Mirror Lake

Six

Hugh's hand rested on his daughter's shoulder as she stared at her apartment in terror. Splinters of wood, from where the doorknob had cracked the door, lay in the entryway. Her chair, her favorite chair, was torn, and stuffing eroded from it like a gaping wound. The lamp on the end table had been broken, and the refrigerator had been left open. Casper was nowhere to be found.

"Are you okay?" Hugh asked.
Jillian shrugged.
"Not really?" she replied. It sounded more like she was asking a question, rather than giving an answer.

Fuck, who would be?

"The only thing I owned worth anything was the necklace Grandma gave me, and it's still in my jewelry box."

She stared blankly at her trashed apartment. Her place of solitude. Her home. Sheriff King had concluded that it had to be the same punks who had been breaking into homes around town, lately. Nothing had been taken, unless they'd carried off the overweight cat, so he figured it was probably a couple of teenagers. It was amateur.

Hugh shifted his weight.
"Your Mom will fix up the couch in the back room," he said, turning to his daughter.
Jillian shook her head. She wasn't scared, she was angry. Someone had invaded her space; and her cat was missing.
"Dad, I'll go to the hardware store and buy a new door. I have money saved up. I was hoping to use it for a trip somewhere, but," she raised one shoulder. "I'm not being bullied out of my own house."
Hugh frowned.
"Jillian, this is not something to mess around with," he told her sternly. "What if you had been home?"

Jillian rolled her eyes. It was a look Hugh had seen many times during her teenage years, and that made her seem fifteen now.

"Dad, you heard Sheriff King. It was probably some kids. I'm getting a new door, something with a deadbolt; and I have my taser."
She snickered at the thought.
"It's Mirror Lake. A taser is a little much even."

Jillian put her hand on her father's arm.
"I'll be absolutely fine, Dad. Just help with the door, okay?"

Hugh agreed to help his daughter. He didn't agree with her decision, but he knew there was no changing her mind. Jillian was stubborn, like he was, and had always been as independent as possible. She was an adult, and as much as he wanted to make her come home with him, he knew it would just mean she probably wasn't coming the next weekend for her weekly visit.

As they returned from the hardware store, Charlie approached the car. He seemed upset. His brow was wrinkled, and the toothpick hanging from his mouth had been bitten and chewed at the end, where he'd worried it with his teeth.

"Hey, Jillian, are you alright?" he asked. "I heard Sheriff King talking at that coffee spot, near my office. Something about your apartment."
Charlie shrugged one shoulder, seeming suddenly shy.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Hugh crossed his arms, and looked at his daughter, amused. Jillian smiled, and felt herself start to warm with embarrassment. She could feel her father's eyes boring into her.

"That's very thoughtful, Charlie, thank you."

Charlie seemed to suddenly notice that Hugh was standing next to her. He grinned.
"Charlie Vandal." he said, firmly gripping Hugh's hand.
Hugh nodded, still amused, and shook his hand.
"Hugh Foster. I'm the Dad." He looked Charlie over. "You the guy that works at the paper?" he asked.
Charlie nodded, and then shook his head before lifting one shoulder.

"Well yeah, we're located in the same office, but I deal more with printing and publishing other works." He paused, then quickly added, "It's nice to meet you."

There was an awkward twelve-second silence, during which the three of them just stared at each other. Charlie didn't want to overstep his boundries with Jillian, and Jillian didn't want her father thinking that Charlie was anyone serious; and Hugh was enjoying making his daughter very obviously uncomfortable. Then, Jillian clapped her hands together.

"So thank you, Charlie, for checking in on me. Dad and I have to fix my door..."

"Let me help with that," he said, gliding past Jillian and grabbing one end of the heavy door. The muscled arms peeking out of his red flannel shirt tightened, and Jillian could no longer remember why she'd been trying to deny it, anyways.

"Sure thing!" replied Hugh. He was well aware of his daughter's uncomfortable demeanor; because he knew, that she knew, that he knew she'd been with Charlie the night before.

Which I was, but not like that. Jillian grumbled internally.

She had never brought anyone to meet her parents. Hugh was going to take advantage of this coincidental meeting.

Jillian searched the nearby trees for Casper. She was worried about him. He didn't usually run off, and even if he had wandered after a bird or something, he always came back in less than an hour. He couldn't go that far, he was just as overweight as Garfield, if not fatter.

What if something happened to him? What if whoever broke in...

Jillian shook her head. She wasn't going to allow herself to think like that; she couldn't.

He's fine. He's probably sitting under a bush somewhere, napping off a meal, like the fat fucker he is.

Jillian thought the words, but somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered you're wrong. She felt nauseous, and a part of her even wanted to stay with her parents. However, there was no logical reason she could find, that made any of her worries seem valid.

Later, after Jillian's new door had been installed, the apartment had been cleaned, and Hugh had taken half-an-hour to smoke a couple of cigarettes before leaving, Charlie stood, staring at Jillian. Her blonde hair was tucked behind an old bandana, except for the few strands that fluttered around her face.

"That wasn't so bad. Your father seems pretty badass, for lack of a better word." Charlie said, breaking the silence before it could even fully develop.

He lit a cigarette and shoved his hands in his pockets. Jillian lit one as well, and slid down to sit against her front door, sighing. Everything had been taken care of, with the exception of locating a certain feline. Hugh had been filled in about the previous evening, and it had been quite difficult to convince him that Charlie was not some secret boyfriend, or any type of boyfriend for that matter. He'd teased Jillian the whole time, and she was sure to get a call from her mother as soon as Hugh got home.

"You look lost in thought," Charlie said, sitting next to her. "Are you alright?"

"I wish people would stop asking me that," Jillian said gently. "I'm really not, but I'm trying to force myself to be. I don't know, maybe I should've gone with him to the house."
She wiped away tears that came suddenly, annoyed with herself for crying, and especially for doing so in front of Charlie.
"I'm starving," she admitted, choking out laughter.

Charlie put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.
"I get it, I get it," he said soothingly. "You're hungry and cranky. I get like that, too."

Charlie stood, stomping his cigarette out, and pulled her to her feet.
"Let's go get some food, and then I'll drive you home and sit with you for a bit- if you want."

Jillian hesitated, thinking that she didn't again, want to give him the wrong idea; but she didn't want to be alone, and something about Charlie felt comfortable.
"Sure," she said. "Why not?"

As they drove away, the light in the front of the complex flickered. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote cried to the moon; and if anyone had been standing at the door to apartment 3B, they might have heard the quiet gasp of someone's very last breath.

But no one was, and so no one heard.

***