Prologue
"What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined... to strengthen each other... to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories." - George Eliot
Rosa
Madeline would never know, but she stared at the pictures. Smiling, laughing, little Madeline. She was hoping that she'd call, maybe even say, "I love you, Mom. I love you so much." And then, just as she was about to hang up, she'd say, "Later, alligator!" and then Rosa would reply, "In a while, crocodile." Then there would be laughing on both ends of the call, and they would start talking all over again; about who stole who's crayon, how Bailee said that she saw Brandon squish an ant...
But that was precious seven year-old, Madeline.
And she hadn't even called since that age.
Chapter 1
"The past is our definition. We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it." ~Wendell Berry
When Madeline was two years old, everything was great. Her parents would spend a ton of time with her, and when they went out on dates, there would be a great, nice babysitter to watch her. Her mother and father would rent Disney movies to watch together, and Madeline's favorite was "Cinderella."
"Why do you like Cinderella, Maddie?" her mom would ask.
"Because it has a fairy godmother! I want a fairy godmother, 'cause then she could make me a pretty dress, just like Cinderella's! And slippers, too!" Madeline would then giggle, jumping on the couch, going, "Bippity, boppity, boo!"
Her dad would take her outside and he'd chase her around the backyard. Afterwards they'd eat red popsicles.
When Madeline turned three, her parents started to have arguments.
"I don't know why I got myself involved with you!" she heard her mom say once, to her dad.
"I've stayed with you because of Madeline. You understand that, right?"
Then her dad would shout, and Madeline would call out, "Mommy, Daddy, everything okey-dokey?"
And they'd answer with, "Yes, everything is great, sweetie. Go upstairs and play with your dolls."
But sometimes they didn't answer at all.
Madeline turned four, and they would forget about her.
"Mrs. Tarlin, it is twelve-thirty, and Madeline is standing at the car-loop. School ended thirty minutes ago. Could you please come and pick her up?" her teacher would say.
"Mr. Tarlin, Madeline is still here at ballet, crying in the corner. I'm afraid she's very upset that you're late," another proclaimed.
"Rosa, it's me, Ellen. Madeline is tired of playing with Suzanne. Would you mind coming to get her?"
A couple days later, when Madeline woke up and ran downstairs, her dad was crying.
"Daddy, what is wrong?" she had asked.
He didn't look up. "Your mother left. She's not coming back."
And she cried herself to sleep that night.
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