The Side Effects

Chapter 3

Dear Cassie,

I really shouldn't be documenting any of this, and yet I keep writing. It's Thursday night, and being the person of routine I am, I walk by myself to the park. I see the sky is erupted in soft oranges and faded smears of dark purple. I do think sunsets are very beautiful, but they walk side by side with many people I've come to know in the matter of their beauty only lasting temporarily. The night always comes. That my friend is inevitable.
There's this one house that I always make sure to walk by that has chipped paint and a small porch with a screen door. It is highly insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and it seems to be the only house that refuses a paint job. To accompany the gnarled house is this one older man with a severely wrinkled face and not a whole lot of hair to count for who always seems to be bent over pulling up weeds in his yard. He always holds a cigarette in one hand while his other works the ground. I have yet to learn this man's name, or anything about him because as I said before, it all is quite unimportant to my life and knowledge.
I walk down the side walk, and the trees begin to replace the houses that were coated in light yellows and pastel blues. I see the small lake, but in reality I see nothing more than a reflection of the sky. I begin to speed up when I see the bench because I see that it is quiet, and It is untouched.
This bench sits a respectable distance from the bank and next to a small dogwood tree, covered in little white specks of flowers. As the color has begun it's fading process I decide tonight will be a night to start a new tally of my unexceptional life. This night being June 14th, I sit on the grass instead of my bench. And this is where my first mistake of the first night begins.

I saw her jogging around the lake, and smiled to myself because I figured she would come. She was breathing slowly and deeply by the time she reached the bench. When she sat next to me she drew one knee up to her chest and rested her chin on top.
"Your name is Adeline," I said, "You go to my school, you'll be a senior right?"
She smiled then began speaking with her smooth voice, "Yes indeed I am the great Adeline Grace known by many, admired by few. And you are the James Luckey who is known by few and admired by even fewer."
I can feel my forehead crease, and I counter her remark, "Why are you here?"
She smirks then says, " James Luckey I have been debating the topic for two years now, and I have not been able to come up with a sufficient answer," she pauses and moves her legs into a criss crossed position then asks, "Why are you here?"
"I am here because this is where I always am on Thurday nights," I tell her. "This is only your second night. Why are you here?"
She smiles again and looks out at the lake before her grey eyes return to mine. "Oh you mean why am I here at this particular place on this particular evening. Well, I was sent here. The person doing the sending must remain in confidence, for their intentions in doing so would result in you never trusting me, and if this is to work, I will need that from you. I believe I have come to you with a death wish, and from what I have heard, you have your own."
She paused and smiled as if she was satisfied. I do not rack my brain over who this unknown person is: I think about her death wish. I try to decide whether or not she means this in a completely literal sense or if the death wish is attached to speaking with me. I try to understand why she would assume I myself have a death wish. I do think about the idea of death quite often, but I am not currently in the mood of indulging in it's long term effects. I am aware of the fact that death is not a fear of mine. I don't see the point in fearing something everyone in the past has been through.
"Adeline, I'm not quite sure what you are implying with having a death wish," I run a hand through my hair and draw my eyebrows together, "I'm not sure I am what you are looking for. I do not have a death wish at the moment in time. Now, I do not fear death, but occasionally I fear the thought of not living. Only, I'm just not sure what I am living for."
In all honesty, I think about death much more often than necessary. I would like to consider myself in a period of remission. Only the thing about that is the fact that the tumor usually magically will appear out of no where. Then they try to treat it once more.
Adeline is looking intensely at the lake like she's trying to hold the rippling reflection of the moon still. I dig my hands in the grass and I lean back on my arms, and my eyes wander up to the sky.
"No James Luckey," she begins still looking at the lake, "No, I am sure that you are indeed exactly what I am looking for." She looked over at me, and I saw that her eyes were much like the cloud that was beginning to move in front of the moon. She knit her eyebrows, and bit down on her lip. She wasn't looking at me now she was looking passed me.
"I knew Cassie too, if you didn't know," she said this with the voice of her smoke the first night, "You are exactly who I am looking for."
The silence blares loudly around us, invading my thoughts, and putting a hush on them as well.
I don't regain my words, but I remember whispering something, and I remember running.
The old house was quiet with the old man and the lack of weeds. It was all quiet, and I sat in the yard, and I laid down on my back. And I was quiet.