SPASE

SPASE: CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Tears flood the ground below Maddie. They let go. Let go of the pain, hurt, and resentment that they can't be loved unconditionally by their dad: by Frank. As the moments go on, Maddie wonders why they care so much, but at that moment it doesn't matter. All Maddie wants is to be loved by their dad instead of always being the ultimate failure.

In one of the moments, their eyes are closed. Maddie finds that they have been whisked back. Both Maddie and Reynolds have. Lilacs, sunflowers, and soft green grass. The grass is a soft, warm rug. Not like that crabgrass shit that is in the front yard. It is legit green, luscious grass that just makes a person want to lie down and have a picnic.

As quickly as the vision enters their mind, it leaves.

Maddie opens their eyes to see the blueish-purple hue of a sky above them. They are back in the sunflower field. Stars peer through the clouds. It has been one of Maddie's dreams to visit the Aurora Borealis in person. At that moment, Maddie decides that if they never got a chance to see it, this is a pretty good substitution.

Now sitting, Maddie leans back on their elbows to fold in on themselves. Maddie lays on the grass, taking it all in. There's a bit of breeze now, allowing the outline of trees to sway back in forth and the sunflowers to dance. The crickets and bullfrogs chirping and burping from a nearby pond add to the ambiance. Maddie knows not to get too comfortable. Maddie knows there is someone close. The electricity finds Maddie's palms and the soles of their feet. Reynolds curls up against the back of Maddie's knees, allowing his body to warm up Maddie from the heat he gives off.

"Do you think that he ever really loved me?" Maddie asks, thinking about their dad.

Reynolds lets out a sigh. I think that your dad is so wrapped up in his own pain, the only thing he can do is be mean to others. He only knows how to be frustrated. I don't think that him being cruel to ya has anything to do with him loving ya.

Maddie yawns, growing tired and irritated.

"How can loving me have nothing to do with being cruel to me?" Maddie snaps back. "You aren't supposed to hurt the people you love, whether it's beating the shit out of them or talking shit to them about how they're not good enough."

Reynolds doesn't relay anything to Maddie for a few minutes. Maddie waits for him to say something profound or try to push them in some way to see his point of view, but instead, he doesn't. Reynolds stays silent.

"Dad never loved me," Maddie states under their breath.

Do ya remember before? Reynolds states.

Maddie searches the blank spaces of their mind, trying to grasp what Reynolds is talking about.

Do you remember before Mom was sick? Reynolds asks again.

Lying there, Maddie closes their eyes. They are searching in their head for a memory of before when things were actually okay. Maddie remembers the smell of apple cinnamon oatmeal on the stove and packed lunches waiting to be taken to school. Momma and Maddie spent a lot of time together and those are where good memories stemmed from. They would make fake grass skirts, eat pulled pork sandwiches, and play Beach Boys in the dead of winter. It was their own trip to Hawaii, to paradise, even if they were too poor to afford it.

Dad isn't there in the memories. Maddie doesn't remember him being around for any moments, except the ones where he's drunk and angry. He always says that his love for Maddie's mom is what makes his world turn, but honestly, Maddie thinks that it's the bottle that did it for him. To Frank, nothing is as important as his bottle of Maker's Mark. He is Jackal and Hyde; one day he is loving and sweet to their mom, and then the next, he is holding her by the throat drunk as a skunk. When Maddie was little, she constantly hid in their closet. They still do. It's the safest spot in the entire house.

And plus, it has a lock on the inside.

That is until he found that spot and decided to slam Maddie's head into it, leaving them with a nice shiner the day before class pictures. Maddie's mom was there to cover it up with her Cover Girl powder the next day the best she could. All she told Maddie was that if anyone asked, Maddie should say that they ran into the corner of their closet. "I'm sorry, sunflower," and Momma kissed their nose.

That's the truth that Maddie's dad decides to use until this day. Maddie doesn't know if that's because he's ashamed of what he's done or he just really chooses to remember the lie because he doesn't remember. Not much of him has changed since.

"I don't remember him being any different before than after. He just got more pissed off," Maddie admits to Reynolds.

Well, maybe we're missing somethin', Reyn relayed. People have a hard time tellin' others their feelings, darlin'.

Maddie nods, rubbing their head along the cool grass.

Now, get some sleep, sugar. Ya need your strength, Reynolds orders as if he is Maddie's parent.

It's easier for Reynolds to say than for Maddie to do it. Maddie's mind wants to sleep. But their body is pulling them in a different direction straight from their gut.