Sweet Adaline

Chapter Nine

It was dark at last, and the thunder had passed on into the mountains and out of me. I was sedated by something so simple as confession. There was so much more to read, but I was tired. I wondered, was she still outside, still waiting at the door? I set her tome aside and reflected. Water continued to fall from the runoff, but the sky done its part and was resigned.
It was the end of that day, and into the night. The time seemed irrelevant. I felt as though mine was all borrowed time. I was sure it wasn't late though. The window was black with the night. The night sky soothes. It allows the curtain to fall and shadow us, all our imperfections removed. Two can pass by mere feet, and neither would need to take notice. You can be anonymous, dissolved by the darkness.
There was only the steady patter of runoff striking its pool, outside. No light shown, save that of the kitchen bulb spilling out onto the couch where I sat, bewitched. From the laundry basket that had sat full for days, I pulled a long sleeve tee and a pair of beaten jeans. It was all very fitting attire, dressed to the moment like the grungy disaffect I had become. Under those stormy skies, I ought to have imagined it was Portland so I could be free to unravel, one chord at a time.
The front door knob rattled as I turned it, breaking the hush inside. It's always warning sound; in comes the world. Not a car in the lot... including mine. "Serves you right," I thought, for leaving the damn thing running. I was stranded there alone, at home.  I could see myself standing there at my doorstep, and I was taken by a wave of relief. I was a man without a horse or purpose. I grinned and stepped back inside tossing the door shut behind me. I sat again.
I was sculpted contemplative in the dining room chair, thinking it all through. The angst of the night began building again. Where do I go next? My baby. The lead in my chest began to breed so I escaped from it again, into the diary. As I lifted the book and found my place in the seas of letters that were most often addressed to Elisa, I traded the cancerous world that burdened with the one that consumed her. I read to know how she fought this abscess within. This loss she'd recounted must have born some concrete truth in her. And if there was indeed no promise, how could she want to go on? Why would she want me to, either?

"Finally, we're done moving! I start eighth grade in three weeks. I'll go to Parks High. It's the school across town, less than a mile from the new house. It's big. I should be able to disappear in there pretty easy. At least here, I won't have to keep up the normal thing for everybody. I can just be nobody. No one's gonna know me. At least I hope not. Who cares anyway. It was time to leave. You really set that house on fire. Just getting out of there makes me breathe better. Dad at least isn't so weird. He's just gone. I know you know what I mean. But now it's for real. He's just never here. Good!"
***
"Mom. I keep reading this part in your diary over and over. It's like some riddle I can't solve. The kind that's so plain you feel stupid because you know the answer's right in front of your face.
It's the part where you say, "He thinks she's his, but I haven't gotten pregnant for the past year and a half. It doesn't matter what we try. So now, all of a sudden...? Soon as I read the test I knew, so I fucked the life out of him. I hope to god he doesn't put two and two together it. He's so caught up in the practice. I really do love him. I hope so at least. I just don't know what to tell Andrew. I just can't do it.
Are you talking about me? You are, aren't you? Does that mean you were really thinking of getting rid of me?"
***
"Dear Elisa.  You feel more to me like some chick in R-rated movies than my mom ever since I started reading your diary. Some of these things I've had to read over and over. Some of the things you say, I just can't even believe. Between those dreams and the things you write about sex, I think I'm pretty well prepared for my first time...and freakin scared of it. And then the part about Jack. Ha! I'm even calling him that. Not to him, but you know.
"Really, that's the one that gets me. You wrote that Jack's not even my dad. What's that about!? He should be! You and him were already married. I should have been his kid, but you were screwing around with this other guy, Andrew. The way you tell it, it sounds like you were in love with him instead. But that doesn't make any sense. If you loved Andrew, why not just go be with him? Why did you stay with Jack? It's obvious you two weren't meant to be together. It's obvious no one should be with him, the way he is. What did you ever see in him. He doesn't care about anything, It doesn't seem like.
"I bet its more rewarding asking you this stuff now, now that you're not here to justify it or to tell me I wouldn't understand and just change the subject. Screw all that. You'd just lie, huh. I'll just keep reading and you'll tell me whatever I want to know. Shit, you don't have the right to play the mom card anyway. Not after what you did. Funny, though. You're still there, aren't you? Still trying to run the show. It is true. You're just a bitch!"
"Wow, I hope my kid never reads my diary. I guess one way to make sure is to not ever ruin their life. What do you say, Elisa? Or maybe I'll just never have any, or fall in love and ruin some guys life with lies. What do you say, mom? Would that be a good start?"
***
"I can't stop reading this thing! It doesn't even sound like you! Well, actually, that's bullshit. The more I read, the more I can see it being you. Except, I just see this totally different person. The same you, I'm just noticing things that I didn't before. The sort of stuff I guess I was just too young to think my own mom would do.