Page 7 of A Troll in the Hay
“A town a bit bigger than this in Pennsylvania.”
“Pennsylvania isn’t far.”
“The northern part isn’t, but I’m closer to Philadelphia. It took me four and half hours to get here.” Not so far away that a long-distance relationship would be impossible, but not close enough to conveniently see each other on a regular basis. Something that shouldn’t be crossing my mind on a first date, but it is. It has been since I left Ogram’s market store with plans for a date.
Nodding, he pushes his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, when I’d rather he’d reached for my hand to hold. “What do you do there?”
“Waitress. I’ve worked at the same restaurant forever. Nearly a decade. Just a roadhouse style, but it was a step up from working in fast food because I’d get tips serving tables instead of handing orders across a counter.”
“You must be happy there to have stayed on so long.”
“More like complacent. The town, the restaurant, the people… they’re what I know. It’s just easy to keep doing the same thing, even though it’s not a good fit anymore.”
“Did something happen to change how you feel about your workplace?” Though it’s still calm, there’s an edge to his voice. Any trace of a smile is gone, and his lips are a thin, tight line that gives his big tusk teeth an almost ferocious prominence.
“Nothing happened to me,” I say, slipping my hand through the crook of his arm and curling my fingers over his thick forearm. Beneath my hand, his tense muscles relax. “But every day, the people in my hometown show me their bigoted true selves more than the day before. I’m sure there are people who aren’t closed-minded—I can’t possibly be the only open-minded one living there—but anytime I speak up in favor of equality for nonhumans, nobody chimes in supportively. Not a peep from anyone. There’s plenty of open contempt for integration, though.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“And that’s too kind a word. It’s disgusting. I usually stay home during my vacation weeks because traveling isn’t something I can afford on my budget, but I took the credit card out of the freezer for this trip. I had to get away for a while.” I can’t bring myself to tell him the exact reason—what happened to the Wolferd family when they came out as wolf shifters. Even though I was vehemently against it and made my feelings known everywhere possible, I’m still ashamed to be associated with a town that’d treat others that way. “So I got a copy ofMonster Lifemagazine—I had to order it, of course,because no stores in town carry it—and chose Harmony Glen from the ‘Ten Monster-Inclusive Destinations You Won’t Want to Miss This Summer’ article.”
“I’m glad you did,” he says, withdrawing his other hand from his pocket and placing it over mine.
“Me too.” Stopped to wait for cars to go by on Lakeview Avenue, I smile up at him. “What about you? Have you always been in Harmony Glen, or did you move here after the Great Revelation?”
The arm I’m holding slides from my grip to wrap protectively around my back as we cross the street. Once we’re safely on the sidewalk again, his arm slips away, and he takes my hand, weaving our fingers together with care. “I have always been here, though not openly. I grew up in a small home hidden from human eyes by the way it was built into one of the surrounding hills in a heavily wooded area. The couple who owned the nearby farm and market were aware of my family’s existence and always treated us as equals. My parents worked on their land, and when I was old enough, I followed in their footsteps. The owners were ready to retire and offered to sell the property to me the moment integration happened. I will always believe they held on to it as long as possible to ensure I had a job and a safe place.”
“I love that.” It’s the kind of feel-good story that belongs inMonster Lifemagazine, though I doubt he’d want that kind of attention, being solitary as he is.
“It was an extraordinary opportunity for which I was, and am, very grateful.”
“Where are they now?”
“The Jensens, the previous owners, are enjoying their golden years in a seniors’ condominium apartment overlooking the lake.”
“Wow, that’s quite a change from living on acres and acres of farmland.”
Ogram’s big body vibrates with deep chuckling. “I voiced the same thing when they told me their intentions. I offered them to remain in the farmhouse, and I would transform part of the big barn into a bachelor’s apartment for myself. They declined, saying they were ready for a different view, and that I would need the house for my family.”
Another example of Ogram’s kindness. Generosity, too. How humans could see him as anything other than a wonderful person is beyond me. Where I’m from, he’d be vilified, based solely on his exterior. Every minute here, every moment with him, makes me want to never go back. If only that were an option.
“So, your parents live in the farmhouse with you?” I ask, redirecting my thoughts to the present, to learning everything there is to know about my troll. Mine for now, anyway.
He shakes his head, a different kind of smile settling into place. Warm, reverent. “No, they had already passed on by that time. Several years before the Great Revelation. Their spirit lives in the land, though. I feel their presence every time my hands touch the earth.”
“That’s beautiful,” I say, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Lifting our joined hands, he presses asoft kiss to my knuckles, the contact bringing butterflies to wing inside me. “I’ve already mentioned my brother, who no longer resides in this area, so you now know what there is to know about my family. I would like to hear about yours.” His eyebrows rise at my grimace. “Unless it’s a subject you would rather not discuss.”
“No, it’s fine. Just…don’t hold my shitty parents against me, okay? Because I’m not like them. At all.” The fluttering in my chest withers as quickly as it started. “They’re anti-integration. Silently at first. Early on, I still believed—or wanted to believe—they’d come around. I tried having calm, logical conversations with them. I thought that eventuallysomethingI said would click, and they’d realize how narrow-minded and lacking in empathy they’d become.”
“Based on your lead-in, I assume that didn’t happen.”
Shaking my head, I release a defeated sigh. “No, it got worse. As soon as businesses in town started putting up ‘Humans Only’ signs, normalizing open segregation, my parents jumped on the bandwagon. No more silent hatred, they became part of the bigger, louder, radical problem. They went all-in on hate. Believed the bullshit and lies. That’s when I moved into my own place. And when I cut them out of my life.”
“That couldn’t have been an easy decision.”
“I know I should agree, but the sad truth is, they made it easy. Blood made us family. Their toxic beliefs and behavior made us strangers.”