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FINDING A FLOWER IN A FIELD OF WEEDS
It’s your fault… You’ve done everything. You fell in love with him, now he’s the one going to prison, thought Adie as the street lights flashed across her pale face. The sun had already hidden itself behind the horizon and the street lights shone brightly along Whittier Avenue. No. It’s his fault, isn’t it? After all, he’s the one with the record, he’s the one with the past, and he’s the one that’s… going to jail… for you. Her golden blonde hair was pulled back into a bubbling ponytail and her makeup lightly done over her face. The bright skirt and top she wore contrasted with her mood; but of course they did. Katie and Renee were those that had helped her get ready. They didn’t know…
“So is Miss Depression going to ruin this party?” asked Lena, the lanky red-head in the driver’s seat.
“Shut up, Lena,” said Katie. “We’re gonna make her happy. You watch.” Adie didn’t see the bravery Katie had shown for her. She had been infatuated with Lena, and though there wasn’t much, she had never spoken to her with anger. But Lena just rolled her eyes. Renee, however, sat next to the girl in the backseat of the Volkswagon bug. Her big brown eyes were focused on her, worry swimming about them. And Adie only sat with her chin resting on her hand and her pale blue eyes blankly gazing out the window. You don’t’ love him. You can’t. He doesn’t love you.
Adie’s little green car pulled up to number 29, a large house on the street. Lights were already flashing and music already active from the inside. Katie and Lena steppd out of the car, Renee lingering for a moment to make sure that the blonde left the vehicle. The sounds of shouting, screaming, laughing, and Greenday assaulted them as they walked in the door. A young man who smelled strongly of alcohol steered them toward the stash.
“Drink up!” he exclaimed, his words failing to pronounce themselves. No skin off my back, was all Adie thought as she swallowed the contents of the bottle. The buzz hit her immediately and all she did was dive for another, another after that, and another after that. And soon her mind wouldn’t let her think of Donahue at all.
The soft tone of flutes flooded the car as Donahue drove down Webber, the bag of fast food the only one accompanying him on the drive. That little six dollar bag was is nourishment and the TV his social life for the night in his little apartment. Just a glass of vodka and a game on ESPN was all he needed. But it wasn’t all he needed, was it? What about Adie? You need Adie, you love her. Don’t you?
“No,” he told himself calmly. “You don’t need her. You don’t’ need the court case next week, you don’t need that job, you don’t need anything but the remote and your alcohol cabinet.” But even as he pulled the cigarette from his glove compartment-something he had vowed never to do again-and lit it, the stress over came him once more. And that lit cigarette dropped to the asphalt as he passed 29. You know exactly what’s going on in there, he thought. So go get her. His strides were longer than average, if not inhuman, as he ran into the house. It wasn’t long when he found her, the brightest star in the room. So he snatched her off of the coffee table and, as she lost consciousness, carried her out to his car.
The sounds of shouting awoke Adie the next morning. Her head felt as if it was caught between two dimensions, like the friction and pressure would make her explode. She moaned as she sat up and strained her ears and eyes to figure her surroundings Where was she? The walls were painted a navy blue and were heavily decorated with shelves and frames. The frames held artwork by unrecognizable signatures, the shelves burdened with sculptures of all types. Donahue’s… she thought.
“It’s not her fault! Don’t you dare blame this on her!” she heard from trough the wall. Her attention caught because the voice belonged to… who did it belong to?
“I never said it was her fault,” stated Donahue clamly. “I simply said that I was going to jail for her.”
“What’s the difference?”
“You love her don’t you?” he asked, ignoring the question Dylan spit at him. There was a pause as the tears stung the back of Adie’s eyes.
“Yes,” Dylan said finally, and the tears spilled over Adie’s cheeks. “I do; I don’t want anything bad happening to her. I don’t want her to go through any more suffering than what she’s gone through. It was hard enough at her dad’s funeral, her mom’s wedding, and the case…”
“I thought I could take care of her. But then I thought that the best thing was to leave her be, let her go. If odds came to odds, get rid of her myself, or rid her of me.” The blonde girl threw the covers off of her body, ignoring her growling stomach and pushing aside the dizziness and ache, and let the feeling of emptiness sink. See? He doesn’t love you. Dylan does and you’re blind. What are you waiting for? So she ran. “But then I realized I needed her, Dylan. I want to keep her, and I want to see those eyes dance.” But Adie didn’t hear it. She was already halfway down Tecumesh.
Adie had run for… how long? She didn’t know, nor did she care. The feelings of hunger and pain had left her long ago, as did that little shred of hope that rested had rested in her belly, that tickle. The sound of the raindrops hitting the street had made her tears a dilent splatter as she stumbled into the alleyway. Her legs finally gave way as the lightning struck, the thrunder trailing it’s wrath. But she wasn’t going to move for thunder, not anymore. Nothing was going to make her do anything anymore. As she sat, slumped against the rough brick, her tears poured down her cheeks like a broken damn; it stopped for no one.
“You know Adie,” she heard after what seemed like hours. She didn’t bother to look up. Why should she? “Crying really doesn’t become of you.”
“I don’t care,” she muttered. “Not like you do, either.” Donahue’s body bent down, his face near hers, and he held out his hand for her. She refused to take it.
“God, Adie,” he sighed, straightening his back. “You really are slow, aren’t you?” And the rage stopped the broken dam.
“You’re the one who should be here sitting in the rain! You’re going to jail! Aren’t you worried?” Her voice was loud in her own ears. Donahue cast his eyes to the sky. “Aren’t you?”
“No,” he said after a few moments. “Not at all.” You’re so stupid. “I’m worried about you. I love you Adie, and I’m done hurting you.” With that, Adie felt the emotion and non-emotion that countered it melt away. She felt the frustration replaced with a sensation… something new. It was like… like a flower. Like a flower in her soul was fully bloomed, no longer a bud, no longer seedling. And she was bright.
As she and the simple Art teacher, the man she had despised so much, but loved flawlessly, stepped together, her chin tipping toward him, his to her, the two spirits were entwined, their bodies melted into the ground. They stopped the world, and Adie knew she had found that flower herself. She had found that flower, that flower in a field of weeds.