23. Everything Would Change

Everything Would Change

Hadley failed. She tried endlessly to get Dorothy to understand that she could still do it. She could sleep when she was dead; she heard that once. She's young, remember? Full of energy! Still, she failed.

Dorothy gently explained to her that there was no way she could go to school all day long then work after and still have time to help on the farm. There's not enough daylight before school or after work. Plus, homework only gets harder as you get older. It wouldn't be manageable for anyone, not even Hadley. It would be okay, Dorothy assured her. Everything would be just fine. No need to worry.

Except nothing would be fine. At the end of this week Hadley would stop going to the farm. She'd stop cleaning the stables, stop riding Snow White, and stop bonding with Dorothy over fresh baked goods. Everything would change and nothing would be fine. Tears streamed out as Hadley curled against her bay window, clutching her stuffed animal with a blanket draped over her. She made no attempt to control her emotions, letting her sadness overflow and soak the neckline of her t-shirt. Her eyes burned from the stream and her breathing came out ragged. Every few minutes a gasp would accompany her crying as she reached for oxygen.

After what felt like hours, she heard her father's engine roar as he turned into the driveway. The squeaking of the breaks let her know he would be parked and inside shortly. She tried to take a few calming deep breaths, but nothing worked. She felt too broken. The best she could manage was one deep breath in. She welcomed the rising pressure on her chest that crept into her throat. Her tears stopped but the burning did not. She could feel her heart slamming against her chest. Her thoughts became fuzzy and her surroundings drained of color.

Slam!

The front door swung open and closed with enough force to jolt Hadley. She let out several wheezing breaths as the colors around her reappeared. She wiped the blanket against her face while her heart still jackhammered inside her chest. She looked down to find a series of red crescent shaped indents on her palms. She must have been clenching her fists without realizing. After a few more gulps of air, Hadley stood up. She placed her teddy bear gently against the window and neatly folded the blanket. She rubbed her hands down her outfit, smoothing invisible wrinkles. She wiped under her eyes one last time, hoping it eliminated the sight of sadness.

Hadley walked across her bedroom and placed a hand on the doorknob. She debated turning around and bundling herself under her covers for the night. Maybe her father wouldn't notice she went to bed early. Maybe he would. Everything would be fine. Dorothy's words rang in her head over and over. She used the mantra to get herself past her bedroom door and down the stairs.

"Hey Dad."

"Well aren't you a sight."

"Oh, um, I was working on my summer book report, that's all."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. How come?" Hadley was taken back by her father's doubt. Surely her father knew that all kids had summer assignments.

"I'm just saying. Your eyes are awful bloodshot and puffy for doing a book report." Hadley watched as her father took a few steps toward the kitchen and glanced at his bar cart. Did he think she was drunk? After witnessing her father's rapid decline, Hadley promised herself she'd never try a sip. Even if she wanted to, she'd never be dumb enough to steal alcohol from her father. Of all the things he freaked out over, she knew this would be the worst.

"Oh. I mean it was just a long day," Hadley mumbled. Hadley kept her eyes trained on her fingers as she felt her father get close again. She assumed he didn't blatantly accuse her because he had no idea how much bourbon should be in the bottle in the first place.

"What kind of long day can a kid even have," he gruffed. Hadley wasn't sure if her father was looking for a response or stating the obvious: his life was harder than hers. He stared at her momentarily and then walked with annoyance into the kitchen and this time reached for a glass tumbler from the cabinet. After he filled it with two fingers of bourbon, he turned back around. "Well?"

"Oh.Um."

He rolled his eyes impatiently as he waited for her to speak.

"It's the end of summer, that's all."

"What's your point? I thought you liked school."

She hated school, even in elementary school. Why didn't he know that? "It's not school starting. Well, not exactly. Um, it's just with working —"

"That monkey's not firin' you because of the school year, is he? I swear to God, Hadley, I'll walk my ass right down there and cause real problems if that's what you're tellin' me."

"No, no," Hadley blurted. She could tell his question had nothing to do with protecting her and everything to do with making sure she would still be handing over her money every week. "He actually offered to switch my hours. I'll be able to work after school."

"Good. Then what's the issue?"

"It's nothing, really. I'm being dramatic." Hadley tried to wave it off, but her father was like a dog with a bone.

"I'm about to be dramatic if you don't spit it out."

"I won't be able to help on the farm anymore. With school and the flower shop and then having to do my homework and chores around here. There's no time left," Hadley said with a shrug. She tried to sound casual and like she hadn't spent the last few hours crying.

"Always the farm. If the worst thing in your life is that you can't play pony, then you're fine. Like I been saying, it's time to grow up."

"I'm only fifteen."

"Your point?"

"I guess I don't have one," Hadley said as she walked back toward the staircase.

"Just where do you think you're going? Don't think I haven't noticed this house ain't been cleaned up yet. My clothes are overflowing the basket, and the oven isn't even preheated."

His ranting didn't affect Hadley as it normally would.

She felt numb.

She felt bold.

"I don't care! You do it, you jerk!"

She ran up the stairs and slammed her door shut. She used the adrenaline coursing through her to push her dresser against the door. She didn't want her father tearing in and grabbing her. She took a deep breath once the barrier was in place. She walked, not caring which floorboards creaked, toward her bed and sat on the floor. She stretched her legs out and felt the cold metal of her bed frame press against the middle of her back.

She turned her head toward her door and waited a few minutes. She could hear her father cursing and slamming cabinets, but it didn't sound like he was getting any closer. Maybe he wouldn't chase her after all. Maybe he was just waiting until she stopped being scared, then he would set off on a rampage. He probably wanted to catch her off guard.

Assuming she was alone for now, she tilted her body against her bed and reached her arm underneath. She slowly, quietly, pulled out the cream-colored box patterned with orange and brown flowers from her fourteenth birthday. She opened the lid to see her mother's dress, perfectly preserved for her. Hadley's fingers hovered gently over the material as a few tears started to fall. She lifted the dress and set it gently next to her. She then collected the money she had hiding underneath.

Every week when she was paid, she pocketed a few dollars for herself. It was never enough for her father to notice. As she counted up her savings she realized she was making progress. If she could keep hiding money away until she was eighteen, she could leave. She felt confident she could escape this house and her father. She wouldn't need him anymore. She hardly needed him now. Satisfied with this thought, she neatly placed the dress in the box and slid it back under her bed.

She grabbed her bear that was laying by the bay window and collapsed into bed. Hadley burrowed her thin body into the bedding, wishing she had opted to do that from the start. Hadley brought the stuffed animal, which she occasionally spritzed with her mom's perfume, up near her face. She rested her chin on top of it and let the comforting scent envelop her. After a few minutes she started to gently cry into her pillow. She cried because she missed her mom. She cried because she was afraid of her father. She cried because she didn't know what else to do.

***

The next morning, Hadley looked around her room as she stretched her arms above her head. Dread washed over her when her eyes landed on the dresser blocking her door. She had stayed up for hours waiting for her father to push through and whip open her door. She imagined he would rip her from her bed to shake the sass right out of her. Overpower her. Defeat her. Instead, nothing happened. The silence. The anticipation. It was just as frightening. Knowing she was now okay, she stepped out of bed. She padded sleepily to her window and saw the empty driveway. Phew. Hadley walked toward her door and started to lean her body against the dresser to slide it back in place. She was startled by how heavy and difficult it was to move. It was barely budging. Wasn't this easy last night? Once she struggled it into place, she wiped her brow and continued on her way.

Oh, okay. Hadley stopped on the bottom step of the staircase. Her eyes slowly shifted around and her mouth popped open. Her father may not have hunted her down, but he still set out to teach her a lesson. She looked around the main level of their home to find the couch pillows thrown, laundry scattered, a can of half-eaten chili beans on the mantle, the dirty fork abandoned on the coffee table, and multiple water rings wherever her father rested his tumbler. He took the time to toss the laundry around?

In spite of herself, she hung her head and accepted defeat and let out a frustrated sigh as she started with the clothes. She grabbed the empty basket, tossed on its side in the corner, and started to fill it back up before she dragged it to the laundry machine. She made sure to reach into every pocket before tossing the clothing into the machine. She thought back to the time when a stick of gum was left in her father's jeans pocket and how it made a complete mess. He all but killed her for that. Ever since, she double checked. Today she pulled out a chocolate wrapper, a few old receipts, a napkin, and a peppermint. She tucked the peppermint into her own pocket before throwing everything else away. She was sure her father wouldn't notice a missing candy and thought it would make the perfect treat for her favorite horse.

Once the washing machine kicked on, she went back to cleaning. She reconstructed the couch, cleaned up the food, wiped away the water marks, and dusted the surfaces. Lastly, she grabbed the Hoover and gave the floor a quick once over. She checked the clock and estimated another 20 minutes until the laundry could be moved to the dryer. She'd have to walk quickly to make sure she'd get to work on time. As she waited, she made fast work of the dirty dishes.Once they were clean, she laid them in the drying rack. She then grabbed an english muffin and poured a glass of milk before sitting at the kitchen table. She stayed there, sulking, until the washing machine buzzer came to life. With that, she quickly washed her milk glass and rushed to the laundry room. The moment her father's clothing started tumbling in the dryer, she dashed toward the front door.

She opened it - then closed it. She spun around and ran up the stairs to grab her backpack. She didn't have time to grab a snack but at least she'd have a change of clothing. Backpack in hand, she ran down the stairs and flew out the front door. With any luck, and some quick feet, she would arrive at Daisy & Daffodil with seconds to spare.