Chapter 70: A Mistake Every Man Makes
Monday — Class
"You actually moved out," Ted said, with the specific envy of someone who had spent two recent nights wearing headphones in the dark. "How are you affording that?"
"It's a friend's place," Adam said. "She's been on her grandmother's lease for years. The rent is way below market."
New York's rent stabilization laws meant that long-term leases accumulated a significant advantage over time — annual increases capped well below what the market would otherwise demand. Monica's grandmother had been in that apartment for decades. The gap between what Monica paid and what the apartment would rent for today was, in Chandler's words, essentially theft committed against the landlord.
If the lease ever lapsed or the occupant changed officially, the advantage disappeared immediately. Which was why Monica's grandmother's name was still technically on the paperwork.
"She?" Ted's attention sharpened immediately. "You're living with someone? Is it the woman from the welcome party?"
"Roommates," Adam said. "Different person. Just a friend."
"A man and a woman, same apartment," Ted said, with the conviction of someone delivering established scientific fact. "Matthew, what's the statistical outcome?"
"Depends on one variable," Matthew said, adopting the measured tone he used when he was imitating courtroom procedure, which was more often than anyone had asked for. "Adam — is she attractive?"
Adam hesitated for exactly one second.
"I'll take that as a yes," Matthew said. He turned to Ted. "I hereby declare the plaintiff's position supported by the available evidence."
Ted high-fived him.
Adam shook his head and let it go. Explaining his actual reasons for not pursuing anything with Monica would have taken longer than the walk to class and would have required sharing context he wasn't prepared to get into. Time would prove him right. He was fine waiting.
They were halfway across the quad when Ted stopped dead.
"That's John Coleman," he said, in a voice that suggested he'd just spotted a celebrity.
Adam looked. A well-dressed man in his forties was walking near the architecture building — polished, composed, the specific ease of someone who had been the most accomplished person in rooms for a long time.
"Come on," Ted said, already moving.
Adam and Matthew were brought along by gravitational pull.
Ted introduced himself with slightly more enthusiasm than was strictly dignified, explained that Coleman was his professional idol, secured an autograph, confirmed the guest lecture time, and managed to leave without saying anything too embarrassing. It was an acceptable performance.
The Next Day
"He's everything I want to be," Ted said, walking to class. "Did you see how the students surrounded him after the lecture? Completely at ease, never condescending, actually answered every question."
"Just be careful," Adam said. "Students and professors can get complicated fast."
"If nobody makes a formal complaint, nobody's looking," Ted said, with the breezy confidence of someone who had not yet experienced consequences.
Adam laughed and said nothing more. Ross was going to become a professor in a few years and would navigate this exact reasoning to increasingly spectacular effect. The pattern was well established.
That Evening — NYU Medical Center
"Doctor! Please, help!"
A man came through the entrance carrying a pregnant woman, both of them in obvious distress. The woman's condition was immediately alarming — the nurse at the front desk took one look and changed posture entirely, calling for the gurney and directing Adam to help move it toward the emergency wing.
The pregnant woman was taken through. The man who'd carried her in stood in the hallway for a moment and then sat down heavily against the wall, all of the urgency suddenly gone, replaced by something that looked like it had been building for a while.
Adam looked at him.
"Mr. Coleman?"
John Coleman — Ted's idol, the distinguished architect, the man who had been gracious and approachable and thoroughly impressive two days ago — looked up from the floor with the expression of someone who had just watched something irreversible happen and was still processing the fact that it had.
He recognized Adam. His face did something complicated. He couldn't seem to find any words.
Adam nodded quietly and walked away.
He didn't need to ask anyone what had happened. By the time he reached the nurses' station, the information was already circulating.
"His wife was pregnant and he was stepping out on her," one of the nurses said, with the flat certainty of someone delivering a verdict. "She found out. Now she's in there."
The conversation around the station had the particular energy of collective judgment — nurses, staff, a few of the male nurses contributing their agreement because the math was simple and the behavior was indefensible.
Adam listened, said nothing, and went back to work.
He thought about John Coleman in the hallway — successful, respected, someone who had built a real career and a real reputation, undone by exactly the kind of thing that undid people who had convinced themselves they were the exception.
He thought about Ted, two days ago, eyes wide, wanting to become exactly that.
Maybe leave out that last part, he thought.
He went to check on his assigned patients and said nothing to anyone about what he'd seen.
End of Chapter 70
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