Sweet Adaline

Chapter Twenty-Five

She was soaked in the seat of my car from the rain that poured into the car before she arrived. She could see his home before the backdrop of grey, as she careened down the lane. It was set in the center of an unfinished neighborhood, standing alone, but hardly majestic. Stuccoed and boxy, plain on all sides, but strangely enticing to Adaline.
She wondered what life could be like, common in a facsimile home. A matchbox mother in a plastic world, exempt of abuse. Never alone. Never again, this indiscretion. Just simple, what would it be like?
She pulled each turn with depleting patience, growing reckless as she pulled to stop by the residence. She slammed the door once she'd escaped the musty wet seat, and darted toward his entryway. Before she finished her knock at the door, he'd opened it and they were embraced. There wasn't a word worth saying, worthy of interrupting the silence they cherished. He pulled her in and she held him tighter. She breathed into his warm, boney chest, a sigh of release.
She'd been beating away the thoughts that Brian had anything to be accountable for. Persistently deeply she felt it was the way that he loved her that had to be the key; the cure to what ailed her. If he wanted her bad enough, if he could just show her, she'd know for certain that she was worth something. Worth all she'd caused to her mother and Jack and Angela. The boy just need express himself. He could show her, right there.
He filled her up, and she forgot that big empty void. And when she was tight in his arms, she knew undoubtedly that he loved her. That was her drug. Although at first one look from him would get her high enough to forget the world. For days at a time, just knowing she was on his mind and that soon they could see each other again, she held that elation. Then they'd kiss that euphoric communion. There was no fear of an end. Just that it was real, because by god, it was truly fantastical. Some limitless dream. But it never lasted.
It was real, however, and that was its downfall. The genuine factuality of his love, and the feel of his lips and hands, were the flaws of it. He was no longer the fantasy once she held him. His body was tangible and it ceased to glow in her mind. The light no longer shimmered, but simply hit hard and drowned out the details of it. His kiss had become lips against hers; simply kisses. And with each new kiss came a kiss and another one. But on occasion when he kissed her, it returned again. That sensation. That feeling of oneness that filled her up to her brim. And it would be natural but fantastic as well. When he kissed her like that, the words of her mother she'd read, came alive. She could relate, and she knew what it meant to be so hot, her skin was tight and she just couldn't take anymore. Her knees would grow weak, and threaten to fail, as though she'd been running for hours frantically. She knew what it felt like, the burning inside her. She knew how they erupted, these wild fires, from the center of her feminine core.
But then, she'd open her eyes, and the light would flood in.
They were still where they were before it began, just the two of them in the door frame of Janet's house on Carradeen Lane. They weren't transported. No matter how deeply she loved him, he wasn't a man. He was a boy. And when he would touch her, his hands would stop. They'd reach her waste, and as if some fence or some barrier guarded against then, they'd retreat. They'd generally return to feel up her covered breast, if they dared go that far.
It was wild at first, how he'd touch and grab at her. Then it was nice, and then it sufficed. But she was at the threshold, where fear had eclipsed every comfort she'd gambled on, and the only thing constant was him. But she needed more at that moment. More than enough.
These thoughts she ignored, but still they churned in her flesh barely inhibited. If she was haunted by her mother, she reasoned, the hot seedy truth of the why women bleed for it, stood just beyond his imagined barrier. Why not be taken now that nothing's impeding it but fear. Why not demand it?
Adaline held him tight, and pushed her body into him. Then pulling away just enough to see his face. He opened his mouth, but she kissed it and strangled the words. She kissed him hard and bit his lip. She bit hard, and kissed it softly. He was bemused by this onslaught, caught unaware.
"Adaline?" He said once she backed down. His tone reminded her that they were a sweet couple of teens. It was a difficult blow, and she withered. She realAngieed that it was all in her head. All of it. He was Brian, and that if he didn't want her that way that she needed him to, fine then. She had her story to tell him.
"She left Jack." She said as she walked away from him into the living room. They had a huge fight this morning and she left him." Brian closed the front door, unsure of how to react. He knew how she hated him, though she never finitely explained why. He never asked, and he felt he never had to. That is, at least, what he told himself. As far as he was concerned, she was way out of his league. He took the utmost care not to ever cross the line, enjoying whatever moderation he was allowed.
"Good for her. Serves him right, fucker." He said as he came to her. She shot him an incredulous glare.
"Fuck her!" she said with insult, spilling crazy on him. "Life's about to get real ugly, just cause she wanted out." Brian came to her swiftly. She wanted to resist him. Every bone and muscle was poised to, but he stepped through her wall and held her, oblivious. She fell into tears, so he sat her down and he held her until she was ready to speak some more. She sat up, dazed by it. She was calm on a fault line, defying the physics of this thing that churned inside her. Her world had shifted, crumbled as she saw. It wasn't until this moment that she allowed herself to be dAshed asunder. It was petrifying, what she saw, now that she truly looked at it. She took it in. It was disaster for her.
"She left because of me." She said meekly. Brian was speechless. He held her hand. "Now he's going to blame me for ruining his marriage. I'm scared, Brian." Her voice shook. "I'm scared to go back."
"No one is ever going to hurt you. I won't let them." He said softly, naively, but he meant it absolutely.
"You don't understand, Brian. I ruined the only thing that he's cared about since my mom." Adaline replied, disregarding his oath.
"You didn't ruin his marriage. He did. Ad, believe me, if a marriage doesn't work out it's because the people that are in it don't care enough to make it work. All you ever did was support him." Brian assured her. "Way more than he ever supported you."
"You don't understand!" She said again pulling back her hand and turning towards him. "That shit doesn't matter! I have to go home and face him. What should I say?! 'Don't be mad at me. It's your own fucking fault that your wife left you!'" she spat, frustrated.
"Yes."
"It's your fault that she left you. That she's disgusted with you for being such a shitty fake dad to me. And it's your fault that she hit you for saying I'm not your daughter!" She continued, becoming more a wreck.
"He said that?" Brian asked in shock.
"Well, I'm not."
"I'm sure he..."
"I'm not, Brian! I'm not his fucking daughter. I'm the unwanted product of my mom's affair. Fuck that, I'm the byproduct. I'm the reason they couldn't continue to be together. I ruined something that made my mother genuinely happy, and because of that, she blew her fucking head off," now she was yelling, "with a fucking shotgun, and left me to be his bourdon!" Her eyes shimmered with agony. "So I don't know how, or for how long, be he knows now and he hates me for it! So you want me to tell him that I didn't ruin his marriage? That telling her the truth about our fucked up family is his failure and whatever else." She stared at him through wide, sickened eyes, lost in the insanity of her crux. Unloaded and shattered, she waited for the answer from him, expecting the same idealistic crap that everyone's had to give her. The perfect words to solve perfect problems in perfect worlds where daughters and fathers are just what they are, and they love each other, and everything can be all right.
"I... had no idea. It's..." Brian trailed off, locked in her stare that grew more desperate by the second, until she dropped it and slipped out of the moment again. Brian gently put his arms around his delicate bomb, and drew her into his lap. She wept as he caressed her hair. "I love you, Adaline. That's the only thing in this world that will ever matter. And no one can take that away from you. No one," he said softly to his angel.
They sat for a short while as she let it all pour out of her. She drained herself of the infection in her heart until there was nothing but raw absence. She ached from it. She was scared of it, and needed this chasm to be filled. She kissed his stomach, and she kissed his thigh. It was such a foreign feeling to them both. Her heart galloped thrusting blood through her veins. He sat up straight, without the will to contest it. Adaline sat up at his hint.
"Kiss me. Please. Kiss me Brian." She pleaded. Without hesitation, he did. She kissed him hard back and bit his lip. He pulled away, and worked his way down her neck. "I want you to take me to your room," she breathed as he kissed her. It felt unusual and wrong, but he wanted it. It was sudden, and she was distant. The mood was fractured, but she was willing.
"Now?" He asked her, scared and uncertain.
"Yes, now." Adaline replied with her seductive twisted grin "Now, now. Don't you want me?" She said as her hands ran across his chest. His eyes darted towards her and then around the room as if he were searching for whatever it was that made this incredible moment seem so unreal, so wrong.
"I do." He replied. Adaline took his hand and pulled him down the hall to his room and flung the door shut behind them. She spun in her place and stalked him. Brian tried to seem hungry for her. Anxious and ready, but his pulse made him dAngie. He narrowed his stare and stepping into her frenzy. She grabbed him like she meant to destroy him. She made a fist with his shirt and pulled his face into hers. She kissed him and pulled his hair till it hurt him. He just kissed her back as wildly as he could, but her savage abandon made him more nervous by the moment. He was in his head, rather than his boxers.
She kissed, and she sensed he wasn't as viciously famished for her, and so she pulled back with a look to stir him. His pupils shrunk in their wide open vessels, like tiny volcanoes on duplicate islands floating helpless in virgin oceans of white. She kissed him again, demanding exotic extravagance from his lips. Expecting his tongue to do fantastic tricks. Tricks to make the kiss passionate for her. He was too far from his element, confused and unpracticed. He tried to run his hands across her back, just above Adaline's waist. She took the lead and took hold of his ass. He did the same, so she tore off his shirt.
He pulled hers up over her head, and she pushed him down to sit on the bed and she straddled and kissed down his neck to his chest. He sat immobilAngieed. She unbuttoned his pants, which is where Brian stopped her. She looked at his face with annoyance
"What's wrong?" She said
"What..." He asked her, oblivious to what had started this whole attack of unbridled libido. "What's going on Ad? What is this?"
"I'm gonna fuck you, Brian." She stared him with the plainest expression of obviousness, shaking her head. "Do you want me, or what's the problem?"
"I do." He replied, frantically embarrassed. "I just...yes. Yes!" His mastered himself and threw her on the bed, and he kissed her. This time he meant it with famished commitment. He was ready to hear her scream with excitement and feel her writhe with him. His mind exploded with images and the blood that rushed to it. Adrenaline pulsed through his brain, and he rolled over to tear off his pants. Frantically, clumsily he pulled off his shoes, tossing them inadvertently across the room. He had his pants to his ankles when he heard her whimpers. He turned to her. With her head in her hands she cried.
"What... What happened?" Brian asked, concerned. Suddenly embarrassed that he'd been so careless when her threw down on the bed. "What's the matter baby."
"YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME YOU LOVE ME WHEN YOU DON'T!" Adaline shouted at him through tears. Brian's eyes grew wide again, totally sideswiped. He was more lost than he had ever been.
"What the hell are you talking about!?" He shouted back. "Where the...I thought everything was going good?!" He'd suddenly taken offense. "How is everything fucked up?"
"If you don't want to be with me, just say it. Don't just use me!" She cried back.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! I do! What the fuck are you talking about?! I've never wanted to be with anyone in my fucking life the way I love you." Brian returned, livid and desperate. She sat up to him, face to face.
"It's ok. You don't have to say it if you don't mean it." She said, her tone turned consoling. His eyes lit up with fury!
"I FUCKING MEAN IT!!! I LOVE YOU!! I FUCKING LOVE YOU!" He shouted at her at the top of his lungs, tearing off his pants and throwing them at the wall. He grabbed the pillow behind her and threw it. He took a lamp from the desk and hurled it hard into his closet, shattering the light bulb and busting a hole in the wall. "WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET THAT IN YOUR HEAD?!?!" She was shocked by it, mouth agape. She shook with the fear and excitement from the whole thing.
He panted like the hulk.  Then, in that second of realAngieation, he crumbled to the floor in a salvo of bitter cries and confused curses. Adaline snatched her shirt up and ran from his room out of his house. Once she was back in the soaked car seat again, she tore out and raced off, weeping uncontrollably the whole way.
A mile down the road, she pulled over and sobbed on the side of the road. It all overtook her. The way Brian yelled and the stupid things she said, and the rest of her life as well. She wept and she heaved till she shook and stammered.
"What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with me?!" She cried over and over, into the chilly, colorless night. Light shimmered off the wet asphalt, as far as she could see.
The radio pulsated narcotic waves of "One of These Days". A Pink Floyd jam she identified with, at first for the simple lyrics. "One of these days I'm going to tear you into little pieces," but as she listened to it more, she found the hypnotAngieing driven rhythm to be what the song was about. The pulse of life, rather than the confessions of it.
She sat through the song, and when it passed, "Iron Flower" took the waves. It was empowering. Always was, but in that moment, it was enough to sit up, wipe the tears from her eye and say it. "Time to go, Adaline. Enough of this stupid childishness."
She pulled back onto the road with Sarah Bettons and her brother's lyrical rounds. Adaline thought about her brother. She realAngieed that there was only one person who never promised her anything. She had no expectations of me, and owed me nothing. She drove back to me because she knew in that moment that we were in this together, and whatever was to happen next, it was nothing we couldn't handle. She saw herself in me, and knew it would be all right. It would be all right for us both.
She pulled into the gravel lot, out in front of my apartment. Then as she turned off the car, she remembered. I had her diary. It was a queer feeling to know I had most likely read her whole life in the time she spent fucking it all up. She decided there, if I didn't mention it, neither would she.
She knocked on my door. Startled, I stAshed her book in my room and answered. I was a pale shade of grey, the worst she'd ever seen me. Her own fears and concerns dissipated once she saw just how distressed I appeared. She hugged and soothed me and I ruined her shirt with the blood of my still slit wrist.
It was striking, all too relative. She was in it more now, related more closely and truly than ever before to anyone. At that moment, only one person came to mind. His name was Danny. He was the only adult she'd come to trust before me. So she took me to him.
Despite his protests she convinced him to help us with my mutilation. He sewed me despite his professional reservations. While he did, she sat at the front desk, reliving the tone Jack used as he discarded her. Nothing hurt more than his open disdain. In the dark, as Danny mended me, she faced off the devil's of Elisa's villainy, contemplating Brian's response. It was clear to her as quickly as she'd escaped his house. He's done everything he could. He would give himself to any fate if that would save her another second of pain. He needed to do the right thing for her, and he needed to know that he was doing it. He was desperate for her. He kindled her soul with his critical loyalty. She smiled, enlivened. Adaline knew it would be with him she would die, and she'd love him until that fated hour.
When we returned she stayed with me. It was for mutual benefit. And what was said between us that evening, made concrete of our sibling bond.
That morning, I left her alone. When I returned from coffee with Angela, she'd already left. Alone, I returned to finish reading her diary.