2. Forced to Grow Up

Forced to Grow Up

One year later, Hadley grew up.

"Are you ready to go, Had?" She hated how empty her father's voice sounded. Is he mad? At the last second, Hadley ran toward her parent's room, tripping over her feet to stop before crossing the threshold. For the past three days, every time she tried to walk in, she broke down and a wave of nauseous redirected her to the bathroom.

Suddenly desperate, she braced herself and went in. A woody, floral fragrance hung heavy in the air, instantly suffocating her. Something black, Hadley panicked through quickened breaths. She shuffled through the collection of vibrant dresses until she reached her mom's black shawl toward the back. She grabbed it and shut the closet doors. Halfway out the bedroom, she turned back and stepped up to her mom's vanity. She closed her eyes and spritzed herself in the same perfume that moments ago clogged her throat. She took a sharp breath in. Please be here, Mom. Please be here. Slowly releasing her squeezed eyelids, she saw only the empty space around her.

Hadley turned toward the hallway and stepped down the stairs to meet her dad at the front door. He, like her, was drenched in black. She tugged at her mom's shawl, keeping it draped over her sunken shoulders as she wiped her tear-stained cheeks. She hid her puffy eyes behind a pair of black plastic sunglasses. Outside there was a driver standing against a 1970 Monte Carlo waiting for them. Her brow creased as she tilted her head, wondering why her father wasn't driving. If Hadley had been allowed to lean into her dad for support, she would have felt the harsh burn of bourbon lingering on his hot breath.

Hadley opened the door and slid into the back seat. She started to scooch across the bench seat to make room for her father, when the door shut, and she was left alone. She swallowed hard watching her dad get into the front seat. She wanted to ask him to sit with her, but all that came out when she opened her mouth was a tiny gasp as tears collected at the back of her throat. She stared at the back of his head, willing him to turn around and check on her. She waited and waited, but he never did. She needed him. Needed to lay against his chest and feel some sense of grounding, but he was too busy making small talk with the driver to notice.

She sank against the door, another piece of her heart cracking. She shifted away from the window, hating how the world around her remained vibrant despite her all-consuming dark cloud. She tried to close her eyes but the darkness overwhelmed her. Her mom was no longer there to comfort her after a bad dream, and as much as she wished this to be one big, bad dream it was her heartbreaking reality. It felt much too big and all too real. Instead, she took a deep breath and held it for as long as she could, feeling the pressure push against her lungs until she had no choice but to exhale. She did this a few more times, trying not to burst, until the sound of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Only then could she finally release the tension holding up her shoulders. She separated her clenched teeth and stretched out her fingers while her father spoke in a hushed monotone voice to the driver, unaware of her anxiety. Why did you have to go, mom?

As they drove toward the church, Hadley wondered what her future would look like now that the family's rock was gone. She wished she could rest her head on her mother's lap like she'd done so many times before. Before she knew it, the car pulled up to the entrance of St. Anthony's Cathedral. Hadley was used to attending St. Anthony's every Sunday for services with her mother but today was Saturday and it felt very different. She walked up the front steps, as she had so many times before, but this time gripped the black metal railing to steady herself.

She stood outside the white doors, looking at the colonial brick fa?ade and ornate white pillars in front of her. She once loved rushing inside, tugging at her mom's hand, hurrying to sit as close to the Italian marble altar as possible. She was mesmerized each week by the intricately designed stained-glass windows and the countless rows of stunning red mahogany pews.

Today was breathtaking in a different way. There was no hand holding and definitely no rush to get inside. Her feet, heavier than her heart, refused to move until her father placed his shaky hand on her back and pushed her forward. She slowly unraveled her left hand from the railing, knuckles white, and wiggled feeling back into her fingers. She sucked back the emotion and took her steps slowly until she was inside and sitting in the once coveted but now dreaded first row.

The service was long. Hadley never stood up, even after her father whispered in her ear that this was her last chance. "You'll regret it," he scolded. When she shook her head, he shrugged and got up without her. She sat and stared at her folded hands, when suddenly she felt the twitch of a smile and heard echoes of her mom's angelic voice singing "We Go Together" from Grease. She sat in the memory, content with her decision.

After the recessional, family members that she never met walked up to Hadley and placed their hands on her shoulder. Their condolences were generic and half-hearted. I wonder if I'll see any of these people again. "Dad, can we go home?" Hadley whispered. Her father paused his conversation only long enough to wave her off with a disgruntled look. Despite the summer heat, Hadley wanted to crawl under her blankets and hide until this feeling of dread and loss somehow disappeared.

Looking for a way out, she spotted the Pink Ladies standing together in the back corner of the cathedral. Hadley approached them and gave each lady a hug. Unlike the forced condolences from a few minutes ago, the ladies' words coated Hadley with comfort. She leaned against Jeanine who was wearing a black wide-legged jumpsuit, and listened to the memories they were sharing. She felt, just for a moment, like she was back in her living room, holding a milk martini, instead of a prayer card.

***

For the next week, Hadley laid in her mother's bed. At some point the tears stopped but still she felt like a shell, ready to crack. Every morning she sprayed the musky floral scent of her mom's perfume into the air, allowing the soothing scent to envelop her while she held tight to a pine green teddy bear. She spent hours replaying memories in her mind until she could hear her mom's melodic laugh and feel her warm embrace. She pictured the curve of her mom's profile, the upturn of her nose, the sparkle in her oceanic eyes. She did this over and over, desperate to remember.

She felt a pang of guilt whenever she thought back to her birthday celebration last month. Her mom had been so excited. "I know you're thirteen now and you're much too grown for silly stuffed animals," her mom had teased. "But you'll always be my little girl. I had to buy this when I saw it."

Hadley had thought the bear was stupid and childish and planned to toss it into the pile of outgrown clothes and other stuffed animals in the corner of her messy bedroom. She rattled off a flippant thank you with a quick side hug to her mom and shifted immediately to the other present her parents had set on the table. She opened this second gift with a squeal, instead of an eyeroll, noticing a pair of bold plastic sunglasses. It was the style that former first lady, Jackie O., was always wearing in the newspapers and fashion magazines. Hadley wanted to look and feel older, stuck in her boyish body, and her new oversized frames with round black lenses did the trick. She thought it was cool, no, the neatest gift ever. She never gave that stuffed animal a second glance. Not until now. Now, she wouldn't let go of it. While the sunglasses sat forgotten on her dresser, the bear was clutched tight against her chest. I'm sorry, Mom. I'm still your little girl. Hadley hoped her mom could somehow hear her.

***

Hadley hardly ate that first week even though there were plenty of tuna casseroles, lasagnas, and ham and cheese quiches in the fridge from worried women around the neighborhood. While it was a nice gesture, she just wanted to wake up from this nightmare to the smell of her mom's homemade meatloaf and parsley potatoes. Instead, when she walked into the kitchen, she saw a table that no longer had a centerpiece of fresh flowers and a countertop that was slowly becoming cluttered with her father's junk. Since she no longer felt the joy that usually lingered in the air, she started to avoid the kitchen entirely and the Tupperware meals in the fridge were left untouched. She simply couldn't stomach the idea of sitting alone and eating a meal made by someone else's mom. Instead, she chose to ignore the gnawing ache that grew in her stomach.

It didn't help that Hadley's father seemed to come home after dinner more and more often. She sometimes noticed receipts left on the counter for orders of bar wings or McDonald's burgers. Hadley used to hate whenever her father brought her home a happy meal, why can't I have a Big Mac, too, she'd complain. Now she'd give anything for him to show up with a kid's meal in hand. She'd give anything just for his attention.

She could tell he was finding reasons to avoid her; she thought maybe he didn't want to deal with her perpetual sadness. He was often out at the bar but when he was around, he seemed to slip out of the room the moment she walked in. "Dad, let's play crazy eights like we used to," she asked in a moment of hope. She used to love those Sunday card games. They'd play after finishing whatever household project he was working on. A few months ago he let her help him and she remembered feeling so proud when he complimented how evenly she painted the pantry door.

"Why would I want to play cards, Hadley? You think I have nothing better to do?"

Hadley tucked the deck of cards into the back pocket of her pants and walked away quietly. She wasn't used to being alone like this. Before losing her mom, they had family dinners and shared stories from their days. Her father always cared about what Hadley and her mom had to say. Why doesn't he care anymore? He never went upstairs to check on her and certainly never offered to reheat a meal or play a game. He rarely even looked at her anymore.

Lately, Hadley noticed something else. There seemed to be more and more days where her father seemed to barely be able to stand, losing the battle between his balance and a bottle. He took camp in the velour chair at the edge of the living room with the lights off, making the maroon painted walls seem black in the evening. Hadley never knew what her father was thinking about when he sat in the shadows. The only thing she felt sure about was without her mom's unconditional love and support, and without her light to brighten her father's darkness, things would never be the same.