Two Old Friends

Chapter 20

Adriana and I are awkward again as we approach a very tragic and difficult time in our young lives together. I wonder if we continue to sit in our dimly lit atmosphere silently like this if we will be able to skip this stage of reminiscing and carry on to a wonderful shag after, but this is incredibly unlikely.

"I... I wasn't a terrible mother, was I?" she asks. I shake my head immediately.

"No, no. You were just... ambitious and distracted." She looks at me, her eyes slightly glistened, but not quite as though she will cry. "And it isn't your fault that anything that happened actually happened. It was just... unfortunate," I finish lamely.

"Unfortunate," she repeats. I nod.

"Unfortunate." We both take deep breaths.

~*~

Rosalyn had turned three years old August seventh of the year nineteen eighty one. Joshua was five months old. He had barely gotten over a cold when Adriana tried to throw another flamboyant party for Rosalyn and the forced chaos surrounding Joshua must have stressed him when more diseased spawn of playground mongers Adriana met over the years flooded my house. I was not required to make a major appearance, and so I hid in my laboratory. As far as I can say, Birdie took care of Joshua and made sure he was fed the proper medication St. Mungo's advised while Adriana would hold him when she could spare the moment.

Four days later, Adriana took Rosalyn to a shop to pick out a toy and I was left to care for Joshua. I forgot to give him his medicine (it was a fruitless attempt, anyhow, because he would cry and refuse it) when I put him down for a nap. I was hidden away in my laboratory. Hours passed by when I realized that I hadn't heard a sound. My curiosity piqued, I left my books and ingredients to check upstairs.

My heart was in my throat when I walked in on the eerie scene.

It was sort of heavenly and beautiful, though incredibly disgusting. The sun beamed down through the window, exposing the dust particles in the air surrounding the still cot. Joshua's body contorted and his face at peace lied in the cot without a move. I knew what my eyes fell upon before I bent down to the child and prodded him. I continued to prod him, as though if I poked him long enough he would wake up with a shriek of laughter and try to clap with enthusiasm for tricking me as cleverly as he did. But no such thing happened.

I did not feel grief when my mind came to its conclusion. I did not feel worry. I am ashamed to say that I almost felt relief. But I think my guilt forced me to think that I felt otherwise. I don't know what I felt. But I knew that Adriana would feel despair despite how much she lacked maternity nature for this child. I feel awful for saying it, but Adriana was a terrible mother for Joshua. She liked the idea of him, but she did not know what to do with him. What do you do with a child you cannot teach to walk or sing? She would hold him and bounce him, but she was so engulfed in her new professional life, she only thought of Joshua as a side project.

In no way am I blaming Adriana for Joshua's demise, and I will never dare to say that I had nothing to do with it. I was a terrible father, as well, but I have given my defence. I was young and did not want to be a father. And yet, when I looked at the still child who I recognized to have my nose and mouth, I felt remorse for the way I treated him. I too felt he was a burden when he came to the world, but I also had a tugging feeling of excitement for having him. I just refused to acknowledge it and forced myself to see him as what he was for a man at twenty years old - an inconvenience.

I left him where he was. What else was I to do with him? Adriana and Rosalyn came home, giggling and in smiles, but when Adriana saw my face she didn't see the dread in my eyes or the fixed frown in my mouth. She just furrowed her eyebrows curiously. As though she needed convincing, she asked me,

"How was Joshua?" I didn't answer. She almost dropped Rosalyn (she more or less shoved her in the couch much to Rosalyn's dismay) and ran upstairs. I heard a great wail of maternal anguish from the room.

I went to the kitchen and pulled out the bottle of Fire whiskey and took a deep drink.