field of eminent domain, which involved the government trying to take away your land to build a highway or school or something like that. In this case, the township of Kasselton was trying to take away Rinsky’s house for the purpose of gentrification. In short, that area of town was politely labeled “undesirable” or, in layman’s terms, “a dump,” and the powers that be had found a developer who wanted to level all the houses and build shiny new homes, stores, and restaurants.

“What about him?”

“We’re seeing him at his place.”

“Okay, good.”

“Should I bring the, uh, big guns?”

Part of Adam’s nuclear option. “Not yet,” Adam said. “Anything else?”

Gribbel leaned back. He threw his work boots up on the desk. “I got a gig tonight. You coming?”

Adam shook his head. Andy Gribbel played in a seventies cover band that played in some of the most prestigious dives in northern New Jersey. “Can’t.”

“No Eagles songs, I promise.”

“You never play the Eagles.”

“I ain’t a fan,” Gribbel said. “But we are debuting ‘Please Come to Boston.’ You remember that song?”

“Sure.”

“What do you think of it?”

“I ain’t a fan,” Adam said.

“Really? It’s a heartbreaker, man. You love the heartbreakers.”

“It isn’t a heartbreaker,” Adam said.

Gribbel sang: “Hey, ramblin’ boy, why don’t you settle down?”

“Probably because his girlfriend is a

“That’s because she’s the number one fan of the man from Te

“Maybe he doesn’t need a fan. Maybe he needs a life partner and a lover.”

Gribbel stroked his beard. “I see your point.”

“And all he says is ‘Please come to Boston for the springtime.’ The springtime. It’s not like he’s asking her to leave Te

Gribbel smiled. “You’re nuts, man.”

“And,” Adam continued, feeling the rant rising up, “then she claims that in these massive cities—Boston, Denver, Los Angeles—that there ain’t nobody like her. Full of yourself much?”

“Adam?”

“What?”

“You may be overthinking it, my brother.”

Adam nodded. “True.”

“You overthink a lot of stuff, Adam.”

“That I do.”

“It’s why you’re the best attorney I know.”

“Thanks,” Adam said. “And no, you can’t leave work early for your gig.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t be that guy.”

“Sorry.”

“Adam?”

“What?”

“The guy in that song. The rambling boy who asks her to come to Boston?”

“What about him?”

“You got to be fair to the girl.”

“How so?”

“He tells his girl that she could sell her paintings on the sidewalk, outside the café where he hopes to be working soon.” Gribbel spread his hands. “I mean, what kind of financial pla

“Touché,” Adam said with a small smile. “Sounds like maybe they should just break up.”

“Nah. They got a good thing. You can hear it in his voice.”

Adam shrugged and headed into his office. The rant had been a welcome distraction. Now he was back in his own head again. Bad place to be. He made some calls, had two client meetings, checked in with the paralegals, made sure the right briefs had been followed. The world moves on, which is an outrage. Adam had learned that when he was fourteen years old and his father died of a sudden heart attack. He had sat in the big black car next to his mom and stared out the window and watched everyone else in the world living their lives. Kids still went to school. Parents still went to work. Cars honked their horns. The sun still shone. His dad was gone. And nothing changed.

Today he was being reminded yet again of the obvious: The world doesn’t give even the slightest damn about us or our petty problems. We never quite get that, do we? Our lives have been shattered—shouldn’t the rest of us take notice? But no. To the outside world, Adam looked the same, acted the same, felt the same. We get mad at someone for cutting us off in traffic or for taking too long to order at Starbucks or for not responding exactly as we see fit, and we have no idea that behind their facade, they may be dealing with some industrial-strength shit. Their lives may be in pieces. They may be in the midst of incalculable tragedy and turmoil, and they may be hanging on to their sanity by a thread.

But we don’t care. We don’t see. We just keep pushing.

He flipped radio stations on the way home, finally settling on mindless arguments on sports radio. The world was divisive and always fighting, so it was nice when people fought over something as meaningless as professional basketball.

When he reached his street, Adam was a little surprised to see Cori

Cori

That threw off his timing a bit. He had rehearsed the upcoming confrontation in his head nonstop all day. It had been on a loop for hours now. He had tested out several approaches, but none had felt exactly right. He knew that there was no point in pla

Would she deny it?

Maybe. There was still the possibility that there was an i

Adam got out of the car and started up the walk. The grass had a few too many brown spots. Cori

The front door opened. Thomas came out with his lacrosse bag over his shoulder. He was wearing his “away” uniform. He smiled at his father, his mouthpiece dangling out of his mouth. A familiar warmth rushed through Adam’s chest.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I got a game, remember?”

Understandably enough, Adam had indeed forgotten, though this explained why Cori

“Glen Rock. Mom is going to drive me over. You coming later?”

“Of course.”

When Cori