Mirror Lake

Two

The shadows that fell from the trees along the road washed over Jillian's car like a flickering lightbulb. Her parents lived in a small ranch house at the end of a gravel road. The property was nestled at the foot of the mountain. She had rejoiced, the day she'd bought her car and no longer had to walk the road from hell just to catch a bus into town every day. There were few trees here, and the sun quickly filled the car, urging her to pull her sweatshirt off.

When she did so, her pocket caught the cigarette lighter that she had pushed in only moments before. The scalding metal piece pipped out of the center console and fell to her feet. Jillian choked out a gasp-

Fuck.

-and quickly bent to grab it, jerking the steering wheel as she pulled herself back into a sitting position. As the car rolled to a stop, her father stood, looking at her quizzically.

Hugh Foster was a large man. As tall as he was strong and, in his older age, wide. His once golden-brown mustache looked faded, and it seemed like the hair at the top of his head was thinner every time Jillian saw him. His thick eyebrow was raised, and his blue eyes twinkled.

"You drink that bottle of champagne your mom wanted on the way over?" he asked, motioning to the car. "Looked like you were having some difficulties."

Jillian smirked.

"Funny, Dad. No." she handed him the bottle. "I dropped my lighter."

Hugh leaned forward to look inside, and noticed the circular burn that now blemished the floor mat.

"Uh-huh," he said. "You should be more careful."

He glanced around at the house behind him, and then leaned in, popping the lighter and motioning to Jillian.

"Quick, give me one before your mom comes out."

Jillian held her pack out and he took one, but she felt uneasy giving him a secret cigarette when her mother had been on him to quit for years. He lit it and took a hurried drag. She imagined that he would have looked the same at fifteen, smoking behind the school.

"Mom's going to kill you," Jillian observed. "Well, she'll kill me and then she'll kill you."

Hugh snorted and hastily extinguished his smoke.

"She's always mad at me nowadays, what's the difference?"

Jillian's mother floated out of the house and hugged her daughter, taking the bottle of champagne from her as she did so.

"You're finally here! I was starting to get worried."

Catherine's nose wrinkled and she looked down at Jillian's shirt, like it was covered in dog shit.

"You smell like a bar. Why do you smoke those things?"

I knew it. I fucking knew it. I deserve a fucking drink, just for knowing that that would happen.

"I guess I just enjoy torturing you, Mom," Jillian said, sarcastically.

Catherine stopped by her husband as she headed back towards the house, and looked at him, annoyed.

"Really, Hugh?"

Hugh stood next to his daughter as his wife muttered her way inside, her silver-blonde hair bouncing against her shoulders, looking like a child marching away to pout.

"You know she smokes when she's had too much to drink," he grumbled. "I don't give her a hard time about it."

Jillian sighed and linked arms with her father, turning them towards the house.