Mirror Lake

Five

The smell of bacon had always reminded Jillian of Sunday mornings as a kid. Casual and relaxed, with no one rushing off for the busy day that lie ahead of them. She watched Charlie busy himself around the kitchen, and thought about how nice it would be to have someone besides her cat keep her company in the morning.

Or anytime, for that matter.

"I should probably get going soon. I have to get my car, and go home to feed the cat, and take care of some things." She said.

Jillian was afraid to stay any longer. They'd talked, and gotten the dust settled. Why risk turning it into a situation that would ruin all of that? She didn't want that to happen, because she genuinely liked him.

Charlie grabbed the coffee pot and filled a mug.
"You have time to eat something at least. You definitely should, with how much we drank."

Can't argue there.

Jillian tried. She tried to argue with herself about it, but in all reality, she was having a great time just being around Charlie, and she wanted it to last a little longer.

"Yeah, probably," she winced "and maybe a Tylenol or something?"

She took the coffee and yawned, as Charlie reached over for their plates. It looked amazing, for as simple as it was. There was a steaming pile of scrambled eggs, golden hash browns, and some delicious looking, crispy bacon.

"Hey, thanks, I didn't know you cooked." she teased.
Charlie laughed, and sat at the island counter next to her.
"I used to make my own breakfast and lunch, and dinner, all the time." he admitted. "My Aunt and Uncle were usually out of town working until late, and they left before I even got up, really."
"Wow," Jillian paused, and then asked, hesitantly, "Where were your parents?"

Charlie took a long drink of his coffee. His brown eyes fixated on some unseen spot on the tile of the counter near his hand, and he cleared his throat.

"They uh, died... When I was nine."
He wasn't looking at her when he spoke, and he'd stopped poking at his eggs with his fork. Jillian wished she hadn't asked.
"They lost control of the car, during a storm on their way to see my grandparents."

Jillian stared at him, terrified.

Way to go, Jill.

"I am so, so sorry." she stammered.
Charlie shrugged, as if pushing the thought off his shoulder, and took another drink of his coffee.
"It was a long time ago, no worries."

He blinked as if to focus, and then reached for the bacon on her plate, playfully.
"Sorry, I didn't realize you don't like bacon,"

Jillian pointed the prongs of her fork in his direction.
"I will stab you, if you touch that bacon," she told him, with her eyebrows raised. She was smiling, and then they were laughing. It was good, she thought. Having a friend.

Charlie was going to walk Jillian the short distance to her car. Conveniently, his apartment was just up the road from the bar they had been in the night before. They chatted the whole way there, and Jillian almost wanted to stay with him longer, still. It felt good to talk to someone who wasn't a cat, or her parents.

"Thanks for breakfast," she said, opening the car door. "And I had a lot of fun last night. We should hang out again soon. Definitely better than being alone."

Charlie smiled sheepishly, and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. The toe of his black work boot scuffed the ground.

"Yeah, it was really fun. I'm glad we ran into each other."
He took a step back, to make room for her to shut the door, and grimaced.
"Geez, what happened to your car door?" he asked.
Jillian got out, and looked. There, in the dirty old red paint, were two long and deep scratches. Jillian knew they hadn't been there the night before. Something like this would have been noticeable immediately, and she would more than likely have remembered it happening.
"Probably some asshole opening their door, and figured my car is already a piece of shit." she said.

I know it's a piece of shit, but come on, man...

Charlie bent down to look at it closely. He looked confused, and then slightly annoyed.

"Looks more like you got keyed," he said, pointing at it. "It's pretty wide, and deep, and there aren't really any other scratches," he paused, "It's not looking like a whole door rubbed against it."

Jillian wrinkled her brow. He was right. She remembered in high school, when a student had taken their key to the principal's car. It had left gouges, completely different from the marks made when Jillian had accidentally opened her car door into her brother's new Mustang.

"People fucking suck." she said simply.

She decided that if she ever found out who had done this, she'd egg their car on a hot summer day; and it would be when they couldn't find a parking space in the shade.

Fuckheads.

Charlie let her know that he could fix it the next day, if she wanted to swing by. Jillian agreed, thanked him again, then headed home to feed Casper. She hadn't been in the car more than 2 minutes, and a police cruiser flew past her. She shivered. Mirror Lake was usually pretty problem free. At least on the surface. The town had police, and medical services, and a fire department. But there was rarely anything going on, so when the sirens came out, people worried.

Jillian had always been particularly anxious about the sound of sirens. She knew it meant someone was in trouble, and she also knew that especially in this town, sirens meant it was serious. Then, Jillian watched as they turned down the road to her parents' house. Her stomach sank, like a ton of bricks. Her breath came rapidly, and her heart felt like it was caving in on itself. Terrible scenarios flashed through her mind like a flood, as she turned onto the road. The police car had vanished, and Jillian pushed on the gas, fear shaking her fingertips and grinding her teeth together. By the time she neared her parents' house, she was having difficulty breathing.

Sheriff Frederick King was getting older. He didn't feel as quick as he did when he was twenty, and fresh. At fifty-two years old, he had seen a lot of shit that he wished he hadn't. He had been grateful to move to Mirror Lake with his wife Rebecca twenty-six years earlier, and live a life in a nice place, where he could enjoy things as he aged.
Freddy had met Jillian that year, when she was four years old. She had been full of questions for him. Why is your car two colors? Why are you wearing a costume? Does your mustache poke you when you sneeze? He had come out to the Foster place because Hugh had reported some kids who threw a rock through a shed window.

After that day, King had seen the Fosters around, on a regular basis. Jillian had done a report on him for school once, and made sure she attended the annual M.L.S.D. cookout, every year; and she always made sure she brought the potato salad he loved so much.

Jillian wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. Sheriff King was standing in the yard with both of her parents. They looked worried, but were okay.

Fuck. Thank you, thank you, and thank you.

"What's going on?" she asked, climbing out of the car.
Her mother hugged her tightly, before looking down at her daughter's bare feet.
"Are you okay?" Hugh asked, putting his heavy hand on Jillian's shoulder.
She was confused. King motioned to her car, the door still open.

"Run into some trouble?" he asked, motioning toward the scratch on the car.
"I honestly don't know how it got there," Jillian said, slightly annoyed that no one had answered her question.
"Can you please tell me what's happening? I just followed you all the way here because I thought my parents were in some kind of trouble."

Sheriff King sighed.
"I'm glad you're okay. We were worried when we got to your apartment and no one had seen you, and there's been this string of robberies lately. We still haven't caught the guy."

He studied the confusion on Jillian's face, and realized that in her urgency to get here, wherever she had been, she hadn't even bothered to stop at home.

"Someone broke into your apartment."

***