Ada, part II

Soaring and soaring.

Ada is soaring. In her dreams.

-

Adam waits. Checks his pocket-watch.

Clicks. Heels. Click Clack Click clack click click.

"C'est moi"

She appears out of nowhere. Slippery eyes. She has been kissed. Max. Goddamn it Max.

Her black lace dress, neat. Neat curled hair. Frightened eyes, all a fright. Her hands, shaking.

Ada? Ada.

"I am here now, so now we can speak"

She is a child. She is lost.

Adam is afraid of her. He fears her body, her savagery, her fire.

The fire she has tamed that will spill into him.

The fire that will spill.

The morning is harsh and she is sleepy. She keeps her beautiful eyes half-closed and downcast the entire walk to the museum grounds. 

Fireplaces begin beating. Their hearts full to the brim with cinder, they spill forth the smell of autumn. In the middle of winter, autumn resurfaces glossy and bold.

Birds fill the sky all at once and scatter just as quickly. This enchants Ada because she looks up with delight and laughs. 

They both laugh. Their  laughter spreads itself thin amidst the scatter, the wing shove-push, the dazzling apparition of down and fluff peppered from a wing, a cloud, a sun. The sun. 

They both laugh.

My dearest Ryan,

I pause. I know this is the end. I know I shouldn't write him a letter. I continue.

Enclosed is me. Well, versions of me. Please keep it safe. Keep them safe. Ryan, you have taught me things I never dreamed.

When I met you I thought I knew myself. You have taken me and stretched me like a canvas. Of course, you refused to paint over me and I thank you. I thank you but now I see the tiniest part of me.

Enclosed is part of my novel. Keep it safe.

Slowly, I'm giving it away. Soon there won't be anything left. Soon.

Ada is zigzagging slowly, aimlessly through the decorative poplars in the Russell Square commons. She has forgotten why she is here, why she dressed in sombre colours on this stark saturday morning, whose hand she is holding, whose responsibility it is to look after her today. Ada is zigzagging slowly.

"What are we doing?"

Adam looks intent on her.

"Well, why do you like horses Ada?"

He wants to say her name. Write her name. Near him and hold it close.

"I like them when they're free"

"But riding is most important to you"

"I suppose"

"Because you are teacher and student at once"

Ada pauses. She has never thought of this before.

"I never thought of this before"

"Ada..you mean to tell me..."

"Well, Maximilian thinks riding is good sport and he insists a most noble interest"

"Maximilian?"

She quickly averts her eyes.

"I have the most wonderful story, Adam!"

He pauses midstep. Looks down at her. She's fidgeting with her gloved hands. Keeps intertwining them clumsily like a little girl. Like the little girl she is not.

"I thought Evangeline the older sibling with your fussing about always. Can you not keep still a moment?"

He sorts her out and straightens her lovely shoulders into stability. Holds the fleshy joints in his gloved hands longer than she anticipated.

He holds her shoulders like a child's. Cares for her. Cares deeply.

"Well, it was ages ago really. But I remember I had a dream. I dreamt I fell asleep beside the tiniest snail. He was almost transparent. And sleeping, I could feel all sorts of creatures crawl on me. Clear frogs, turtles, seagulls just arranging their watery bodies alongside mine on the road. I wasn't afraid" 

Oh, Ada. 

Adam imagines her on the dirt road. Sleeping. Dipped in clear, representational savagery. Yet unaware. Clothed in a patched quilt of untamed multiplicity. Yet clear. Ada. Visible and sleeping. Magic unleashed. 

Adam has decided that Ada is not strange. She is.. his sister, his equal, she is unafraid. She belongs in him. Not to him.

Ada has decided nothing. She is thinking of strawberry jam, a great phoenix and a beautiful lullaby. 

With sleepy eyes, she watches the moon set and the sun rise.

It is that early in the day. Or that late in the night.