Nowhere Girl

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She had been catching glimpses of it for days now. Plucking up the courage to get nearer and nearer.

"What's out there?" she asked him.

"Nothing," he replied, simply.

"Have you ever been out?"

"Once. Years ago."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

She could sense that he didn't really want to talk about it. She didn't really want to talk about it either. Words were so pointless. Actions spoke louder. If she was going to go out there, then she should just do it, right? What was the worst that could happen? Eaten by a zombie? Eaten by a wolf? Accosted by some never before seen neighbour lady obsessed with trying to palm off her garden vegetables? Nah. There were no zombies, the wolves had all died years ago, and nobody lived next door – not anymore, anyway.

"I'm going," she said.

"Ok," he replied.

Huh. He didn't seem too bothered about it. Which was fine with her. She was sick of his bullshit anyway. What had he ever done that was noteworthy? Sit there in his chair, in the corner, smoking the last of the cigarettes, and constantly griping about how unfair it all was? What had that accomplished? Nothing! So, if he wasn't bothered about her, why should she be bothered about him?

"See ya, father."

"Goodbye, child."

She sighed. What a waste. What a waste of a relationship. Years of this monosyllabic back and forth. Years of just biding time. Passing the seemingly endless hours. Cooking the meals. Cleaning the floors. Patching up the breaches. What a waste. Never a word of thanks. Never a word of anything. But words were pointless, right? Actions spoke louder. But there hadn't been any actions either. He might as well have been glued to that chair in the corner. They didn't even have a TV for him to be looking at. In fact, there was nothing to look at, except the wall opposite. The blank wall opposite. Well, blank except for the feint outline of her shadow. Mother. A half-forgotten dream of a person. Gone for years now. Ran away? Dead? Who could even remember?

Shaking her head, she opened the door next to the window.

"We need more cigarettes and beer," he said, as she put her first foot over the threshold.

She stopped, half in, half out, and sighed. "Fine," she replied, in almost a whisper.

"And make sure you come back. Don't leave me alone like that mother of yours."

"Fine," she said again, in even more of an almost whisper.

And with that, she put her second foot over the threshold, and stepped fully outside, for the first time since last week. The last time we had run out of cigarettes and beer.

The hot air was stifling as she walked casually, but still with purpose, down the path towards the gate. She passed "sonofabitch", the rusted old car with the bullet holes. She passed "screw you", the old outhouse whose door hung crooked on a single hinge. She passed "God bless America", the half-mangled flag, strung loosely to the tall gate post.

Finally, she was out onto the dirt track that led from the main road up to the house. It was two miles to the store. Her worn and tattered shoes might not make it this time. She hoped they would. The other kids already made fun of her at school for her worn and tattered shoes. She didn't want to have to go barefoot, and really compound their mockery. That was even if she went to school, which she hadn't for the past month anyway.

A dog barked somewhere.

"Come here, Jakey!" she yelled, in no particular direction.

Jakey appeared, from no particular direction. He was a mangy mutt of dubious origin. But he was nice. And he was her friend.

She picked up a stick and threw it. Jakey chased it, and brought it back, dropping it at her feet. She kicked it. Jakey chased it again. And brought it back again.

There was a small bench just up ahead, fashioned out of an old fallen tree. She sat down. Jakey sat on the ground beside her, chomping on the stick. She looked down at him and patted his head.

"One day we'll get out of here, Jakey," she said.

Jakey made no new noises to indicate that he had heard or understood. She patted him again and ruffled the fur around his neck. "Me and you," she went on. But still he made no new noises.

She stood up, glanced down at her shoes, and then continued along the track. Jakey followed, stick in mouth, oblivious to everything else. How she wished he could understand. How she wished them both a new home. Somewhere nice, away from all this. Somewhere with lush green lawns behind lush green hedges. Two cars in the driveway. A swimming pool out back. She would have pretty shoes. Jakey would have a collar with a nametag.

"It's a nice thought, Jakey," she said, as the dust kicked up behind both of them.

Jakey said nothing.

How she wished he could understand.

She wept as they continued down the track. Just like she always did. There was nobody to notice. Just like there never was.