The Goblin's Daughter

by M Sawyer

  Drew stopped the truck. “Don’t move.” He hopped out, ran to the other side, and opened her door.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “This is how you treat women. It’s in the rules.”

  “What rules?”

  “The Rules of Not Being a Jerk.”

  Nolin slid off the high seat. Drew shut the door behind her. She’d never seen her father open the door for her mother. She couldn’t decide if it made her feel special or strange.

  “Do you need another jacket?” Drew asked her, eyeing her soaked clothes.

  She shook her head. Her feet squished in her soaked sneakers as she padded into the restaurant. Griddles hissed behind the order counter. Clouds of steam hung in the air. The heavy smell of frying meat filled her nose. Her stomach growled louder than ever.

  “Get whatever you want,” Drew said. The stocky teenage girl behind the register eyed him. He examined the menu with his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  “I’ll have the Big Nasty burger with no onions, a medium fry, and a Coke,” Drew told the cashier. He stepped aside and motioned for Nolin to order.

  “Um, a double cheeseburger, please. No ketchup,” Nolin said.

  “Anything to drink?” asked the girl behind the counter.

  “Just water. Thanks.” The girl handed Nolin a clear plastic cup. Drew offered the cashier a ten and a five. She slowly counted out his change, her lips moving as she plucked quarters, nickels, and dimes from the drawer and clinked the change into his hand. He nodded appreciatively and dropped the coins into the tip jar next to the register.

  “Thank you,” Nolin said.

  “Of course. It’s great to see an old friend,” Drew said, slapping her lightly on the arm. Nolin blushed, then turned to fill her water cup at the fountain. She pressed the cup into the ice dispenser a little too forcefully, and a spray of crushed ice spilled out onto the floor.

  “Shit! Sorry,” she said, blushing even more furiously. She shook the spilled ice off her shoes and kicked what she could under the machine before filling her cup with water.

  Drew retrieved their tray. Nolin followed him to a booth near the corner of the restaurant.

  Nolin’s burger was massive, but nothing compared to Drew’s. Bacon, cheese, and slices of ham poked out of the bun in all directions. She had no idea how he managed to hold onto it, let alone bite it. He expertly scooped up the whole mess and took a bite without getting ketchup on his face. Clearly, this wasn’t his first time.

  Nolin bit into her burger, glad for an excuse for her silence. Drew leisurely twirled a fry in the little paper cup of ketchup.

  “Why do they call it the Big Nasty?” Nolin finally asked, taking a stab at conversation.

  Drew swallowed the french fry he’d just eaten and grinned. “Really, I have no idea. Probably because it’s such a ridiculous mess to eat, but there’s a trick to it, you see. You have to squash it a bit first.” He demonstrated, carefully cupping his hand around the burger and squeezing it slightly. Nolin suspected his technique was much more difficult to master than it looked. “Then you have to hold it just so, so most of the stuff is on the side you’re going to bite. That way, it doesn’t all squish out the bottom. Then, of course, it just takes practice.”

  “And you’ve had lots of practice.”

  “I probably keep this place in business single-handedly. Well, when I’m home from school, of course.”

  Nolin bit into her burger again. Drew ate his fries, perfectly content to be here where he was, doing what he was doing. She liked the way the edges of his mouth turned up even when he was resting.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not very good at conversation,” she said. Drew chuckled and picked up another fry.

  “Are you bad at conversation, or are you just bad at small talk? There’s a huge difference. And if you’re still the girl I knew in school, you’re far too interesting to be bad at conversation.”

  “I guess I just get nervous. And I don’t have much to say.”

  “No need to be nervous. This isn’t a job interview.” He sipped his soda, his blue eyes probing hers. Not an invasive look or a judging one, just a curious gaze. Nolin didn’t know what there was to be so curious about. Usually, eyes slid over her like she was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. She was the place someone could walk past a thousand times and never notice.

  “And anyway, an honest silence is better than a fluffy conversation,” he added, tapping his cup back onto the table to punctuate his point.

  “That’s why I hate small talk,” she said. “It’s fluff.”

  “Good. I like that about you already.” He smiled again. This boy was always smiling. It wasn’t a forced smile, but an infectious one that seemed to bubble up from his depths. He couldn’t help it. She even felt a small smile bloom at the corners of her mouth.

  “I would like to know, though,” he started. “Where have you been? It’s been, like, ten years.”

  She’d known this was coming, and she hadn’t prepared an acceptable answer. Excuses, euphemisms, explanations chased each other around her head. Her panic must have shown on her face because he quickly added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m just curious, that’s all. People talked after you left, and I just wanted to know the real story. From you. Not just a bunch of people who don’t know anything. You’re the only one who really has the right to tell that story.”

  “What did people say?”

  “Most said you were in the hospital for a while, that you got hurt in the woods or something. After that, it’s everything from military school to juvie to a foster home in Santa Fe. You really don’t have to tell me,” he repeated.

  “The hospital is true.”

  “Did you get hurt in the woods? I’ll never forget when you climbed that fence and jumped. I didn’t know what to think; I was worried you’d get eaten by a bear in there.”

  Nolin actually laughed. “No, I don’t think there are any bears in those woods. To be honest, I don’t remember much about it. They just found me a few days later and took me to the hospital where my mom was.”

  “She hurt herself, didn’t she? That’s why she was there?”

  Nolin’s smile faded a little. “Yes.”

  Drew shook his head. “I could never wrap my head around that. Hurting yourself, I mean. How is she doing?”

  “I don’t know, actually. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Really? When was the last time you saw her?”

  Nolin swallowed hard. Her throat was getting dry again, and she sipped her water. “Five years ago,” she said. “I left home when I was fifteen.”

  “When you were fifteen? You were still home then? I never saw you in school.”

  Nolin shook her head. “I was actually done with school before then. I finished online while I was at a group home.”

  “A group home?”

  “For wayward teenagers.”

  “Wow. How long were you there?” He leaned forward on his elbows, his head resting on his hands like a child listening to an exciting story. Nolin felt herself relax. Her tense shoulders lowered, her jaw softened, and the maelstrom in her stomach calmed. Now that she was talking, it wasn’t so hard.

  “It’s complicated,” she went on. “I was in the local hospital for a while, then I was transferred to the state hospital. Then I was sent to a wilderness program for five months, then a coed group home in Arizona, and then a girl’s home in New Mexico. I finished school online there, and they released me to be with my mom.”

  “I take it you still didn’t get along very well.”

  “No.”

  “But why you were in the hospital for so long? Did you get hurt in the woods?”

  “I wasn’t really hurt, physically. I’m sure I had some cuts and bruises, and I might have been a bit dehydrated. I was actually in the children’s psychiatric ward for a year.” She’d never admitted that to anyone but Rebecca. She glanced up at his face, expe
cting a look of shock or even disgust, but he didn’t look ruffled at all. His eyes still twinkled with that ever-present smile.

  “After that,” Nolin continued carefully, “the state decided I needed reform. So they sent me to Wilderness and the group homes.”

  “Wow,” Drew said, sitting back in his seat. The vinyl cushion squeaked. “So that’s what they do with kids who don’t take shit from bullies?”

  “I broke his nose.”

  “You did, and maybe that was a bit much, but he had it coming. He really did, Nolin. That kid needed to learn his lesson before he pissed off someone bigger and meaner than you. If anything, you did him a favor. Trust me, he wasn’t so tough after a girl half his size put his nose in a cast.”

  Nolin chuckled, then mentally slapped herself. What she did had been wrong. That’s the kind of thing they’d discuss in therapy back at the group homes until her ears rang. Those group sessions still rattled in her brain whenever she thought about the crunch of that kid’s nose under her fist and how, even now, she’d do it again in a second.

  “I wasn’t a bad kid,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I felt horrible after I did it. I knew I was in huge trouble and if I did it once, I could do it again. Maybe worse next time. I was just protecting myself and my mom, and I knew the teachers, principal, whoever, wouldn’t understand that. They’d only punish me. If I stayed, I’d hurt even more people. So I ran. It wasn’t a decision at all, just something I did before I’d even thought about it. I couldn’t stay there.”

  The words spilled out of her, and she stopped to take a breath. She hadn’t talked this much at once in...well, she wasn’t sure how long. She was used to the quiet of the graveyard, of Rebecca’s living room as they read, communicating with minimal words. Rebecca understood her, but words between them were sparse. Not like this, where she felt like she could sit in that booth and talk for hours. She liked it, the comfort of letting the words flow from her like water from a dam.

  Drew studied her face and leaned forward on his elbows again, his hands clasped in front of him. “No,” he said, “people probably wouldn’t have understood. And they wouldn’t try to, because you were a kid and they were the grown-ups and that’s how it worked. No one really understands why someone else does something or what they really need until they stop and see the other person as a person, not just a deviant or some device there to make your life tougher.”

  “You should be a counselor,” Nolin said.

  “I want to be. That’s what I’m going to school for, to counsel teenagers.”

  Nolin smiled. The sensation of her eyes crinkling at the corners was odd, yet pleasant. “You’ll be a very good one,” she said.

  He tipped his hat at her. “Why, thank you.”

  Drew finished his food, crumpled his napkin and French fry tray, then stuffed them into his empty drink cup before replacing the lid on top.

  “What are you doing?” Nolin asked, then realized she sounded rude.

  “I like to consolidate my garbage.”

  “How fastidious of you.”

  He shrugged. “It seems neater. Makes things easier to throw away.”

  Nolin picked up her tray.

  “Are you finished?” he asked.

  “I need to get to back to my car.”

  They left. Nolin bought a gas can at the station next door and filled it. Drew let her in the truck, and she decided she liked having the door opened for her.

  “Want heat?”

  Nolin nodded, and he flipped the dial so hot air rushed out of the dusty vents. The pounding rain muffled the clanking of the truck. Every time they hit a bump, Nolin flew off the seat a little bit. She squeezed the handle on the door until her hand hurt.

  The truck ambled out of town. Soon, Nolin’s little blue car came into view. Drew made a U-turn and pulled up behind it. Once again, he left the truck first, circled around, and unlocked her door. The rain had slowed. She slid off the passenger seat and onto her feet.

  “Do you need help filling her up?” he asked.

  “I’ve got it,” Nolin said. “Thank you.”

  “You bet,” he said. “Are you sticking around for a while?”

  Nolin shook her head. “No. I mean, I hope not. I really don’t know. I was just planning to check on my mom and get out.” She thought of the plane ticket she’d purchased the night before. The flight was two weeks away; she’d definitely be gone by then.

  Drew’s head tilted. Was he disappointed? “If you change your mind,” he said, “we should get another burger.”

  Nolin smiled weakly.

  He pulled her into a quick, one-armed hug. His strength surprised her, but she was more surprised when she discovered she didn’t mind touching her cheek to his shoulder. He climbed into the truck and waved as he backed out. The truck roared down the street.

  Nolin didn’t want to leave yet, didn’t want to drive to her old house and knock on that door, so she watched him disappear down the road.

  ***

  The familiar street looked almost like it always had. A few things had changed; several trees had been cut down. A few yards were re-landscaped. Some of the houses were repainted. A couple of unfamiliar dogs barked at her rattling little car as it splashed down the repaved street.

  The windows of her old house were dark, and dead weeds spilled out of the flower beds. Half of the tree in the front yard had been trimmed away. Maybe it was dying. The garage was closed. No car in the driveway.

  Nolin slowly turned into the driveway and shut off the engine. Was she really here? She gripped the steering wheel, staring at her hands until her knuckles turned white.

  Just go in. Check on her and go home.

  Finally, she popped open the door, climbed out, and forced her feet to move. She walked the cement path to the front door, then stepped onto the porch. It would be okay. Melissa would be fine and if, for some reason, she didn’t live there anymore, Nolin would just go back to the mortuary and get on that plane in two weeks.

  She took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.

  No lights turned on. The house remained silent.

  She’s not home. Get back in the car and drive out of here, fast as that tin can will go.

  She rang again, just to be sure.

  I should just go. What was she planning to do anyway? She couldn’t make things right, not after what she’d done. Maybe she was better off disappearing.

  Nolin jumped when she heard the door unlock. It creaked open. A wiry woman appeared. Stringy hair fell over her shoulders. Sharp elbows poked out of an oversize tee shirt that didn’t hide the jutting collarbones. Icy eyes widened with surprise, then instantly hardened, glaring. Nolin didn’t know what to say.

  As she opened her mouth, her mother reached out and smacked her across the face.

  Chapter 22

  NOLIN’S FACE STUNG. Melissa twitched. Maybe she itched to follow through with a backhand. Instead, she withdrew her hand and clenched it into a tight-knuckled fist. She’d probably been saving that smack for years.

  Nolin wanted to raise her hand to her face to rub away the sting. She didn’t. She wouldn’t let her mother think she’d won. Instead, she straightened to meet Melissa’s cold glare, arms crossed over her chest. She fought to keep her face calm. Melissa’s icy stare drilled into her.

  Nolin was taller than Melissa now. Though she looked much healthier than she had ten years ago, it finally struck Nolin how tiny and frail Melissa was.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Melissa growled, her voice low and dangerous.

  Nolin felt her resolve buckle. She stuck out her chin and imagined her feet growing roots, planting her into the ground, strong and straight as a tree. “I came to see how you were,” she finally responded. She tried to match Melissa’s tone, low and frightening like faraway thunder. Her voice quavered slightly. She hoped beyond hope that Melissa didn’t notice.

  “I’m fine, thank you. Now get your ass off my porch before I call the pol
ice.”

  “You can’t have me arrested for ringing your doorbell,” Nolin snapped. Just leave. She’s fine. You got what you came for. Now leave and never, ever come back.

  “I can if you refuse to leave.” Melissa leaned against the doorframe, blocking Nolin’s view inside the house. Nolin realized she was bluffing. Melissa hated cops, doctors, and anyone she felt got a kick out of their own perceived authority. Nolin wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Look,” Nolin started, holding up her hands in a gesture of goodwill. “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to. I just had to make sure everything was all right. Then I promise, I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

  A vein twitched in Melissa’s forehead beneath her papery skin. Her pale lips pressed together until her mouth was nothing but a thin, angry gash.

  “Why would I need you to check on me?” she said, looking Nolin up and down. “I got by without you, didn’t I? You and Paul. I didn’t need either of you.”

  “That’s not true,” Nolin said. Melissa was less bony than she used to be, but she clearly wasn’t eating enough. Nolin waded through dangerous waters now. Seeing her mother alive and standing upright wasn’t enough; Nolin had to be absolutely sure that everything was fine, or the guilt would follow her for the rest of her life like an injury that never quite healed. “I know Dad sent you money, at least until I left. This yard looks like shit, Melissa. Who knows what it’s like in there.” Nolin nodded toward the interior of the house.

  “I’m just fine.” Melissa said stubbornly. A red tinge bloomed on her pale cheeks.

  Nolin took a deep breath. “Dad’s dead,” she said bluntly.

  Melissa’s mouth opened slightly, then closed, and her eyes darted downward for a split second before returning to Nolin’s. They’d lost the icy burn they’d held before. Suddenly, she looked old, exhausted.

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw him. Last night.”

  “You were in contact with him?”

  “No. I just happened to be at the hospital… after he died.” Nolin leaned back on her heels and looked away. She didn’t want to give details about where she’d been or what she did for a living. A moth fluttered around the porch, attracted to the light coming from inside the house. A cool breeze blew. Nolin shivered, though she wasn’t really cold. “I just wanted to see how you were, because he won’t be helping you anymore.”