***TRIGGER WARNING*** THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS (non-graphic) mentions of rape, alcohol use, PTSD, violence, and drunk driving. If you are very uncomfortable, please skip the first 2000 words to the part where the bolded zeros divide up the chapter.

Ch. 11: Fathers and Mothers

A word of advice to my readers: do not, under any circumstances, assume that a girl that you just happened to kiss ever plans on kissing you again. I am guilty of this misconception.

"We're not dating," was the first thing that Zelda said to me that next day. I tried not to be disappointed.

"Not dating," I repeated numbly.

"Affirmative." She was expressionless, exchanging one textbook for another in her locker.

"I suppose that means that we didn't kiss, either," I mused, leaning against the row of lockers and smirking.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, as if she were pleased that I was catching on.

"We did not kiss," she confirmed.

"Well, that's a relief," I said, hoping that would upset her just a little bit. I figured that if I upset her, at least I'd know she cared.

And I think that she did care, even if she wouldn't admit it, because she'd done her makeup differently, and she'd curled her hair, and she'd even loosened the top button on her collar.

Scandalous, Zelda. Purely scandalous.

I felt like this was a step in the right direction, especially considering the fact that we were a month into campaigning, now, and Nabooru was really getting on my case.

"Is she in love with you yet?" Nabs had pressed earlier.

"Getting there," I'd answered. "It's a work in progress. She'll be head over heels soon enough."

I didn't mention the fact that I was actually starting to really like Zelda. And I sure as heck didn't mention that I'd burned all of Nabs' campaign posters. But I did mention the kiss, which made her pretty happy. It was ironic, because I hadn't even been thinking about Nabooru's Master Plan when I kissed Zelda. I just… kissed her. It was purely Ganondorf Dragmire in that moment, and no one else.

The polls for the class presidency were tied at this point, although Malon and Link had been working hard to tip the scales in Zelda's favor. I stayed out of it, afraid of distorting the sense of balance between Team Harkinian and Team Dragmire.

I didn't blame Zelda for not wanting to date me. I guess that would have come as less of a surprise if I'd actually thought more about it beforehand. You see, families like Zelda's are pretty archaic, meaning that they have archaic views. Political views. Racial views.

I think you know which family member I'm referring to.

Gerudo aren't exactly loved around these parts. We're the minority of minorities; my sisters and I are among the few families that are Gerudo around here, and for some odd reason, out of all those families, I'm the only boy. I mean, unless you count my father, but he's gone, now. Don't know where… Gods, I hate him. I really do. Think of how much I hate Groose. Then add that to how much I hate the headmaster. Now put it to the power of ten.

That's how much I loathe my father. I suppose you deserve to know why, at this point.

Okay. Backstory time.

I don't know much about him. He was gone by the time I was five, since he left when my mom was pregnant with Abenu. He came and went for all the years that they knew each other.

My mom met him when she was sixteen. He was in his twenties, I think. Apparently, she really loved him, but he didn't think that she loved him enough, so he drugged her up one night and…

...Well, you can figure out the rest.

My mom had run away from home in order to be with him, and her parents were long out of the picture. Nabooru was conceived that terrible night, and my mother, always the optimist, refused to end Nabs' life while she was still in the womb. Now, while I agree as much as anybody that that was terribly valiant of her, sometimes I think that a world without Nabs might be all right.

Then I remember that my mom would loathe such a statement. She went through a lot of pain for Nabooru's sake, and she never regretted going through with the pregnancy. Besides, without Nabooru, our family would have fallen apart. But I'll get to that later.

My father stuck around long enough to see Nabooru born, and then he gave my mom money for the kid and hightailed out of there. Great, right?!

Wrong.

He never really left. He came back a few weeks later and apologized for everything, and boom. My mom fell right back in love with that monster, and somewhere in there Aveil was conceived. This time my dad actually stuck around. He took good care of her, got a job… a good job. They bought a house. Aveil was born. And then I was born a year later. I don't know what was with those two that they couldn't take a break. I mean, really.

I think he loved her, even if it was only a little bit. Things were really good for them when I was first born.

Then, the crash happened.

They were at a party and he'd had way too much to drink. She told him not to drive and he just got angry with her. He yelled at her, and told her that if she didn't get in the car, he'd hurt her. She complied out of fright.

Thirty minutes later, the car was wrapped around a tree trunk. The cops arrested him and my mom was left to herself.

We didn't get much help from anyone, so money depleted like that. My dad stayed in jail and I guess my mom spent a lot of time getting mad at herself for ever trusting him. Nabs says Mom used to stay up all night doing chores and moving furniture because she couldn't sleep right. I don't know how Nabs even remembers that when she was only three years old at the time of the crash.

Mom told us in the years to come that she could never sleep because she was always having nightmares about bulblins and poes. I believed her back then. I believed her for a long time.

I only realized recently that she wasn't just having dreams about monsters. It was PTSD- of course it was PTSD, but how were we supposed to know?

When my father came home from jail a few years later, he was not happy. He took out a lot of his anger on Mom. He hit her sometimes. He hit Aveil once, but that was the only time he ever hurt one of the kids.

We ended up in the slums. My parents could never get another good job after the accident because they were so screwed up in the head. Somehow, Mom became pregnant with Sirbe. My dad pushed her to abort Sirbe. He didn't want another wailing baby eating all our food and shitting in diapers. He used to complain that another kid would mean less money and more work.

But my mother refused him, and I'm so thankful that she did. I love Sirbe.

When Sirbe was born, my father refused to support her. Mom was upset with him, reminding him that it was just as much his fault as it was hers that there was another mouth to feed. Enraged, my dad and mom got into another fight. A bad one. He pushed her down the stairs and then marched out the door without checking to see if she was okay. Nabs called 911, and even though Mom was physically okay, she was never quite the same after that.

We resorted to whatever financial aid the government could give us. Mom got a lot of dirty looks for not working, but nobody knew about four kids or PTSD or the car crash. They didn't know that my mother was relearning how to walk. So even though it was demeaning to her, she did her best to ignore it. Nabs tried to ignore the way we were treated, too, but she was five by that point and could tell that something was wrong.

And then my dad came back one last time before leaving for good. He was drunk off his ass and had a gun. He shot the wall three times, scaring my three sisters and I into the other room. Six year old Nabooru cradled Sirbe, a toddler, to her chest and ushered us away, slamming the door shut and hiding the man we hardly recognized as "Father" from view.

And then he raped my mother. I didn't understand what was going on. I was four. I remember being scared shitless, that's for sure. All that shouting- and Nabooru cried and cried and cried… and when Mom found us huddled together hours later, she looked so sick and she trembled- "It's okay, babies… shh, shh, it's okay."

It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay. That's never okay, and the fact that she even dared to say such a thing was courageous beyond words.

It's been eleven years, and I haven't seen my father since. I hope he's dead. No, scratch that. He doesn't deserve to be dead, that's too easy. I hope he's in jail somewhere, facing punishment, working off everything he did to abuse us. I hope he's hurting.

I was five when Abenu was born. We had no home anymore. I didn't understand why. All I knew was that I was really hungry all the time, and that my mom was sick all the time, and that I had a baby sister named Abenu from the night my dad shot the wall.

We stayed in a shelter. Two mattresses- that's what we got. Nabs and Aveil and Sirbe on one. Mom and Abenu and me on the other. And she kept getting sicker, sicker. She was so weak, so hungry. But she was infected, too. She was ill in ways we didn't understand. We started growing up, from kids to teenagers, and when I was thirteen, Mom died.

I was mad at her. Furious. How could she just die?! How could se leave us with no food, no home, and not a rupee to our name?

Nabooru knew why, but it was a year before she explained any of it to us. Mom had confided in her before she died. She'd told Nabs everything I've just told you, and more.

Nabs explained that after Sirbe was born- after the stair-pushing incident- after my dad "left," but before the day he shot the wall, he went off with other women. We don't know how many, but we do know one thing. By the time that bastard came back for the last time, he'd contracted an STD. He passed it right on along to my mom, and it killed her.

He killed her.

He killed her, and he knew he killed her, and then he left before the killing was finished.

I don't know whether Abenu's got that STD too. There's no way to tell, not yet. I love Abenu with everything I've got. Her big yellow eyes and her honesty and the way she always makes me feel better, like I'm not a piece of shit. I can't lose her, I can't- I can't...

I'll never forgive him. Never, ever forgive him, never consider forgiving him. If I could punish him, if I could watch him suffer, I would. I'd spend the rest of my life getting revenge, but I have no connections, no way of finding him… and besides, I've got a responsibility to my sisters, and to my school, and to Zelda.

And now you know all of it. It's a lot, I know it is. I apologize for not telling you sooner, I just… didn't think there was a right time. And now I know that there's not a right time, never a right time to explain things like that. Maybe that's why it was so hard for Zelda to open up to me.

Because there's this weird sense of guilt I get about making my burdens somebody else's. Not that they should be burdens, they're just bad memories. But bad memories weigh on the soul like anvils.

Too many anvils, and you snap.

000000000000000000

There are always those days at either end of winter where a warm front plows through and makes you think, well, maybe it's not winter after all.

November tenth was one of those days. I received a phone call one Sunday morning and was pleased to hear Zelda's voice on the other end.

"Do you own a dress shirt?"

I thought about it. "I've got a sweater that's all right," I answered honestly. "Why?"

"Community prayer. Join us, won't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "And here I was thinking you'd finally caved and that you were asking me out." I sighed. "What time?"

"It usually starts around ten. Temple of Time. Meet you there?"

Why she was inviting me to worship deities I didn't pray to, I don't know. It wasn't that I didn't believe in the goddesses. It was that I didn't like them. But for some reason, I obliged.

We met up at the temple an hour later. Zelda was in a short purple dress, her hair pinned back in a thin band. Her glasses were missing again, and I was becoming convinced that they were just for show.

"Come on," she said, grasping my hand and pulling me towards the temple entrance.

The interior was astounding, filled to the brim with temple-goers in their Sunday best. Light flooded in through arched windows, making the room feel old yet alive.

Zelda found a spot near Malon, who, for the record, was dressed as oddly as usual.

"Oh, hello, Ganondorf," Malon said when she saw me. "Are you a religious man now?"

"I guess so," I answered, feeling remarkably out of place. "Um, why am I here again?"

"Because we're meeting Link afterwards so we can go to the diner again," Zelda answered.

I paused. "The 50's diner?"

"The very same," Malon clarified.

"Like last Sunday?"

"Like every Sunday since the beginning of Sundays," Zelda replied, and I smirked.

"Are you sassing me, Harkinian?" I asked incredulously.

"We did make out in a janitor's closet," she remarked. "It's not like we're strangers- but shh, we're at temple, stop making me say such scandalous things."

I grinned like crazy at that, and I'm not sure why.

Community prayer was interesting enough, yet Zelda and Malon seemed to find it very boring. The basic process was for three different speakers from the community to ascend a podium and tell a story of their own faith. They were all pretty schmultzy. Then everyone in the temple had to sing some song together called the Prelude of Light, which Malon led. I didn't realize that Malon was a singer, but she really, really was. Her voice was loud, clear… just astounding.

Then a town advisor made some announcements, and we recited prayers to Din, Nayru, and Farore that I'd never heard but that Zelda knew by heart.

I didn't feel particularly enlightened when it was over. I told Zelda that, and she just laughed- a clear, ringing sound that was like music.

"You're not supposed to feel enlightened," she said. "You're supposed to feel like a sinner."

I didn't know what she meant, but I didn't say anything.

Link was waiting for us outside, leaning against the temple. He was facing the cloudless sky, hair shaggy, earring glistening in the sunlight.

"You're not religious?" I asked before I could stop myself. He smirked.

"Everyone knows the gods hate queers," he said smoothly. "We hate each other."

"That's not true."

"Tell it to my father, Dragmire," Link said. He moseyed in our direction and threw his arm around Malon. "Hello."

"Hey, you." She nudged him in the side.

"Shall we eat burgers?"

"We shall."

Malon announced loudly that she was driving, and so we followed her to a yellow bug parked around the corner. "Pile in," she directed. Link called shotgun, so I ended up in the back with Zelda.

"No funny business," Malon declared nonchalantly while checking her rearview mirror. Zelda blushed.

"Gods, Malon. Ganon and I aren't even dating," she protested.

"Eh. Best friends plus," Malon decided, and she revved up the engine. The old bug, which smelled powerfully of leather, sputtered into the street. A cassette tape turned up front.

"Is this… the Beatles?" I asked, recognizing the voice ringing through the speakers.

"Revolver," Malon answered. "A personal favorite." She turned the volume up absentmindedly. "It's like, the Beatles in their prime. We're talking bowl cuts, records spinning backwards, Eleanor Rigby- Zel, you like the Beatles, don't you?"

She shrugged next to me. "I like Blackbird."

Link frowned. "You would like Blackbird."

Whatever that means, I thought, not well-versed in the chronicle of Zelda's Life Meets the Beatles.

"...And your bird can sing, but you don't get me," Malon was singing, and the car jerked off of the main road as we passed through a huge iron gate.

"Oh… not this again," Link groaned, and Malon shut off the music suddenly.

"It's a beautiful day and she deserves a visit."

"Who does?" I asked, and realized that I'd entered bad territory. Silence ensued, and the car came to a halt.

"Ganon, take Zelda's hand," Malon ordered.

"Why?"

"Just take her hand and get out of the car."

I did as she said and realized why. We were in a cemetery.

The city cemetery, to be exact. It was large but well-kept, a large plot of land surrounded by trees. The skyline was visible over the treetops.

Zelda had grown very quiet. I noticed with a start that Link had, too. I didn't need to ask who we were visiting anymore.

"This way," Malon said, leading us gently through the grass, her yellow skirt sashaying in the sunlight. A stand towards the entrance was selling fall flowers for anyone who wanted them, and a number of people mulled quietly around the graveyard.

We came to the edge of a pond, a fountain spraying out in the middle of it. Zelda looked particularly sad and pretty in the shade of a fiery tree, the light refracting from the crystalline water onto her pale skin. I became aware of her tightening grip, and realized with a start that she was trembling.

"Are you okay?"

"I haven't been here in six months," she answered quietly. "I always get nervous."

I glanced up to see a narrow white headstone, words etched gracefully into the marble.

Tetra Harkinian

1972-2007

Beloved wife and mother.

"You must love in such a way

that the person you love

feels free."

The group took a few steps towards the headstone, and I found myself stepping away instinctively.

Malon was the closest, and Link stood behind her, and being him was Zelda, who reached forward and wrapped her arms around her brother's torso in melancholy. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into the back of his sweatshirt, emitting a sigh that sort of floated away with the wind.

Link reached forward at the same time that Malon reached back, clasping their hands together. They stood there wordlessly, unified by touch, probably thinking all the same thoughts. It was soft, intimate moment, and I felt almost like an intruder as I stood a ways off and watched.

A few minutes later and the moment ended. Link pulled Malon up against his chest and whispered something; she whispered back, and then the embrace broke. When Link started walking away, Malon just watched him go with wide, glassy eyes. Their hands remained clasped until the distance was too great to retain the connection, and Malon's hand dangled in midair for a few seconds afterwards. It was almost as if she were hopeful that he might return to take it.

I felt Zelda's arm entwine with mine.

"She's in love with him, isn't she?" I muttered.

"Of course she is," Zelda answered. "And he loves her back with all his heart, just not in the way she would like."

"How long…?"

"Since the beginning."

We were quiet for another minute. Then, I broke away gently. "Be right back." I crossed the cemetery and returned moments later with an assembly of red and yellow flowers.

"What are you…" Zelda trailed off at the sight of my bouquet. Link and Malon had returned to the bug. With only Zelda and I together, speaking freely felt a little easier.

"I think," I mused, plucking a flower out from its brethren, "that I understand you a little better now. I get why you don't want to date me." You're afraid of putting your heart on the line, and that's okay, I thought, but didn't say it out loud. "I don't blame you."

She bowed her head slightly, quietly.

"However," I pressed, "that doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to make you fall hopelessly in love with me."

Her face split into a grin and she glanced up, blue eyes sparkling.

"You're really full of it, Dragmire."

"Tell me about it, Harkinian," I replied smoothly and slipped the stray flower into her hair. "Zelda," I now addressed, donning my Serious Face.

"Yes?"

"Will you be my date to the annual HCA Alumni Winter Ball?"

She snickered. "Legacy only. I'm just a ticket in, aren't I?"

"On the contrary, I was hoping to go as your friend. I want you to be comfortable. Besides," I added as an afterthought, "I can keep Groose off your back."

She seemed to ponder it for a moment. While she mulled it over, I placed the bouquet against Tetra Harkinian's grave.

"Okay," Zelda's voice sounded from behind me, and I smiled. "But you're sure I'm not just your ticket in?"

"Zelda Harkinian," I said with a laugh, "you will be my ticket to a number of wonderful things that the Winter Ball doesn't have a prayer of rivaling."

"Like?"

"Like me," I answered automatically. "You're the ticket to me."

She rolled her eyes and hoisted me to my feet.

"Keep dreaming, Dragmire," she said with a melodic laugh, and pulled me in the direction of the yellow bug glittering in the morning light.

Oh, Ganon, you great shmoozer.

Updating because I'm procrastinating other things. Don't know when the next one will come, but it will be about the Winter Ball, and Ganon's going to make a Big Fat Discovery.

Thank you kindly for reading/reviewing! I know I say that every time, but I always feel the need to say thank you. Am I the only one who feels like this website is kind of dead, now? Oh, well. Let's liven it up with some love for Good Guy Ganondorf. :)

-Ctj