Sweet Adaline

Chapter Thirteen

"I've been trying so hard to figure you out, why you didn't give a damn about me. Now I know he's not my even my dad, and you made me call him dad. How long were you gonna wait till you told me? I bet you never would have. But you did, didn't you. You're inside me and this is just your way of doing what you wish you could have done. Not good enough! This is such a shitty way to do it! I want you out of me! You fill me up with so much hate. You make me black inside. I feel like solid black glass. He loves me so much, and I know how hard it is. To love someone that just can't love you back. To love someone that's so caught up with their own guilt and hate that they won't even look at what they are to you.
"I get it now. I totally do. I'm the reason that everything fell apart. I'm why it all went to shit. What happened? Did you tell him?! Did you tell Jack what I am?! Or maybe you just fucking did it so you wouldn't have to. Maybe you'll just let me do your dirty work for you. Through me. I don't know what you say to him at night. Maybe I do. I hear you two when I'm asleep, when Jack comes in and talks to you cause he knows that you're in me.
"I don't even wonder how he knows anymore, but he doesn't talk to me at all anymore. Just to you. And now I get it. He doesn't care about me cause he knows I killed you, and he really does love you. He loves you more than anyone else, but I bet Andrew would love me, and you assholes took that away from me.
"School is very hard. It's hard to do alone. Foster tries to help but he's not too school smart. He's a genius with music and writing, but he's doing even worse than me in History and he's still in Pre-Algebra. No help there.
"It's not like we even study really, anyways. Most of the time we're just making out or fighting. That's mostly my fault. I just want him to kiss me all the time. It makes me feel safe. When he's kissing me and touching me, I'm certain that he loves me. But then, other times, I feel like he's tired of me or wants to be with some other girl. So I kiss him. Sometimes though, when I kiss him, it's like he doesn't really kiss back. Not like he used to. He kisses like he has to. That's just sometimes though. I don't know. Maybe that's just in my head. It feels real though. I just don't know anymore. Maybe I'm not in love. I feel like I'd die if he ever left me though.
"I don't tell Braxton any of this stuff though. Psycho-analytical asshole! Does he actually think I'm going to come every week to sit there and tell him all my problems just so that he can tell me all my problems are bull shit?! If I ever completely told him about you... He's too fucking narrow minded for that!
"Holy Shit! I just heard Jack come in. Home before 12:00. Call the press.
"God, I hope he doesn't come in here to talk. I wish Foster was here with me. I fell asleep at his house with him last night. We slept most of the night like that before I woke up and realAngieed what time it was. I snuck in but Jack wasn't even there. It was already past 2 before I even got in the house. I don't care though. Let him know."
***
"Your day is coming up. I haven't seen even one picture of you up in the house since we moved in. I just remember how you looked right then, when you did it. There's no one around to say how much I look like you, anymore. Nobody knows you here. I don't know quite how I feel about that. Guess I wish someone would, cause then I'd say, 'Yeah. Well I don't even remember her face, so I'm glad for you that you do. I just remember her voice when she told me not to end up like her. So I hope I don't remind you too much of her.
"I think I'm glad you're just totally out of our lives. March 3rd. Friday. Bitch."
***
"Dear mom. I don't think I can do this. Why's it gotta be such a big thing. You've been gone for almost a year. Why do I feel so god damn sick about this. Two more days. And that's not even the end! Why'd you do this to me? I thought I was your little girl. What happened to your little Russian Princess? Do you even care? Cause I can tell you. Her mom shot herself in the face to get away from the ugly truth that she gave up on the man she loved. That's what the queen did! She fucked herself down the rabbit hole. That's right! I said it. You were a whore and a selfish piece of shit, and I hope I never fail so bad as you and turn into a coward that waits until the only person that's ever loved her to walk around the corner, to blow herself away like some sick fucking horror movie.
I hate you, you cold empty rotten fucking shell. It's actually funny. Now you are actually everything you were when you were alive. A cold empty rotten fucking shell of a human being. Two days and it'll be Friday and I can say good riddance to you one more time, in an empty house with your "man", the one you chose over my own dad. Thank you, because I can't wait. I'm gonna celebrate.
You know what? I haven't even told Foster about you. You know what else. He doesn't ask. That's what you are. A ugly piece of the past. That's how important you are to me. I'm never even going to tell the one person that I want to be with for the rest of my life, about you and what you did to me. Maybe I'll tell him you slipped on a banana peal and fell on a gun, cause your death was nothing but a bad joke. And I don't tell him about Jack, what you left me to.
Maybe he knows. He's gotta know how fucked up I am. But maybe he just doesn't even see it...Or care. I hope not. I don't ever want anyone to know about you. That you were even in my life. I'm gonna lie about you to anyone that ever asks me. I going to it because I'm Ashamed of you. And if I ever ACCIDENTALLY have kids, I'll just tell them I was adopted, or that you turned into a hooker and died from AIDS or syphilis or something.
I've wasted enough time on you. 
***
"I finally told him what happened when you shot yourself. I really felt like I had to. I was a total wreck. I almost got sick just from being so upset about you. I only ever told him that you died a year ago. Last night I told him all about you though, and how you did it right in front of me. I told him about how sometimes, still, when I close my eyes, in the black I still see the splatter you made all across the wall of your head on your headboard. How, it's like I see black, but then at the same time I see it on your tan walls. Just like how it looked when I came out of your bathroom when I got your diary.
He asked me how I felt about it. You know, about seeing that all the time. I didn't know what to say. I don't really feel anything from it. It's just there. I said,  "I don't know. I guess I feel like, 'yup that's my mom,' and go on." I made him feel dumb though. I guess that's why I never told him. He was just looking at me with those big puppy dog eyes. That's just what I want. My boyfriend to pity me.
"I stayed at his house last night again. We still don't do anything. He just holds me. He's really a gentleman. If I was him, I'd fuck me. I mean, I'm right there, and I'd probably do it. Actually, I can't say that. I don't get the way I do at home in my own bed. When I'm with Foster, I sleep totally sound. No dreams. Not bad dreams or good dreams. I just pass right out in his arms. Last night I brought pajamas. And his dad doesn't even care that I'm there. I'm sure he told them all about my messed up family.
"So next Wednesday I turn 14. What do you wanna bet I don't even get a 'Happy Birthday', just like last year."
***
"This summer is turning out to be a shit load better than I thought. Fosters cousin Sara came down for the next two months. She's a total hippy. Like hemp skirts and sandals and the super soft lacy shirts. She really pretty in an, I don't care what you think of me, sort of way.
"All three of us got drunk and she had this awesome drum that she played while Foster played his guitar. They are such incredible musicians! They were just playin' away, making it up as they went along. I was so impressed.
"Sara is incredible with that drum. She can get different sounds out of it depending on where she hits it, so it sounds like she's playing three drums at the same time. Awesome!
"I just wish I knew how to play something so I could play along. They'd be playing something and I could imagine what I would be playing if I had a guitar too. Most of the time, though, they just blew me away and I was in total awe.
"Sara told me she'd teach me how to play, but I'd have to get my own drum. Foster said he'd teach me how to play on his guitar. I want to learn my song. The one he wrote for me. It's an intimidating instrument though."
***
"My fingers hurt so bad. I've practiced and practiced...and practiced until now, the tips of my fingers are all swollen and red. Foster says that's just how it is, until I build calluses. Screw that. I mean, I'm not gonna give up, but this seriously sucks. I try to pick it up and practice the chords he taught me, but I can't even press the strings down hard enough to get any clear notes. On the bright side, he said they are getting harder, my calluses, and if I just keep practicing like I am, they should be hard enough to play for an hour without excruciating pain. He said in a week more, I'll be just fine. Shit yeah!
***
"So I was having the best time with Sara today, more chill than I ever felt, which if you ask me, I goddamn deserve. Then he gets home from summer school and totally flips out just cause I got a little stoned. Well actually a little more than that. Something tells me you know all about that. He didn't yell or anything. He just god real shitty and went for one of his legendary walks. He didn't come back for like a decade, and when he finally did, he hardly talked to us at all. He was just being a total asshole.
"Whatever. Sara said he used to smoke out with her like all the time. I wonder what changed...and Jesus, why!? My boyfriend, the hypocrite."
***
"It was a really weird day. Foster was sick. He didn't seem like it yesterday, or even last night. I hung out with Sara at his house for a really short while, but then she was acting totally weirded out about something.
"I hope he doesn't break up with me. I don't think I could do that. I couldn't make it through losing him too. I really regret smoking the weed. If that's even it.
"Great! Now I'm getting my book all wet. Why?! I didn't mean to do it."