My fingers were swollen by the end of the summer. I asked you if I could jump into the lake, and you asked me why you should care. I smiled and assumed that meant something good, but I didn’t know any better. You planned to run away, and I’d spent all summer hoping you’d ask me to come too. I sewed an uneven patch in my dress and you laughed at my handiwork. I threw my dress out that night and called just to talk to you. It was a cry for help, what I was giving out, what I was begging my mother to notice. My fingers were swollen from carrying the hot plates in and out of the diner you and I worked for all summer. On the 23rd of August, you finally asked me to run away with you. That was after too many days at the swimming hole, and nights staying up, my skirts getting scorched by campfire smoke. You looked at my swollen hands, behind the counter at the diner, and asked me to run away with you while you were pulling something burnt out of the fryer. I looked at your hands and told you I’d come if you wanted me to. You shrugged your shoulders and dumped the plate in the trash and I decided to go. What I didn’t say is that I’d pull the stars down from the sky if you wanted me to. I told you I’d come with you and you nodded and put out your cigarette on the side of your jeans.
“Adeline,” you whispered, “I’m leavin’ real soon.” I nodded my head and dropped my eyes.
“I know,” I replied.
“I’m leavin’ tomorrow, Adeline.” I nodded again.
“That’s no problem, Jack. I ain’t got nowhere I needa’ be.” You smiled a little bit, but then stopped yourself short. I knew that you knew better. You looked at me through your blue eyes and let yourself smile. Just slightly.
“I swear to Jesus,” the manager screamed from his desk behind the kitchen, “ if you ain’t get table 5’s food out here right now, I’ll fire y'all both!”
“Yeah yeah, I’m gettin’ it!” You screamed back, and picked up the nearest plate, not looking at me as you scrambled out. I watched you walk away, and you didn’t turn back even once. By the time my shift was over I punched out my time card and walked over to tell you goodbye. You pursed your lips and told me to pack a bag if I wanted to go.
“I’m leavin’ tomorrow night after I collect my paycheck. If you’re comin’, you better be ready. I ain’t waitin’.” I nodded my head.
“Goodbye, Jack.” I said, half out the door. I waited to see if you’d tell me goodbye too, but you turned right around and walked away. I started walking down the old dirt road on the path to my house. I hated being 16. I hated my mother too, and was relieved to find she wasn’t home. I put my key in the rotten old door, and prayed to God that my mother wouldn’t be home before you picked me up. I didn’t see a note on the fridge or on the counter, so I assumed my mother would be gone for days. I pulled an old bag out of my closet, and stuffed it with whatever clean clothing I could find. The washing machine was broken again, so I searched through my entire closet. I pulled out the money I kept in the floorboards. I’d spent all summer hoarding my paychecks, hiding them, just in case you’d ask me to run away. I stuffed it in my bag and wondered if my mother had been home and gone shopping in the last week. I worried there was something evil inside of me, something wrong, or something broken. I yelled at the sky, trying to find God, and then got mad at the sky for being empty. I crawled into my ripped up sheets and turned out the light and told myself one more day and you’d come pick me up and we’d get out of this town.
I woke up the same way I do every morning, and dragged myself out of bed. I put on my uniform, cried about the way I looked in the mirror, and then started walking down the old dirt road. I still didn’t know where my mother was. I walked into the diner, and you didn’t even look at me.
“Jack,” I whispered to you, “what time are we leavin’?”
“I’m gonna’ pick you up at five. We get off at three today.” I nodded my head and tied my apron behind my back. I was struggling to get the knot right, so I asked you if you’d tie it for me. You rolled your eyes and shook your head.
“Do it yourself, Adeline.” I felt stung.
“Sorry, I was havin’ trouble with the knot is all.” You stood stoically, and then turned away. I kept watching you as you walked away, but you didn’t look back even once. You were so much older and wiser than I could ever be. You had turned 18 over the summer, and I’d made you a cake and brought it down to one of our days at the swimming hole. It was sweltering, and the mosquitos were thick in the air the way it is in July. You ate a piece of the cake, and I’d asked you how it was. You told me it was ok, and told me next time to put less frosting. I apologized, and told you I’d make another for you, with less frosting. You nodded your head and got up, running to the water. I followed you, watching the way you ran and trying to jump in as well as you could. I know I could never compare, though. I followed you into the water, which was almost warmer than the air. I plunged my head under and felt the world around me slow down. I wondered if you’d pull me up if I started to drown. I pulled myself back and remembered I was standing in that little kitchen in the sweltering August heat. 7 more hours and you’d be at my doorstep, ready to leave this place forever. I watched that clock for the rest of my shift, waiting for the time to speed up.
“Take the plates out,” you said to me two hours into the shift. I sat there waiting for a word from you, a soft word, but I knew that’d never happen. You were too much like your father to be gentle. I didn't mind it though, I took the plates out without complaint. Even when the sides of the plates were so hot my fingers would burn and peel, I’d never complain.
“I have money,” I whispered to you upon bringing the plates back in.
“What?” You said.
“I have money, for food, or gas, or whatever.” You nodded your head.
“You can pay for gas,” you whispered, leaning down so you’d be heard. I read that clock like a bible, counting down the hours.
I walked down that old dirt road back home, and sat in the living room. I spent those two hours sitting on the couch, with my bag in hand. I had my shoes tied up, and my favorite sundress on. I waited for a knock at the door, but all that came was just a honking horn. I gathered myself up, and grabbed my bag, running out the door as fast as I could. I threw my bag into the backseat, and then climbed into the front seat with you.
“What the hell’d you pack so much for?” I winced.
“I jus’ didn’t wanna not have enough.” I looked over at you but you’d already stopped looking at me. Your eyes were on the road but the car was at a stand still. I’d figured you’d pause, wait for me to say something, a piece of conformation. But you just pushed your foot on the gas and I felt that old beaten up car start to hum and shake. You pulled off my road, and I felt a breath of freedom. I was never happier than I was watching my house fade back into the distance in your mirrors. Your hand was resting on the dash and I was trying to see if I could hear your heart beating.
“What do you think of August?” I asked, leaning over the dash and positioning my hand so it was close to yours. You picked your hand up and put it back on the wheel, looking ahead. Not even glancing in my direction.
“That’s a stupid question, Adeline.”
“Oh, I'm sorry.” I said back. I was embarrassed, my cheeks went flush. I looked over at you again. You had that same, stoic look. The muscles in your jaw clenched and you kept your eyes glued to the dirt road.
“Why’d you ask me that anyhow?” I fumbled with the hem of my dress and tried to think of something that made sense. Something that made me seem smarter, wiser.
“Well, I was just thinkin’ if you had a favorite month.” I whispered.
“Well if I had a favorite month it wouldn’t be August.” I nodded my head and looked back over at you. Eyes still fixed on the road.
“Favorite things are stupid.” You said.
“What’s about favorite people?” I asked you.
“Don’t got none of those either.”
“Oh.”
“You ask a lotta questions, Adeline. Who taught you that?”
“I dunno. I’m sorry.” I responded. You nodded your head, but your eyes were still on the road. I hadn’t stopped looking at you once.
“Jack,” I said. “Where are we goin’?”
“Stop with your questions. They’re makin’ my head ache.” I dropped my head in shame, and again felt my cheeks get even redder. I watched out the window again at the overgrown summer grasses.
“We’ll prolly sleep in the car tonight. At least for now." I smiled, and looked back over at you. You looked at me for only a second, but your eyes remained indifferent.
“I’m perfectly alright with that.” I said, flashing you my smile as proof.
“Well even if you weren’t, that’d be the way of it.”
“Of course,” I cursed myself again for being so stupid, for saying the wrong thing. “Of course.” I repeated.
“I'm stoppin’ at some diner a few miles outta town. That’ll have to be our dinner for a while.” I decided not to say anything, for fear of saying the wrong thing.
We pulled up to a little diner a few miles out of town. It looked the exact same as the diner in our town. It felt like I'd never left. I took the booth, and you slid into the chair. If it wasn’t that way purely by coincidence, I would’ve called you chivalrous. After I’d ordered the least expensive thing I could find, and you ordered what you wanted to eat, I tried to get you to meet my eyes.
“Do you ever get some typa’ sad?” I asked you.
“Sure I get sad. That’s a stupid question. Everyone gets sad.” You replied. I was feeling bold, so I kept pushing.
“I mean that typa’ sad you ain’t able to shake. The type that stays and lingers. Y’know?”
“I don’t know, Adeline. I don’t dwell. When I’m sad I go make myself useful somehow. I don’t sit there thinkin’ and complaining.” I nodded my head and stared at the salt shaker on the table. I picked it up and spilled out just a few grains. I pressed my fingers into the grains so hard they made marks. I smiled and pushed my fingers back down, slightly moving the salt grains across the table.
“Quit that, Adeline.” You said, your voice warning.
“Sorry,” I whispered, and pushed the grains off the side of the table. There were only a few, so you couldn’t see them on the floor.
“Now you’ve gone and made a mess!” You said, voice growing louder.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Swear.” I said it like a prayer. I bent down to pick up the salt grains from the floor, but you told me to get back up.
“You’re makin’ a fool of yourself, Adeline.” You whispered. “Just sit normal.” Our food came then and we ate in silence. I slid some of my money over when we’d taken our last bite, and you shook your head.
“You want gas, or wanna pay for dinner? We ain’t gonna do both.”
“What?” I asked softly, confused by what you meant.
“We don’t got enough money.”
“Oh. I mean I guess we need gas.” I looked out from the side of the booth, to see if our waitress could see us. “How we gonna leave?” You laughed a little, and stood up, looking briefly around the corner.
“With our legs, Adeline.” You said, through a slight smile. I’d never left without paying before, but I knew you did it all the time. I felt my throat get hot, but I said nothing. I just smiled back, slipping out of the booth. We slipped out of the door, careful to keep our heads down and our backs turned. We got into the car quickly, and you pulled out of the lot before my door was even fully shut. I laughed and smiled, just happy to be next to you.
“We’re gon’ stop for gas a few miles out.” You said. I nodded. I started to feel guilty, and regretful of what we’d done.
“Jack, do you feel guilty?” I asked.
“Bout’ what?” You said.
“Runnin’ out before paying the bill.”
“No.”
“Oh.” I turned my head away to look out the window, so I wouldn’t have to look at you while I admitted my guilt.
“I do.” I whispered.
“Why?” You asked.
“I dunno. Sorry, it’s just something about me.”
“You ought not to feel guilty so much. That stuff eats you up from the inside.”
“We ain’t paid though. What if that waitress has got mouths to feed?”
“We’ve got mouths to feed.” I stopped after that, but kept my eyes looking out the window, away from you.
“If you got more questions, you gotta get me some typa morphine.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, “I’ll be quiet.” You pulled a bottle out of the console, taking a slug of some type of rot-gut whiskey. We sat in silence for a few more miles, an uncomfortable one. You pulled into a gas station, and held out your hand to me. I dropped the money in it. You got out of the car to pump the gas, and I stepped out too. I felt the warm air on my skin for a moment.
“Whats’ you doin’?” You asked me as I stretched.
“Sorry, we’ve been in the car for awhile, so I’m tryin’ to stretch.”
“Well it’s annoyin’. Get back in the car, Adeline.” Your tone was growing harsher, so I nodded my head and got back in the car right away. You finished with the gas, and then disappeared into the station. You got back in the car with some kind of candy bar, and didn’t give me back any change. I didn’t say anything, though. You drove with one hand down the road, and told me we’d need to find a place to stop for the night. We pulled off to some open field when the sun was almost down, and I was contemplating whether or not I should talk.
“Jack, I’m kinda nauseous.” I said.
“Hell, don’t throw up in my car! Lean over the side of the road or somethin’.” I walked to the side of the road, grasping my hands over my knees and leaning over a guardrail. I didn’t vomit, but I breathed heavily, and felt my pulse grow quicker. I pulled myself together and I walked back over to your car.
“If you needa’ puke in the night, go to the side of the road. This is a deserted place, ain’t no one gonna come and bother you.” You said. I nodded my head.
“Hows’ we gonna sleep, Jack?” I asked.
“Well I’ll sleep in front, at the wheel, and you can go in the back so you can lie down.” I nodded my head and smiled. I felt a sliver of care from you, and I grasped onto it. I doubted you were doing it on purpose, but I’d take your tenderness either way. I told myself as soon as I could I’d bake you a cake, with almost no frosting. All I knew is that I wanted to be whatever you wanted me to be. I made sure to keep my voice soft, and my words sweet. I crawled into the back and lay down on the beat up seats. I looked up out the window, and the stars seemed endless.
“I love the stars,” I whispered, happily.
“Whys’ you up thinkin’ bout the stars?” You asked.
“Ought to give some perspective.” I whispered. “We’re so tiny.”
“I ain’t got time for perspective. Stop with your thinkin’. It’s enough to drive any man mad, and you’re only a woman. You’ll go twice as mad.”
“Oh,” I said, even quieter than your voice. “I’m sorry. I won’t think bout the stars no more.” You grumbled something, but I couldn’t see your eyes from the backseat. I tried to look for them in the mirror, but it was no use.
“Goodnight, Jack,” I said. I got no reply. I’d assumed you’d fallen asleep, so I picked myself up just a little. Just enough so I could see you, but stay hidden. You were awake, drinking whiskey and looking out into the field. I fought back tears and lay back down.
The sun was up early, and lazily, the way things are in the summer. I was up before you, but I tried to make my presence slim. I sat in the backseat of your car, and tried to take shallow breaths so as not to wake you. I finally heard you wake, and climbed back into the passenger seat.
“It’s awful hot,” you said.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Whats’ about we go down to one of them swimmin’ holes?” You asked.
I nodded my head frantically, and looked at you. I almost leaned in to hug you, but stopped myself short. You put your foot on the gas, and we were out.
“I’m glad you took me with you,” I said as you drove.
“Stop,” you said.
“What’s a matter?” I asked.
“Don’t go gettin’ sentimental. I don’t like it.”
“Oh.” I watched you as you drove, with one hand on the wheel, and the other lying in the space between us. Your blue eyes looked dark compared to your blonde hair, which was only getting blonder from the sun. My hair was about the same color as yours, but I didn’t think you noticed many things about me. I knew you didn’t think I was pretty, but I still made an effort for you. There was space between our hands, and I felt that space. I felt it in some kind of way. It felt like I was universes away from your hand, but also so close I could feel the heat of your skin. We pulled up to some lake, or swimming hole of sorts. It was a gorgeous sight. There were lush vines falling down the sides of old stone walls, and water as clear as the sky. I smiled, and didn’t even bother to change. I ran right for the water, smiling like a kid and laughing like a fool. I jumped in and held myself underwater until I felt a splash next to me. I took my head slightly above water, so that my mouth was still under but I could see you. I must’ve looked like a bullfrog. My mouth was strategically hidden, but I was smiling. You told me to run to the car, and grab you your flask. I got out of the water immediately, and was almost immediately dry by the unbearable August heat. I ran as fast as my feet could take me, as I knew not to leave you waiting. I felt my feet pulled out from beneath me, and I hit the ground hard. I had run over a root. I felt tears forming in my eyes before I could feel the trickle of blood in the back of my throat. My nose was bleeding, and probably other spots on my face were too. My dress was torn, and I didn’t have the money to sew another faulty patch. I waited for you to come running, kneel down by my side and tend to my wounds but that was foolish. You slowly got out of the water, and walked to my side.
“Well get on back up, Adeline. I done seen dog fights less painful than this.” I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, but it was caked in dirt. “Go on and wash yourself up.” You said, taking your whiskey out of the car.
“I ain’t no medic. I gots’ no idea what to do,” I said through shaky breaths. You rolled your eyes and leaned down beside me, looking down at my cut up arm. You poured some whiskey on my arm, without another word or any type of warning. It took a moment for the pain to register, but when it did, I started to scream in agony.
“Close your damn mouth, Adeline! I was helpin’ you is all. Cleans it or somethin’. Now it won’t go gettin’ infected.” I couldn’t speak, only scream in pain. “Jesus, Adeline, theys’ gonna think I’m some kinda killer should they hear ya’ carryin’ on like that!” You said this in a hushed voice, but a serious tone. Then you sat down on the ground beside me and just watched me for a minute, like you were unsure. Then you put your hand on my arm, and I swore it was just an accident. You kept it there for a moment, looking around, and then looking back at me. You didn’t offer me another word, but when I was done crying, you took my hand and pulled me up.
“Let’s get on back in the car. Keep drivin’. We’ve lots of land to cover.”
We drove a while longer, stopped at some diner and barely spoke before we left without paying, and this time I didn’t spill any salt or make you angry.
“Should park somewhere for the night, I reckon,” you said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. You pulled into some empty, grassy field off the side of the road and kicked back your seat. I crawled into the back, and looked up at the car roof.
“Can we open it up?” I asked, hopefully. “I wanna look at the stars.”
“That’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard,” you said back. I looked at you longingly, not taking what you said as my final answer.
“I suppose.” You said reluctantly. “But don’t go gettin’ used to it. I’ve been too kind to you today.” You opened up the roof, and I pretended I couldn’t hear the second part of what you said as I looked up at all the stars above it. They were magnificent. I was lost, just an empty head, looking up at the stars until I heard your whiskey bottle sloshing around, and saw your head tilted upwards.
“You ever get kinda lonely?” I asked, reveling in the fact that we were looking in the same direction. Maybe we were even watching the same star.
“No,” you said back, voice flat.
“Oh,” I responded.
“Do you believe in love?” I asked.
“Why would I?” You said back.
“Just wonderin’,” I whispered.
You paused for a few counts, and I counted my breaths.
“No one’s ever gonna love you, Adeline,” you said.
“I dunno,” I whispered back, secretly hopeful. “Maybe someday someone might,” I said. You kept looking up at the stars and said nothing. I decided I had nothing else to lose.
“Do you love me?” I asked.
“No.” you whispered back. I rolled over with that confession, and desperately willed sleep to come.
I woke up with a soreness in my arm and nose from the fall I had taken the day before. You were already up, and looking out the road, almost expectantly.
“Get up here,” you said, and I immediately climbed to the front. “We’re goin’ home,” you said through gritted teeth.
“What?” I cried, feeling my eyes start to well up again. I prayed I was still sleeping. Prayed this was all just some terrible, awful dream.
“We got no money, and I was a fool to run away. A fool to take you, too.” You said this with no emotion, but I felt gutted.
“Why? I’ll get a job, I’ll help, I’ll do anythin’, please!” I begged. My voice was shaky and scratchy as I spoke. I was desperate, and had nothing to lose. “Please let us keep goin’! Please!” I said as my voice only grew shakier, and sounded more like I was in agony.
“We have to, Adeline.” You said, and started up the car. You started driving fast right back in the direction we came from. I wanted to open the door and throw myself out of the car, but I knew I couldn’t get on without you. I rubbed my hand over my stomach and choked down tears. I had foolishly spent the drive out hopeful, and thinking of a name for the baby.
Part 2:
It’s been three weeks since we ran away and I’m back under the same covers I slept in before you swept me away. You make me feel like running water, like I could mold into whatever shape you want to hold me in. My belly is starting to swell, and I throw up most mornings at work. You haven’t caught on, though. School is starting up again soon, and I’m trying to decide if I should go back or not. Not when a piece of you is growing inside of me, I think. I don’t know how I’m going to get this baby to love me, since you never could. I’m worried this baby will have my face and your soul. I’m worried I’ll see my own flesh, the baby that I grew inside of me, treat me with the same indifference you feel. I put on my uniform, and stumble to work.
“Jack,” I whisper, once I’m alone in the kitchen with you.
“What?” You ask, with a tired voice, and even more tired eyes.
“I need you to come over after work. It’s real important.” I put my hand on your arm, to try to show you my love. You pull your arm away, and pick up a plate.
“No, Adeline,” you say, starting to walk away, I follow you. I’ll always follow you, like a dog. I’m like some blindly loyal dog. If you asked me for a limb I’d be at your porch by dawn with a wide smile and a hacksaw.
“Jack, come on, it won’t be long, and it’s real important.” My eyes are pleading, but you won’t meet them to see my desperation.
“Fine, Adeline,” you whisper, staying far enough away that I couldn’t reach out to hold onto you. “I will if you stop your whinin’.” I nod my head, and take a step back.
“Thank you.” I whisper.
It’s some kind of miracle I make it through my shift, and once I’m home I put a cake in the oven. My mother doesn’t even know about me running away. She’s gone again anyways, so I tidy up the house a bit. I wonder where the baby will sleep. You didn’t tell me what time you’d be coming over, so I spent the time sewing dresses and writing down baby names in my book. At eleven I hear a knock, and I jump so fast I trip. I pick myself back up, opening the door, breathing hard from running and falling.
“Why are your cheeks all red?” You ask, walking into the living room.
“I’m sorry, I was runnin’ to get the door is all.” I walk to the kitchen to get the cake, crossing my fingers that I’ve mastered the recipe. I put on almost no frosting this time. I walked out to you sitting on the couch, and I put down the cake in front of you. I put on almost no frosting, and I pray my gesture will soften you.
“Not enough frostin’,” you say, before I’ve even backed away.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I worry I’ll never be able to do anything right, never be able to make people love me in any kind of way.
“What did you want to tell me, Adeline? I ain't got all night” You say. I’m worried you’ll grow irritated, so I hold my breath and then let it go quickly, ready to blurt it out.
“I’m havin’ a baby,” I whisper. My whole body is shaking so hard I can barely stand, and I’m worried I’ll crumple beneath the weight of your silence. I hold my shaking hands behind my back, but it’s no relief, they keep shaking harder than I'd ever thought they could. I keep struggling to stand, and I watch your eyes fall to the floor. You crack your knuckles, and then look up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for God to give you an answer.
“What-” you pause, and move your eyes around, but eventually settle them back onto the ceiling. “What do you want me to do about that?” You whisper. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach, or like I’ve fallen on my back and had the air sucked right out of my lungs. I suddenly need to throw up, and It’s nighttime, so it’s not morning sickness from this baby.
“I dunno,” I whisper, tears welling up desperately in my eyes. “I dunno what to do.” You keep doing anything to keep your eyes from looking into mine, and I let us sit in the silence. Even if I wanted to say something, to comfort you, to comfort me, I’m coming up empty.
“What do you want me to do? You want me to marry you?” You ask, moving your eyes down so that they’re settled on my face for the first time. You ask it like an accusation, and I receive it like I’m a criminal.
“People are gonna talk, Jack.” I whisper, pleading with you, “I’ll just be called a whore. I’ll be an outcast. No one will ever love me again.”
“No one ever loved you in the first place.” I feel winded again. But like a dog I just stand there, and I look into your eyes even when they move away from mine.
“We don’t hafta to decide right now,” I whisper. “Just eat some cake, stay over if you’d like. My mom’s not home anyhow.” You shake your head, and start to walk to the door. I walk after you.
“I’m not stayin’ over, Adeline.” You say, soft enough for me to barely hear you, but loud enough that I can tell your tone is harsh. I watch you walk out the door, but I know I’ll fall back to you like you’re gravity. The door closes quickly, and suddenly I’m crying and clutching onto my stomach like it’s my last hope in the world. I put my back to the closed door and slide down the wall trying to mute my cries. Please, I think to my baby, please don’t be cruel.
I wake up and stumble into my uniform again, and wonder how long I’ll be doing this for. I’ll have to take some time off for the baby, anyways. School starts next week, and I’ve decided to go back for just one day. Just in case. I see you in the kitchen at work, and my feet move me towards you without thinking it over. And then my mouth speaks to you without considering the weight of my unspoken words.
“Come on, Jack. Don’t leave. Let’s work this out. We could be so good together. I could be so good for you.” You just roll your eyes and move past me.
“Don’t be pathetic, Adeline.”
“Can you come over again tonight?” I ask, scanning your eyes for even a hint of kindness, of empathy for me or your baby.
“No, Adeline. You’ve already told me. I don’t needa be comin’ over again.”
“Jack, please,” I whimper, trying to keep myself from breaking down right there. I stop myself, because I know you hate it when I beg. I just nod my head, and move away my eyes. I can’t lie to myself and say it’ll all be ok when your blue eyes are everywhere. You’re like the sun, and even if I’m not looking at you, I can feel you, the warmth of your skin, and the lingering fear I’m going to get burned.
At the end of our shift you walk up to me, wiping your hands on your jeans.
“You wanna go down to the swimmin’ hole?” You ask, and I quickly turn my head around. I feel like I’ve caught a firefly, one of those precious moments from you.
“Course,” I say, smiling wide, “I’ll always go to the swimmin’ hole with you.”
“I’ll pick you up this afternoon, Adeline,” you say, your face not smiling, but not twisting with annoyance either. I run home after my shift, so I can bake you a cake with the most medium amount of frosting I can.
We don’t talk much on the drive down, but my cheeks are still pink. The passenger seat is the same one this baby and I sat in three weeks ago, back when I had a little bit of hope. Hope for us, hope for this baby, hope for getting out of this town. But I just roll down the windows and the smell of the air keeps me from thinking of anything else. September sun can’t burn me, I promise myself, it’s too late in the year. As soon as we pull in, I jump out of the car and run to the water. You run after me, and eventually in front of me, stopping and putting your arm in front of me before I can get my feet in the water.
“Wait a second,” You say, your arm still in front of me, touching me. “You reckon it’s safe for the baby?” I want to kiss you right there, and hold your hands. I want you to tell me the name you want for this baby, I want you to get down on one knee. I’d sooner be down on both my knees, begging you to stay in my life. There’s no one else for whom I’d fight. I smile and put my hand on top of your hand that's covering my belly.
“It’s all alright, Jack,” I say, smiling wider than I have in weeks, “a little water ain’t gonna hurt ‘em.” You nod, and immediately move your hand from me, like you’re in disbelief you ever could’ve had it there. You hold your hand out in front of you like it’s been burned, and I look at your skin. The skin that was touching me. The way you move your hand makes me think maybe I imagined it, but even if I did, what a sweet imagination I have. Even if I made it all up, what a wonderful thing to have made up. I run into the water, and you’re trailing right behind me. I dunk my hair, and slick it back as I come up. You’re right next to me, and you’re closer to me than you usually dare to be. I pray for a moment that you’ll stay that close. That maybe you’ll pick up my hand and ask me to be your wife.
“It’s too cold in here,” you say, moving back a little. “September is gonna kill us all.” The air is so hot that the water feels nice, but I don’t want to argue with you.
“Yeah,” I whisper, holding my hands behind my back, “it’s real cold.” You turn around and walk out of the water, so I move to follow you. I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if you promised to call me pretty by the time we were there. I’d follow to the ends of the Earth even if you didn’t ask me to, even if you didn’t look at me once. You lie on a towel in the sun, and I pull the cake I brought out of the trunk.
“Hell, Adeline, yous’ better have gotten some better frostin’.”
“I did, Jack, promise.” I tried to frost it as evenly as I could. You take a bite and look up at me. I can’t tell if you’re smiling, or your face is just like that because you’re squinting your eyes from the sun.
“Better,” you say, putting down your fork. I want to jump up in the air, and wrap my arms around you. I want to hold you close to me and forget every unkind thing you’ve ever done. Nothing you’ve done I see as unkind anyways, because I know your soul. You only let me know fragments of you, but I put them together like puzzle pieces and I love each of those fragments. Hopefully my love is enough to save you. I pray my love is enough for you to be willing to show me the pieces you’re hiding. “But still not right.” You say, pushing away your plate. My heart drops, and I feel weak in the knees.
“I’m real sorry, Jack. I swear, I tried real hard that time.” My voice is shaky and echoey in the depths of the swimming hole, and my eyes are burning from trying not to let out my tears. I count to twenty before I blink to try to dry up my tears before they can fall, even though it makes my eyes burn. You don’t say anything, and you don’t like it when I sulk. I sink down and lie out a few feet away from you. We’re in direct sunlight, and my arms are tender. So much for September sun being too late, I scold myself. I got burned anyway. I don’t ask you to move to the shade though, because I’d rather be burned and be next to you than be nothing at all.
“I’m goin’ back to school next week,'' I say, daring to open up a conversation. I move my head to the side to look over at you, but your eyes stay fixed on the sky. You shrug your shoulders and put your arms behind your head.
“Ok,” you say, no emotion in your voice. I was hoping I could find something in your voice telling me what to do, telling me not to go. Telling me to stay. But there wasn’t. I was still waiting for you to give me a sign, any kind of sign. I’d run away with you again if you only looked at me and pointed to your passenger seat.
“Whats’ you gonna be doin’?” I asked, shocking myself with how much I was talking. I didn’t want to be a nuisance, and I turned my head to look at the sky.
“Workin’, Adeline.” You say.
“Right,” I say, keeping my eyes on the sky, “sorry, that makes sense.”
“I’m wonderin’ if I really should be goin’ back to school.” I pause. I don’t mention the baby. Not right now.
“I don’t know, Adeline. Why would I care?” Tears start to well up in my eyes again and I rub my belly.
“Jack.” I paused, wondering what it was that was making me so bold. “Whats’ we gonna do bout’ this baby?” You keep your eyes on the sky, and your breathing is so still you only seem half alive.
“I’m not doin’ this right now, Adeline.”
“Ok,” I say, and keep looking up at the sky.
At night when I find myself lying awake, sometimes I wonder what I’d say to you if you let me. I’d tell you I loved you, and you’d tell me that I was just an idea to you. I’d tell you how much I’d bleed for you, how fervently I need you. If only you’d let me, I would tell you that I know everything comes at a cost, but for your love, I’m willing to pay in flesh and blood. I would be the wife and the woman of your dreams, and I’d never nag you about coming home late or anything. I just wish I knew what your skin felt like, what your skin felt like when it was unbridled by hate. When all of your conditions turned into closure, and the only thing that was left of us was all the love I’m willing to give to you. The poets say that the person you love is a piece of your heart, but you’re not a piece of my heart. You are all of it.
I wake up under the same covers, and I reach over, almost wishing, if by magic or luck, you’d find your way to my bed again. But I knew, even if I did marry you, even if your ring was on my finger, I’d still toss and turn and roll over in an empty bed. What a valiant force you’ve become, what a cruel way you leave me. You’ve taken over every aspect of my life, like some inexplicable force that’s as dangerous as it is alluring. I fight my own voice, longing me to stay under the covers, and stand in front of my mirror. I point to the corner of the room, and although I’m pointing for no one, I smile and suck in my cheeks. That's where the baby will go. My arms are still burned. I had put all the aloe vera I had on it, and it was still as raw as it had always been. I start to wonder if you’d ever need me, but then I start to get sad.
Once I end up in the kitchen of that old diner, you take my arm. There's no one else around, and your calloused fingers on mine are enough to make me worship you like a God. I look up, and just in case you were any kind of God, I pray. I pray for your soul, I pray for your happiness. I pray for your happiness because Lord knows you never found it in me. You look back down at me, and despite my longing, I don’t speak.
“You decided to keep the baby, Adeline? For sure?” You ask me, fingers still closed around my arm, the heat of your skin still making me hopeful.
I look at you like you’ve just asked me to go to war, with my breath hitched.
“‘Course I’m keepin’ the baby.” I whisper. “I mean, unless you ain’t wanted me to? Or you got somethin’ else planned?” I add, slightly louder than the former part of my comment. I don’t want you to think that you don’t have any say here. I do want this baby though, I want it so desperately. I want it to love me so desperately. Maybe if the baby has your eyes, I can watch something with your eyes tell me they love me. My voice is still hushed, and you loosen your grip on my arm. I almost ask you to put your hand back, but instead I just close my fingers over my belly.
“Well it’s your baby, Adeline. I don’t want you to be expectin’ nothin’ grand outta me.”
“‘Course not, Jack. I know this baby is mine. But it’s yours too.”
You look at me with a realization that never seemed to hit you before. You look down at my belly and then back up at my face.
“Yeah,” you say, quickly recovering yourself, any hint of fondness in your eyes now gone, back to the stoic way they always are. “I know that.”
I don’t ask you what you want to do, I don’t ask you if you’re going to marry me. Instead I stay very still.
“I’m goin’ down to the market tonight. I’m gonna make some supper. Maybe you’d like to come over?” I ask, almost hoping you don’t pick it up. Almost hoping you don’t hear me. Because if you didn’t hear me, I wouldn’t have to be told no by you all over again.
You stare at me for a moment, eyes blank, and then slowly nod your head.
“Ok,” you whisper.
After my shift I hang up my apron, and close the door behind me, setting off for the market. I want to get there first, get the freshest things they have. All I do is hope in secret. The road is growing dark, in the quiet, slightly uncomfortable way it does in the summer. The road smells like a sweet perfume, like the flower buds have managed to become sentient. The new life blooming makes me smile, but the second I take a whiff I bend over and vomit on the side of the road into a grassy ditch. I hope I didn’t hurt the roses feelings, I hope they don’t think it was on purpose. I’m so nauseous that the slightest smell of flowers or the slightest thought of something new makes me feel like throwing up. I walk into the market and go down the aisle I always do, a basket on my hip and my free hand on my stomach, holding the baby. Even begging you now seems fruitless. I take my full basket to the front, and slide over all of my most recent paycheck, hoping that it’ll cover everything. I’ve got fruits, and I’m making vegetable pie, it’s a meal for a king. And hopefully this time, a cake that’s to your liking.
I spent the evening in the kitchen, watching the sun set out my back window. I watch the sky turn orange and the wind start to settle down. I open the oven to pull out my pie, and start to set the table. The knock on the door comes quickly, and just as quickly I’m tripping over myself, running to you. I swing open the door, slightly unsteady on my feet, and I catch my balance on the hinges. With half of a fool’s smile, I step to the side, opening the door wider. You don’t catch my eyes, just continue in until you’re staring at the wooden planks on the floor in the dimly lit hallway.
“I’m real glad you’re here, Jack.” I say, keeping my voice quieter than the hum of the wind chimes in the slightly ajar window. You look down at your boots, sliding one across the floor.
“Been a little while since I’s been here, hasn’ it?” You say, a low voice, but a voice that’s unmistakably louder than my own.
“It has.” I pause. I watch your eyes, I watch the way they scan the room, I watch the way they don’t meet mine. I watch the way you won’t watch me.
“You hungry?” I ask, “I cooked up a storm. I didn’t know what you’d want, so I made lots.”
“I suppose.” You say, not waiting for me and walking over to the table. You seat yourself in the chair at the head of the table, and I run to the kitchen. I could be a good wife, I want to tell you. I bring out two glasses for you, one with water, and one with whisky. Do you see? I want to ask you, do you see how good I could be? Instead you watch my hands as I place them, and then I watch your hands as you throw back more than half the glass of whiskey.
“You’re gonna go gettin’ me drunk,” you say, smiling a little bit. Watching you smile feels like the revolution.
“I’ll bring you more?” I ask, longingly. Longing for you to ask me to do something, so that I can do it. So that I can do something and be doing it for you.
“No,” you say, smile melting. I run to the kitchen to get the food, and set it all down on the table. I take the chair that’s closest to the one at the head where you’re sitting, and I put a plate in front of you.
“Take whatever you want,” I say. What I don’t say is that anything I have, I’d give. You take a bite, and show no emotion on your face. I subconsciously rub my hand over my belly, and you roll your eyes. I stop myself, folding my hands on the table.
“Stop it Adeline, we’ve already talked about this,” you say, tone growing angry. I stop for a minute.
“Jack, come on,” I whisper, my breath catching and your eyes avoiding mine. “This is your baby.”
I gasp, and sputter out my next words through half breaths.
“You know I’m in love with you, Jack.”
“It’s not that I didn’t know.” You say quietly to me, dragging your fork across your plate. “It’s not that I don’t know,” you repeat, “it just doesn't matter either way.” You pause for a moment.
“You know I don’t love you.” You conclude. “I never have.”
“I know,” I whisper, “I'm not blaming you. It’s not like you ever acted like you did. I was just hoping is all. Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, what an awfully painful thing to hope for.”
“You’d never be right for me.” You say.
“Come on. I know you’re a violent boy, but I’ll be your violent girl too if you needed me to be. Please, just tell me what you need me to be and I’ll be it. I’ll be it one hundred times over. Have you noticed that about this town? It won’t let us leave.”
“You ought’ to stop thinkin’ like that. People aint’ supposed to be thinkin’ like that. You carry on like that and you’ll end up with nothing.”
“Aint that more than what we have right now?”
We both pause for a moment.
“Come on,” I whisper, with tears streaming down my face, “we’re right back where we started.” I pause, and we watch each other for a moment. “There’s nothing I could ever do to make us move from here, is there?”
You watch me again, and then I pray you see all the things I cannot say. I know you know that I’m in love with you, but I pray you can see through it. I pray you can realize that I’m not just in love with you, that it’s something more. Whatever it is you make me feel, it’s something more. “Jack. I was just hoping somethin’ had changed. I really, really hoped somethin’ had changed.” “This is never gonna change, Adeline. I’ve never acted like it would.”
I walk out of the dining room, so that you don’t see me trying to dry my tears. I bring out the cake that I tried to frost as perfectly as I could. Given all my failed attempts, I hope that this time I’ve learned something.
You look down at your plate, dragging your fork right through the slice.
“You’re never going to get this right, are you?”
I throw my fork down on the table, and put my head in my hands. I want to scream, and I look up and stare directly into your eyes, trying to find a way to stare into your soul.
“God, Jack, all this time has been wearing me down!” I say angrily, with my hands in my hair, and my heart on the floor.
“What do you want from me? I’ve given you my body, my food, my soul, my heart!” What more could you possibly want?”
“Adeline,” you say, tone growing harsh. “I’m leaving.”
I stand up and recklessly follow you to the door, trying to find the words of what to say, how to ask you to stay.
“Wait, Jack,” I call after you, but the door is closed and you and I are on opposite sides of it.
I run up to my room and grab my bag, the same one that I had when you and I ran away. I need to do better. For the baby. I start to pack my clothes, and throw in all the money I’ve saved up since we got back here.
No one is ever going to be able to affect me like that again. Not like that. Not like you. That heartbreak is the once in a lifetime kind of ache. I’ll look for you on every street corner, and at the end of the day I’ll find you nowhere.
I throw the bag over my shoulder, and run downstairs. I look at the uneaten cake on the table and I take a deep breath. I’m ready to walk out, and as I open the door, there you are, standing in front of me. I don’t say anything. You stand, out of breath and eyes wide like a soldier. I watch you stand there, and try to read your mind. I always let you read mine.
“Adeline,” you whisper. My pulse speeds up and I see your eyes following the cracks in the doorframe. Your words are heavy and your eyes are half shut. “My father told me I’d be a failure, and a disgrace if I didn’t do this. He told me I wouldn’t be his son if I didn’t own up to my mistake. So Adeline.” You pause and my legs go weak. I take a step back and suck in my breath. I look from your eyes to the door frame, and then down at your shoes. Time might as well not even exist anymore, and if time does still exist, it’s made of you. All the time I’ve had has always been yours.
“Do you wanna marry me?”