the vibe of this song is really sandy but soft and neat to listen to. i like it. a lot. it fits well, i think. talking about how fear is a part of love and how he called his dad cuz he missed him and whatnot.... the quality, the aura of this sound resonates so well with how i wanted to give life to this story.
perhaps, if you listen hard enough, close your eyes, you might feel what i felt the first moment this idea came to my mind :)
you ever listen to a song and remember the first time you heard it and remember the exact way you felt and where you were in your life? or is that just me? well for me, i found this song a few years ago, sitting on our basement floor, making a friendship bracelet at like ten o'clock in the morning. the sound was attractive and i liked the feeling that he talked about, rolling the windows down on the interstate, how fresh and freeing that would feel. i was young and carefree then, not really understanding the depth of the lyrics as i do now. they feel so personal, they've become a part of me as i've grown up.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Daffy still came. The next day and the next.
Adrian still served her waffles. The next day and the next.
The only difference is that there is a line, sharp and dark between them. She would openly stare at him but like a bug light, the gaze would just disintegrate before it reached him.
The plate clinks against the table, a gorgeous waffle, still steaming with a giant dollop of whipped butter, crowning its perfection. The two of them stare at it for a second.
Adrian is the first to move away.
"Hey," Daffy calls before he can escape her presence. His feet don't let him make another step. His back to her, he just freezes at the sound of her voice. If only she knew how much power she truly had over him.
"I'm not gonna give up, you know." Her voice fuels the fire in his chest, but he does his best to quell the flames.
Adrian gives a small nod before going back into the kitchen.
But it can't happen. There he goes again, lying to himself. And he knows it. The more times he reminds himself, the less he believes it.
Why can't he just let her go?
...
Through the scratched and foggy window of the door, his eyes watch her stand up and leave the diner, making the room safe to be in again. He kicks himself, feeling all shades of guilt but not knowing why.
Why can't he brush away her kind smile and trusting eyes? Why does it still hurt? How could he just cut her out of his life?
Coming out of the kitchen to his notepad, he picks up his pen and begins to add more bird doodles into the open spaces. They look strange, contrasting with the light pencil marks of the other birds.
The shapes get smaller and smaller as they fill up the page. The little doodles cover the paper completely, and just like that, he realizes there's no undoing it. Daffy's filled up his heart exactly like this notebook. The fact is, if she were written on his heart in pencil, it would mean she was removable; she could be erased and completely disappear from the page as if she was never there to begin with. Try as he might to erase her, turns out, it's ink and not pencil. Ink is permanent.
Adrian turns the page back to the face he drew, all in ink.
She's there. Permanently.
The realization dawns that even the test of time can't wear it off. Down the road, ten years from now, the name of the blonde, waffle customer would still stay, legible and firm on the organ he can't live without.
Daffodil is permanent.
Adrian drops his pen on the counter, cutting through the customers to the kitchen.
"Kimmy!" he calls as the doors swing open.
Kimmy turns from the stove, surprised to hear Adrian's voice above a whisper.
"What was it you told me, when we were eating ice cream?" his hands curl around themselves. "I need to know what to do. I can't-I can't fix what's happened and I need to know that it's going to be okay-I don't want her to be stuck in this mess with me-I-"
"Okay, okay. I think you need some water," Kimmy grabs his shoulders and turns him to a chair in the corner. She sits him down, her hands remaining in place. Lips pursed, her all-knowing gaze travels over him. "You realized you're not scared of her, but yourself."
How does she do that?
He nods uncertainly. A glass of water is placed in his hands.
"You realized she's a good one, but your dad's path seems ingrained in your head."
It's scary; the amount of insight she has. But it makes his problems seem so much less terrifying and awful than in his head. He nods again.
"And who said your life is the same as your father's? Who said you are the same person as your father? Who said Daffodil would be stuck in your mess?"
"Well, I-"
"Nobody!" Kimmy knocks his head with her knuckles, trying to put some sense into his thick skull. "Nobody, Adrian. That girl is stronger than you think. You underestimate her. All of these worries, all of these problems, they're in your head! You're so far into the future, you can't even see the present! You don't even see the gift you've been given. So, stop wasting my time and go get her." She points out the door, a daring glare set on him.
"Ri-right now?" he stutters, awestruck.
"Of course, not right now. You're still on the clock." And with that, she's back at the stove, throwing orders at the other cooks.
Adrian trudges through the doors, more uncertainty filling him than before.
He isn't his father?
Was Daffy right, all along?
Could she be strong enough to be with him without compromising herself?
What if it really is all in his head? What if he's looking too far away from the present, not seeing that it's different?
If Kimmy is right... And Elie...
That would mean his future is his, and his alone. He doesn't have to close himself off from the world. He doesn't have to hide behind his walls.
All of this time, he thought it was up to him to keep everyone safe and unharmed by his inevitable future. But the only result that's come about is how far he has pushed those he loves away. In a way he had already become his father, already hurt everyone the same way he did by the same fear that they would get hurt.
But Elie ripped the band aid off. Kimmy slapped the fresh skin and now he sees what he's done. The difference, now, is that Adrian has caught the wound before it gets infected. Unlike his father who fed the infection with his drinking and unreasonable fears, Adrian will clean and care for the wound till it heals.
He can let go of the past because he is not his father. And he won't make the same mistake.
: Sunday :
The bus creaks, that sound of the breaks puffing, as it pulls to the curb.
Adrian smiles at a baby in front of him, crossing his eyes just to amuse her. The baby giggles as the bus lurches to a stop and the squeaky doors open.
Gripping his backpack, he steps out of the bus, looking at the little town houses before him, all lined up like in the movie, Edward Scissorhands. Pastel shades, reflecting the sunshine back and forth on each other. His hometown.
Late-budding dandelions sprout between the sidewalk sections and in front of the houses' fences. The air smells bittersweet as memories come back to him in a lazy trail. The very cement he walks on, brings back times when he was a kid, and would ride his Razor with the neighbor kids to watch old man Gregor mow his lawn.
He smirks to himself. What a strange past time.
Adrian's musings come to a halt as that rusty mailbox catches his eyes. It presents vines, painted by his mother, but are now chipped and covered with a thick layer of dust. The red flag limply hangs on one screw, the other, lost to the overgrown grass around the cracking and peeling, wooden post. A house stands beyond the mailbox by a few yards. The same paint on the mailbox, bubbling and chipping off of the walls.
Everything looks the same, yet, it feels like a completely different house. He only wastes another minute before trekking the creaky, dilapidated steps, and opening the door that still has the annoying scream-like hinges.
Not a moment of silence passes before two dogs come barking to the entryway. Tails wagging, tongues hanging out, they jump on Adrian, immediately recognizing him.
A retriever mix and a chocolate lab, both found on the streets as puppies. Adrian couldn't leave them there, so he brought them to his apartment. The obvious names for them would be Black and Decker. There was no question about it.
The landlord soon found them, and almost kicked him out till he promised to get rid of them, via, give them to Adelaide.
Adelaide.
A tap of bare feet comes to the doorway and the siblings both stop, eyes settling on each other.
Adelaide looks older. Her hair is much shorter than Clara's, almost a bob. Freckles faded, and eyes upturned, she stares at Adrian, mouth ajar.
"Adrian? You're home?" A look of amazement crosses her face. Almost disbelief.
A year, he was gone. It was hard to come back to the house, with all the memories, with a sister that looked like his dead mother, with a father that gave him toxic thoughts and fears.
He dreaded coming home.
Till now. Till he realized he can change, he can be his own person. And fear can be optional.
That fear tells him to keep his distance, to say hi, partake in some small talk, and then leave. To keep those sturdy walls up.
But it's optional. And given the choice, he chooses bravery. Closing the space, he pulls his little sister into his arms, kissing the top of her head.
"I missed you, Ady." Adrian smiles, years of guilt finally shedding. He had turned away from his family, afraid of the pain that comes with love, afraid of hurting them and getting hurt. But he already hurt them by leaving them. He already hurt them by distancing and alienating himself from them. And he hurt himself.
It makes his hug all the tighter and Adelaide's shoulders shake ever so softly as she holds him just as tight.
"I missed you, too," she cries into his shoulder, the dogs, still excitedly jumping up on them.
The minutes pass without heed as they make their way to the kitchen that is now empty of plants. A new color on the walls, the pink fridge gone, it seems this isn't even the same house.
Adelaide starts the kettle and pushes Adrian down into a chair, tossing him a tea bag; his favorite kind, chamomile.
How did she remember?
"So, I got a job at the pet shop last week," she announces, pulling down mugs. "With you abandoning us, I had to finish college and start working ASAP."
Adrian gulps guiltily, excuses dotting his lips, but never growing strong enough to use.
"I'm just teasing," she smirks, setting the cups down and taking a seat across from him. Her left brow rises as he remains speechless. A spark peaks out of her eyes, so much more fiery and fierce than Clara's. Was she always like this?
He stares at his little sister, awed at how time has healed her, shaped her, made her into a person that he never imagined could exist. Not in this house, at least.
The thought makes him look down as he remembers his dad still lives here.
With their tea, fond memories and all he missed over the past year dawdle through the air like sweet smelling lilacs. Sure, they texted every now and then, but it dimmed in comparison to actually seeing each other. Out of all of the siblings, Adelaide was the one he communicated least with. There was just something about her. Something he couldn't handle seeing.
But she isn't Clara. She's Ady, his beautiful little sister. It makes him want to hug her all over again, but he remains in his seat, watching the steam rise from his tea.
...
Talking for hours, the sun bids its last as Adrian's tea disappears and Black and Decker finally settle down at his feet. Letting out content huffs, the dogs lay their heads down, eyes wandering up and down every so often.
"Why green?" Adrian asks, studying the kitchen walls. The color could be described as grass green, somehow complimenting the pastel, pink cabinets.
Adelaide's unpainted fingernails dance on her empty mug.
"Well, when we moved out the plants... it felt like we moved out mom." She lets out a breathy chortle, an obvious defense mechanism to such bitter thoughts. "But if we left them in here, her presence almost felt stale. It-it needed to change."
Silence seeps through the cracks of the house, filling the kitchen. He bites his lip, searching for something to say in his hands and lap.
His reply is interrupted by the door opening.
The familiar steps of his father enter the kitchen and come to a stop. The atmosphere thickens as the two of them have no choice, but to look at each other.
His dad stands from across the room, bags of groceries in his hands. Adrian's expression settles into a pinched frown as his eyes roam over the man's face.
He looks the same, but different. Just like the house. His face has grown all red, hair now salt and peppered with age.
"Adrian." His name sounds odd in his father's mouth, like it doesn't belong.
"Hi, dad," he greets, thinking about leaving. His gaze trails to the entryway, counting the steps to the door. It would be such an easy escape, almost painless, but he's made it so far already. What's a little more alcohol to clean the wound? He stands and takes the bags of groceries out of his hands.
Adrian's father just stares at him, thoughts uncertain. He knew he was the reason Adrian left. He knew Adrian despised him for his actions. He knew he didn't deserve to be forgiven.
But here was his son, the one that ran away from home because of him, now back, putting the groceries away as if he still lived here.
Was it because he decided to quit drinking? That decision was made, just last month. But is that all it took to bring back his son, the one who reminded him so much of Clara?
"Adrian," he utters again, so softly, eyes growing misty. "I'm so sorry, Adrian," he blurts, letting the emotions twist his words into wobbles and quivers. So long, he wanted to say it, but only ended up regretting what came out instead.
His son freezes in place, eyes bolting up to him.
The man who threw away his life and his kids, doesn't spare another moment. He had waited too long already, pushing away his kids, afraid they would fall into the same trap as him. He spent too long, feeding them fear and misery, instead of the love they so deserved.
He grabs Adrian's shoulders, looking at the young man before him, all grown up, living away from home because of him. The boy's eyes have grown sort of oval like Clara's, having the same beautiful, hazel tint. Those freckles are still there on his jaw from his childhood, but now show years of fading. All... grown up. Too fast. Because of him.
The tears overflow his eyelids and he pulls his lost boy into a tight embrace.
"Forgive me, Adrian."
==========July-23 -- Aug-9-21=========
pub, Jan-21-22
repub, Jun-19-22
"wow, my writing is so deep."
-- me, like, 20 times a day