Madison grabbed his keys and threw open the front door,
leaving me to follow in his wake, with no time even to find my shoes. By the
time I was hurrying to pull the front door closed behind us, he was already at
the elevator, repeatedly pushing the down-call button with his thumb. At last
the elevator arrived and Madison rolled on and pressed the basement button with
the same impatient irritation, so that I just made it on between the closing
doors.
It was an interminable ride down, him with his back to me, and
me looking ridiculous standing there with my bare feet, and neither of us speaking.
It was what I had wanted for a long time, to be invited to Madison’s storage
unit, to see his photos, his past, but this was not how I had imagined it. This
was not okay. This push was clearly not
welcomed. But what could I say now? Never
mind, it’s okay if I don’t know who
you are? Was I that desperate to be with him? No. That wasn’t right.
Besides, couples had fights all the time. They survived them, and they were
often the better for it. Or at least they realized the truth from it. And the
truth set you free, right? One way or the other.
The elevator doors opened and Madison pushed out into the
corridor triggering the motion-sensor overhead lights, flooding the space in rapid
waves of cold blue fluorescence. Everything, the series of numbered doors, the
polished concrete floor, the walls, all of it was an industrial-drab gray. The
HVAC system generated a mechanical din that roared in my head, but maybe that was
better than deathly silence, I thought, as I hurried to keep up with him.
Madison raced down one of the corridors, stopping ultimately
in front of the door of what was apparently his unit. Splaying out the set of
keys on his thigh, he jabbed a silver one with his thumb. “It’s that one,” he
said. When I just stood there, he added bitingly, “Since this is your project,
Paige, the least you can do is open the door.” My project. So that was how he saw it. Not as something we were
doing together. Sighing I reached for the keys. There was no choice, I had to
go through with it; but of course I was so nervous that I fumbled with the keys
and they ended up clanging onto the concrete floor at Madison’s feet. He
chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m the one with the gimp hands,” he said as I bent down
to pick up the keys. “What’s your excuse?”
For the first time during this awful expedition our eyes
met. The golden brown held no luster, and Madison’s face, bathed in the harsh
overhead light, was as cool, as unyielding as the floor I stood on. I had seen
flashes of his anger before, assumed that his temper could be intense, but now,
as the target of it, I was completely intimidated. I wanted to do a rewind, to say
I was sorry, but what would I be apologizing for? For being jealous of Karen?
For wanting to know him better? For all of my insecurities? Okay, so I was
human too. In my head I conceded that I had made this some kind of test for him,
and unbeknownst to him too, the consummate pop-quiz. Paige the social worker would have certainly counseled
against it, but I was Paige the girlfriend, and I was in love and threatened.
Couldn’t Madison just try to understand? He was seeing his ex behind my back.
She was signing a note to him that said love
always. Who wouldn’t be a little freaked out no matter what he said? I
needed to see Karen’s face, to give her flesh and bones or at least an image.
To face my worst fear required that that fear have a face.
I unlocked the unit’s door and opened it. Madison immediately
came up behind me, his knees butting the back of my legs, pushing me forward
into the unit, and causing me to stumble. He flipped on the unit’s overhead
light washing the narrow room with more of the ugly fluorescent pallor. Even
the air in the unit was gray, musty but nondescript, an odor of nothing.
Cardboard boxes and opaque plastic storage containers sat on the second and
third shelves of the metal shelving that ran along one side of the unit’s wall.
On the top shelf there was a basketball and a soccer ball. In one corner of the
room a baseball bat was sticking out of a straw basket. Were these Madison’s? He
had been a distance runner, a solitary sport, but had he played team sports
too? Suddenly I could see him in a sports bar with his team mates, his buddies,
after a game, laughing his wonderful laugh, a little buzzed on too much beer. Smiling
at the image I turned to him. With one arm hooked behind the handle of his wheelchair,
he was reaching down to pull the doorstop into place to prop the door open. It
took him several attempts to work his inert fingers between the doorstop and
the door, and by the time he was finally able to push the stop into place the
sports bar picture was gone, and when he sat up straight again the grim look on
his face dissolved my smile.
“Most of the stuff is labeled,” Madison said coolly,
adjusting himself in the wheelchair. “Or obvious.”
This was the moment of truth, so to speak, yet I was frozen
in place again.
“What’s the problem, Paige?” he asked obviously irritated. “What
are you waiting for?”
How could I explain my guilt for intruding? I couldn’t tell
him that even though it was perfectly reasonable for me to want to see his
pictures, I no longer wanted to because I didn’t have his blessing and that was
what was most important to me. I couldn’t even figure out how to say it in my
head without sounding like a ninny.
“Madison--” I tried to begin.
“Afraid I can’t help you get the boxes down,” he said
sarcastically, patting the wheels of his chair. “You’ll have to do that for yourself.”
I was miserable.
“I’m sorry,” I started again. “I didn’t mean for--”
But he stopped me again, “You got what you want, Paige. The me
in this closet. So have at it. See what I was.”
“Madison,” I was ready to plead now, “It doesn’t matter--”
“The hell it doesn’t!” he suddenly shouted, literally
knocking me back a step with his voice, as if he had actually slapped me. “It
fucking does matter!” he continued, slamming his right fist hard into his right
thigh sending the leg into spasms. “It matters! This goddamn chair matters. You
want to know why I got rid of the pictures? I did it because I hate—because I
don’t want to think about it. What I was. What I am.”
“I-I didn’t mean to--” I whimpered.
“I want to walk,” he said. “God!” Squeezing his eyes shut Madison
was now beating both his weak fists against his thighs. His legs reacted,
bouncing crazily. “I want to run!” he said through clenched teeth. “Every
goddam morning I wake up I want to run and I can’t! I can’t goddammit! So don’t
tell me it doesn’t matter!”
Gasping, Madison suddenly stilled and his face went instantly
blank. He took several deep breaths, and the spasms, which were now even in his
hands, began to fade. Another moment passed before he opened his eyes, and when
he did he looked down at his hands.
“I want to hold your hand, Paige,” he said quietly now. “And
I can’t even do that.”
He brought his eyes back to mine. I saw there were tears there
but they didn’t fall. My own eyes were stinging too. Yet when I started to him,
Madison reached for his wheels and thrust himself back through the open door, dragging
his right foot because it had fallen from the footplate during the spasms.
“No,” he said in a steadied voice that didn’t match his eyes
or the weary expression on his face. “It’s okay.” Then with a twisted smile he pretended
to make a joke. “No social workers, remember.”
I bit my lip. No weepy girlfriends either. Even though my
empathy with him over that terrible morning with the green light burst into my
own personal grief. But not because I had lost anything. He was the man I had
fallen in love with and he was perfect to me. It was just that I yearned to
share his grief, to be able to take some of it onto myself and give him
respite. But how would that work? I remembered Jan and Jefferson not dancing
because Madison couldn’t, how that didn’t make the situation better and
probably only made him feel worse.
“Take all the time you need,” Madison said, as he lifted his
right leg and settled the foot back into its place on the footplate. Then he
pushed further back into the corridor.
He was leaving?“Where-where are you going?” I spluttered. “We should-should do this--”
“No,” he cut me off yet again. “This is what you want. I
don’t.”
“Madison, it doesn’t—I mean the pictures and stuff. It’s not
important. Let’s just go back upstairs.”
“Don’t be nice, Paige,” he smiled crookedly again. “You want
to know my backstory. Nothing wrong with that.”
“But Madison--”
“You can’t put the genie back in the bottle. You gotta see
it through. Otherwise it’ll be like Poe’s tell-tale heart. It’ll make you
crazy.”
Maybe it wouldn’t, I thought desperately. Maybe I could just
forget about it and keep myself focused on the here and now. It wasn’t worth
it, not if it was going to hurt him so much. I could learn to forget about
Karen. I was in her house, or the house she had made for Madison, but she
wasn’t here. I could get over myself.
“Are there pictures of Karen?” I asked anyway.
Because what if after all of this, there weren’t any
pictures of her? What if I still wouldn’t know her face?
“I assume there are,” replied Madison. “Unless she took them
all when she left.”
Why didn’t he know? Did he really not care? She had written
that she would love him always. How could he be so cavalier?
“I don’t want to look through your things without you being
here, Madison. It’s your story. I can’t know it without you.”
“I’m sorry, Paige,” he said. “I can’t do it. I can’t watch while
you look at him and then look at me. I can’t do it, and I won’t.”
Him? Was this some
kind of weird out of body experience? Some dissociative disorder I could read
about in one of my textbooks? Maybe it was because of the broken connection
between his brain and his body, a side effect of his injury, the consequence of
not being able to move his legs or straighten his fingers.
“Madison, there is no him,” I told him. “It’s you. You know that,
right? You said it yourself before. You’re still that guy. The one in your
pictures. You are him. You’re you.”
“No,” he said. “It’s who I used to be. I can’t fool myself
anymore. Or you.”
“Madison--”
“But you ought to know him,” he continued. “I want you to.
‘Cause you see the funny thing is, I wish you could be with him. I wish he had
known you. You’d have been good together. The guy I buried in these boxes, that
guy deserves you. I’m just jealous that’s all.” He laughed but it was a dry
tight sound as he shook his head, and it was like he was admitting it to somebody
else. “I’m so fucking jealous.”
Madison drew another deep breath and blew it out, making the
sound of a steam valve when it was hot and opened. I kept standing there
looking at him, bewildered. He was jealous of himself? What sense did that make?
Maybe it was silly to be jealous of Karen, but for God’s sake it was crazy to
be jealous of yourself.
“I gotta go,” Madison said abruptly, and turning his chair he
pushed away.
#####
My first instinct—maybe every neuron in my body was screaming it—was to
go after him. In all the time I had known him, I had never seen him look that
way, as if he had been beaten, only in his mind it was by his own hands. Not
his hands as they were now, even when he was banging them against his legs, but
by the hands that were in the pictures, the images, buried in the boxes. I had let
myself be beaten too, perhaps not by Karen so much as by my fear of her, her picture,
her image, also buried in the boxes. Both of us, Madison and I, had somehow
imbued the past with too much power, and it had crippled us. If we were going
to get over it, the boxes needed to be opened. Otherwise it would be like he
had said, it would make us crazy. For
you, and with you. Whatever the case may be, Madison had said to me the day
I had moved into Miss Mary’s. It had felt so good, to be protected and supported
by my knight in shining armor. Maybe it was now my turn to return the favor.
The boxes and their bodies were
waiting.
I identified a cardboard box labeled “Photos” and lifted it
down from the second shelf, setting it on the floor. Dropping to my knees I
pulled open the box flaps which had been closed by someone who had layered them
alternately on top of each other. My heart was beating fast, although after
everything that had just happened this should have been the easy part. It was just
a box of pictures, right? I wasn’t expecting to actually find a body, or a tell-tale heart. Why should I be afraid?
And there they were. On top. It was a 5X7 portrait of
Madison and the woman who must be Karen in a silver frame. The picture in my
hands, I sat down on the hard floor and waited for feelings, or premonitions, perhaps
an evil spirit, or something to tell me that my cause was lost. The picture looked
like it had been taken at a wedding. The photographer had been clever with his
composition. They were standing on steps, maybe of a church, and Karen stood behind
Madison, on one step higher than his. Her bare, slender arms were draped over
his handsome shoulders. Her cheek was pressed to the side of his head. It was a
nice picture of two equally attractive people who were equally happy. And I was
okay. I didn’t want to be sick or cry or anything. In fact I thought to myself how
envious Tom Cruise would have been. Madison didn’t need a camera angle to make
him look tall. He just was. A casting director’s dream. They both were. And
yes, I was okay. I had not turned into a pillar of salt after all. Karen was
working the strapless lavender dress in ways most women, including myself,
probably never could, yet she looked natural, approachable, the pretty girl—I
mean woman—who was also genuinely nice. In one hand she held floral bouquet,
maybe it was the bride’s. Madison was in a tux, very dark blue, possibly black,
and there was a rosebud for a boutonniere in his lapel. He was magnificent. And
that was mainly what I felt. Pride. My man was magnificent. I set the picture
aside.
The next one I came to was an 8X10 group shot in which Madison,
all decked-out in graduation garb, mortarboard and festooned robe, stood in the
middle. Jan and Jefferson were on one side, and an older couple, maybe his
grandparents were on the other. They were outside, in a park perhaps, or more
than likely on a college campus. The three men stood together in the picture.
The women were on either end. Was the older man the Washington about whom Jan had spoken? In the picture Madison’s face
was still more boy than man, and Jefferson’s hair was darker, but the two of
them were the same height, as was the third man, and I could see a paternal family
resemblance. I set this one aside too, but I was convinced that it would be my
favorite.
It went on like this for a while, with me taking out the
photographs one at a time, studying them, usually trying to guess how old
Madison was when a given picture was taken, or where he was. There were a lot
of them, very photogenic people almost never shied away from the camera, but of
course the pictures were not in chronological order. The versions of Madison,
with and without family members or friends, or fiancées, fluctuated back and
forth between adolescence and adulthood. I did wonder how long Karen had been a
part of his life, but it was mainly out intellectual curiosity and not despair,
resentment, or even a whole lot of envy. I was a part of his life now.
Madison’s packing style, if you could call it that, had obviously
been rough. Raking them off shelves
into an open box was no way to handle picture frames with glass fronts, and a
couple of the fronts were badly cracked. All the frames, whether they were wood
or metal, were scratched. No one had even bothered to wrap the photographs
properly for storage.
There was a picture of Madison that was taken with him
standing at the top of one of the pyramids in Mexico, I decided. He was wearing
a floppy cap and dark sunglasses, but I would recognize that fabulous smile under
any circumstance. He was clearly posing for this shot, and hamming it up a
little too by doing a funny-looking warrior stance. He was dressed in safari clothes,
the traditional khaki cargo vest and shorts, and the heavy duty hiking boots.
He did have a warrior’s body, lean and strong. In most of the pictures Madison appeared
standing up, which I supposed was usually the case for most of us. His swag was often apparent, although I
couldn’t be sure if the attitude was in the picture or in my head, since from
the moment we met I had noted that about him.
Eventually most of the pictures were on the floor around me
and the cardboard box was almost empty. My butt and back had tired, so I was
now sitting with my back against the wall. I missed Madison, and I worried about
how he was doing upstairs, but nevertheless I was grateful for this
opportunity. If he really believed that I would somehow want him less after
this little backward glancing, then he was terribly, monumentally, tremendously,
down-right wrong. Of course I would fall in love with the pictures of him, but
that was because they were pictures of him. I had fallen in love with the
picture of him that Jan had created in her story about how he had tried to diversify
Vikings. And the dorky dude doing ballroom dancing was pretty lovable too for
that matter. It was all him, the then
and the now, and I loved him.
Since there were not as many pictures of Karen as I had
expected, I guessed in the break-up she had taken many of them with her. Why
wouldn’t she, especially if otherwise they were just going to be gathering dust
in storage? And I wasn’t afraid of her pretty face anymore. If I had been able
to truly be objective I might have even wished that Madison and Karen had
stayed together. People did when these kinds of bad things happened. They could
have written a book about their relationship and inspired everybody.
But she had left him. She
couldn’t do it anymore. Madison wanted to take most of the responsibility
for it, but break-ups were generally pretty bipartisan. Even with me and
Derrick. I liked to say that he had dumped me, I guessed there was some kind of
emotional payoff in that, in being the victim, but the truth be told, I had quit
him too. By claiming it was his fault that Karen had left him, Madison got to
claim control of the situation. Perhaps that was the male payoff. And hey—it
probably worked for Karen too. If that was the story then she didn’t have to
feel guilty for leaving her disabled fiancé. Most people tended to create
narratives that suited their self-images. But then why wouldn’t you? It was
just too bad that sometimes these narratives got in the way of healing. The
truth set you free.
…She said it was going to be like it never
happened and I wanted to believe her……I can’t do it. I can’t watch while you look at him and then look at me…
That must be it. Karen had wanted to act like nothing had happened, and try as he might, Madison hadn’t been able to follow the script. Karen had not wanted to see what Madison couldn’t stop looking at—what he had lost. Her brave strategy had been doomed from the start. I picked up another photograph. This one was of Madison and Karen at a beach. They were dressed in swim clothes that showed off their flawless physiques. He was carrying her, scooped up in his arms, the way grooms carried their brides over thresholds. Her long legs were kicked out playfully and her arms were around his neck. Neither of them were looking at the camera, instead they looked at each other. They gazed at each other, the way the couples did on the covers of the novels I secretly read. How could it possibly be like the green light had never happened? But they must have tried hard. I imagined them hoping, maybe praying, for the fairytale ending they truly deserved. But sometimes things just didn’t work out. And sometimes you couldn’t even paint on a smile. By breaking his body, the accident had broken Madison’s heart too, and Karen’s; and they hadn’t been able to help each other get over it.
Niebuhr’s Serenity
Prayer was right: accept the things you cannot change, change the things
you can, and be wise enough to know the difference. Maybe if they had heeded
this principle, Madison and Karen might have still been the perfect couple. They
had just needed to redefine their perfection. Madison couldn’t lift Karen anymore,
or traipse around the globe supporting her research or bailing his father out
of jail. He couldn’t dance, or even easily tie his shoe laces. However, he was
the same man he had always been and always would be, no less able, just
differently so.
Back on my knees again, I carefully began gathering the
photographs and repacking them in the cardboard box. In the battle between the then and the now, for Madison and Karen the then
had won; or at least they had surrendered to it, or surrendered to it being lost.
And upstairs he was probably surrendering to all of that again, for us this
time, but I wasn’t having it. I wanted him, and there was no break between the
before and the after. It was all Madison’s journey, a long, lovely, loving arc
that had brought him to me. If I had to help him see that then that was okay. Help was not a dirty word, according to
Miss Mary. It means you love him, Paige,
Miss Mary had said. He’ll know that, and
he won’t mind you asking. Or helping.
I shut off the light and locked the storage unit door. On my
way back to the elevator I met an old man walking along the corridor. He smiled
and nodded to me, and of course looked down at my bare feet. He chuckled to
himself as we passed each other. I didn’t mind. I was okay.
******
To be continued…
Wow, what a powerful episode. I'm eagerly waiting to see what happens next.
ReplyDeleteWow. Just...wow. So glad to finally see the emotional side of Madison that I knew was hiding in there! I love how you described all of Paige's thoughts as she was going through each picture, and the insights she gained into Madison's relationship with Karen and why it didn't work. I just hope Paige can make Madison realize that she loves the man he is even more now that she's seen who he was...
ReplyDeleteMonumental. So many thoughts and feelings in this chapter. Simply wonderful.
ReplyDeleteThis episode shattered me to the core. I can't wait to see the next one, sensing the peak of the conflict is yet to come.
ReplyDeleteThe whole story has an excellent pace in character developing.
Bravo and thank you, Adele!
One of your best! It's going to be long wait until next week. Would love an early post like this one:) I still agree with Paige's statement that Madison was seeing his ex behind her back and she needed to know why! Thanks for writing this wonderful story.
ReplyDeleteThe best chapter ever. I wanted to hug him...
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear Adele, for such an emotionally intense chapter! You were excellent at explaining the psychological reasons of Karen and Madison's breakup. Thank your for having things worked out for Paige, however, my heart aches for Madison who is facing his past alone upstairs...
ReplyDeleteThe story is such a pleasure to read and I hope you'll also give Madison some relief in the next chapter!
Anne
Truly great. Some parts really touched me as tends to happen often with this lovely story. Looking forward to next week'svepisode :) thank you so much for sharing. d
ReplyDeleteThat was deeply emotional! Madison's wounds are still toooo open. Paige got no way but help him with it. I'm wondering how the relationship of them could survive with the weight of this accident, I mean, I know it's hard for Madison, but somehow he needs to get over it and understand that Paige loves him now, in the way he's now. Got no 2 Madisons! Great chapter :D
ReplyDeleteIts SO nice to see Madison freak out! Seriously. Paige is a good person though, I would have just screamed at him and bounced, bare feet and all. I'm both excited and interested for what happens next.
ReplyDeleteMadison Madison Madison! I so want to know if he's ok.
ReplyDeleteWow that was intense. So really painful for him. "You would have been great together". I'm gettin misty. But Paige hangs in there. She doesn't back down and finds another truth. Can hardly wait for the next update.thanks!
ReplyDeleteUpdate on my bday! Hope it will be worked out (well probably not totally) enough that Madison won't be too upset.
ReplyDeleteTc
Oh my Gosh! Very emotional and LOVED it. Please post the next one soon, please? :) Thanks!
ReplyDeleteWow, that was intense!! I am glad he didn`t let Paige pull out. But I think his behavoir is not ok. The way he treated Paige was awful, and he really needs to apologize. I understand that this is really hard for him, but that is no excuse to be cruel to your girlfriend.
ReplyDeleteI can`t wait for the next chapter - I guess going back into the appartment and talk to him will not exactly be a walk in the park.. they still need to talk desperately, and even though Paige is calmer now regarding Karen, Madison has still NOT explained anything about the relationship he has to her today.
Thanks so much!!
Nicole
OMG Adele... how do you do it? You're an amazing writer and this story it's just perfect! It's sweet, sexy, romantic! I love Madison and Paige together and I love the touch of drama you are giving it! Keep doing what you are doing so far!
ReplyDeleteAdele,
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for this update! I really love this story. It has all of the elements of the perfect story to me; a well adjusted, independent quad, real love, frustrations and insecurities coming to the surface over time as their relationship develops. Paige and I are so alike that it's eerie at times. I was holding my breath while reading this chapter and had to re-read it again several times to get all of the details and emotions. I anxiously await each update, especially this week! Seeing Madison's emotion finally bubble to the surface was well worth the wait. I truly dread the day when the "to be continued..." at the end of the chapter is replaced with "The End."
This was absolutely beautiful! Eagerly and very anxiously awaiting the next update to see what happens when Maddy and Paige meet upstairs. Thank you for this story! Pat.
ReplyDeleteFinally able to comment! That was a great update. Eager for what's next for Madison and Paige. It's Friday and I'm eagerly awaiting an update. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteWonderful update, as usual! Hope Madison is okay and hope Paige and Madison are okay as a couple. I'm not going to have internet the next week, so hope to read your next update before that!!! Thanks for writing this great story.
ReplyDelete