Addy's Redemption: A Novel. Juliana Ormsby

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      Addy glanced around the living room, noticing she had left her needlework on the wing chair by the fireplace. As she had done so many thousands of times during her marriage to Lionel, Addy whispered to herself, “I’d better put that away before Lionel gets home.”

      Lionel loved order. Part of his obsession had come from his having served briefly in the military. He could not bear to have anything out of place. Although they could have well afforded to hire a housekeeper, Lionel always emphasized that because Addy did not work, she was responsible for keeping the place spotless. On one level, Addy believed this was a fair bargain, but Lionel was extreme in his demands. He expected, without exception, a picture-perfect house, shirts pressed and starched as if they had come from the laundry, beautiful meals on the dining room table at six o’clock sharp, children’s faces scrubbed and shining, and newspaper and slippers waiting for the Master when he arrived home from work. After all, had he not provided Addy a fine home with an all-electric kitchen, three bedrooms, and a rumpus room?

      Once Addy left her job to get married she became, essentially, a scullery maid. Most neighbors seemed not to suspect what her life was really like. On the rare occasions when company came to her impeccable house for unforgettable dinners, they raved about the “perfect” Addy. Lionel would puff up with pride, give his wife a perfunctory peck on the cheek and boast, “That’s my Addy-girl.”

      Addy’s mother and father had been in a gruesome car crash when she was only three years old. Her maiden aunts, Sophia and Hazel, obligated to be her caretakers, always clucked about how fortunate it was that Addy had not been in the car. Sometimes, when she was in her deepest depression, Addy wished she hadn’t been spared. On the night of the accident, Sophia and Hazel were babysitting for little Addy. Her parents were on their way home from a Christmas party they had attended at the home of Dad’s new boss. Although her parents rarely left Addy with a sitter, Daddy had probably felt an obligation to attend the gathering despite the inclement weather. All Addy ever knew about the accident was “black ice; dead on arrival.”

      Sometimes she repeated these words over and over again in her head. Because she was a precocious child with a wide vocabulary and lucid mind, she continued to have foggy memories and sensations of her lovely parents. Daddy was a tall, slender, dark-haired man with twinkling brown eyes and warm smile; Mommy a pretty, brown-haired woman with bright green eyes and an equally beautiful smile. Of course, Addy had seen photographs of her parents, but she was convinced she actually remembered them. Some nights as she drifted off to sleep, a wave of comfort and security washed over her. She was sure it was Mommy and Daddy’s love. They doted on the child they had tried so hard to conceive. Life was complete when their sweet Addison was born. After their cruel and senseless death, Addy quietly seethed with rage--why were her joyful, healthy parents ripped so violently from her life? Why did she end up living in a sterile, guilt-ridden environment with her old-maid aunts, Sophia and Hazel? They were Daddy’s sisters and Addy’s only living relatives. Dutifully, they took over raising the frisky, chubby, happy little Addison. Oh, her life before the accident had been so good. After that, a small leech was persistently sucking the vitality from her soul. Sometimes, Addy dared to wish she had been put up for adoption; maybe she might have had a fair shake at having some normal parents. She would immediately ask God to forgive her because, after all, her aunts did the best they could.

      Living with two cheerless Catholic spinsters, who probably should have entered a cloistered nunnery, Addy was clueless about the opposite sex; and the aunts made certain she stayed that way. They always lectured her that it took only thirty seconds to ruin your life. Addy never really understood what that meant, but she knew it had something to do with not being alone with a boy. When she finally realized the aunts were talking about the amount of time it takes to conceive a baby, she was already engaged to Lionel. He gave her a Catholic marriage manual that discussed “conception.” As Addy now looked back on that book, she laughed aloud. Copulation was for procreation. A boy should not slide down a banister because he may inadvertently commit a sin of sexual arousal. At the time, Addy accepted this crock of bullshit as the way things are with everyone. Yet, she often wondered if her parents had conducted their lives in that manner. She remembered them as being so happy, and rather than naming her after a saint, they chose the name “Addison.” One thing Addy did like about herself was her name. It suggested that Mom and Dad were a loving, bright couple looking forward to raising an optimistic, confident girl. Oh, if they could see what she had allowed herself to become.

      Addy had graduated from college with high honors, but the aunts were growing older and frailer so it was now her responsibility to take care of them. Often Addy wished she was a strong, independent person like her secret friend, Helena Kurowski, Addy’s favorite classmate throughout their education at St. Mary’s Catholic School for Girls. Helena took shit from no one and always lectured Addy that she should not feel obligated to the aunts; she owed them nothing. After all, it wasn’t Addy’s fault that her parents died in a car wreck. Helena begged Addy to move to New York so they could find jobs and get an apartment together.

      The aunts never approved of Helena and literally forbade Addy to see her friend outside of school. Helena’s parents were divorced, and Helena lived with her mom, Mary. God only knows where the father had gone. In the eyes of Addy’s aunts, both Mary and Helena were “damaged goods,” but this view of Helena and her mom just did not make sense to Addy. Mary worked very hard as a nurse, went faithfully to Mass every Sunday, and did not have men in her life. It wasn’t Helena’s or her mom’s choice for the dad to have left them. True to her word, Helena moved to New York City, and Addy eventually lost touch with her. As Addy grew older, she often wondered what her life might have been like if she had dumped “the two old bags” and moved to New York with Helena.

      In spite of her resentment toward her aunts, dutiful, well-bred Addy dared not abandon them. She despised Hazel and Sophia for sheltering her so much. If they had not, maybe she could have found the happiness she suspected her parents had known. Now she was well into her twenties and could not pursue work in her field because she had to stay at home and look after the aunts. Theirs was a small, backward Connecticut town with few opportunities for employment so Addy had to settle for a job as a clerk in an office supply company. Yes, here was the perfect, respectable, sterile environment for the nice Catholic girl Sophia and Hazel had raised. Inside, Addy raged with hatred for the two old bitches.

      When Addy was a young girl, Sophia and Hazel frequently entertained porky, self-indulgent, egotistical priests after Mass. It sickened Addy to watch them disgustingly gobbling the pastries and coffee cakes she had baked. In fact, baking was the one thing Addy knew she could do well. She often dreamed of opening her own bakery one day, but she knew that would never happen. She just wasn’t spunky enough to strike out on her own. Besides, she was not a lucky girl. Things never work out for people who are born unlucky.

      Celibate Catholics often stir up a hungry sexual undertone when in each other’s company. Something about these Sunday morning gatherings was repugnant, but naïve, young Addy could not put her finger on it. All she knew was she СКАЧАТЬ