Oleander: One of Us Series

by Faulks, Kim

  Her shoes tapped against the hard floor and then stopped.

  Don’t look…don’t look at her…

  I shifted against the seat and stared at the dirt under my nails. Fingers curled, hiding under the menu.

  And then I turned my head.

  Her eyes widened, fixed on mine. There was a second where I judged her, like an animal judges a kill—but instead of weak spots and meat, I saw her life. That was my meat. That’s what I wanted more than food.

  And that ache speared deeper. Like an eagle pecking with long curved beak. She exhaled hard and lifted her hand, finding the open palm of her father.

  “Just pick a table, Stacey,” he muttered and talked to the waitress.

  Her throat muscles worked as she swallowed. She tore her gaze from mine to scan the room. There was no one else here…no one but me and them.

  Until my dad came.

  ‘Cause he was coming. That’s what he said.

  Coulda had car trouble. The van was a piece of shit.

  She dropped his hand and took a step. It was just a small one, testing the waters—like a caribou ready to run, and then slowly she crossed the floor to slide into the table in front of me.

  But there was no looking at the menu, no moving the silver forks and spoons. She just stared…and stared.

  And stared.

  I lifted my hand, fingers curled and brushed knuckles against my hair. Nails tangled in knots. Strands fell free with a jerk. There was nothing I could do, smooth, tuck…swallow and swallow again.

  Purple shone bright in the sun as I looked down. I swept my fingers across the table and the strands fell from the edge to float to the floor.

  “How are we going? Pancakes or eggs, what did you decide?” Her father asked as he moved closer.

  Still she never answered, only stared. “Daddy,” she murmured as he slid into the seat. “That girl looks funny.”

  He shifted, glanced over his shoulder to me. My jaw tightened, teeth ground tight. I waited for the words and the anger. I waited for the screams and the fists.

  But I was over here.

  I was nowhere near them.

  I wouldn’t hurt them. Wouldn’t let the monster in me out to roam.

  “She scares me,” the girl whispered.

  He gave a sad smile and scanned my hair, and my clothes, before I looked away.

  “She’s just a little girl, sweetheart. Same age as you.”

  “Where’s her dad?” The whisper was sharp rocks under my back at night.

  They left bruises…they left pain.

  “Probably working, waiting to come back from Prudhoe. Stop staring, Stacey, it’s rude.”

  “You gonna order now, or still wait?”

  I flinched at the sound of her voice. I hadn’t seen her come toward me…I licked my lips and turned my head, staring at the vacant lot and barren wasteland of the Tundra.

  There was no green out here. Only dirt and steel. Only cold…so…so cold. The wind howled, sending screams through the gaps in the doors. The pang of hunger was a gunshot through my belly. The menu shook in my hand as the girl in front spoke to her father. “I’m going to have eggs and toast. Scrambled. I want my eggs scrambled, and juice. I want juice too.”

  “Scrambled,” I muttered. “With toast and juice.”

  She scribbled on the notepad in front of her. “And I’m taking it your daddy’s going to be along to pay for this?”

  I gave a nod and slid the menu closed. She snatched it from my fingers, sharpened edges burning my palm and muttered. “He better be, or I’m calling the cops.”

  It was like night and day as she stepped close to the father. Gone was the scowl, gone were the snapping words. Snap…snap…snap. Her pasty lips stretched wide as she smiled. “Harry, you ready to order now, hon?”

  “Sure we are.” He lifted his head and gave her a wink. “Stacey’s going to have the eggs scrambled, with toast, and I’ll have the big one.”

  “And juice!” the girl snarled. “Don’t forget my juice!”

  “And the damn juice,” he muttered and gave the waitress a weak smile.

  The woman fluttered her lashes and leaned close, rubbing like a moose ready to mate. Acid seeped into my throat. I’d seen the animals…seen them do just that, before they climbed on top. Gross.

  I closed myself to her words and her rubbing and stared outside. Days blurred out here. Days and nights, and now the animals were acting strange. Wolves had huddled together, and then finally left—leaving me alone with the bears. There wasn’t much food left, not for them…and not for me.

  Bears moved slow and ate everything.

  Still I fought for what I could, and found a hut buried in the woods where the first white flakes fell from the sky. The roof had caved in, and the cold made itself at home—just like me. But it’d do…for just a little while.

  Just until Dad came.

  Stuff had been left scattered on the ground. A rusted plate, an old steel box filled with bullets, and an axe buried in the trunk of a tree.

  But the tree was still alive and growing. The sight of that gave me hope.

  I could be like the tree. I could grow with an axe in my side. I could bleed and survive. I could make it out here…and wait.

  Wait for him to come back.

  Wait for him to get me.

  The van was a piece of shit. I knew that.

  Still, how much longer could he be?

  The winds were bitter and cruel. Stinging like words, like whispers.

  I lifted my gaze to the girl—stinging like stares.

  She glared at me, at my hair, and my clothes. I curled my shoulders forward and stared outside into nothing. Something slick and warm slid down my cheek. I lashed out with my fingers, swiped it fast before anyone knew.

  The waitress barked orders in the back. I couldn’t help but listen, couldn’t help but think. There were no cops here in Deadhorse. There was nothing here in Deadhorse. No town. No banks. No shops with the girls and the clothes.

  There was nothing but dirt. Nothing but cold. The waitress thought I was dumb. ‘Cause I’m just a girl. It’s okay. I understood that. They saw me as something other than what I am.

  I get that.

  I hope for that.

  Because if they saw the real me. If they heard the tick…tick…tick…constantly in my head they might run. They might hurt me. Back and forth…back and forth. My body moved on its own.

  I didn’t want them to hurt me.

  ‘Cause I didn’t want to hurt them back.

  The heady scent of bacon and meat wafted from out back. I swallowed the wetness in my mouth and shoved my fist into my belly. Water filled me, but left just as fast. And still the hunger remained.

  It gnawed and screamed, keeping me awake—keeping me desperate.

  Two glasses clinked on the table in front. She rested the glass filled with juice on the table and leaned over in front of the man. “Let me just take those menu’s for y’all.”

  The loud ding came from outback, and with a swish of her hips she was gone, dancing across the floor like a loon. I didn’t get it. Didn’t get the need to make a fool of yourself.

  My coat pulled on the corner of the table, riding high on my arms. The marking peeked out from under the cuff. I jerked my other hand higher and tugged the hem, pulling it down.

  My wrists ached. They always ached. Things always rubbed…always strangled. My pulse sped like the thunder of hooves in my head—swallowing the tick…tick…tick…

  “Here you go, honey,” the waitress sang and slid a plate in front of the girl. “And here’s yours, Harry. A big breakfast for a big guy.”

  The girl rolled her eyes and stared at the plate. “Where’s my toast? I ordered toast. Dad…Daddy!”

  The waitress blanched with the girl’s squeal, and her top lip curled. She was an animal. A hungry animal. Only it wasn’t food she hunted.

  “Margaret, sorry,” the father muttered and glared at his child.

  “Don’
t be.” The waitress ran her hand down his arm. “Let me grab that for you straight away, honey.”

  The moment her back was turned the girl started. “I don’t like this place. I don’t like her. When are you coming home?”

  “I told you,” he reached across the table for her glass. “Mum and I are taking a break. I got work here, Stacey, so I can’t come back. Not yet.”

  The girl huffed, crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at the eggs on her plate. I’d give anything to have those eggs. Give anything to have a dad who paid for them.

  “Here you go,” the waitress murmured and headed for me with a big plate in one hand and a smaller one in the other.

  Butter and steam wafted from the yellow mountain. I lunged as soon as the plate hit, smashed my fist into the center and shoved the eggs into my mouth.

  “Oh Hell no, you don’t eat like that in my restaurant!” she barked, eyes bright with anger. She lifted a hand and stabbed the air at the table. “There’s cutlery. So, use it!”

  Slippery eggs fell from my fingers. I licked and sucked and then grasped the fork. There was no girl, no stares or whispers. There was only food. I coughed, choked…and growled. “More.”

  The waitress slid the small plate in front of the girl and answered me, “It’s gonna be extra.”

  I nodded. I didn’t care. Had no money to pay anyway.

  Shove…chew. Shove…chew. I savaged the toast, tearing hunks from the middle as warm, slick butter slipped down my fingers. The heat of their stares slipped away. I scraped and swallowed, lifting my head only when footsteps neared.

  Lips curled, teeth bared. Don’t take it from me. Don’t take my food. Another plate hit the table. This pile bigger than before. The empty plate was gone before I realized it. I grasped the cold ceramic, and dragged it close.

  Chew…chew chew. My belly howled and snarled. Bowing out, getting bigger. More…more. More food.

  I lifted my head, staring at the yellow juice. Beaded moisture slipped along the outside. I grasped the glass with both hands and lifted toward my lips. One hard gulp. It hurt like a stone shoved down my throat.

  My sleeves slipped higher revealing a number.

  Five seven six three.

  Not just any number. My number.

  I licked my lips and wrenched my gaze from the sight. More eggs, more toast, until my jaw ached, and my movements slowed.

  A tremor raced, sending shudders along my arms. Warmth followed. A soft warmth, a rocking warmth. I moved slow now. Slow like the bears in the woods.

  Slow, maybe. But still dangerous.

  Always dangerous.

  My cutlery clattered against the plate as the drone slowly seeped in. I lifted my gaze to the chatter and the din as the father sipped his juice and talked to the waitress.

  They were going to meet up. Going to look at some ‘mattresses’ whatever that meant. It must’ve been exciting ‘cause he was grinning now. The girl still scowled and stared at me.

  She poked out her tongue and then slid against the seat, turning sideways to swing her feet over the side.

  I thought we were the same. Same height. Same age. Nine, I think. But we weren’t the same. Not the same thoughts or the same inside.

  Her father slid from the seat and followed the waitress as I reached for the juice and took a sip.

  I could run now. Be out the door before anyone knew, until the waitress called. “I’m watching you, Miss. Dontcha think I’m not.”

  Still, I could. I gripped the table and gave a nod. Jeans scraped against the ruptured seat. Boots skimmed the air, too far off the ground.

  My heart hammered as I slid, until the register gave a ching and the father turned. He gave me one look and then motioned for the girl. “Let’s go, Stacey. You’ve been very rude, and I’m really disappointed.”

  She stuck out her tongue to the waitress who just glared.

  But they were blocking my way. I couldn’t run. Not now. Not with the father in my path. He’d grab me. He’d see the numbers on my arm, and he’d call them…the bad men.

  Gotta stay off the grid, Oleander. Stay low. Stay quiet. Don’t want the bad men finding you, do you?

  Dad’s words echoed. I didn’t want them…didn’t want the bad men whoever they were. The door to the diner howled as it swung inwards and they left. I was alone now. Alone with the waitress waiting to be paid.

  Alone with Dad’s words in my head. Dirt peppered the front of the diner, a flash of white through the billowing cloud of dust.

  My heart gave a stutter and then a leap as I stared through the haze to the outline of a battered van.

  He was here.

  He was really here.

  I swung my gaze to the waitress. Eyes wide. Mouth open.

  She stared through the glass as the bitter wind whipped and screamed. Outside the girls hair slapped her face. She turned her head this way and that and then climbed into her truck.

  But Dad was here.

  Dad had come to pay for the breakfast and take me back home.

  It didn’t matter where that was. Didn’t matter we moved a lot, didn’t even matter about the women he slept with. The women who looked at me with sad eyes, and whispered sadder words.

  I’d sleep anywhere. Live anywhere, as long as it was with him. I turned back to the outline as the dust was snatched away, and I stared at a van that wasn’t ours.

  It wasn’t ours.

  It wasn’t ours.

  Not our van. Not my dad.

  The driver’s door cracked open and a man spilled free. He kept his eyes down, walked with a slouch and a limp, and slipped like a bad dream into the diner.

  I stared at his face. I didn’t mean to. But I had to.

  Had to be sure. And he wasn’t…wasn’t Dad, wasn’t anyone.

  He lifted his head, scanned the empty diner and then stilled. The cold Alaskan wind found me, tearing along my bones like it teared along the Tundra as he dropped his gaze to the single plate in front of me.

  “This your kid?” The waitress growled. “She owes us money for food.”

  There were no words, no begging, no pleading—just a simple nod, and then movement as he slid into the opposite chair.

  Caked dirt cracked on his fingers as he reached across the table, skimmed slick cold butter from the plate and shoved the tip between his lips. “Looks good, was it good?”

  I couldn’t answer, couldn’t nod. Only stare at his long greasy hair and grey peppered beard. My belly rolled. The eggs didn’t sit so good now, welling in my belly like a lump of dough.

  They didn’t sit good at all.

  I swallowed hard as the waitress neared. “Thought she was having me on there for a bit. I almost called the cops.”

  “There’s no cops here,” the stranger answered without taking his eyes off me. “And I’ll have what she had.”

  “You want the one serving, or the two?”

  “Two servings?” Thick black brows rose. “You must’ve been hungry.”

  “Yes Sir, yes she was. Looked like she hadn’t been fed in a week. I’ll get this right to you, and then tally up the bill.”

  He gave a nod as she turned and left. I glanced toward the door as he looked at the menu and spoke. “Kinda rude, isn’t it?”

  I flinched and found his gaze as he lifted his head.

  “You could at least give me a little company, not too much to ask, is it?”

  His dark eyes blurred with a shake of my head.

  “You want to tell me where you’re from?”

  I stilled, panicked words escaped. “Here and there.”

  There was a slow nod. “Me too, travelled all over. Got a place down in Hero Springs, but it’s old, left to me from my Momma. You got a Momma?”

  “Yes…no.” The hiss was small and raw.

  “Yes and no,” he muttered, and then turned his head. He made me feel like a baby. Made me feel like the little white birds that hid in the scrub.

  “So, does that apply to your dad, is he a yes and
a no?”

  “No. He’s a yes. He’s coming to get me.”

  He was riveted to the table, dirty fingers pushed the bottom of the fork to the side, and back again. “Maybe he had car trouble?”

  “That’s what I said…what I keep saying. The van’s a piece of shit.”

  He nodded…hard. “Yep, got trouble all the time with mine. It’s always breaking down. Always giving me trouble. Hell, yesterday it just stopped dead in the middle of the street. Know how embarrassing that is?”

  I nodded, head bouncing, hair swaying. Maybe he wasn’t so bad now. Maybe I had him all wrong? “Yeah, that’s happened to us.”

  “I mean, he could be just down the road…just waiting for you.”

  I stilled with the thought and turned my head, and instead of looking across the barren wasteland I stared at the road. Could he be? Could he be down there waiting for me? I had no phone, even though I begged and I begged. I had no flip phone to call him if I needed.

  “Thinking about it, I’m sure I passed someone with a van not long back.”

  My heart leapt like a bird to smash against my ribs.

  “Here you go,” the waitress murmured and slid a plate of eggs and toast in front of him, as well as the bill.

  He never looked at her, never even looked at the slip of paper. He lifted his fork and slowly stabbed the fluffy yellow pile. Every fork full was deliberate, as the panicked voices filled my head. “How long back?”

  “Not long,” he answered and wiped his mouth with the napkin.

  He had manners. Nice manners, not like me. One of dad’s lady friends told me a man with good manners could always be trusted. I remembered those words now as the stranger speared his food and ate. “I could take you to him?”

  I stiffened, gaze dancing around the table as I searched for that voice.

  That one who whispered bad things are coming.

  But was he one of them?

  Was he one of the bad things?

  “Or if you want, there’s a pair of binoculars inside the van. You don’t have to get in. You can just use them. You might see him.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. Dirty fingers skimmed two notes free before he tossed them on the table.

  He had money…a lot of money.

  Good manners and lots of money.