Snippets

She watched as her hair drifted to the ground in clumps. The limp, blonde strands fell from her head like leaves on a cool autumn day. It was eight inches, total. Adelaide glanced at the mirror in front of her before flicking her eyes away with a grimace. Cutting off eight inches was a drastic change, but she knew it was time.

Cutting that hair off was like losing a close friend, or something like that. Maybe that wasn't the correct way to describe it. Adelaide had been through that before. Cutting off eight inches of hair was simple compared to that. She grimaced again, remembering the reason she was at the salon in the first place. She pushed and shoved against the memories, but they were too strong.

The memories were a battering ram, breaking down any walls that Adelaide had built to keep them from invading her long sought peace. She held onto the salon chair's armrests with a vise like grip, her knuckles turning white. Now wasn't the time. It wasn't time to break down and cry. That was for later, probably at night while everyone else slept. Adelaide squeezed her eyes together, and a few stray tears tumbled down her face.

Trembling, she lifted herself out of the chair and onto legs like gelatin.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but your haircut isn't quite finished," mentioned the stylist. She made a snipping motion with her scissors, and a soft fwip fwip sound was emitted from them.

Adelaide turned toward the woman with the scissors, and her unfinished hair cut brushed the top of her shoulders. She retrieved a ten dollar bill from deep in her jacket pocket and shoved it at the woman.

"Keep the change," Adelaide muttered before whipping around and stumbling toward the front door. She was done with this, done with drama, done with people and their ability to be oblivious to others' problems. Not that she wanted attention, but it would be comforting to know that someone cared.

Adelaide left the noxious fumes of hair products behind as she walked on the sidewalk of downtown Markusville. Instead, she was greeted with the industrial smell of the city. She tried to hold herself together, only a tiny bit longer. Soon, she was running through the streets to her only safe haven.

The park was a beautiful place. Adelaide stepped onto the bright green grass of the freshly trimmed lawn. Leaves crackled under her feet, and a chilly breeze blew through the trees. She didn't stop walking, and the tears only came harder. Somewhere in the center of the park, she plopped herself onto the plush grass. This was the closest she could ever get to absolute silence, and even then, the noises of the city soaked into the core of the park, drenching it in its poison. The stench of factories still lingered, and the rumble of engines was constant in her ears. Even here, in the bowels of a park, Adelaide could not escape the heaviness of the city and the pressure of life.

She scooted to lean against a tree, her back scraping against the rough bark. It stung, but Adelaide didn't really notice the pain. The fall breeze rounded up leaves and made them dance in the air. Adelaide pulled her knees up to her chest. A light, denim jacket wasn't quite enough for the sharp, fall weather.

All she could think about was the death happening around her. The leaves were dying. The flowers were dying. People died everyday. She failed to notice the beauty of the crimson leaves as they flitted and floated to the ground. She ignored the laughter coming from two teenage girls as they strolled through the park. She only buried her head into her knees and made herself as small as possible. Laughter floated through the air, this time louder.

The joyous noises reminded Adelaide of her best friend, Gabrielle. Well, they reminded her of the old Gabrielle. She could perfectly picture the crescent smile on her tan face, and the way her eyes squinted when she laughed. That was no more. More recent in the memories that had broken her walls were red faces and tear stained cheeks, and a dark secret that wouldn't, couldn't see the light of day.

Adelaide slipped her phone out of her pocket. The last day Gabrielle had sent her a text was a week ago, on Saturday. Goodbye. She hadn't known what the single word meant, but it was all too clear now. Pressing the call button, she lifted her phone up to her ear. It rang four times, each as long as a lifetime, before a high pitched beep filled her ear.

"Gabrielle. I'm in our park, in our spot where you told me your secret. I know I need to let go, so this is probably the last time I'll call you." Adelaide let out a small sniffle. "Don't worry, though, I won't forget you," she said. Her words wavered with emotion. There was no way Adelaide could have said everything in a single phone call, so she stopped it short before the sobs could escape.

Reaching into her front pocket, she plucked out a worn piece of folded notebook paper. It was ragged at the edges, and the folds were beginning to rip from use. Adelaide opened it, probably for the last time.

Dear Adelaide,

I'm not brave enough to say this out loud, so I'll tell you here, in a note that no one else will ever read. I'm not happy. Everything feels hopeless. Tell me, what's the point of continuing when everything can only get worse? I don't understand how people keep going. I will try. I promise.

Love,
Gabriella

A fat tear drop rolled down Adelaide's cheek and plopped onto the note. Guilt coursed through her. If only she had found help for Gabriella, if only she knew how to make her happier, if only she knew how to save a life, none of this would have happened.

Adelaide was broken by her guilt. If only were the two words that couldn't leave her mind. It was all her fault; she should have seen the signs. She should have seen them sooner.

In a fit of rage, she ripped the note in two. A satisfactory shredding noise filled the area around Adelaide. Pressure built in her head until she couldn't hold the tears back any longer. They cascaded down her freckle covered face and down her neck. The tears were sticky, warm, and uncomfortable. Turning around, she gouged a hole in the dirt at the base of the tree. Cool autumn soil stuck under her finger nails, turning them brown. Infuriation and anguish caused her to demolish the little note even more. She stamped it into the ground, annihilating Gabrielle's secret.

A deep sigh escaped Adelaide. Her hands, which had been clenched into fists, relaxed. Her breathing calmed, and the tension in her shoulders dissipated. The tears never ceased, though. She picked up her phone again and turned it on. It was time to delete Gabrielle's number, even if she would never forget the seven digits. As she clicked it on, Adelaide accidentally pressed the camera button.

She let out a quiet gasp. Her unfinished haircut was uneven and jagged. It was pitiful looking, sad even. A deep frown creased Adelaide's forehead. The haircut was just a minor petulance, but in her broken state, it felt like the last straw. Actually, Adelaide was way past the last straw. She had been for a whole week: the amount of time Gabrielle had been dead.

Adelaide continued to delete the phone number. It felt good, cleansing. Maybe she could be free from guilt, at last.

By now, the sun had begun to set. Rivulets of light snuck through the tree branches, coating everything in golden light. Perhaps it was the beauty, or her newfound innocence, but in spite of everything, Adelaide smiled a soft smile.

She slid down the tree trunk. The grass itched her legs, and there was a swarm of gnats swirling around the air. She swatted at the annoying little bugs, sniffling a bit. Ignoring the missed calls and texts from her parents, Adelaide leaned her head against the rough bark. Tomorrow would be better.