17. Time to Grow Up

Time to Grow Up

Over the next few months Hadley settled into her new routine, often waking up a few minutes before her alarm clock rattled. With the extra hour each morning, she had no excuse not to keep the house pristine. She would mop the kitchen floor, often kneeling down to hand scrub the caked-on mud that her dad's work boots left behind, before moving on to vacuum the other floors. Next, she dusted and wiped every surface she could reach. She made sure any dishes or glassware left behind from her father's night were washed, dried, and put away, stacking them all in evenly spaced uniformed rows. Lastly, she would carefully clean and wipe down the bar cart, throwing away any used napkins and returning the cap to the bottle. She wouldn't let her shoulders drop until everything was in perfect order.

Every evening, when Hadley set the oven for her dinner, she would use the preheating time to collect laundry. Whenever her father wasn't home, and normally he wasn't, she would go into his room to pick up his strewn laundry, toss it into a basket, and bring it downstairs to the washing machine. After starting the wash cycle, she'd take out a frozen dinner and put it in the oven. While her dinner cooked, she would return to her dad's room where she'd spend the next ten minutes cleaning the space. Before this new routine, she never realized quite how messy her father was. Her mom really did do a lot.

Each night after dinner and before bedtime, Hadley went through a mental checklist and made sure her morning efforts were repeated. She took a few minutes to walk from room to room and tidy up anything that fell out of place. The house was as clean as it had ever been. Now when her father came home from work, or the bar, he was greeted by evenly spaced and fluffed couch pillows, dishes neatly stacked behind closed doors, and freshly folded and put away laundry. She was determined to eliminate all opportunities for her father to get angry. She tried her best to become the perfect daughter. She hoped her mom was looking down on her with pride. Despite the nervous thread in her chest, waiting to be pulled loose, Hadley felt accomplished. However, between waking up early, cleaning the house, attending school, working on the farm, riding the horses, doing homework, and cleaning up again in the evening, she also felt exhausted.

Hadley's eyes grew heavy as she laid in bed and thought about how school would let out in a few weeks. She couldn't believe it was already almost summer again, though it would be a nice change to have some downtime. She missed reading at night, a luxury she could no longer afford. She imagined she'd have the time over the summer. She rotated in bed, shifting her gaze to her mom's bookcase. She squinted to see the titles better. There was a whole shelf of books she hadn't yet read. Unable to clearly read the titles, she decided she would pick one in the morning and place it on her nightstand for when school let out.

Moments after drifting to sleep, Hadley was startled awake by the sound of her dad's voice. It took a minute to realize that she wasn't dreaming. She heard her name twice before realizing it definitely was not a dream. She quickly got out of bed and walked toward her door. She grabbed her bathrobe off the hook on the back of her door, slipping it on, before walking into the hallway and down the stairs.

"Dad? Were you calling my name?"

"Yes. Jesus. What took you so long?" Hadley's father was sitting on the couch wearing old, torn jeans and a dirty neon yellow shirt. His mud-caked work boots were lying under the kitchen table. Hadley noticed the tracks on the floor she'd have to wash in the morning. She sighed as she finished surveying the area. Her eyes landed on the half empty glass of bourbon rattling in her dad's hand.

"Sorry, Dad. I was asleep so I didn't hear you right away. Is everything okay?" Hadley wondered if her dad realized how late it was. The look on his face made her think otherwise.

"Asleep?" He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Must be nice." Hadley stared at her dad waiting for more. "Sit. We need to talk." His voice was thick with demand.

Hadley walked over and sat on the nearby chair. She tucked her feet up, tightening the bathrobe around her waist, and faced her father.

"You're going to be fifteen soon."

Hadley wasn't sure what his point was. Her birthday last June was one of the last nice moments she had with her father. Maybe this year will be the same. Maybe he was feeling sentimental. For a moment she started wondering if her father was about to suggest they do something special. That bubble burst quickly.

"Are you deaf or stupid?"

"Neither." Hadley said quietly as she wiped her sweaty hands against her bathrobe. "Sorry. Yes, my birthday is in two months..."

"Right," he said as he took a long pull from his tumbler. "Which means you need to start pulling your weight around here."

"Oh." Hadley was confused. She thought she was already doing that. Especially compared to last year.

"You don't just get a free ride for life, Hadley."

"I know. I don't expect that. I have been doing a lot though, around the house I mean."

"You think because you sweep the floor and wash a few loads of laundry that you're suddenly Alice Nelson?"

"Who?"

"The housekeeper. Brady Bunch." Hadley watched as he rolled his eyes and let out a gruff sigh.

"The Brady… Oh… No of course, not… I know I'm not a housekeeper. But I've been trying hard to make sure the house is clean."

"Oh yeah, it's simply a-maz-ing." His sarcasm left Hadley defeated. She was constantly exhausted from her efforts and he still didn't care. It wasn't enough.

"What are we talking about? With my birthday, I mean," Hadley questioned timidly.

"It's about you growing up and doing something around here." He spoke pointedly. "Once you turn fifteen, you're getting a job. I'm not gonna be the only one around here held responsible."

"A job?" Hadley stared wide eyed at her father.

"Again. Deaf or stupid?"

"I know what a job is. But am I even old enough to have one? I'm only a freshman."

"You only need to be fifteen to work. So, once again, when you turn fifteen, you're getting a job. You can find one that works around school."

"But what about –"

"I do not care about your little farm or whatever else is about to come outta your mouth. When you turn fifteen, you're getting a job. Plain and simple. I expect to see the money, too. It's high time you start contributing. Washing a few dishes ain't gonna cut it. That's called a chore, Hadley. Time to grow up."

She went to open her mouth again but stopped. She stared heartbroken at her hands.

"That's all." He waved his hand in the air, a clear indication that she was to leave the room so he could enjoy his night. Without her.

Hadley stood up and made her way back upstairs. Once in her room, she held her door handle twisted until the door was flush to the frame. She gently released the handle so that it wouldn't make a noise. She tiptoed into her bed, slid under her comforter, and curled up against her pillow. She buried her face against her teddy bear and cried until she eventually fell back to sleep.

While asleep, she dreamt of galloping the open land with Snow White. The wind was gentle, the sun bright, her mood elevated, and her smile wide. She woke up the opposite. Devastated.

She immediately wondered what would happen to the horses if she was forced to get a job somewhere. She knew Dorothy couldn't afford to pay her. She also knew Dorothy was too old to manage the horses without all the work that Hadley voluntarily did. Now what.

She decided to ignore the thumping in her chest and the sweat that dampened her palms. Instead, she would enjoy the next two months, until her birthday, and worry about it then. She couldn't bear to tell Dorothy her dad's demand. She was hoping she'd be able to balance it all. The house, school, the farm, a job. I can do it.

Determined to make the best out of it, Hadley got out of bed and started her day. She went downstairs and began her routine, spending an extra ten minutes on the path of mud her father left last night. She didn't have the nerve to ask him to leave his boots on the door mat. Instead, she obediently, defeatedly, cleaned up any mess he left behind, including the one currently rising in her throat.