Sweet Adaline

Chapter Twenty-One

In this ethereal inconsistency of time and space, bent by will and skipping throughout it, I was taken back a day. It was Kayla's first birthday again. That day when I no longer could maintain the will to carry on. 
Only now, I am truly omniscient, unbridled by my own emotions of the moment as I witness the side of Adaline I'd never known in life. Her day-to-day existence.
It became more real in that perspective. I died and witnessed this because I had to, to understand it fully.
I saw Adaline. To be clear, the first images of her I saw were of her history with this boy, Brian. They came seemingly random through the past, but I understood them all, as well as what she felt, and he as well.
Then I was brought to this auspicious day. It was the first day of our end. The end of these lives of torment that we'd led. It's only appropriate start here for the retelling of it.
They had spent the night together, as they'd come to do. They'd sleep in his bed, him nestled behind her. He'd hold her more tightly when she'd cry in her sleep, begging forgiveness, "I'm sorry Alley" she'd plead again and again.
Brian heard the name, but pretended to hear nothing. He adored Adaline, and was sure that she loved him. From the moment they'd met in the last weeks of school, their hearts were ablaze for each other, raiding the other's dreams.
But the nights that she spoke in her sleep, his jealousy got the best of him. He held her with love, though he'd grit his teeth. He consoled her but needed to hurt something. It was only a few words she'd say, and none were ever his name. They were the names of another boy. Some man that had a hold of her.
"I'm so sorry Ash. It happened so fast. Kayla won't cry. I'm scared. I'm so scared." She'd say with the slightest southern drawl. He had no idea what to make of it, but immediately he hated it. He knew that name quite well by the arrival of the night when he was overwhelmed by the dream's venomous meaning.
"Does she love him?" He'd drill quAngiezically into his frantic mind. "I know she does, but how? Like a brother or a man? Does she love me? She swears it when she kisses, but how stupid I can be, drunk from her lips. Did he touch her? Did he fuck her? Did she fuck him?! Did she fuck her step brother?! Is she still? Is she lying to me right now? Are they both laughing at me? Is she sorry to him that she left him to sleep in my arms?" He'd frantically plummet through these fears as he held her loosely in her sleep and his torment. He dwelled on them, of being humiliated. Always the brunt of the joke. His world spun fast, he the eye of his tornado, wrapped in winds of angst and apathy, desperate to be respected. Dangerously serious.
They had spent the night together. Still it was an innocent thing, an age when thick hot passion wasn't tied to love and a boy's protection of the girl. That was still the myth of something heavenly, a curse to the girl's they trust.
That night he had tripped on the things she'd say when she brought up my name in casual talk. He was never so dense as to outright attack me. He'd listen understandingly.
She sympathAngieed with my desperation. She trusted Brian so much, she'd tell him bits of my history and how I was so much like her. She spoke glowingly. I was her brother. She liked the sound of that. She liked the feel of protecting and caring for her brother, owning the sisterly task.
They'd been talking that night and she mentioned how she wished he would make an effort to get to know me. That he'd like me, and that I needed the friend. She talked about getting together, three of us, again. This time, he'd stay. Together we could hang out and play music. Just kind of fuck around and bond. She talked about how I needed it. But what about what he needed, he'd think simultaneously.
That night in his bed, where she slept to avoid the tension that built in her own house, she muttered in her sleep. "Please, Ashley. Come home. Kayla isn't crying."
"Who's Kayla?" Brian whispered to her in her sleep. She groaned a bit so he repeated. "Who's Kayla, Ad? Why won't Kayla cry?"
"Our baby girl." she whimpered. "Our... she's not crying. I killed her. I'm so sorry. Lee, please come home. I'm so scared. Scared." She continued to whimper and mutter, but grew incoherent, sounding more desperate. Sounding more pained, so he nudged her out of sleep.
"Ad. Ad. What are you saying?" he whispered in her ear as she rounded from a dream. One where she sat by a bathtub, running water over her baby that lay still in her hands, bleeding from the glass. The more she escaped that horrible moment she lived so many nights, the more she struggled to revive.
"What?" she grumbled.
"When did she die?" he asked, slyly.
"What? Who died?" she replied, more asleep than awake.
"Kayla. That's why you're sorry. Isn't it?" He said, and he waited as she came around. He'd resisted for so long, but now he needed some degree of resolution to the maddened uproar in his head. She lay quietly, growing more wearily aware. "You keep saying, I'm sorry Ashley."
"I do?" she replied, amplifying her drowsy delirium.
"Yes, you do," He answered, "You say it in your sleep. Almost every night actually." He'd propped himself up on his arm behind her. Still, she lay with her back against him, never fully opening her eyes. If he was more focused, he'd have noticed her pulse had quickened with her response. I was at a gallop now.
"I'm sorry. I love you, Brian. Goodnight." She grumbled, and drifted back into the night. At least that was the act she performed. She nestled her back against him, pulling his arm around her waist. Still, she could feel his stare on her. It chilled her, like Elisa in her old room, watching as she lingered maliciously harmless. After a couple minutes, he settled back down, and within an hour later he slept reluctantly.
She was up and dressed the next morning before he had opened his eyes. There was something lost from her smile. Something gone from the look in her eyes. He'd seen her like this in the past. His best guess was that she was found out and bitter for it. In a way it was true, but not any way he could understand. It was still something she was grasping at.
He was scared, suddenly. "You should have kept your mouth shut," he muttered angrily to himself. "You think you know? What do you know?!" She'd leave him now, he was certain.
"You're leaving?" He asked and se came from the bathroom and back the bed room where he sat in yesterday's clothes.
"I have to go." She answered with a soapy smile. She knelt down and kissed him.
"Ad?" He asked, looking up with yearning eyes. "Are we ok?"
Her smile flickered like a weak TV signal before her eyes slipped away. She stood up, held his hand as she smiled.
"Go back to sleep baby. Everything's fine. I just have to talk to Jack about something, today." She squeezed his hand. "I'll call you in a little while." Adaline knelt down again and they kissed. Even in the morning she smelled like candy, he thought. He smiled.
"Ad. You know I'm gonna marry you." He said. Her smile grew wider.
"I love you too, Brian." She said, and slipped out the door.
She got home by the bus, showered and dressed, and ran into Jack downstairs. He'd just gotten home for lunch. She'd been replaying in her head, her conversation with Angela about the Geo they'd found for sale. Thought she assumed the natural outcome, Angela created hope. This new element might just bend the scale for her. Still, her next step was to bring it to Jack. It all came down to the type of conversation she abhorred. The type where she asked for a favor and he looked at her with his absent contempt, carelessly concealed beneath the translucent gauze of concern.
"Adaline." he acknowledged, glancing up as she broke into the energy of the room. The field of ether that emanated from Jack was always very dense. Much the way a dew drop sits upon a leaf, whole, seemingly impenetrable. It's remarkable how we can be so affecting, merely in the way that we exist. His domineering ethereal mass, though it was often mistaken for charisma and confidence, was heavy with self-hatred. Adaline pierced that mass to again drown inside it, because that was what was necessary for this car she wanted. This token of independence.
"Hey." She replied timidly, testing the waters of the afternoon. "How's work going today?" She asked as she slipped into the kitchen, to the fridge.
"The usual. I have a patient coming in at 1:30 for two and a half hours." He exhaled as he slathered a slice of nine-grain bread with generic mustard and flipped it, completing his tuna salad sandwich. "It gets aggravating, Adaline. These patients refuse to care for themselves and expect me to have the answers." She nodded, disregarding the opportunity for futile work discussion.
"Oh," she replied. "so, what's up with the garage door? I tried putting it down yesterday but it was broken."
"Well Adaline, that's exactly what's up with it. It's broken."
"Oh. That sucks. It looks like it's gonna rain hard all day today."
"Yes it does."
"We can't put it down or anything?" She probed.
"No we can't Adaline. I've already looked into that," he said, although he hadn't.
With irritable defeat, he shook his head and engaged the sandwich.
Adaline nodded subtly and found grapes in the fruit drawer. Everything in that fridge was sealed, labeled and stowed in its designated station. With a handful, she took a seat at the counter, two stools from Jack, where he half stood/half sat.
She sat quietly, focusing on the pop of each grape to drown out his noisy munching and noshing and each laborious swallow. He laid down his sandwich, half eaten and forced down the bolus, recognAngieing the obscurity of the moment. Adaline rarely made an effort like this, and when she did, it was only when she wanted something from him.
"What do you have going on today?" He asked. She smiled.
"Well, I thought I might go take this one car for a test drive," she began, paused for a moment, and then continued cautiously, "with Angela." He leaned back in the stool, shifting. "So, I guess what I was wondering..." She went on until Jack harshly cut in.
"Stop right there." He said. Silence. "Just...hold it there." He paused to gather his words. He quickly found something short and conclusive to end this absurd conversation.
"I know what you're thinking." Adaline slipped in to circumvent any conclusion.
"Oh? You do?" Jack replied with cavalier condescension.
"You don't need to pay for anything. Angela said that she would loan me the money and I would pay her back," Adaline charged on, "with...the money I'd make from the job I'd be able to get once I had steady transportation." She felt confident that her argument was solid. "Besides, right now I rely on you guys for all my rides which, no doubt, is getting annoying. Also I rely on Brian a lot. If I had a this car, I wouldn't be riding with him hardly at all." How could he say no to that? She thought.
"So she'll just buy it with her money, and I wouldn't have to invest any of my money in it. Is that about it?" Jack responded
"Well, that's what Angela said."
"Really? I can't imagine she'd say something like that Adaline. You see, Adaline, we're married, and I know you don't yet understand what it is to be mutually invested yet, but when you are, married, you no longer choose to make big decisions, such as for instance buying a car, without discussing it thoroughly with your spouse. That's called a partnership. Which is why I can't possibly imagine she'd have promised you such an obviously inappropriate arrangement." Jack sat back with his disapproving glare fixated on Adaline, soaking her up as she grew livid before him. Unabashed, without restraint, she volleyed back with heat.
"All I know is what she promised. She'll be here in a minute anyway, so you can just ask her." She replied with square enough handle on respect. "I don't want to put words in her mouth and jeopardAngiee you're perfect marriage," Adaline said with daggered eyes. "I mean you don't need me for that."
"You sure about that?" He replied, too fast to stop it. It was out in the open for the day.
The reflection of Angela's windshield dove in through the living room window and ran across the ceiling before disappearing as she pulled into the drive. They both saw it, knew she was moments away, but remained hot blooded and fixated on one another's callous stare.
"Yeah. I'm pretty sure," she replied, "Jack." Her eyes narrowed slightly as her lip curled even less noticeably. The door opened with the rattle of keys against the knob, as Angela carried in a large paper Macy's bag. Adaline broke her stare and looked down to the counter, replaying the exchange in her mind. She popped another grape.
'Dammit Adaline, all you had to do was mention it to him,' Adaline thought to herself angrily. 'Now you've fucked it up entirely. There's no way she's gonna ever help you now.' She breathed deeply. He was about to fuck everything up, she was sure. All she could do is wait in the kitchen and eavesdrop.
She snatched a bowl from the cupboard and loaded the remaining grapes from the fruit drawer, into it, and plunked her ass back on the stool. They'd disappeared up the stairs, leaving only the faint resonances of their conversation to drift down to her. She sat distant, extracted from the scene, impatiently waiting for the ugly news. Waiting for her conviction, when Angela too, rolls over on her, denying that their conversation ever even took place.
She thought back two days, to Wednesday, when they'd first found the car, locked and parked on an empty lot off Fifth and Dodge. Was that really what she'd said? Adaline was certain half an hour ago. Minutes ago as she'd made her argument, she would have sworn to it. But then he did what he does best. He spoke, and eradicated all confidence. She couldn't be sure whether the conversation had even taken place. It was a powerful talent that son of a bitch had mastered.
She dwelled for a time, slight but immeasurable, until mumbles and tones became voices and sounds. Then the voices grew to noises. Phrases like, "you have the wrong idea," and "not a big deal" poured down the stairs from their bedroom where they bitterly had cast them back and forth. Then the door slammed shut. A clear enough sign to anyone that the discussion had become something else entirely. Ideally, that would have been the time to vacate, but Adaline remained loyal to her curiosity.
A minute or three or four passed and the door swung open. The heavy thunder of an angry woman, pounded down the stairs. In quick succession came the thunder of Jack.
"You're not going to leave like this! We're not even fin..." Jack attempted to command.
"The hell I'm not! This is crazy! I need you to give me a little bit to cool down." Angela snapped back from the front door. Adaline remained quiet in the kitchen, growing desperate by the second. She wanted to scream, "Don't go!" but knew that in no way could she. Jack would be sheer bloodless fury if she walked out that door, Adaline knew from personal experience. Her best bet was to slip out that back door, but what she wanted was to go with Angela.
'She hasn't even seen me yet,' Adaline thought. 'She'd take me if she knew I was right here.' as she picked her bag up from the stool next to her and shoved the bowl of grapes back in the fridge, she heard them get into it again.
"Why don't you try treating your daughter with a little more decency! Show her a little god damn respect. Act like her father for Christ's sake!" Angela spat back at him.
"What?! Who the Fuck..! Coming from you, huh?! A woman that's still supporting her twenty three year-old son. You're the god damn model parent?!"
"At least I am a parent!" Angela shouted stepping in from the entry, amped from the assault. "I don't march around demanding acknowledgment for being a single parent, without ever telling my kid I love him! If you did give a fuck, you wouldn't be such a sullen, bitter excuse! You'd..."
"I don't tell her, because she's not my daughter!!" He yelled nearly incoherently, but clearly enough to knock the breath from the household. Jack's face went from cherry red to paste.
Angela was struck so hard with the harsh physicality of his words, she stepped back.
Despite Adaline's knowing this since she was thirteen, this terrible and yet not so terrible truth, to hear it with such anger, such bitter hate, struck her like a pitched stone. She broke into tears with a whimper. All eyes were turned to her. Jack's were fearful eyes that floated in teary pools of disdain for Adaline.
With that image in her mind, Angela turned back on Jack who looked back to his wife, detached. A man she did not know. He was the man that Adaline knew. More sudden than the synapse that caused it, she struck him hard and square across the face and rang his fucking bell.
Adaline rushed to the door, past them both, and out. She ran with everything she had.
It buzzed through her brain, not the words themselves but the anger behind them. The words were mere tracers, branding her with phosphorus hate. "She's not my daughter! She's not my daughter!!"
She ran so hard her sandals bruised her feet between her first two toes. Her feet seemed weightless as they skipped off the sidewalk like a stone across still water. Her heart raced from the shock more than the run. Blood pumped hard from her chest as she ran from the pain, as fast as her able young body allowed.
Her legs slowed as she came to the edge of the neighborhood. Her brain was exploding with maddened activity. The questions came with fear and uncertainty. Most specifically fear of the uncertainty. Her survival had become dependant on the accepted assumption that, despite all the unspoken blame and bitter anguish that coursed through her life, there would always be boundaries. There would always be a bed for her in a place she could choose to call home, despite what it really was.
Now, however, the boundaries seemed lost. She'd reached the very edge of her world and looked out. Behind her was no home. It wasn't refuge or even temporary shelter. She was certain, by the fury in his tone, she was now cast out alone into the world, and was without illusion that it was a generous or caring world. No more so than the world she'd known before her life was finally demolished. She drifted into the very same world that drove her mother into the ground.
Her body trembled as she continued down the sidewalk that ran along the road that took her south away from her old neighborhood. The adrenaline was her confidence as she took each puppet like step.
A car pulled beside her.
"Adaline." My mother said "Please honey, get in." They both stopped. Adaline looked down. The engine hummed beside her. It wasn't quite a familiar sound yet. Not nearly so familiar as Jack's, and it didn't bring the sick feeling that his would when she heard it pulling up to meet her. Still she knew it was a tether, and hearing it's grumble was disheartening. She'd been let down and still, when this conversation that Angela wanted was over, she'd be without a home. She turned, defeated, and climbed into the passenger seat without a word.
"Come on. Let's get you something to eat."
They drove. Angela spoke very little and Adaline responded. Their benign small talk softened them both as they drove. The storm clouds above had chilled the air outside, but the heat in the cabin was nice.