Goth Girl

by Melanie Mosher

  “Well he never called or tried to reach us.” Mom’s voice was cracking with emotion.

  “You made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with him. And he was to keep away from Victoria.”

  “Because he was still drinking! Once Victoria was on the way we both had to grow up. He didn’t.” She took a deep breath. “As hard as it was, it was better that way.”

  My stomach knotted and my throat grew tight. I couldn’t stand by and listen any longer. I marched back into the room and the conversation. “Thanks for letting me have a say in the matter, Mom.”

  “You were a baby.”

  “And now I am fifteen. Old enough to make my own decisions.”

  “He doesn’t deserve to know you.” Mom angrily wiped tears from her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. She turned away from me and looked in the opposite direction.

  “Oh, Julia,” said Elsie. She stepped closer to Mom. “Please forgive him. He’s ill.”

  This time, I walked out of the room and towards the front door. Mom and Elsie didn’t even notice.

  I decided right then I wasn’t going to wait any longer; I wasn’t going to wait for anyone else to make the choice for me. I took out my phone, typed Elsie’s name into Canada 411, and found her street address. I stared. It was close.

  I headed in the direction of Elsie’s house. I walked quickly at first but then I slowed down, my courage wavering. I stopped and scuffed my toe on the sidewalk. I started to turn around, but the thought of Mom and Elsie still at the house stopped me from going back. I rushed on to Elsie’s.

  When I found the house, I surveyed it from the sidewalk for a moment. It was just a regular bungalow. One I had passed many times before without knowing my “family” lived there. I walked up to the front door and reached out a finger, intending to press the doorbell. But instead I grasped the doorknob. It was unlocked. I entered slowly. It seemed quiet and empty. Then I heard a feeble voice call out, “That you, Mom?”

  I jumped. This was a bad idea. Yeah, well, what was one more bad idea? I didn’t answer the voice, but headed in the direction it came from, down a small hallway. I walked slowly and carefully, staring straight ahead, looking at nothing but the direction I was going.

  “Who’s there?” said the voice.

  It came from the next room. I took a big swallow and wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. I couldn’t chicken out now. Not when I was this close.

  I peered around the doorway. “It’s Vic.” The words caught it my throat and were barely audible. I stepped over the threshold and into the room. The walls were white and bare, the furniture sparse—just the bed, a single chair, some medical equipment, and one of those hospital tables that swung over the bed when needed. It was stark and sterile. It was a hospital room in the middle of a home. It felt out of place and awkward in the rest of the house. Like me.

  A man was lying in a bed in the centre of the room, his eyes fixed on me. His skin was pale and papery, his cheeks sunken. He looked small and fragile in the bed. He had an oxygen hose around his head and secured in his nostrils. His brown curly hair needed a shampoo and a comb. His lips were cracked and split. I automatically ran my tongue over my own.

  I watched his eyes change from fear to recognition as he figured out who I was. He struggled to pull himself into a sitting position.

  “Vic…Victoria?” It wasn’t more than a whisper.

  “Vic.” I corrected. I couldn’t take my eyes off his. They were sunken and surrounded by dark circles but they were familiar. “Victoria is the queen. I’m not.”

  “Yeah,” he rasped a short laugh. “Your mom and her royal obsession.” His voice gathered strength as he talked. “Her folks never really approved of her—or me—so she adopted the royals as her new family. Said they were easier to love. Does she still follow them?”

  “She knows more about Harry and William than she does about me.”

  “Figures. She is a good woman though.” He grinned as he spoke of her.

  “So good you dumped her and her baby?” My head felt like it might overflow with emotion. My earlier anger was slipping away, quickly being replaced by a deep sadness. I bit my lip, trying to pretend none of this really mattered.

  “I was no good for either of you. Still am. It was my mother’s idea to get in touch with you.”

  I turned to leave. “Sorry to bother you then. Guess there’s no need of me standing here wondering what to say. You just said it all. So long.”

  “No. Wait.” He shifted in the bed and then winced. He laid back and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “That’s not what I meant. How can I ask you to come and see me after all this time? It’s not fair to you.”

  “Well, there’s something we agree on. But I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones. Mom and Elsie are still back at our house arguing.”

  “Those two always did clash. Guess they’re too much alike.”

  “Oh really? Your mom is never pleased with anything you do, and barely talks to you unless it’s to scream? Lucky you.”

  Richard looked at me closely. He took a breath and said, “I’m sure Julia means well. She’s doing the best she can as a single parent. I’m sorry.”

  “Right. And I’m supposed to believe that.” Now I was angry again. “Don’t think just because you’re sick I’m going to forgive you and fall all over you. I’ve gotten along all right without you for fifteen years. I can keep going.”

  “Guess I deserved that.”

  “Damn right.”

  “You seem a bit like your old man,” he said with a glint in his eye. His smirk made him look mischievous. He had a small dimple on his chin. “Does that tongue get you in trouble?”

  “I don’t have an old man, thank you very much. And I never knew I had a dad either.”

  “Well, now you do,” he said simply. “So, why all the black? I’m not dead yet.”

  “You wish this was for you.” I waved my hands up and down my body. “This is the way I dress all the time. It’s who I am.”

  “Bullshit. What’s with all the makeup? What are you hiding from?”

  Oh, I dunno. Mom’s disappointment. The unfairness of life. Self-doubt. Pick one, old man.

  “Excuse me?” I shot a look at the dying man before me. This question was coming from a man who had been in the same city as his teenage daughter for fifteen years and never bothered to make contact. I don’t think so. Who did he think he was?

  I whirled around and left. This time I didn’t stop. I raced through the house and burst out the front door. I ran down the street wanting to get as far away as I could. I had only known the man for a few minutes and he seemed to know a great deal about me. Well, I wouldn’t let him know any more. I was done.

  I didn’t have the energy to go home and face Mom, but I needed to talk. I thought of Justine, but I knew she was working. I hadn’t told Zach about Richard, but maybe it was time I did. He had troubles with his own dad, so surely he’d understand. Just thinking of Zach made me feel better. I texted him to see if he was around to meet up, and he agreed to meet me at Tim’s in ten minutes.

  I walked in and automatically stood in line. Usually the sweet, sugary smell of donuts and frosting made my stomach growl, but today it made me nauseous. I figured I better eat something, though, so I ordered a sandwich and took a seat. Two men at the table across from me nodded politely, but their eyes were full on condescension. I ignored them.

  I picked up the sandwich and brought it to my lips, but I set it back down without taking a bite. I stared at the door, waiting. When I saw Zach, I jumped up and moved toward him. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. He hugged me back, triggering the release of all the emotions I had been holding back. I cried. Not a soft weeping, but a real ugly cry: sobbing loud enough to draw attention.

  “Hey. It’s okay.” Zach’s voice was warm and comforting on my e
ar. He rubbed my back and murmured, “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

  I relaxed against him. When I finally caught my breath and pulled back, people were staring. I was sure my makeup was more frightful than ever; mascara running down my white cheeks. I swiped at my nose and ran a finger under my eyes. The two men at the table across from where I’d been sitting whispered to each other, but loud enough to hear.

  “Kids today. Terrible.”

  “Probably drugs or some other trouble.”

  I didn’t say anything, but Zach was not so tolerant. “Really?” he barked at the men. “What do you know about her? What gives you the right to judge us?”

  I tugged on his arm. I didn’t want to make a scene, but if felt glorious to have him defend me and use the word “us.”

  But Zach was on a roll. He spoke loudly so other patrons could hear. I figured he was trying to embarrass the men. “Perhaps you are two dirty old men hanging out at Tim’s on a Saturday night hoping to hit on an innocent girl.”

  One of the men stood up. “Now listen here, young man—”

  “No. You listen,” Zach cut across him. “Keep your opinions to yourself and mind your own business.” He took my hand and we stalked out. We got in his car and he peeled away from the parking lot.

  “Thanks,” I said reaching for his hand. “But you really didn’t have to do that. I get that stuff all the time. Looking different sets you up for ridicule.” I flipped down the visor, looking in the mirror to check what was left of my makeup.

  “Doesn’t make it right.” Zach was still annoyed so I stayed quiet for a minute. He drove to a nearby park and we got out. We walked for a bit, step in step, hand in hand, and then sat on the side of a grassy hill.

  Zach put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “So, what’s up?”

  It spilled out of me. I told him everything about Mom, James, Richard, and Elsie. By the time I was done the blue sky was streaked with yellow, orange, and pink. Zach never questioned any of it, he just listened. I was glad I had met him when I did and that I had him to talk to. I thought of the others in the group.

  “Did you know Russell lived in a foster home?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He mentioned it.” Zach leaned back then laid down and stared up at the stars that were starting to blossom in the sky.

  “Do you think anyone has a normal family instead of all this crap?” I laid back beside him.

  Zach rolled over to face me, his bent arm propping up his head so he looked directly at me. “I think crap is normal when it comes to families.”

  “Maybe.” I was still looking straight up; the sky was alive with twinkling stars. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” Zach kept looking at me. Then he leaned down and kissed me.

  We continued to talk and make out and watch the sky. I could have stayed forever, but when I started to yawn Zach insisted he take me home.

  He parked in front of my place and we sat there quietly for a minute. Then he squeezed my hand and just said: “Vic, it’ll all work out.”

  “I don’t know.” I wanted to believe him.

  I kissed him lightly and got out of the car. The house was quiet when I let myself in. I wasn’t sure if Mom was home and asleep or out. I was too tired to care. I washed my face and crawled into bed. It had been a long day.

  ____

  I woke up Sunday feeling like I hadn’t slept a wink. Thoughts of my dying father weighed heavy on my mind, but thoughts of Zach defending me, comforting me, kissing me, made me float through the house to the kitchen. Mom was at the table. There was no avoiding her.

  “Hey,” I said warily.

  “Did you go see your father yesterday?” she demanded. She set down her teacup and sat up straight in the chair, ready for a confrontation.

  Good morning to you too. “Yeah.” I spoke calmly. I didn’t have it in me to argue.

  “I wish you would have discussed it with me first.”

  “You were busy fighting with his mother,” I reminded her. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going back to see him again.”

  “Why not?” Mom seemed to sizzle with anger. “Did Richard say something?”

  “I shouldn’t have gone in the first place. And Elsie, or Grandmother, or whoever she is, shouldn’t have told you I emailed her.” I got a glass from the cupboard and poured myself some orange juice.

  “She was just trying to do the right thing, Victoria,” Mom reasoned. “She didn’t want you going behind my back.”

  I looked at Mom but didn’t answer.

  “Elsie feels there have been enough secrets.” Mom was standing now.

  I nodded. “Well, now we all know. You lied to me about Richard and I tried to go behind your back. Guess we’re even.” I took my juice and went back to my room.

  On Monday Mr. Fawthrope handed back our English tests. I stared at the big red F. I’d never failed a test before. It was like swallowing a mixture of glass and rocks. It stung and tore at my insides and was heavy in my gut. I had always tried to do my best at school. It was my ticket out of here, my hope for the future, and now I might have jeopardized it.

  “Please see me after class, Victoria,” said Mr. Fawthrope.

  “Can’t,” I lied. “Busy.” There was no way I was going to discuss my tragic life with Mr. Fawthope.

  I set the paper on my desk and reached into my backpack for my book.

  Kate noticed the grade. “Wow, the mighty Vic has fallen. Maybe hanging out with a bunch of delinquents is rubbing off on you.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I snapped. “You don’t know any of those people.”

  Mark turned around. “I think it’s time to ease up on the eye makeup, Vic. Obviously it has sunk in and turned even your grey matter to black.”

  “You guys are so funny.”

  Jeremy leaned over. “Thanks for noticing. We’re here Monday through Friday.” He nodded at Mark. The two of them chuckled.

  Mr. Fawthrope began to introduce the next book we’d be reading, Lord of the Flies by William Golding.

  “This is a story of a group of young boys who get stranded on an island and set up their own society.”

  Maybe I could get stranded on an island…it would be quiet and drama-free. I picked up my pencil and began to doodle. My island had palm trees and sandy beaches, gentle waves, and lots of sun. I kept sketching, filling in detail, daydreaming about the blissful solitude.

  The sudden scraping sound of chair startled me. Focus, Goth Girl, you don’t want to fail another test.

  “You see,” Mr. Fawthrope continued, “life often hands out unexpected blows. It’s how you choose to deal with them that makes all the difference.”

  Easy to say when you’re not the one getting pummelled.

  Mr. Fawthrope handed copies of the book out and we had the rest of the period to read silently. When the bell rang, I rushed from the classroom. I plunked my tray down on the table across from Justine. I nodded at her and she gestured in return, but she didn’t take out her ear buds.

  I watched Justine close her eyes and move her head to what I assumed was the rhythm of the “great new song” she was listening to. Finally, she stopped and took out the earphones.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Did you know there’s going to be a metal festival in Halifax this summer?” Justine blew on the bowl of soup in front of her. She picked up the little square package of crackers, squashed it, then opened it and dumped the crumbs into the bowl.

  “No, can’t say that I did.”

  “Yeah! I’m saving up for tickets.” She stirred as she spoke.

  “Woo-hoo,” I said with a laugh. “Extra shifts at Walmart!”

  Justine laughed too. “Be glad I work there, or you’d have no paint supplier.” She slurped her soup.

  “I am. That reminds me, I forgot to mention there
were three young guys in the store the other day asking about getting some paint.”

  Justine stopped eating and looked directly into my eyes. “You didn’t say anything did you? I could lose my job.”

  “I told them to get lost. I’d never rat you out. I need all the people on my side I can muster.”

  Justine sighed with relief. She stared, waiting for me to elaborate.

  “What?” But I knew what she wanted hear. Where should I begin? It seemed like a lifetime of events had happened since I last saw Justine.

  “You know what.” Justine leaned forward. “Tell me!”

  Funny how all this stuff in my life had got the two of us talking. We were almost like friends now. I hadn’t expected that. I took a deep breath and sat back.

  Justine looked at me expectantly, anxious for me to start.

  “Okay, okay. The highlights: Saturday morning, Zach picked me up at home—amazing. Art group—good. After group I came home to find my grandmother there talking to Mom about the card, my email, and me meeting my dad. I left and went to meet my ‘dad’—bad idea. I messaged Zach and we spent the evening under the stars talking and making out—best night ever.” I made jazz hands.

  Justine’s eyes were huge and her jaw hung open. I spent the rest of the lunch period filling in the details and answering her questions.

  ____

  I had to work Wednesday evening. I was trying hard to focus. I really needed this job. Mr. Habib was still at the store doing some paperwork, but I think he stayed late to keep an eye on me.

  I kept busy, cleaning when there were no customers. I wiped down the pop cooler and swept the floor. I was replenishing the candy shelves and I headed out back to the stockroom for more chocolate bars. I heard the door chime. I grabbed the box and headed back to the front of the store. Just as I came around the corner I saw the person who had entered.

  I froze. It was Elsie. Thankfully she was looking the other way and didn’t see me. It was so weird that I had had several conversations with her, not knowing she was my grandmother. Now that I knew, I didn’t want to speak with her. I retreated into the stockroom and pretended I hadn’t heard anything. I held my breath until I heard Mr. Habib speak to her. He was probably ticked that I hadn’t run out like I was supposed to, but I couldn’t face her.