See? I told you I wouldn't be gone long. 15 minutes. I walked over to Jimmy John's, got myself a delectable Beach Club sub, and it is now chilling in the refrigerator, waiting for my lunch break (at 3:15) to be enjoyed. And I've since relocated inside. It's a bit warmer in here (not that I mind the 53 degrees it is outside, but it's either be in the sun and kill my batter or be in the shade and be wind-blown).
Sip (Vanilla Rooibos [read: ROY-bus] Tea Latte).
So, Chapter 15. This chapter is almost entirely (if not completely) a dream-flashback to that day. Dark Day. The Eclipse. Whatever words I've used here or in my notes, it's July 20th, 1963. She is partially the reason that she is alone with her father during the eclipse that day, she adores, nearly worships, her father, and decides to try to get it so that she can be alone with him rather than going with the rest of her family and neighbors to an 'eclipse party' on top of a hill (or mountain). She's not entirely to blame, however. Her father certainly seems to support the idea. Her mother and father get in an argument over it, but her fathers cool (and calculating?) logic wins out. We also hear that her mother doesn't seem quite as fond of Jessie as one would think a mother should be of her daughter.
The most important part of this altercation, other than the fact that we find out her mother harbors some negative feelings for her, comes in sentence her mother says to her father.
"I swear to God, sometimes you behave as if she were your girlfriend instead of your daughter!"
This could just be foreshadowing, it certainly constitutes such, but it also seems like it's very telling that her fathers behavior towards her has always been a bit off. Not enough to cause her mother to even realistically suspect such things, especially since in this case Jessie's mother is referring to Jessie's father's habit of defending her and justifying her behavior, but enough for it to make her mother almost jealous.
It might be that we already know what happens today, but I couldn't help but feel that her dad's a bit of a creeper. He's too nice, too complimentary, too conspiratorial. It's almost on that borderline where it's hard to tell if a person is being friendly or being flirty.
There are red flags all over this chapter, and even Jessie notices them. First it's her father comment that she could wear a new sundress that she'd gotten. Jessie notices that it's a little odd even then, but goes along. Her dress is not really the most fashionable thing in the world, having stripes that apparently clashed horribly. The main reason (and most important, given the coming events) she hadn't yet worn the dress was because it was a bit short on her, and rather tight. Still, she goes along, not really caring.
Next, it's her mother comment, listed above. Finally, as they move to hug at one point or another, his hands accidentally go to her chest. Sure, it could be a case of accidentally-on-purpose, but it just as likely could be that his hands randomly ended up there due to an awkward positioning of the hug. His hands to linger there, however, longer than it seems they should, and long enough for Jessie (and, by way of our omniscient narrator, us) to notice.
The next chapter (16) continues this flashback. Jessie is getting ready for her afternoon of eclipse watching with her father, and notices in the mirror that she looks almost like a teenager; adorned with her (and her fathers) favorite lipstick, her sundress, and her hair in a loose bun. Her mothers quote from before echos in her head, and she pushes it away. So what if she looks nice in a way thats a bit older?
She goes out to see her dad, and the part of her that understands whats 'proper' thinks fleetingly that he would be able to see up her skirt (flag). She pushes this thought away; he't not a boy from the other side of the lake, he's her dad.
They get set up for the eclipse, and she's a little nervous/scared. It's not everyday that the sun goes out, not sets but goes out, is it? She climbs up into his lap and can't help notice how oddly hard and angular his lap is. She equally can't help but notice his intakes of breath as she adjusts her position, can't help but notice how heavy his voice sounds.
This part of the book was a bit hard to read. Not that the language was weird, you just couldn't help but feel apprehensive. Nothing exactly happens, though, we just know what's about to happen and thus understand how grave the flags are.
Chapter 17 is short, and covers the handcuffed Jessie vs. the Eclipse Jessie. She is still asleep, but realizes that she's dream-reliving the actual day, rather than simply dreaming it. She stirs, and almost wakes up, but that primal, always-conscious part of her brain decides that going to sleep and reliving an event is better than waking up and facing a whole new one (in the form of the Man). Perhaps this is because, no matter how bad the day was, she faced it and it is over. Nothing worse can happen, everything has already happened. With the Man, the stranger who had been (or had not been) in her room last night, she has no idea how it would turn out.
And so, in chapter 18, we return to the eclipse day, and the last chapter's real-time interlude served to let us know that this time was it, it was all or nothing. This chapter is when It happens.
It's so hard to read this part, because we can associate so strongly with Jessie. Not necessarily because we can have sympathy with her, which we do, or even that we can empathize, which some of us might. We feel this strong link because King isn't telling us the story, he's putting us in the story. We feel all the emotions that Jessie feels as she feels them.
I'll save you the grimy details. Basically, her father gets excited, his hand ends up rather high on her leg (pushing her dress up in the process), his own shorts sacrifice some structural integrity, and it's over, the only lasting (physical) evidence is on the back of her underwear.
The important part of this chapter, at least with regard to the end of the story, is how she feels afterwards. She is a bubbling cauldron of emotions, blaming her father at the same time as absolving him and blaming herself, guilt and fear and confusion and panic and all sorts of stuff. The blame (towards herself) is what will remain with her all those years later. The minerally, metallic smell she's referenced earlier in the book is not necessarily the lake, after all. It's what she associates with this smell that makes it so bothersome.
It would also seem that, despite earlier predictions, the voices were not caused by the incident. They are, however, very related. Prior to this, the book did mention having thoughts in her head that weren't necessarily in her voice. This is what, I think, many of us experience. The voice of our conscience. After the eclipse, however, the voices tend to develop identities of their own, and grow into the kind of dissociative coping method we see later.
And that is that for now. Hopefully this all wasn't too hard to read (and if you're reading along like I'd like you to be, it pales in comparison to the clarity in the book). I have to start work in 20 minutes, and need time to get ready and such. But I very well might add more tonight.
'Til next time.
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