6 Days
I used to take Tate to the zoo. We would watch the zebras roam in the savannah enclosure and she would chase the peacocks across the walkway to the train. Her little feet could barely keep up, and the peacocks looked scared shitless at her little legs moving toward them. It’s these memories that keep me coming back here to relive those moments with her. It makes it feel like she’s not so far away.
The sun’s rays illuminate a group of toddlers with a Mommy and Me group who are running around the goats, touching them like they’re playing tag. I crank the machine with the goat pellets and let them fall into my open hand. I lean against the fence of the goat corral and feed a black goat with white on his tail. He gobbles up the pellets quickly and I have to make another run to the pellet machine.
This was our place. Tate loved to feed the goats. She would tentatively go through the gate, and it would take her a few minutes to get up the courage to feed them. She always denied being scared. She never wanted me to see her weak. I would have to tell her that the zoo wouldn’t let her in if they thought the goats would do anything to her. That always assured her. She believed everything I said.
One of the ruddy-looking goats is lying lazily in a plastic playhouse with an orange roof. He looks so out of place in that fake house. I glance around the wooden fence, then back to the goat in the playhouse. These goats are trapped, stuck in these enclosures with hundreds of nameless zoo patrons feeding them awful-smelling pellets. They can’t even piss without a kid pushing on its back or trying to mount it like a horse. Maybe they wanted something besides pellets. They didn’t get to choose this life. Do they even want it? I have the urge to open the door and let the poor goats go, especially the black one with white on its tail. He looks like he wants to escape.
The sun blares down on me and I’m constantly amazed that it can be ice-cube cold overnight but sunny and sixty today. Tate and I mostly came to the zoo in the summer, so it was always hot and I would complain. She would grab my hand and tell me how much she loved the heat on her. I close my eyes and it’s like I’m there, watching her.
? ? ?
“Sissy, come on. Pet the goats with me,” Tate says in that little girl voice that drives me nuts.
She can be kind of annoying, always wanting me to show her everything.
“It’s dirty and they stink.” I point to a sandy-haired boy next to her. “Look, he’s in there with you. You’ll be fine.” I look down at my phone and check my social media accounts for replies.
“I’m not scared,” she says confidently.
I look up at her and smile. She’s so different from me in so many ways. Someday she’ll want that sandy-haired boy near her. I laugh at the thought. She never wants me to leave her side. Even when I go out with my friends, she wants to tag along. She even snuck in the car once and I didn’t know until she popped up from the back seat during a movie at the drive-in.
That was embarrassing.
I look again, closer. The goat is chasing her in the corral and she’s laughing and clapping. She stops, lets the goat catch her, and kneels down beside him, stroking his coat gently. She looks up and her big brown eyes find mine. She waves and grins so wide her cheeks dimple. I wave back. She’s so small and fragile, like glass that can be broken with the poke of a needle. How do I keep her from shattering? How do I keep her smiling when I know our dad is going to ruin everything? She looks up to him. She doesn’t see his flaws. She sees a protector and a bedtime-book reader, a monster capturer.
I wish I could live in her world, full of stars and moons shining in the night. I wish she could just chase goats instead of growing up.
? ? ?
The memory fades as the sun starts to set into the horizon, leaving me alone, staring at other people’s sisters petting the same goats. The ache in my chest returns, but it’s worse. I bite my lip hard, sinking my teeth deeper into my skin. It hurts so bad, but it feels good. It feels right. I leave the goats and make my way out to my car. It’s the torture of her memories that keeps me focused. I think about last night. How amazing it was to kiss Colter. How for a moment I questioned my fate. I thought maybe I could stop and live. But the pain came back like a cancer this morning. I felt it deep in my soul. He’s penetrated something in me, I can’t deny that, but I can’t let him change me, change what I need to do to make everything right.
I’m going to enjoy my time with him, then I’m going to leave.
He said he’s in love with me. But is it just the idea of me he loves? What if he really is only trying to save me and he’s confused? I know he said that wasn’t it, but how could he know?
How could I have let this happen?