Still Alive

CH9: Maggie & Adele

Adele wakes to bright sunlight filling the bedroom. Groggily, she wipes the sleep from her eyes and sits up in bed. She stays there for a few minutes, her brain still completing the process of waking up, before finally rising.

She puts on her shoes, makes the bed, then heads downstairs for breakfast.

She finds her father already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, deep in thought.

He seems to snap back to reality when he sees her and places an opened can of tuna on the table between them. He sets a spoon right beside it, along with a little less than half a glass of water. He motions for Adele to eat.

The child obediently takes her seat at the table and tries the tuna.

"What about you?" she says, barely above a whisper.

The man smiles and shakes his head.

"Not hungry," he whispers back.

He walks over to her, gives her a kiss on the forehead, and disappears into the living room.

Her father doesn't realize it, but she notices a lot of things.

Adele sees how much weight he has lost. She notices the dark rings around his eyes. She knows how much he tosses and turns at night.

She knows how hungry he really is.

Adele eats in silence, taking little sips of water at a time.

---*---

"I'll be back before you know it, Addie," her father gives his usual spiel with his usual smile. "Who knows...might even find candy this time."

Adele haphazardly wipes away the tears that always threaten to spill out whenever he has to go out in search of supplies.

He pulls her in for a tight hug. She never wants to let go, but she has to.

"I'll be careful."

"Promise?"

He nods and pulls away. His smile looks strained.

"Go on then," he says.

Adele takes one last tearful look at him before crawling into her hiding spot, a closet in their bedroom. Her father always feared that someone or something might break into their house one day while he was out. It gives him peace of mind knowing his daughter is safe at home.

When she has settled into place, he hands her a bag of their remaining food, shuts the closet, and whispers an "I love you, darling".

Through the narrow slits of the closet door, Adele watches him walk away and finally shut the bedroom door behind him, leaving her alone once again.

Thus begins the waiting game.

To pass the time, she would occasionally draw on her sketchpad with her surviving crayons or oil pastels. Other times, she'd read her comic books, at least while there was still natural light coming in from outside. She has a flashlight with her, but she knows better than to waste its batteries for non-emergencies.

She finds something to do...anything to do to keep her mind off her worries and fears.

Seconds turn to minutes.

Minutes turn to hours.

Hours turn to days.

This time, the waiting game does not end.