Ellen Datlow - The Beastly Bride

He’s right, I might as well come down, so I do.

I take the sandwich and sit a couple of yards away. I hope I’m not eating like an animal or sitting like an animal. I sit as he’s sitting. I’m hungry, but I slow down. I try to keep the torn shirt shut as best I can.

He leaves his clothes on all that time, and afterward we just sit quietly. I’m thinking maybe I should ask about men taking their clothes off, but then I think I’d better not. Even if he is a man, maybe he can help me get back to the town.

He keeps looking me up and down. He just can’t stop. Then he says, “Sorry, I shouldn’t stare. I’d like to take a picture of you. Of course nobody will believe it. They’ll think I made it up on the computer.”

“Can you drive a car? I’m trying to get back to the town. I’ll let you take my picture if you help me get back. It would have to be at night. And I only need to go to the edge. And if you could lend me a hat, I’d try to get it back to you.”

He takes me down to his house. I won’t go in. I don’t care if he thinks I’m a scared animal, I just won’t, and I am a scared animal. He gets his camera and takes a lot of pictures, all different views. I’m worried about it because Molly said I should hide, and this sure isn’t hiding, but this is the only way I know of to get back to her. If he’s going to bother helping me, I have to do something for him.

Then we wait till the middle of the night. I apologize for keeping him up.

He never once takes his clothes off. Maybe all men don’t do that. I’ll have to ask Molly. She said everything is on the computer. If she doesn’t know, we can look it up.

He makes me supper. A kind of stew with everything in it. He says it’s called slumgullion. He says it’s kind of a guy thing. He serves it outside on his picnic table so I won’t need to go in. I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t be so scared. I wonder if my father is as nice.

He sits down to eat across from me.

“You’ve had a bad experience, haven’t you. Or are you just scared of all of us?”

“I like Molly. That’s where I want to get back to. But I had a bad experience with Buck. He took his clothes off and grabbed me.”

Then I tell him all about Molly and the car rolling over and about Buck. I tell him, “You don’t seem like him.”

“I’m not. And when any man takes his clothes off, you take care. I have a daughter about your age. I live by myself, except my daughter comes here for the summer. If I show those pictures I took of you around, you’re in trouble. Everybody will be after you. They’ll chase you wherever you try to hide. You ought to go back up into the hills and let yourself be a legend like the rest of your people are. I’ll hang on to these pictures until you get well away.”

“But I don’t know my people. I’ve never met my father. My mother’s one of your kind. Molly wanted to shave me all over with her dad’s electric razor. Do you think that would work?”

“Not a good idea. You’d prickle. Nobody could get near you. Here, feel my cheeks. I haven’t shaved since yesterday.”

I reach across the table and feel them.

“You sure you don’t want me to take you up into the mountains far as I can drive and drop you off? I’ll give you a knapsack and water bottle and food for a couple of days. That would be best for you.”

“I’d like to see Molly first. Besides, I left Mother’s book there.”

He gets me a shirt of his that isn’t torn. It’s dark green. Better for hiding in than this white one.

We spend time looking up at the stars. He knows the names of everything up there. I tell him my mother did, too. Then we have coffee, though he doesn’t let me have much. He says if I’m not used to it it’ll make me jittery. And then we go — in his rickety old truck. He gives me a stained old cowboy hat. He says it may not look so good but it’s beaver so it’s waterproof.

He drops me off at the edge of town like I want him to. I think I can smell my way back to Molly’s house, but not if I’m in the truck.

When he lets me off he says, “You know I’ll not use those photos. Better you folks stay a myth. And you better hurry back in the hills. That’s where you belong.”

I’m glad I met him after Buck. I was ready to never get near a man again.

It doesn’t take me long to find Molly’s place. I kept pretty good track of where I was. I always know where I am when there are trees and rocks, but I knew I’d have trouble finding my way with all these streets and houses.

I go right back to the playhouse and settle in to get some sleep for what there is left of the night. The pillow and blanket aren’t there anymore, but I take the old dog doll for a pillow. Hi’s shirt will keep me warm.

But first I find my shorts just where I hid them, and Mother’s book is still in the pocket.

I want to let Molly know I’m here, but I don’t want to wake her up in the middle of the night. But then I oversleep. Everybody in the house has gone off just like before. I wonder if Molly tried to find me at Buck’s and if Buck tried. that with her? But I suppose not. I’m the one who doesn’t count. But I don’t see what difference it makes. Animal or not, I shouldn’t have to get forced into doing something I don’t want to. Hi didn’t think so, either.

So then I have to wait around for Molly to come back. I sneak in and get myself some food. I snoop around again. I wish I knew how to use the computer. I don’t dare try without Molly. She said you could learn about everything there.

I grab some books and go back. I start reading and don’t even notice when Molly comes home. When I realize she must be back, I go look in her window. There she is, on the bed with a magazine. I tap on the window. She gives a shriek when she sees me. It’s good nobody else is home. She opens the window and hugs me. She climbs out, and we go back to the playhouse.

She says, “I was so worried, and I didn’t know how to come and get you back, and Daddy won’t let me go anywhere now that I ruined our car. I’m going to have to stay home for months and I have to do chores to help pay for the new car.” She starts to cry.

I don’t know what to do. Mother would have held me, but that’s different. At least I think it is. Finally I reach out and pat her shoulder. That seems to be all right. She does stop.

I ask, “Is it all my fault? You were driving for me.”

“Of course not. I know it’s my fault. I don’t even have a license. Daddy says I have to take the consequences.”

“Can I help?”

“I don’t know. Maybe keep me company, now that I have to stay home every single night there is.”

“I’ll do it. Besides, I want to learn more things on the computer. About men.” Then I tell her what Buck tried to do.

She gets really mad and tells me not every boy would be that way, and she is never going to speak to him again, and she’s going to tell all her friends to watch out for him.

“Yes, but I’m an animal.”

“You’re a girl. Anybody with any sense can see that.”

“Thank you.”

“I like your looks.”

I feel like crying, too, but one of us in tears at a time is enough.

“Actually, in your own way, you’re quite decent-looking.” In my way.

“Maybe there’s some kind of medicine you can take that would make all your hair fall out. I’ll bet there is. These days there’s something for everything. I’ll go online and look it up.”