Adam's Roads

By Edwin Litts

Those eternal seconds, when that first wonderful eye contact is established: Wow! Is there anything more hopeful than that?

Late out of the gate with starting college and a career, the now determined but insecure Adam's eyes happen upon the most beautiful Mary Bellemore. Oh, was her raven dark hair so rich and abundant, her sta

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atmosphere Press
• Release date: Apr 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637528587

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EDWIN LITTS

ADAM’S ROADS

A NOVEL

atmosphere press

Copyright © 2021 Edwin Litts

Published by Atmosphere Press

Cover design by Matthew Fielder

No part of this book may be reproduced

except in brief quotations and in reviews

without permission from the author.

Part of this book first appeared on

the website Rue’s Scribe

by Underwood Press.

Adam’s Roads

2021, Edwin Litts

atmospherepress.com

The Capital District of

New York State

1975

Grruumm! Boom blimpf flip. Grruum! Boom blimpf flip. From one of the big daddy highways within a metropolitan area of 700,000 inhabitants, that was the authoritative sound heard every day. Only three or four other broad-shouldered, concrete arteries around could claim the power of such a road. None were stronger. Grruumm! Boom blimpf flip. Fifty-mile-per-hour steel-belted radials resonated the gruumming sound. Blimpf and flip echoed the road cracks that these furious tires would encounter on this quite formidable tube. Grruumm! Boom blimpf flip. Grruum! Boom blimpf flip. All day. Every day. Fifteen thousand times per day one could hear 7’s commands. All automobilists respected this expressway. Do not challenge Big Route 7. No one has ever defeated 7.

As opposed to an Interstate, this megaroad had houses and driveways attached right on to it. Grruumm! Boom blimpf flip. Like wetting one’s big toe in the water on a cool gray swimming day, one edges or backs out of his driveway quite cautiously to avoid those busy fifty-mile-per-hour ton-and-a-half ants. All respect 7’s power. Walkers too. Parallel foot pathways were worn in far up from its curb. When sidewalks were later installed, pedestrians were still seen walking closer to a home’s front yard grassline than to Big 7’s curbs. Grruumm! Puddle splashes and flying hubcaps were slightly less of a hazard when one traversed higher up onto someone’s lawn. Only slightly, though. In Adam Bell’s years of studio apartment living on 7, no bicyclists pedaling on this big bitch were ever seen. Ever. The spoked-wheel people always clung to the top of the paths or to the sidewalks. Always. That even was true too for an escaped steed. The chased galloping chestnut equine, from whichever side country road he fled, employed the sidewalk too. Blimp flip.

Residing on 7, one was never lonesome. Fifteen thousand Here I am!s daily. With government official-like expectations, Big 7 suggested very strongly that your lawn be cut regularly. Its drivers demanded such maintenance. Your house was in such a glass case. Better keep the house paint up to snuff too. Your window shutter color should seldom be the same shade as its home. And what is with the enamel too-dark of a blueberry tint anyway? And don’t forget about your fall leaves or any ice or snow loitering onto your sidewalk. Must not give those motorists or frightened walkers something to talk about. Don’t allow those unkempt rumors to begin. No, don’t give that unsavory gossip a chance to germinate as fifteen thousand motoring museum attendees do insist on such perfection daily. Yes, they do. Grruumm!

Also, a lot of people live on this expressway. Perhaps they tolerate their highway’s demanding drill sergeant locker inspection–type behavior because of its time-saving convenience for themselves as well. But even with the suitability that this cement route has been endowed with, do not let any bad rumors get out. No rumors about you should go back to your place of employment, or to your school too. And you better weed your flowers to boot! Never ever underestimate the potential wrath of Big 7. Blimpf flip.

Adam’s brother gave him this Big 7 apartment when he moved out to get married. It was a comfortable studio, and the price was right too. At that time, Adam was a somewhat new Army veteran and had decided to seriously pursue college studies. The apartment was really just perfect for a student, he gratefully believed. For Adam, there had been just too much earlier time wasted, pinballing around with odd jobs or too few night courses. Many relatives and friends had already graduated from higher learning and had now been taking on their full-time careers. Seemingly always a late bloomer, Adam had had enough of his indecisiveness and was finally eager to enroll full time in the intimidating local community college. At twenty-five years of age, it was time for Adam to take his future earnestly, and making the new decision to pursue school was the correct choice and a relief in itself. Having completed a four-year military enlistment honorably had helped to assuage his guilt of being behind too. Such a rationalization helped Adam pursue academia with tranquility, and now the lessening of distractions offered by his own new apartment bolstered his confidence to achieve that grand goal. Finally, Adam had internalized his real purpose, and now up those high and challenging brown brick college front steps his wobbling began.

His mantra was: Let’s see what this GI Bill and my new motivation can really do.

Additionally, he remembered his new landlord’s very first smileless greeting. You can’t bring any girls up here, you know?

Adam immediately obliged, Oh no, I won’t bring any up.

Adam knew of course that his brother’s girlfriend had been free to enter and leave as she pleased. Adam surmised that the landlady’s curt greeting was routine and most likely offered by an infinite supply of landladies with their many languages from all over the globe. Undoubtedly, such communication must be thrust at all new young male tenants, Adam figured. Both parties must go through the motions, perhaps for the legal sake of it all.

Oh no, I won’t bring any up.

Adam registered for his first full-time semester the day before school would begin. By 2:15 p.m., he had purchased his books. Afterward, to reward himself, he would go jogging. Doing that would get his jitters out. He would be a freshman tomorrow.

***

On that midafternoon Adam chose to explore what was to become one of his usual running trails. The starting point of this jaunt began at the nearby corner located only one house away from his new apartment and would lead away from all that outside noise and speed of Route 7. Proceeding downhill to the Mohawk River, Adam never took for granted the serene and quiet setting. Its beauty always held a special value and majesty for him. Additionally, should he ever feel guilty for failing to exercise, this new running lane would always be available to him. He could jump on it immediately to relieve any accumulating unnecessary stress. As always, the beginning of this reliable stretch to the water reminded Adam of a long, tree-lined and shaded bowling lane. He welcomed its gradual downhill pitch. Such a mild downward slant allowed him to get his ankles warmed gradually. Getting those ankles a little toasty was a benefit. It was really not a good idea to stretch out cold feet and legs too quickly, Adam knew. This road provided just perfect gradual preparation, and its slight gravity-pull eventually got him up to speed. Jogging down this hill I go, Adam would think. Oh, this hill. How smoothly will today’s scuffed, chipped, and slightly older bowling ball roll? Adam began down the hill.

As all scratched spheres return to the kegler, each jogging effort returns home with its own individual observations and memories for the runner; each jaunt comes with its own unique experience. Too many times though, running had proven to be somewhat of ho-hummish and hum drum stuff. On his inaugural fartlek, Adam spotted his first litter. Two shiny colored beer cans: one silverish, the other blue, on someone’s lawn. That event was an outlier, though, as the rest of the homes and properties were pretty much immaculate. Adam was then welcomed with observing new shingles going up on someone’s roof. He became impressed with the new earth tones that manufacturers were now offering. Wasn’t his old girlfriend into earth tones? She was really into houses. Especially exteriors! Months of going with her convinced Adam that one of the most important criteria a woman looks for in a potential mate is her guy’s level of proficiency in carpentry and plumbing. Adam ventured to believe that most women in their search for a beau are eager to fill in that important too-often so empty checklist box square located adjacent to the subheading ‘HANDYMAN.’

Men, listen for the clues on your first date from your hopeful maiden, he chuckled inaudibly as he ran. ‘Do you enjoy painting?’ then followed quickly by ‘Houses too?’ she might wistfully ask. Yep, Adam considered the category of home craftsmanship to be without a doubt one of the top three most important for eager young ladies to confirm. Adam would agree that most females probably couldn’t acquire a decent handyman, though. Most lasses have to settle. Life contains a good amount of settling and a significant number of heartbreaks. Men do have an uncomfortable time when being interviewed for the position of ‘BOYFRIEND,’ but dudes, he admitted, have their own criteria and hidden agendas too. In fairness to women, Adam knew some very capable ladies with beautifully manicured hands who had changed faucet packing in their bathroom sinks or threateningly dirty and cumbersome fan belts underneath the hoods of their cars and have thought nothing of it, and many men he knew would not even attempt doing any of that.

Perhaps myself as well, he faintly exhaled as he approached the turn-around point near the riverbank one and a half miles away from his start.

He asked himself, ‘Do I have carpentry skills? Could I install her kitchen flooring? How straight would my cutting edges of her new linoleum be? Would I be thinking of her beauty instead of the task at hand?’ Adam knew that he was a klutz. A distracted one was even worse. Adam understood that it was best not to advertise any lack of homebuilding skills while dating. He was comforted a little when he acknowledged that both genders most likely possessed a certain number of those non-forthright facts about themselves. Seemingly, the sexes contained genetics which programmed the potential mate to always put the best foot forward. Adam very much knew too that on an individual basis within each gender the levels of displayed honesty varied tremendously. He was well aware of this, as other men had probably been more honest than he; undoubtedly the majority of