Adam's Story

All the events in my life became utterly insignificant compared to the elation I felt upon arriving in New York City. It was the epitome of all I had longed for, fulfilling every dream I had and even those I hadn’t. The lights, sounds, smells and chaos captivated me in a way I had not thought possible. This was where I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

Sullner Manor exceeded all my expectations as well. Mr. Sullner had built the mansion when he first arrived in the States thirty years ago. The large Baroque house was sat on three acres of ground among dogwood trees and numerous dormant Grandiflora rose bushes. It featured four bedrooms, six bathrooms, a small apartment in the back belonging to Tom, a garden, and a large garage that housed Mr. Sullner’s Ford and Buick. It was the most incredible place I had ever seen and was amazed that it was now my home.

In his employ Mr. Sullner had Tom, who served the universal role of butler, driver and confidant and Constance, the cook and maid who worked from Monday until Friday and made the best fried chicken in the state. A landscaping crew came once a week to care for the garden, but they were not a permanent addition to the household.

As for the education that I so greatly required, Mr. Sullner took that responsibility himself. He tutored me in mathematics, chemistry, geography, grammar, and science. No matter how fast I picked up the other subjects, reading remained my Achilles’ heel. I spent countless hours in the library studying with the desire to become a great reader like Mr. Sullner. Yet I always felt as though the words were my enemy. When I thought I had them, they would turn on me and leave me back where I began.

Mr. Sullner was very patient with me. He would have me read aloud to him for two hours every day while he wrote in his journal. No matter how much I stumbled or stuttered, he would always help and encourage me.

“...in spite of his - of the mo-mobil-it mobility...”

A polite nod and smile told me I was correct.

“...the mobility of his co-cont-count-”

I looked up and shook my head. Mr. Sullner waited expectantly.

“I caint. I ain’t ever gonna be a good reader.”

“Adam.”

“I’m never going to be a good reader,” I corrected. “The words keep messing up on me. I can’t get them right.”

Mr. Sullner rose and walked over to where I stood. “Adam, ninety percent of the things we accomplish in life are things we were taught to do and worked hard learning to do well. There are very few things in life that a man cannot do, but everything you do will have consequences. Do you understand?”

“Not really, sir.”

“Let me put it another way. Can you stop breathing?”

I shuffled around and began tapping my right foot. “I can hold my breath.”

“For a short period of time. But eventually, whether by your own desire or not, your body will require oxygen and retrieve it itself.” I nodded. “Now, Adam, could you commit a crime?”

“No,” I replied. “I’d go to jail.”

He got that smile on his face that he always got when he had made a point. “But you could. You would just have to suffer the consequences of your action. Now do you see?”

I nodded. It would be a long time before the true gravity of what Mr. Sullner had explained became clear to me, but at that time I grasped his basic concept and resolved that I would someday be a great reader.

Mr. Sullner went back to his seat as I started over. “...in spite of the mobility of his count-en-ance countenance-”

I broke off as there was a knock at the study door. Upon being called, Tom entered followed by an old woman. My jaw dropped when I recognized Sister Mary Williams. She gave me a reproachful look and told me to shut my mouth. I did.

“Thank you for taking the time to travel so far on such a short notice, Sister Williams,” Mr. Sullner greeted kindly taking her proffered hand. “I trust your commute was satisfactory?”

He led her to the chair across from his desk and helped her sit while I stared in dismay.

“Indeed not, Mr. Sullner,” Sister Mary replied with her customary amount of contempt. “I dislike trains and would much prefer to stay at home where my services are needed.”

Mr. Sullner smiled, ignoring her verbal assault. “Nevertheless, I am honored that you chose to make an appearance at my request.”

“As I told your attorney, I was more than willing to handle any custodial requirements on my end without an audience.”

Mr. Sullner leaned back in his chair, something he only did when he was becoming irate. It did not happen very often.

“He informed me of your decision, but I was adamant about putting your mind at ease regarding Adam’s living arrangements. I wanted you to be certain he was well provided for.”

Somewhat sated, Sister Mary relaxed. “That was a very kind gesture on your part, Mr. Sullner.”

She looked around and surveyed me critically. “You look thin. Are you eating well?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I croaked through a dry mouth.

“I did promise your mother I would care for you,” she said softly. “You seem well cared for. I suppose I am not going back on my word.”

“Indeed not, Madam,” assured Mr. Sullner.

Turning back to him, Sister Mary asked if he had the papers. Mr. Sullner produced a leather binder and pen and sat them before her. She signed with a steady hand.

“Thank you, Sister Williams.”

They rose from their seats and Sister Mary approached me. She opened her purse and took something out. “I gave all your belongings to charity except this.”

She held it out to me and I gasped as I recognized my mother’s gold locket. I took it in a shaky hand and opened it, staring at the old black-and-white photograph of the woman I favored so much. I had spent many hours comparing my reflection to the portrait of Charlotte Pearl Calloway trying to decide which features I had inherited from her and which I had gotten from my father. Though the picture did not show it, I knew I had my mother’s brown eyes and sandy blond hair. But I also had her smile and high cheekbones. My nose, I supposed, I had gotten from the man who had helped created me.

“Thank you,” I whispered feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

Never one for sentimentality, Sister Mary only nodded. “Try to behave,” she said before leaving my life forever.