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They’re in Jackson for three months before he realizes it.
See, on the road with Ellie for all that time, she’d read to him plenty of times. Letters, notes, signage on the street, even the maps that they almost always disregarded in favor of getting lost. Still, she could see the words just fine, read ‘em like a damn pro. He didn’t much think about the fact that she didn’t usually read far-off signs, or notice things that were beyond the horizon that even his own old, shitty eyes could see. Or that she’d often miss targets if they practiced shooting from too far away, though he attributed that to shitty aim.
Back in his hayday he had solid 20/20, and Sarah was lucky enough to inherit the same. With age his vision is getting slightly worse, leaving him to squint a bit sometimes at the back of the records in the corner of their spare room to find the right track. But he can still manage pretty well without aid.
Joel wonders how the stupid FEDRA school didn’t seem to realize that Ellie needs glasses. It’s apparent to him as soon as she brings home her first (non-behavior related) note from her teacher at the small middle-school class in Jackson.
It’s a big fat D- on her spelling quiz, which he knows she doesn’t usually struggle with. Her teacher has written an obnoxious little: “not her best work!” at the top corner that makes him roll his eyes.
“Kid, what gives?” he asks as he enters the kitchen and holds up the note, which he’d pulled out of the dark, scrambled recesses of her backpack. Obviously he wasn’t supposed to see it.
She pauses at the kitchen cabinet, grimacing like she’d forgotten that she stashed it away at the bottom of her bag. He can see her quick internal debate about whether or not to tell the truth.
“Don’t give me no bull,” he warns, though it’s a fairly empty threat. He’s hard-pressed to give her any actual punishments. The kid’s been through so damn much, it wouldn’t feel right to ever do a thing to make her life more stressful.
Besides, she usually doesn’t need it. It’s been hard for her to adjust since settling here in Jackson, and if she’s not stuck to his side, she’s in class, where she only occasionally gets written up for foul language.
“I couldn’t see the stupid board.” Ellie shrugs. “The teacher moved me today, up closer. Won’t be a problem now.”
“Couldn’t see the board?” Joel’s eyebrows knit together. “Like your eyes ain’t working?”
“No, they're normal.” She shakes her head, finally deciding on a handful of nuts from the pantry, shoveling them in her mouth as she breezes past him into the den, where their shared guitar is. Joel is thinking about building her one of her own once she’s flying solo, but she’s still just getting started.
“Hold on a minute,” he follows her into the den. “That ain’t normal. You should be able to see the board.”
“I can see the board,” she insists, “the words are just blurry if it’s too far away. That’s normal. It’s how I always see stuff.”
Joel blinks, watching as she picks up the guitar and lazily strums a chord. “Ellie, you can’t see far away?”
“Why are you having a meltdown? No one can see that far away,” Ellie scoffs.
“Yes we can.” He walks over and picks up one of the music books that they’d found at the guitar store on the outskirts of the neighboring town. It had been a harrowing trip, but they’d returned victorious with lots of supplies.
Joel holds up the book to a random page, and points. “Read this.”
The girl glances over, wrinkling up her little nose and narrowing her eyes. She squints tightly, leaning her entire body forward almost on a reflex to try and read the music on the page.
“Uhhhh,” comes her eloquent reply.
“Jesus Christ kid, I’m three feet away from ya’.” He shakes his head and sets the book down. “We need to see the doctor. She ain’t an eye doctor but maybe she’s got somethin’ she can do for you.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, I don’t need to see a doctor!” Ellie places the guitar gently against the sofa and looks at him. “I moved closer to the board, I can see it now!”
“That ain’t the point,” Joel says, “if you need glasses you can’t just walk around without ‘em. I think Tommy’s got some reading glasses… wonder if he got them from the doctor. Doubt they’ll have your exact prescription but close is probably better than nothing…” he rambles on quietly as he heads back into the kitchen.
“Wait a damn minute!” Ellie scrambles off the couch and follows him through the doorway. “What is going on? I get a D on a test and all of a sudden I need a doctor?”
“Okay, back when the world wasn’t broken, you’d go to an eye doctor for this kinda thing. It ain’t normal to walk around not being able to see three feet in front of you.”
“I can see-”
“You should be able to read that close.” Joel cuts her off. “Quit bellyachin’. We’re going.”
“But-“
“Cryin’ out loud kid, it’s just getting your eyes checked. Come on now, it ain’t that big a deal.”
Instead of answering, Ellie groans and turns sharply to head up the stairs. He hears her footsteps pounding up each rickety step until the door to the bedroom she claimed as her own slams shut.
This kid is going to give him more gray hairs than he even has on his head.
The next day they find themselves in the home-slash-office of the only doctor in town.
Her name is Pat, and she’s a tall, stern-looking older woman who makes even Joel feel a little uncomfortable with her penetrative gaze, even though he hears she’s perfectly pleasant. Tommy had told him she’s training a few of the young adults to take her place when she’s too old, so he hopes they learn fast.
“Alright Ellie,” Pat says to the girl after getting her situated in a wooden chair. She points to a sign on the wall that Joel remembers from stuffy eye doctor visits with Sarah. “Read the smallest line you can see.”
Ellie turns to Joel with her face scrunched up in a glare. “This is like some FEDRA testing shit.”
“No it ain’t. Read the damn lines.”
She groans in complaint, but looks back at the page on the wall. With determination in her eyes, she begins to read.
“Q…R…W…T?”
Joel blinks in disbelief. “Jesus Ellie, that’s the biggest one. That’s all you can see?”
“Your distance eyesight is very poor,” Pat adds.
There’s a familiar feeling in his gut like a docked boat yanking at its moorings. Even though logically he knows he couldn’t have possibly figured out the girl needs glasses while they were on the road, a part of him feels so responsible. She’s been in discomfort, who knows for how long, to the point where she flunked a test. The thought of her having poor eyesight literally hadn’t even crossed his mind. Guilt tinges his insides.
Pat runs more tests, having Ellie cover her eyes at separate times, reading more lines of letters and some other random things he’s never seen before. It doesn’t take long for Pat to determine she’s nearsighted as fuck.
“Now, I can’t get your exact prescription but luckily it seems like distance is your only concern and your eyes are about the same.” Pat says to Ellie, who probably isn’t listening. Joel is though. “I’m sure we have a pair in the stockpile here that will work for you. Follow me.”
At the instruction to move, Ellie looks at Joel, almost as if asking for permission. He nods and gets to his feet, ignoring the crackling in his knees. They follow Pat down the hall to a huge locked cabinet, which she opens to reveal row after row of glasses.
“Whoa,” Ellie’s eyes go a bit wide at the selection. “How did you get so many pairs?”
“Some we found out scavenging, some people have donated,” Pat replies reluctantly, “others…” her voice drifts off, as if the next thought is unpleasant.
“Oh.” Ellie’s expression sobers. “I…I don’t want… to wear someone else’s…”
Joel grimaces. Sometimes in mundane moments like this, they get little, horrific reminders of the world they live in. A world where this little girl has to request not to be given a pair of glasses that were taken from a dead person.
“They’ve all been thoroughly sanitized.” Pat tells her.
“But that isn’t-“
“C’mon kid,” Joel nudges her shoulder, “they ain’t usin’ em.”
She glares at him darkly before turning back to the cabinet. It takes far too long, but eventually she points at a pair of round green frames. They are god-awful, so ugly Joel figured she wouldn’t even spare them a glance. He should’ve known better of course. Little freak.
“Those are for distance,” Pat nods agreeably and picks up the frames. “Let’s give them a try.”
“Wait,” Ellie says as Pat moves to slide the glasses on her face, “who…who did they belong to?”
Pat smiles. “You know Tyler at the bar?”
“Uh-huh.”
“His wife. She got laser eye surgery before the outbreak. Kept these just in case.”
Ellie sighs loudly, relief breaking through her chest. “So these aren’t a dead person’s glasses?”
“No ma’am.”
The girl takes the glasses from Pat’s hands and slides them on her face. The frames are so large that they must put a lot of pressure on her tiny little nose, and they make her brown eyes look buggier than usual. Her face is dwarfed by the goofy-looking round lenses.
“Here,” Pat walks Ellie over to a small mirror mounted on a dresser. “What do you think?”
Ellie is uncharacteristically quiet, staring back at her reflection with an expression that Joel can’t really dissect.
“Ellie?” He ventures quietly.
“Will they help me see the board in class?” She asks.
“Let’s check,” Pat says. They move back toward the letter board and she directs Ellie to read. This time she can get it all the way down to the second-to-last row.
“Hey, lookit that!” Joel grins. “Must be a pretty good match.”
“They hurt my head,” she complains.
“That’s normal even for a perfect prescription.” Pat assures her. “The more you wear them the more used to them you’ll get and that will improve.”
“Great.” Ellie gets to her feet and begins moving for the front door. Joel stops her with a hand on her shoulder, his forehead creased. He isn’t sure what her deal is, but he’s growing tired of the ‘tude today.
“What do you say?” He demands.
She scowls, but says to Pat, “thanks for not making me wear a corpse’s glasses.” And she shakes loose from his grasp to head outside.
“I’m sorry,” Joel tells Pat. “I don’t know why she’s so pissy.”
Pat chuckles, a knowing expression on her face. “Of course you don’t. She’s a teenage girl.”
Joel doesn’t quite know what to make of that, but instead of dwelling on it, he follows Ellie outside.
The walk home is quiet, a little awkward though he doesn’t understand why. Ellie keeps the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up over her ears and buries her face behind it. Something tells him it doesn’t have anything to do with the brisk weather outside, but he can’t figure out exactly why either. She doesn’t explain.
By the time they get back home, he’s itching to ask her what the deal is, but he knows if he pesters her about it she’ll just shut him out more. Ellie is a little too much like him in that regard. She doesn’t like people to know when she’s feeling big feelings. Or really when she’s feeling anything.
“How about I try making some of that stew Maria made last week?” Joel suggests as they trudge into the house, hoping to catch her attention before she disappears upstairs again. “You liked that, didn’t you?”
“Yup,” is all she responds before she moves for the staircase.
He doesn’t try to stop her, knowing that for whatever the reason is, she needs some alone time. He taps his fingers on the kitchen counter, wracking his brain for what could possibly have her so upset.
Despite all they’ve been through, she’s a lively and energetic little girl. Days like these are more rare now that they live in the comfortable safety of Jackson.
Joel sets about making the stew, hopeful that it’s just an off day and she’ll be back to her usual self by morning.
Dinner is framed by scraping spoons and quiet, awkward breaths. Joel isn’t good with the talking about stuff, and Ellie seems to be following in his footsteps in the worst possible way. He wants to ask her what’s wrong, but he’s worried it will only make her retreat further. He is terrified of her feeling far away, even if it’s just mentally.
She keeps fidgeting with her glasses all throughout dinner, readjusting them on her nose, lifting them up and blinking rapidly every so often. He has to admit, the kid looks pretty damn cute. Even though the hideous glasses are huge, they don’t hide so much of her face that he can’t see her inquisitive eyes and sweet smile. Though she isn’t doing the latter tonight.
She just looks so small, and dorky and normal. Like a kid who just got her first pair of glasses. It gives him the bizarre urge to squeeze her up in a tight hug and kiss her head, though he refrains.
What he says instead is, “quit fidgetin’ with em.”
“Piss off, old man,” she retorts.
Lovely.
“How’s your stew?” He tries.
“Maria makes it better.”
“Listen kid, if there’s something you wanna say, then say it. But quit giving me the cold shoulder.”
“I’m not giving you the-“ she stops short, as if just realizing she’s been nasty to him all day. Her shoulders sag, and her expression twists from one of anger to one of remorse.
Joel’s chest tightens. Why did he have to go and say that? Now she’s looking all guilty like she’s done something wrong, like she thinks he’s mad at her or something.
“Sorry,” Ellie replies in a surprisingly earnest voice. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to be rude to you.”
“Guess it just comes naturally then.” He tries for a joke, which falls unbearably flat in the tense air between them.
“Yeah,” she doesn’t meet his eyes. “I guess. Sorry. Can I be excused? I’m not hungry.”
“Ellie, I wasn’t-“
She doesn’t wait for an answer. She gets up from the table and rushes toward the staircase.
She’s moving so fast he just feels it in his bones that she’s gearing herself up to take a mean spill on the steps. He’s just about to warn her of this, when he hears a loud thud and an ineloquent, “oof!”
“Ellie?” Joel’s on his feet like quick caulk, sprinting across the den to the staircase. He finds her splayed out on the middle steps, glasses a few spaces down. She has a hand pressed against her hip. Her expression is screwed up like she’s in pain.
“Hey, where are you hurt?” He kneels beside her on the step, taking stock of her small body to try and track any visible injuries.
“Ugh, stupid fucking glasses!” She growls, eyes still squeezed shut as she holds her hip. “Did they break?”
“No, but you shouldn’t have been sprinting up the steps. Your hip?”
“I’m fine,” Ellie snaps, opening her eyes with visible frustration coursing through them. She releases her hip and moves to stand, stumbling slightly.
“Whoa, easy now.” Joel reaches out to steady her, his hand gripping her arm more tightly than he intends to. Worry wrangles his insides up into a tight ball of mesh. “You gotta be more careful kid, you could seriously hurt yourself.”
Ellie opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but she pauses, almost thoughtfully. She meets his eyes, her brows furrowing for a moment. Then, she wrinkles her nose up and reaches back down to her hip.
“Joel, I think I’m really hurt.” Ellie says. “My- my hip. And my ankle.”
The ball of worry in his stomach dances its way up into his throat and he swallows hard, trying to keep his vision in focus.
Compared to everything she’s been through already, a bruised hip and twisted ankle ain’t much to worry over, but the thought of her being hurt in any way makes his entire body feel tense and wound tight. It’s the same way he used to feel when Sarah would trip stepping off the deck, or when she’d collide with another kid during a soccer game.
If anything happens to my child I’m not liable for the things I’ll do.
He’s already given into that feeling twice. Once when he’d shot himself, and again when he murdered an entire hospital full of Fireflies.
He doesn’t exactly like the feeling.
“Okay, don’t try to walk on it. C’mere darlin’,” he leans in and scoops his arms under her, hefting her weight up into his embrace. It gives him a slight bit of worry that she seems to weigh no more than she did when they were on the road, scouring desperately for food, but now isn’t the time to chastise her for skipping dinner.
He begins carrying her up the staircase, ignoring the discarded glasses a few steps down.
Once Joel has her placed delicately on the edge of her bed, he kneels beside it to gently lift the hem of her shirt. To his relief, he doesn’t see much in the way of an injury on her hip, just some redness that will probably form into a small purple bruise tomorrow morning.
“Which ankle?” He asks, eyes combing her legs down to her small, sock-clad feet.
“Um, the left one.”
Carefully, Joel takes her ankle between two fingers to examine it. As soon as he begins lifting it, Ellie yelps.
It’s an odd and unfamiliar noise. It strikes him, and he instantly releases her ankle so as not to cause her further pain. But…the noise is weird.
Thing is, as much as he hates to think about it, he’s heard Ellie in pain before. She’s fallen, been hit and shoved and thrown around. The noise of her pain is enough to make his entire body go on alert, to make all his muscles tighten and clench like he’s ready to run a marathon. He knows exactly what she sounds like when she’s in pain, because his body has an instantaneous reaction to it.
He’s never heard her make a noise like that. His muscles are more relaxed than they should be. He doesn’t feel a pinprick against his heart. Something is off about that noise.
“You must really be hurtin’,” he says to her with a deep frown, “if you’re actually admitting it to me.”
“It hurts really bad,” Ellie insists, “I can’t go to school tomorrow.”
Joel eyes her, moving to stand with his hands coming to his hips. He watches her for a moment, trying to decipher if she’s telling the truth, but not sure why she would have any reason to lie to him. Ellie is normally insistent on not making a fuss, even when she’s injured or ill. It certainly seems odd that she would seek out fuss.
“I’ll get you some ice and we’ll see how you feel in the morning,” he suggests.
Ellie nods. He feels her eyes on his back as he exits the room and shuffles down the stairs toward the kitchen, stopping halfway when he sees the green frames scattered across a low step.
He remembers her first question. Did they break?
That couldn’t possibly have been hope in her voice, could it?
Joel bends down to pick up the glasses, examining them. They look mostly unhurt, just a small scratch on the side that very well may have been there already. He folds them up and tucks them into his shirt pocket, shaking his head as he hops down the remaining few steps.
With a rag full of ice and Ellie’s glasses in tow, he returns to her bedroom to find her reclining on the bed, staring up above her at the ceiling. She doesn’t speak when he enters, which he’s sure is lingering anger from the incident at the dinner table. He’d almost forgotten in her injury-prone silliness that he’d hurt her feelings.
“Here kiddo.” He lays the ice rag on her hip. “Let’s alternate between the ankle and hip. The ankle don’t look too bruised right now, so I wanna start with your hip. It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Ellie says, then adds, “thank you.”
“‘Course. And uh… here. You left these.” He reaches into his pocket and hands her the glasses. Ellie’s eyes narrow and she snatches the frames out of his hand. This time, she doesn’t speak.
Alright old man, it’s now or never. Make this right.
“Ellie, about what I said at dinner, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to-”
“I know. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“Well, just let me-”
“I don’t need you to apologize, Joel.”
“I know but I want to-”
“I’m sorry I was being a dick,” she cuts him off again, much to his annoyance, “we’re square, okay?”
“No, not okay. Quit interrupting me. I just want to say, if there’s something on your mind we should… talk about it, alright? Not let it sit.”
It’s quiet then. She sucks on the inside of her cheek, still looking at the ceiling instead of him.
“There’s…there’s nothing on my mind.” She says after a few moments of contemplative silence.
It’s a complete crock of shit. He knows that, and he’s pretty sure she knows that he knows it.
But what can he do? She clearly doesn’t want to talk to him about it.
“Holler if you need me,” is all he can muster. He takes a few cautious steps toward the door, almost waiting for her to change her mind. She doesn’t.
He exits and leaves the door cracked, debating whether or not he should go back downstairs.
It’s just that, for some reason, he thinks she may be exaggerating the extent of her injuries. He doesn’t know why though. And the small part of him that instinctively wants to protect her, can’t reconcile her suffering being anything except legitimate and also obscenely urgent. He can’t bring himself to descend the stairs, knowing she’s just inside that room hurting. Even if her ankle is fine, something is going on with the kid.
Joel plops down at the top of the stairs, pulling his knees up close to his chest. He’ll just wait it out a few minutes, just so he’s close if she needs anything.
Just a few minutes.
“Joel?” It’s a soft, inquisitive voice that awakens him.
His eyes open to bright sunlight streaming in the hall windows. A pair of little feet come into view, two skinny ankles that are decidedly not injured staring back at him from underneath cotton pajama pants.
“Ellie?” His voice comes out gruffer and more raspy than he intends.
“Why are you asleep on the floor?” The girl demands.
He blinks again, his eyes casting up to see her standing there with her hands on her hips. He realizes they’re in the hallway above the staircase, and his body is twisted sideways on the wood beams.
Joel pushes himself up into a sitting position, wincing and groaning in pain as his back protests the movement. At his age he should know better than to voluntarily fuck with his back by sleeping on the floor.
“Whoa old man, you gonna live?” Ellie’s voice is that familiar note of teasing to hide genuine concern.
“What time is it?” he growls, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he forces his legs upright so he’s standing.
Ellie glances down the hall at the grandfather clock, pursing her lips. “It’s ten-fifteen.”
“Damnit. You’re late for school.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “What? I thought I was staying home!”
Joel’s head tilts down until he’s staring straight at her feet, both firmly planted on the floor. She seems to realize then that she’s standing with complete ease, and she shifts her weight to the left foot. Mistake.
“You told me it was the left one that’s hurt.” He reminds her.
“Fuck.”
“What the hell kid?” Joel demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why would you lie to me?”
Ellie’s expression darkens and she is clearly biting her tongue against some sort of treacherously sassy remark. Instead of giving him a genuine answer, she just sighs heavily.
“I’ll go get dressed,” she mutters, and disappears into the bedroom.
What the fuck?
Joel descends the stairs, groaning as his aching back protests each movement. He’s really gotta stop treating his body like such shit.
He begins cleaning up last night’s dinner mess that had been left unattended due to him falling asleep on the stairs. His mind races as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on with his kid.
He runs through the events of the last forty-eight hours. Ellie got a D-on her test. Not that big a deal. They got her a pair of glasses which should help. She should be fuckin’ overjoyed.
Had something happened at school? Something he isn’t aware of? Something he needs to rectify as soon as possible? Someone he needs to threaten?
Before he can land on a theory, Ellie appears at the bottom of the stairs. Her backpack is slung over her shoulders, she’s dressed in her usual garb, well-worn blue jeans and a flannel shirt with her choppy hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her glasses are noticeably absent from her face.
“Ready,” she mutters without much enthusiasm.
“Hold on a damn minute,” Joel tries to keep a relative amount of gentleness in his words, despite their stern nature. “You gotta tell me why you’d fake an injury to get out of school.”
“My hip is really hurting. I didn’t fake that. I really did fall.”
“Alright, and the ankle?”
Her expression sours. “I knew a bruised hip wasn’t enough.”
“Jesus Ellie. Why would you do that? You’re gonna give me a heart attack. Shit, if you need a day off school for whatever reason, I’d rather you just ask me.”
At that, she perks up. “I can have the day off?”
“If you tell me why.”
She rolls her eyes, shoulders sagging. Her fingers grip the straps of her backpack, and she shifts uncomfortably on her feet.
Joel stands his ground. He means it. She can be honest with him, or she can haul her cookies to school and make up for the morning she’s missed by staying late. School ain’t a game and she needs to understand that.
Sometimes it’s difficult trying to pin down reasonable responses to a kid who’s never been normal a day in her life. He’s doing his best.
“It’s stupid and embarrassing and you won’t understand,” Ellie insists. Joel bristles with disbelief and confusion at her words.
After all they’ve been through- she’s embarrassed? He delves into his brain, going over all of the extremely personal shit they’ve seen one another through. He’d helped her scavenge through a convenience store for tampons before Maria gifted her with some god-awful cup thing that she’d left out in their communal bathroom once to his horror and confusion. He’d held her hair for her when she got carsick after her first time riding in Bill’s truck. Watching a little girl vomit up canned peas wasn’t exactly an endearing sight. She’d stitched up his disgusting stomach wound in a cold basement, spoon-fed him and drizzled water into his lips from her own fingers. Not to mention all the days and nights without showers, with gross injuries and bodily fluids and all the nastiness that came along with road-tripping across the country in an evil-infected world.
“Try me,” he challenges. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
Ellie scowls, shaking her head as she looks away. Her cheeks are sucked in like she’s trying to keep her emotions in check and remain composed. He hates how she still feels like she has to be strong for him, like she isn’t allowed to be vulnerable.
“Fine,” Joel shrugs, hoping the tough-love route is the right way to go. “Get your glasses and let's go.”
“Ugh.” Ellie groans, rubbing her forehead with one hand. “That’s the problem.”
“What? Your glasses?” He frowns. “Are they bothering your head that much? Pat said they’d take some getting used to.”
Even as he says the words though, he can’t imagine that’s what’s bothering her. Ellie is a lot tougher than some headache from new lenses. He doubts she’d go as far as faking an injury to avoid wearing them to school if that were the case.
“You don’t get it!” Ellie exhales. “It’s so dumb. It’s so stupid.”
“Just talk to me,” Joel sets down the dish he’s drying and closes the distance between them. He places a soft hand on her arm, which has the tension in her shoulders settling slightly. “Talk to me, kid. I promise, even if I don’t understand, I’ll do my best to make it better.”
“You can’t.” She shakes her head. “It’s so dumb, Joel.”
“If it’s the way you feel, then it ain’t dumb.” His voice is stern, leaving no room for debate.
No matter how self-deprecating she may be, he wants her to know that she fucking matters. She isn’t just some pawn for the Fireflies vaccine, or some FEDRA soldier, or just cargo, despite what all the adults in her life (including himself, to his regret) have told her.
She deserves to have feelings that maybe seem stupid or unimportant. She deserves to be a normal little girl.
Ellie averts her eyes, head craning to the side as she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror hanging by the stairs. It had been there when they took up residence in the house, neither of them minding it enough to take it down.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess that the look on her face was…disgust.
That can’t possibly be right. Ellie has never seemed to care about appearances, opting always for the most functional clothes available, and never minding her hair unless it was to keep it out of her face. She’s never fretted over the way she looks. And frankly, why should she? She’s absolutely adorable, with her little button nose and those big brown eyes, that wavy hair. She’s perfect. There ain’t a single reason she should be making that face at her reflection.
Yet, there it is. The clear and visible note of disdain as she quickly turns her face away from the mirror.
Joel’s eyebrows turn down as he pieces together the small bits of puzzle from the past few days. Bad grade on a test, doctor visit, glasses, instant shitty mood.
“Ellie,” Joel forces his voice to come out calm and not reactionary, “are you tryin’ to tell me you… don’t like the way you look with the glasses on?”
“Ughhhhh,” her groan is loud enough to wake the dead, and she drops her head in her hands, “this is fucking humiliating.”
“Ellie,” he repeats, softer this time, “tell me I’m wrong.”
“I don’t expect you to get it, okay? You’re an old man.” She says into her muffled palms. “I just…ughhhhhh.” She makes a noise that’s perfectly akin to one of a teenage girl in emotional distress.
Joel is a bit dumbfounded. He remembers a similar noise, a similar day with Sarah when a boy at school had made fun of her curly hair. She’d come home, tried to hold it together, but ended up asking Joel if he could buy her a flat iron. He had no clue what that even was until she explained it. When he asked why she wanted to straighten her hair, she burst into tears. It was everything in him not to show up to the school the next day and deck that idiot for making his perfect baby girl feel anything less than flawless.
He’d done his best then to comfort her, to assure her she was the most beautiful girl in the world. And he thought he did okay, considering she never asked for a flatiron again.
But…he’d never expected anything like this from Ellie.
She just isn’t as… well, girly as Sarah was. Maybe that’s the wrong word. It’s not like it’s her choice. Ellie hasn’t really had the opportunity to worry about such mundane things in her short life. Each day she’s lived has been tinted with pain, fear and urgency.
Now though, they’re settled in safety. She’s growing comfortable in their life, he hopes. As comfortable as someone in her shoes could.
He sometimes forgets that she’s just a little girl, like any other. She may be brave, bold and foul-mouthed, but she’s still just a kid. Hell, she’s just a person.
He’d be lying if he said there weren’t times where even he wished he could change things about himself. Mostly about his mistakes and failures, but he certainly ain’t a GQ catalog model.
“Ellie,” Joel repeats, keeping his voice calm. “Come here."
The girl glances at him from between her fingers, eyes narrowing. “Why?”
“Just c’mere kid.” He wants to roll his eyes with annoyance, but he knows right now, that’s the last thing she needs. He has to turn off the part of him that tries to be rough with her so she doesn’t see how much she really means to him, how firmly she’s planted inside his heart. Even though he figures by now she must know.
Now, he has to be a father. And a damn good one at that. Because it’s what she needs. What she deserves. He can’t screw this up.
Ellie steps closer to him, removing her face from her cupped hands and looking at him with frustration written across her features. Moving delicately, Joel reaches out and cups her jaw in his hand, stroking his thumb down the smooth contour of her cheek. She still has a bit of childlike roundness to her face, despite the bony angles of her body, raised on lack of food and far too much movement.
He turns her head so she’s looking in the mirror, her small body dwarfed by his beside her. They look a bit odd there, a grown man standing with his hand cupping her cheek, her looking unsure and overwhelmed as she stands on reluctant feet.
“Tell me what you see, Ellie.” He says quietly.
She doesn’t seem to want to meet her own eyes. She looks everywhere but her own face, though she’s stuck there by his soft, yet firm hand on her face.
“I don’t want to do this,” she says after a moment.
“I know. But I think maybe we need to.”
“I just don’t want to wear the stupid glasses.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because everything’s already out of control!” She snaps, voice going hard and cold with each word that spills out. “I-I I’m not in charge of anything! And the one thing, the one stupid thing I can control is how I look. What I wear and what I do with this stupid ponytail and- and…” she exhales, her voice shaky and trembling, “I don’t want to look different. I feel ugly and broken enough. I don’t want things to change again.”
Joel feels something snake inside his chest and tug at his heart from either side. It’s like his lungs have been thrown in a dryer on high, tumbling around inside his sternum as her words settle over him and he begins to comprehend them.
There’s so much to cover, so much to tackle and unpack that it makes him feel a little queasy knowing she hasn’t said anything about any of this so far. Does she not trust him? Does she not feel safe, or comfortable? She thinks he won’t understand.
Maybe he doesn’t, not the way she’d like him to, but he certainly gets where she’s coming from.
“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly, “I know it’s hard feeling out of control. You’ve definitely had that more than any other kid.” He lifts her chin so she’s forced to meet her own eyes. “But this ain’t something out of your control, this is taking control. Ellie, in a world so screwed up, something as little as eyesight can easily go unnoticed. But we have the chance to slow down, take a beat, and make sure we’re covering all the bases that need to be covered. You deserve things like this, to be comfortable, to have all the little necessities. Don’t think of it like a change, think of it like you finally getting the care a kid should have.”
Ellie wipes at her eyes with hurried fingers, obviously hoping to catch any betraying tears before he sees. He feels any last bit of resolve to stay composed crumble out of him at the sight of his little girl crying.
“Ellie, baby.” He releases her face and instead pulls her against him in a bone-crushing embrace. They haven’t done much of this. There have been late nights where she appears in his doorway, shaking from a violent nightmare, and she always ends up curled next to him in bed. They never talk about it the next morning. They never cuddle, and hugging don’t exactly come natural to either of them. Not how it once did for him, and probably not ever for her.
At this moment though, there’s nothing else he wants to do. He wants her close, secure, comforted. The only way he can remember how to do that the right way, is a good hug, a real hug. One that’s so tight you can’t breathe for a moment, and the airy feeling in your head makes it seem like everything is going to be alright. It’s a special thing that Joel didn’t get much growing up, and he vowed to always make sure his own kids did. Sarah always used to feel better after a hug from her dad.
The way Ellie’s body relaxes against his, and her cries stifle into slow, wobbly breaths, tells him maybe he hasn’t lost every bit of dad magic he may have once had.
“Aside from all that,” he adds softly, “you’re the prettiest girl this side of the country. Trust me, I’ve seen it all the way across.”
“Shut up Joel,” she sniffs, but he can hear the faintest hint of amusement in her trembling voice.
“No way kid. You know you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, come on. That ain’t just me saying it, cause if you were butt-ugly I’d’a told you already.”
A small, far off part of him worries that Sarah might be offended at him calling another girl the most beautiful. But he reminds himself that this little girl is still here, she still needs these words. He thinks Sarah would understand. He hopes.
Ellie laughs weakly. “That’s why this is so stupid. Who cares if I’m butt ugly? I… I’m more than that, right?”
“Absolutely kid, you don’t need me to tell you that. You’re a little badass. Any other kid would’ve gotten us killed those months on the road. But you actually saved us more than once. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, you know that?”
Ellie’s face tilts slightly until she’s looking in the mirror again. Her expression is a little softer now, but her words are sad.
“I don’t like looking at myself. I don’t like thinking about the things I’ve done. The world is better when it’s blurry, Joel.”
He exhales sharply, trying to remain as put together as he can in the wake of that devastating statement. Ellie has this unique ability to make him feel like someone’s strangled all the breath out of his lungs just by telling him how she feels.
So much darkness. So much sadness. So much remorse, regret and longing in such a young person. It’s the cruelest thing he’ll ever see.
“I know baby girl,” he concedes quietly, “but neglecting yourself ain’t gonna change that. Looking at the world without seeing it, don’t make it better.”
“I guess not.”
“The glasses are just to help you in school, okay kid? You can take them off when you aren’t in class. But you gotta compromise. If you don’t wear ‘em it’s just gonna get worse and then one of us will be deaf and one will be blind. We’re really screwed then.”
She snorts. “We’d figure it out. We always do.”
“That’s right we do. We’re tougher than a lot of shit, right? Tougher than some glasses, ain’t we?”
Sighing, the girl reluctantly nods. “Yeah. I guess we are.”
“Stay put.” Joel squeezes her shoulder once before releasing her from his embrace. He doesn’t miss the way one of her hands reaches out quickly, though she pulls the motion back so he doesn’t see. Her eyes linger on him as he backs away and shuffles up the stairs.
He finds the glasses stuffed in the top drawer of her dresser, right beside her socks. With an eye-roll, he retrieves them and descends the stairs. Her face falls slightly when she sees him carrying them.
“Meet me halfway,” he pleads, “just put them on one more time. Give ‘em another chance.”
After a brief glare, she snatches the frame from his hands and reluctantly slides them over her nose. He takes her shoulders and turns her back to the mirror, unable to help the smile on his face. The big green frames are so ugly they almost loop back around to being stylish. And on Ellie? It’s a non-starter. She could make anything look cute.
“Damn it kid. You know you’re fuckin’ adorable, dont’ cha?”
Her eyebrows furrow. “I look different.”
“You look very smart, like an astronaut. I bet Sally Ride had to wear glasses.”
He feels Ellie’s weight shift curiously. “You think?”
“Probably,” he shrugs, “it used to be a lot more common than you think. Too many people walking around without the stuff they need, nowadays.”
She nods thoughtfully. “It’s weird. That… I’m not one of those people anymore.”
“It’s good, Ellie. Do you know how happy it makes me to see you getting the shit you need? It’s all I want for you. To be taken care of.”
“I guess it is good,” she agrees, turning her attention back to the mirror. “I do look smart.”
“You are smart. So no more D- tests, alright? These should help you. Use them.”
“Okay,” Ellie nods again, still looking at her reflection. “Hey, Joel?”
“Yeah baby?”
“Are there ever things that you wish you could change about yourself?”
The real answer is: just about everything.
He says, “sometimes. But I am who I am. No amount of wishing is gonna change that. Waste of time to do it.”
“What would you change about me?” She asks with genuine curiosity in her voice.
Joel cocks an eyebrow. “Hmmm… maybe the part of your brain that makes you instinctively seek out danger. A little too heroic and selfless for my tastes.”
She sticks her tongue out at him and blows a raspberry. There’s his Ellie.
“Really though, kid? I wouldn’t change anything. Not a damn thing.”
Something in her eyes tells him she really needed to hear that.
“Thanks Joel.” Ellie murmurs. “I’m sorry I… threw a fit. About the glasses.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just talk to me, alright? Ain’t nothing we can’t handle together.” He assures her, hoping it finally starts to sink in that he’s here. He isn’t going anywhere. Nothing she does will ever be too much.
Nodding again, Ellie says, “alright.” Then, her expression brightens immeasurably. “Hey, since I told you the truth, do I get to ditch school today?”
Joel snorts. He’s aware that he should absolutely make her go, and that letting her play hooky after a stunt like this is probably not the best, most A+ fuckin’ Montessori parenting. A normal kid would need to learn a lesson here.
Ellie ain’t a normal kid though. In all the best ways.
“What do you say we hike out to the river and practice our shooting? Don’t want ya getting rusty.” He suggests.
“Yes!” She squeals. “Let me change my boots!”
He catches her shirt sleeve before she can make a mad dash for the hall closet, much to her dismay.
“You gotta promise to wear the glasses every day.” He warns.
“Yeah yeah I promise jeez!” She wiggles out of his grasp and rushes for the closet, already babbling about shooting some strange birds she’d seen during a school trip to the river last week.
Joel just listens to her excited voice, smiling in spite of himself. Maybe he’s rusty at this dad thing, and maybe she’s got a few more complex concerns than a regular kid would, but he thinks they’re doing pretty good, considering. He meant what he said anyway.
He wouldn’t change a damn thing.