Sweet Adaline

Chapter Twenty-Two

They did what my mother does best. They shopped. Something more developed than a mere hunt for comfort. It was the blooming of the woman I'd spent my life condemning. And in that spring, the simplest of things that she could became the perfect thing. They just moved forward. I watched them as they scoured racks for that perfect purse. She'd found the perfect girl, as perfect as the handbag they found with exacting taste.
It was the simplicity of them. Nothing would be expected. No demands from either of them. Adaline sat with her secrets unguarded. Angela spoke without filtering words. Neither pushed or probed. And neither were disillusioned with absurd demands of trust or role play. They were girls, with fantasies and fears, and loves. All of which were dampened by experience and the harsh surface of life, inevitable.
There they sat for lunch, and nothing was out of place. This was a feeling Adaline always enjoyed during any moment she'd spend with my mother. The safeness. With her, Adaline could again be a young woman, and respected as such. She could finally lay down her wall. Angela was content with whatever Adaline chose to reveal.
"What is that?!" Adaline exclaimed as Angela brought her tray to the booth across from Charlie's Subs, where Adaline sat with her sandwich. Angela smiled. She set down her tray as she slid in. Adaline gawked with a sour face.
"No, really though. What are those?" Adaline asked about the chalky white cubes that littered her Greek salad.
"It's Feta," she responded stabbing one with her flimsy white fork. "It's really good actually. Here try it," she offered brightly, cupping her hand beneath the fork as she did. Adaline backing off revolted.
"That's like what? Goat cheese. Right?" Adaline said with a snarled expression.
"That's exactly it," she responded, broadly smiling as she flew it to her mouth as if there wasn't a minute to lose. "Mmm. Its really very good. A richer flavor. I'd bet you would enjoy it." She went on to mumble as she savored the flavor of it
"That's just...wow. That's just not appetAngieing all." Adaline respond, playfully snide. "I think I'll stick to my sub, thanks." She said as she unwrapped a roast beef and provolone sandwich. "Cow cheese on cow meat. That's what I got between these buns. The Spirit of America." Angela snickered.
"Go ahead. I see it in there," Adaline said to her with her familiar coy grin.
"Spirit of America, huh? Is that what they're calling it these days." Angela said, refusing to look Adaline in the eye so as not to lose her composure.
"When it tastes this good," Adaline replied. Angela shook her head as took another bite of her salad, mostly to avoid making any more crass comments. She made her best effort to avoid her usual adult humor when she spent time with the girl. Ironically enough, that was when it was drawn out most. They laughed, though restrained they remained.
Adaline withdrew a transparent blue pager from her old purse, checking for the number that it vibrated from. Angela noticed it, knowing Jack would never give in to something like that, but ignored it. It plucked a string in her resentful heart that rang with disdain for Jack. She smiled to herself. "Good for her," she thought.
"Did you see a phone?" Adaline asked, then suddenly remembering, "Oh, you know what, never mind. There's one by Foley's. I always forget that one. No " She smiled nervously. "They're probably the only ones here. Well, whatever. I'm hardly ever at the mall anyway."
"Not your style?" Angela inquired.
"Yeah, if by style you mean budget." She joked. She was antsy. Anxious now to get away.
"I guess I just never put those two together." Angela said. She was surprised with herself for being so oblivious. It was an ugly thought for her, a seventeen-year-old girl without any discernible income. It nearly gave her chills as she thought on it. She knew Adaline was unemployed, but naturally assumed Jack took care of these things. Now, in the midst of this harsh revelation, in witnessing his disdain for her, Angela was aghast.
"Well, why didn't you ever say anything?" She entreated.
"Because you're his wife, not..." Adaline said, catching herself with the realAngieation of what she was about to say. Angela sat quietly, agreeing in her head.
"I'm sorry. I only meant that it never really felt ok for me to ask you for anything." Adaline said.
"No, Adaline." Angela replied very matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry. Having you in my life has been an incredible reward. I should have made a much stronger effort. I was just scared," she said, directing her apology more inwards than towards Adaline. "I didn't want to be that woman. The step mom that horns herself in to make some maternal impression. I knew I was just a woman that came into your life." She said as she looked up to her through remorse. Her thoughts were on the men she'd brought into her, and the role of step-father she assumed they'd embrace. The one role that they never could. As she lingered there, it became more and more clear that it was because of that delicate rift that each one failed her. They failed her son, and only now could she understand why. "I suppose I wanted you to like me more than I wanted to help you. There isn't any excuse. I won't try to make one."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. I respect you for everything you've been for me. Really." Adaline wasn't me. She had no expectations. She had hopes though. Magnificent hopes of a woman that would love her. Each day she'd dash them asunder, but by each night they had taken their hold again. She'd lie sleepless in her bed, staring into the ceiling fan whipping the light of the moon, watching the perfect picture show. It was beautiful and could last her hours when the evening was right. In it, she saw scenes of her self in a place like this, where she sat with a beautiful woman that smiled at her and said things like, "Adaline. You make me so very proud. It's you and me honey, and I'm not going anywhere." And in this picture show, it was true. It was always the two of them, and it never seemed to end.
"You've done a lot for me. I mean, here we are. Right?"
"You don't need to give me a pep talk." Angela refuted cheerfully shy.
"But really! Thanks to you, Jack's been happier, which means he's been off my back. And I got this quasi mother-daughter thing so, really. What do I have to bitch about?" Adaline said with a smile.
"You're too kind." Angela replied with a smile. Somber truths hung around her eyes.
"But really, I need to make this call while it's still on my mind. Otherwise I'll forget, and I don't want him to flip out on me. You know, get all insecure."
"That is what they do best." Angela nodded "but don't waste your money. Just use this," she said as she handed Adaline a black flip phone wrapped in leather from her purse. "He gave me this cell phone about a month ago. He probably meant it as more of a leash. Like you said, insecure." She handed it over. "Keep it."
"Oh my god, I can't" Adaline exclaimed uneasily, holding the dense phone like a grail.
"Of course you can. If all I can do is give my stepdaughter a cell phone to help things a little, then please let me. Besides, you'll need it more than me, I'm sure. You have a boyfriend to maintain. They can be a lot of work. Boys always are."
"Tell me about it," Adaline said under her breath. Then realAngieed that she was in fact being given her Angela's phone by all indications, permanently. "But what if it rings?!" She asked nervously.
"Ignore it. Your father's the only one with the number, and at this point I wouldn't answer it either." Angela replied haughtily. "He made his bed. Shit, it's better if I don't have it, for that reason alone. I'd really rather this whole thing not get any uglier than it already is. At least not until we can work this out."
"Not my dad. He's just Jack." Adaline corrected. "Always has been."
"Oh sweetheart," Angela replied with a broken heart, "I'm sure he didn't mean that. Men argue like children when you get 'em all worked up. It's in the design. That's more my fault than anything. I should have never brought you into it." Angela got up and slipped into Adaline's booth for a closer, more intimate conversation. "I'm sure he didn't mean to say what he did, hun. I just put him on the defensive. He probably already feels like an asshole about it. As well he should!" She said suddenly, trying not to rationalAngiee his actions.
"He's not my Dad, Angela." Adaline said again, clear and directly. "I'm not his daughter."
Confused and disoriented, Angela was struck dumb. The revelation of her foolishness crept up on her. She disconnected from the topic that struck so close to her heart before it could sour her mood.
"Can we hang out like this again?" She asked. "I'd really like to."
"Yeah," Adaline replied. "Yeah. That would be cool." She smiled sheepishly; embarrassed that Angela would ask her.  "So how long do you think I'll get service on this thing before he shuts it off?"
"A week, at least." She said arrogantly "He's going to check the phone records to see if I'm using it call some other man. See Adaline, now this is important to understand. When a relationship really starts falling apart, the first thing a man's going to do is throw blame. And the more they screw it up, the less they take responsibility for. They're simply compelled towards blame." Angela shook her head with the absolution of her beliefs, and as always, proud of herself.
" And Jack." She added, a fine example for her lesson on the faulty sex. "Well, I'm guessing he's the jealous type. I'm telling you, Adaline, when a jealous man falls for you, don't do what I've always done. Just run. Run as fast as you can." Adaline laughed.
"Oh yeah?"
"I'm absolutely serious. Men don't change. Ever. They may want to, maybe it'll seem like they do, but..." She grew somber with commitment to every word of it as she lost her focus on Adaline for the moment. "They fear... us. What we'll do with their love." She caught herself in her loopy trance and snapped free from it and smiled.
Adaline thought of Brian. What he'd said that morning, and how he looked at her. More unsettling was the way she felt as he stared at her. It was a feeling that clung like cholesterol, exciting paranoia. It was his love. Jealousy can eat a man. She knew it was true. Angela said this, just as culture has made it a clear lesson. But he loved her, and love is something that no amount of jealousy or fear can overcome. At least, this she believed. If it's true...
She only half listened to what was being said. She'd already made up her mind. Brian was scared, but only because he was in love with her, and that feeling was the only real thing that meant anything at all. For the first time since Foster, her heart sang. It wasn't dreary with the weight of loneliness and the ache of the void. His touch was enough to rival every hideous thing she'd seen. Every ugly night alone. To survive, she was sure in a second's thought, she would have to remain true to her heart. His love was the only defiant strength left to protect her.
He would be the savior Foster never could be. Brian could be her prince, and it was now that she needed him. Now more than ever. On this night and every one thereafter. She was prepared for her rescue, by any means necessary. No middle aged woman, no matter how cool, would tell her what Brian is and what he cannot be. Some people don't need to change, she thought. They need only to be understood. Perhaps they need help understanding. And if she could do that, finally...finally happy could be real. It would feel good to wake up, and not fear going to sleep. With Brian, life could be good. She needed him to be a man. She needed so much more than any boy could be.