The Olive Theory

Chapter 11

MICHAEL

"I ain't got any treats," A woman coughed, "and it's two fuckin' am. Go home." She creaked the door open, pushing it with the palm of her hand. She stood at the door with one hand on her hip, she didn't even look up to face me; she stared down at her stained pink slippers, pressing a cigarette between her parted dry lips. She was an older woman, with wrinkles and creases across her face, except in the corners of her mouth. Not even a sign of smile lines. Her hair had gone white, only a slight reminisce of the orange it used to be, lingering in the washed-out color of her tangled bun. I cleared my throat.

"I'm- I'm not a trick-or-treater," I corrected, waiting for her to look up and see her passed-out daughter tangled in my arms. Finally, she did and looked me up and down. Blinked slowly. "I'm here to bring your daughter home."

"That ain't my daughter," She scoffed, with a grin, and took another hit of her cig. My eyebrows rose.

"O-Oh, is this the wrong house? Sorry, I thought-" I cleared my throat again, feeling guilty for repeatedly ringing the doorbell I was sure was broken, and pounding on the door. I stared into the lady's blue eyes; so similar to Lily's. Pulling up in my truck, I wasn't so sure this was the right house. It was run down, in the bad part of town, practically falling apart. I had always assumed Lily's house was like Natalia's - big, fancy, and completely over the top. Like Lily's ego. But this, this was nothing like how I imagined her house; not that it matters. The lady came close to me and grabbed Lily by the wrist and told me to let go, so I did.

"Ah, little shit. I didn't even notice she was out," She laughed as she took Lily in her arms. She tugged on her hair to make sure she was passed out. I felt shivers crawl up my spine.

"I thought you said she wasn't your daughter," I muttered quietly.

"Eh, well, not much of a daughter, this one." She spat, staring down at her. "Always out getting drunk and having sex."

"Ok, well, sorry to disturb you." I apologized and scratched my chin.

"You didn't rape her or nothin', did ya?" She asked, looking up at me with daggers in her eyes.

"No, no of course not," I stuttered out. It surprised me, slightly, that she even cared enough to ask.

"Good. I'm so sick and tired of her getting drunk and getting raped. Happened once, it will not happen again. Abortions are hella expensive, I ain't paying for that again." She sighed, oversharing. "And I ain't got a husband to pay for all that. He shot himself in the head, that selfish son of a bitch. Left me with nothin', nothin' but this," She points her cigarette to Lily, "worthless piece of shit."

I cleared my throat. Nodded. Apologized again. Walked away. Went in my truck. Started it.

It's none of my business, I kept reminding myself. It was none of my business her dad killed herself. None of my business she was living with that wreck of a woman. None of my business she's been raped before, and had to get an abortion. Rumors were going around last year that she was pregnant, but after a month or two passed and there wasn't a bump on her belly, people decided it was just a rumor. I looked back at the house, felt my chest tighten, and drove away.