Lullaby.
Julian took her to the hilltop on a cold November night. The hill overlooked the city, there was never a sight so beautiful, never a sight so breathtaking. Elise is speechless until she croaks out a broken sigh and asks Julian if he’s ever seen anything so wonderful in his life. He flashes a smile and looks at her with a pure and humbling teenage adoration. “Yeah,” he says. “I can think of a few things.” He takes her by the hand and pulls her in close, pulls her in tight. Elise is shaking at this point, it’s just above freezing tonight and she’s grossly underdressed. They hug each other warmly, in a way only lovers can. It is beautiful and it is right and it is familiar. They’ll be goddamned if anyone should try and part them. It has been too long, thinks Julian, too long since I’ve held her this close, since I’ve been able to hear her breath, taste her lips, feel her skin. Her warm, porcelain skin that was once so pure and unscathed. Her skin that had never been ripped or pulled or punctured, her skin that was always whole and always perfect and always together. Now it was broken, red and scarred. Julian takes a gentle step backwards and holds the undersides of her forearms, he looks down and takes stock of the damage. They’ve been gauzed to excess and are covered by pads held in place by medical tape. He exhales with a notable, irregular syncopation and speaks.
“I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life. I’ve missed you so goddamn much.”
Elise smiles.
“I’ve missed you too.”
“Would it be alright if I asked you about your stay?”
She nods and averts her eyes.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s not very interesting or anything. It was just a clinic.”
“I know, but I’ve been thinking about you and that place since you left. I’d really love to hear you say that it was at least tolerable.”
She laughs.
“Hardly. It always smelled like piss and cleaning supplies and I fucking hated it. Sometimes it was okay, we’d do activities and things, but mostly I just wanted them to see I’d recovered so I could get the hell out. The patients were all very nice, though. There was a large black man who walked around to everyone and introduced himself as Jesus Christ. I mean, he really thought he was Jesus Christ, and everyone had to call him either Jesus or JC. Nurses, doctors, the lunch staff, the janitorial staff. Fucking everyone. And if they didn’t, he’d be uncontrollably frantic and start to freak the fuck out. They had to tranquilize the poor guy probably six times in the three weeks I was there. Someone was always forgetting to call him Jesus.”
Julian chuckles.
“Did you remember to call him Jesus?”
“Yes, but I didn’t get to talk to him too often. The women couldn’t really speak to the men, nor could the men to the women.”
Julian nervously strokes the sides of her arms, now down to her sides, and breathes deeply.
Elise lovingly places two fingers beneath his chin and lifts his head, stares into his eyes.
“Julian…”
He starts to break.
“It’s okay, honey.”
Tears pour down his cheeks. She embraces him once more.
“I’m fine, Julian. Please don’t worry about me. Everything is fine.”
Elise met Julian when she was four years old. He lived across the street from her and her mother in an affordable suburb of Portland where they had moved from Omaha, Nebraska. Later in life, Elise would tell Julian that the reason they had moved in the first place was because her mother couldn’t have stayed in a house that reminded her so strongly of Elise’s father. She needed to get away, to escape and forget, to get the fuck out of the state. She had said that house was a catalyst for immense psychological pain, and she wouldn’t have even considered staying put.
Two weeks before the move, Elise’s father was upstairs in the master bedroom. He called little Elise in from her room where she had been combing Barbi’s hair and narrating a dialogue between she and Ken. “Hello Ken,” she would say, rocking Barbi back and forth with every uttered syllable. “I think you are very handsome and I would very much like to go on a date with you.” Ken would respond. “I would like that too, Miss Barbi, you are so very pretty, pretty, pretty. Would you like to drive around in my sports car? It is brand new and you can wear your sunglasses in it, we will put the top down because it is a convertible.” Elise is summoned by her father and prances into his and Mommy’s dimly lit bedroom. Her mother was in Toronto on business for her architectural firm, she left two days ago. Her father sits alone in the room on the bed he and Elise’s mother share. His cheeks are wet and spread out in front of him are a few dozen yellowed Polaroids. Between his legs there is a large bottle, Elise does not know what it contains. On the nightstand are several more bottles of the exact same dimensions, they are tall and fat and have long, skinny necks. They are all empty. In her father’s right hand there is something silver and shining, it also looks like it has a long neck. It is round in the middle and there is a lever on its hind he obsessively thumbs. Click, release. Click, release. Click, release. His cheeks are soaked.
“Elise, honey.”
“What are you doing, Daddy?”
“Elise, sweetie. Oh God, Elise. My sweet, sweet Elise.”
Elise stares at him, she does not know what is going on. She watches her father’s thumb. Click, release. Click, release.
“I love you Elise. You know that, don’t you? You know, Elise? Daddy loves you with everything he has. He loves you to the moon, darling. You know that, don’t you?”
He sobs, he has broken.
“Yes Daddy, I love you too. You’re acting silly though, Daddy.”
He coughs out a laugh, exposes a sad grin.
“Yes, honey, Daddy is acting very silly. Daddy is a silly, silly man and you should never try and be like Daddy. Not now, not ever.”
He reaches out to Elise and brushes her bangs out of her eyes. He continues to sob, he is visibly shaking.
“Daddy’s going to go away for a while sweetheart, but I promise you will see daddy again, okay? Do you hear me Elise?”
His sentences are broken, his speech is slurred. The crying is uncontrollable. Elise just stares, she doesn’t know what to do. She stares at a despondent man whose wounds cannot be healed. A man she met four years ago at a hospital not ten miles away. All she can do is stare.
“Yes Daddy, I do. Where are you going? Mommy is at work now, Daddy, who will take care of me if you go? I don’t want you to go Daddy, I want you to stay.”
Her father is hysterical.
“Go back to your room, Elise. Please.”
Inconsolable.
“I’m so, so sorry Elise. I’m so, so sorry. Please, Elise, leave Daddy alone now. Daddy needs to be alone. Listen to Daddy, honey. Please listen to Daddy.”
She stares for a moment longer, gives her father a hug, and slowly exits the room. Ken and Barbi are waiting for her to come in so they may resume their rendezvous. She sits on the floor and brushes Barbi’s hair.
“Daddy is going away, Miss Barbi. I think Daddy is sad. Do you know why Daddy is so sad, Miss Barbi?”
Elise awaits a response she doesn’t get. She bends the doll’s pliable legs and fits her snugly into the pink plastic convertible beside Ken. Just as they begin their date, there is a distraught scream and a loud bang, respectively, and in quick succession. Elise jumps up from her place of sitting, kicking Ken and Barbi’s car into the wall as she runs to investigate the noise. She observes her parent’s room. Her father remains on the bed, but he is laying down now. He is calm. Peaceful. Still. Nearly a third the comforter has turned a dark red, the liquid drips in shining beads from the side of the bed down to the floor. Elise climbs up on the mattress using a technique she’s mastered after countless nights of bad dreams and encounters with unidentifiable noises. She looks at her father, his eyes are still open, but he is no longer crying, he is no longer sad. He is calm, peaceful and still. Elise nestles in parallel to him, she lays down in the red, on top of the Polaroids and begins to sing a lullaby, her favorite lullaby, the one her father sang to her every night before she went to sleep.
“I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life. I’ve missed you so goddamn much.”
Elise smiles.
“I’ve missed you too.”
“Would it be alright if I asked you about your stay?”
She nods and averts her eyes.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s not very interesting or anything. It was just a clinic.”
“I know, but I’ve been thinking about you and that place since you left. I’d really love to hear you say that it was at least tolerable.”
She laughs.
“Hardly. It always smelled like piss and cleaning supplies and I fucking hated it. Sometimes it was okay, we’d do activities and things, but mostly I just wanted them to see I’d recovered so I could get the hell out. The patients were all very nice, though. There was a large black man who walked around to everyone and introduced himself as Jesus Christ. I mean, he really thought he was Jesus Christ, and everyone had to call him either Jesus or JC. Nurses, doctors, the lunch staff, the janitorial staff. Fucking everyone. And if they didn’t, he’d be uncontrollably frantic and start to freak the fuck out. They had to tranquilize the poor guy probably six times in the three weeks I was there. Someone was always forgetting to call him Jesus.”
Julian chuckles.
“Did you remember to call him Jesus?”
“Yes, but I didn’t get to talk to him too often. The women couldn’t really speak to the men, nor could the men to the women.”
Julian nervously strokes the sides of her arms, now down to her sides, and breathes deeply.
Elise lovingly places two fingers beneath his chin and lifts his head, stares into his eyes.
“Julian…”
He starts to break.
“It’s okay, honey.”
Tears pour down his cheeks. She embraces him once more.
“I’m fine, Julian. Please don’t worry about me. Everything is fine.”
Elise met Julian when she was four years old. He lived across the street from her and her mother in an affordable suburb of Portland where they had moved from Omaha, Nebraska. Later in life, Elise would tell Julian that the reason they had moved in the first place was because her mother couldn’t have stayed in a house that reminded her so strongly of Elise’s father. She needed to get away, to escape and forget, to get the fuck out of the state. She had said that house was a catalyst for immense psychological pain, and she wouldn’t have even considered staying put.
Two weeks before the move, Elise’s father was upstairs in the master bedroom. He called little Elise in from her room where she had been combing Barbi’s hair and narrating a dialogue between she and Ken. “Hello Ken,” she would say, rocking Barbi back and forth with every uttered syllable. “I think you are very handsome and I would very much like to go on a date with you.” Ken would respond. “I would like that too, Miss Barbi, you are so very pretty, pretty, pretty. Would you like to drive around in my sports car? It is brand new and you can wear your sunglasses in it, we will put the top down because it is a convertible.” Elise is summoned by her father and prances into his and Mommy’s dimly lit bedroom. Her mother was in Toronto on business for her architectural firm, she left two days ago. Her father sits alone in the room on the bed he and Elise’s mother share. His cheeks are wet and spread out in front of him are a few dozen yellowed Polaroids. Between his legs there is a large bottle, Elise does not know what it contains. On the nightstand are several more bottles of the exact same dimensions, they are tall and fat and have long, skinny necks. They are all empty. In her father’s right hand there is something silver and shining, it also looks like it has a long neck. It is round in the middle and there is a lever on its hind he obsessively thumbs. Click, release. Click, release. Click, release. His cheeks are soaked.
“Elise, honey.”
“What are you doing, Daddy?”
“Elise, sweetie. Oh God, Elise. My sweet, sweet Elise.”
Elise stares at him, she does not know what is going on. She watches her father’s thumb. Click, release. Click, release.
“I love you Elise. You know that, don’t you? You know, Elise? Daddy loves you with everything he has. He loves you to the moon, darling. You know that, don’t you?”
He sobs, he has broken.
“Yes Daddy, I love you too. You’re acting silly though, Daddy.”
He coughs out a laugh, exposes a sad grin.
“Yes, honey, Daddy is acting very silly. Daddy is a silly, silly man and you should never try and be like Daddy. Not now, not ever.”
He reaches out to Elise and brushes her bangs out of her eyes. He continues to sob, he is visibly shaking.
“Daddy’s going to go away for a while sweetheart, but I promise you will see daddy again, okay? Do you hear me Elise?”
His sentences are broken, his speech is slurred. The crying is uncontrollable. Elise just stares, she doesn’t know what to do. She stares at a despondent man whose wounds cannot be healed. A man she met four years ago at a hospital not ten miles away. All she can do is stare.
“Yes Daddy, I do. Where are you going? Mommy is at work now, Daddy, who will take care of me if you go? I don’t want you to go Daddy, I want you to stay.”
Her father is hysterical.
“Go back to your room, Elise. Please.”
Inconsolable.
“I’m so, so sorry Elise. I’m so, so sorry. Please, Elise, leave Daddy alone now. Daddy needs to be alone. Listen to Daddy, honey. Please listen to Daddy.”
She stares for a moment longer, gives her father a hug, and slowly exits the room. Ken and Barbi are waiting for her to come in so they may resume their rendezvous. She sits on the floor and brushes Barbi’s hair.
“Daddy is going away, Miss Barbi. I think Daddy is sad. Do you know why Daddy is so sad, Miss Barbi?”
Elise awaits a response she doesn’t get. She bends the doll’s pliable legs and fits her snugly into the pink plastic convertible beside Ken. Just as they begin their date, there is a distraught scream and a loud bang, respectively, and in quick succession. Elise jumps up from her place of sitting, kicking Ken and Barbi’s car into the wall as she runs to investigate the noise. She observes her parent’s room. Her father remains on the bed, but he is laying down now. He is calm. Peaceful. Still. Nearly a third the comforter has turned a dark red, the liquid drips in shining beads from the side of the bed down to the floor. Elise climbs up on the mattress using a technique she’s mastered after countless nights of bad dreams and encounters with unidentifiable noises. She looks at her father, his eyes are still open, but he is no longer crying, he is no longer sad. He is calm, peaceful and still. Elise nestles in parallel to him, she lays down in the red, on top of the Polaroids and begins to sing a lullaby, her favorite lullaby, the one her father sang to her every night before she went to sleep.