25. Seven Years Later

Seven Years Later

Hadley never moved far, far away like she once had hoped. In fact, she didn't move away at all until shortly after her twentieth birthday. She wanted to escape countless times but was afraid her father wouldn't survive without her, and as mad as she was, she couldn't stomach losing another loved one. No matter how loose the term. Her father had grown increasingly dependent on her cooking and cleaning and relied on her to obey whatever he could think up and demand. She felt responsible for him in a way a child never should. She felt bad for him, but mainly she felt angry. So angry.

Even worse, he knew how to press her buttons and never missed the opportunity to remind her to grow up and stop playing pony. She had to pull her weight, then pull some more. To hell with the farm. He made sure of that. She had built up so much resentment toward her father, but afraid of making things worse, she kept it buried deep, gnawing like an ulcer in her gut.

Hadley, laying with her legs sprawled across her perfectly made bed, thought back to that day seven years ago when she showed up on Dorothy's front steps in tears. She wouldn't be able to balance everything the way she promised she could. She remembered noticing how much slower Dorothy moved and how much her face had aged, her skin a thin crepe paper. It all had made Hadley feel that much worse to be abandoning someone who actually needed her.

She would never forget how kind and understanding Dorothy was in that moment; explaining to her that she knew the day would come and how much she appreciated all the hard work she had done. Dorothy made her promise to stop by and visit when she could, no matter how rare. She would always be welcome. Hadley's promise back was as thinly veiled a lie as she believed Dorothy's open invitation was. There was no way, in Hadley's mind, that she would be welcomed back.

Still, in the months that followed, Hadley woke up on Saturdays and walked to the farm, planting her feet on the outside of the fence to watch the horses. Often she would see Dorothy or Kimberly teaching a small group of seven or eight-year-olds the basics of how to interact with horses and watch them guide the lucky children around in slow circles. Whenever her eyes found Snow White, her heart would race with a desire to duck between the fence posts and run toward her. She'd visualize Dorothy pulling her into a tight hug while Snow White pranced in place and the children clapped with excitement over the unexpected reunion.

Or. Hadley's mind always wandered to the ‘or'. Or Dorothy and the children would be annoyed by the interruption, Snow White would give her the cold shoulder, and her father would wake up and angrily notice she was not at home. The ‘or' always made her back away from the fence and sulk home. She failed every time, deciding the next Saturday would be the day she'd re-find her peace.

Back then, when not at school or cleaning the house, her time had been spent working at Daisy it was for losing his way of life. He no longer had someone who provided him unconditional love, offered him easy forgiveness, and surrounded him with the brightness and joy that her mom so naturally exuded. He existed, through her light, as the man of the hour, perched on his easily fractured pedestal. With her gone, he was left with Hadley, a reminder of all he lost. Ultimately, he served the same for Hadley.

***

When Hadley finally told her father she was leaving two years ago, he laughed in her face. A mist of hot spit covered her as his disapproval slurred loudly from his mouth. He told her she would fail and be back within a month and then she'd have hell to pay. She packed a few boxes the following week and left quickly without saying goodbye. She was utterly terrified of failing, hoping she'd never have to face her dad's told ya so looks.

She spent those first two years in a small, rundown studio apartment in Cumberland. It was the only place she could find that was low maintenance and close to the flower shop where she started working full-time after high school. For the first few months, she walked forty minutes each way to work, but in a rare moment of kindness, that Hadley still didn't understand, her father had given her his car. It was a lifesaver. Though, she sometimes wondered if he did this to keep a finger on her pulse. He knew, as much as she did, that he could take the car back whenever he pleased. In his constant state of half-awareness, he rarely drove, usually relying on one of his co-workers to pick him up whenever he was assigned to a job. It blew Hadley's mind how her father was even employed at this point. She thought maybe his boss felt sorry for him. He was demoted to general labor, at the most basic level, during Hadley's junior year of high school.

Shaking the memories from her mind, Hadley took in the fresh scent of her cozy new apartment while she lounged comfortably in her bedroom. Was cozy the word? Quaint? Tiny. The walls were a dull white, and the carpet beige. The space felt brightened by the assortment of wall hangings and knick knacks she collected from thrift stores since moving out.

Above her couch was an orange and pink sunset printed on a stretched canvas, to the left she hung a Grease movie poster and in the narrow hallway were a pair of floral prints. Her mom's bookcase in the living room was topped by two white resin sculptures of faceless women reading, which were practically free at the Salvation Army because of their chipped exterior. A few steps away in her kitchen, she placed a mustard colored hand towel by the sink and on the back counter a garage sale blue and white ceramic chicken cookie jar and a set of hand painted floral salt and pepper shakers.

In her bedroom, where she currently sat, a muted print of a brown pinto horse standing front and center with a wooden barn in the snow-filled background hung above her head. Her nightstand held a small alarm clock, the alabaster figurine from her father, and the photo of her mom as a teenager, now secured in a slightly tarnished silver frame.

She admired her hodge podge of decorations and smiled whenever she saw Snow White's horseshoe above her front door. She got up from her bed and walked around her apartment barefoot. On occasion she'd step heavier than necessary, just to prove to herself that nobody cared how loud her feet were. The carpets were installed right before she moved in, so her feet sunk into the fresh plush with each step. Often, she found herself standing in place and wiggling her toes until they got lost in the fibers.

Hadley's closet-sized bedroom was only three feet away from her narrow kitchen space but she didn't mind being cramped as long as she had space for her mother's bookcase, which she did. The finish on the wood was faded and the shelves had warped, but she cherished it and the collection of books it held. Hadley's father had surprised her mom with the handbuilt piece when they first got married. It was the first thing Hadley unpacked and set up. It sat immediately to the left of the kitchen, across from a small couch. Whenever she walked past it, she made a new promise to start reading again. The bottom two shelves held the books she hadn't yet touched and the top shelf stored all of her favorites, most of which have been read multiple times.

Just past Hadley's bedroom was a narrow window and a small bathroom. Inside the bathroom was a sink, a mauve colored toilet and a narrow stand-up shower. She only needed to take one step inside and could then pivot in place to face the sink, use the bathroom, or step into the shower. Hadley was glad to have maintained a slender shape since she wasn't sure she would've otherwise fit.

Another positive of this new apartment, compared to her last place, was that the heating and air conditioning worked. And no unidentifiable odors.

Whenever she paused to look out of the window at the end of the hall, she'd see the busy city streets lined with trees. Every sixth tree was paired with a dark green lamp post. The view sent a burst of fresh air through her system. She felt safe knowing there were always women, clad in legwarmers and oversized t-shirts, walking their dogs or strollers on the half-lit concrete sidewalks.

Late at night, that same window showcased a beautiful display of bright, scattered stars. The stunning night sky often caught in her throat as she stared in awe. Her heart bloomed whenever she imagined it was her mom cascaded across the sky and she hoped her mom was proud to see how grown up and responsible she'd become.

She decided that first evening after moving in, while standing at that window, that this was exactly the move she needed. The rent, $430 per month, would be covered with a minimum wage job and the layout had everything she needed at an arm's length. Literally. This would make a great home with the perfect backdrop for a new beginning. Next up, a new job.