II

He was smiling again.

The dragon Balto allowed himself the luxury of sweeping through the air at a leisurely pace, unhindered by a strict time limit like his morning route. He allowed himself to rise ever higher into the sky and plummet downwards with his back to the ground, catching himself at a safe distance from the ground, but that didn’t diminish the fun of the adrenaline rush. He laughed to himself even as he approached his destination of Humbleton.

He soared lazily over the little town, looking down into people’s backyards and catching a few looks at the residents enjoying their early mid-afternoon spring day. A couple of children pointed up at him, he could see, but he didn’t worry.

Balto didn’t feel worried. He wasn’t feeling anxious anymore.

He felt free and excited and ready to drop down and provide people with their mail.

He let out a contented little hum as he softly glided onto Humbleton’s flight balcony and danced his way down the steps, only stumbling slightly once at the very last step when he thought there’d be more. After staggering back upright, he shook himself back to formality and made his way into town, delivering letters to good people of Humbleton.

Starting at Mr. and Mrs. Gerind’s and continuing onto Mr. Vick’s, Balto slipped their mail into their mailboxes or through the mail slots in their doors.

At Mr. Johnson’s, however, the dragon found himself running away from the porch-mounted mailbox at the sound of shrieking dogs chasing him away from their territory. Balto ran in huge strides, even leaping entirely over Mr. Johnson’s fence to escape the rabid approach of the two German shepherds, but in his aerial dive, Balto’s harness caught itself on the chain-link fence's jagged top.

Balto let out an amused chortle, finding himself twisted around and partially upside down. He pulled himself free, smoothed the harness over his scales, and checked on his pouches contents.

“Everything alright, dragon?” Mr. Johnson called from his front door, no doubt having seen Balto’s embarrassing predicament.

Planting his paws on the fence and looking over, Balto nodded and answered, “Yeah. I didn’t realize Betty and Susan were out.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said slowly, scratching his fuzzy chin before heading back inside.

Balto continued his route without much incident after, save for a few unkind words from Mr. Harris over something he called a “pink slip” under his breath and a couple of pennies and a dime dropped into Balto’s pouch by Mr. Bradley.

As the young drake made his way back to the flight balcony, he mentally added the rare tip he had earned to the amount he had Father saving for him. He was less than two dollars away from one of the noise making clocks.

And Balto smiled as he took off for Dursly, his last, but longest, flight of the day.

+++

Balto glanced down at Dursly, the scariest town on his route, with apprehension. From the sky it looked like any other little town he had delivered to, save for the angle of the sun casting longer shadows than the other towns, but as he neared the ramshackle flight balcony, which consisted mostly of rotten or old wood and rusty nails, he felt himself growing more and more scared and anxious.

He felt the memory of a kick to his ribs from one of his first times delivering for them.

Peering out of the flight balcony’s staircase, Balto kept his eye out for Jimmy West and his brothers, Bobby and Vince. They liked to yell and threaten him and occasionally throw glass bottles at him until he went running to the post office and back…

...but the dragon didn’t see any of them and let out a sigh of relief as he set out.

Gotta make it quick.

The dragon didn’t take the trip slowly though. He made the short distance to the post office brisk, eyeing up and down streets that he crossed for the brothers. His panicked heart leapt in terror as a truck barreled through an intersection he was crossing, the driver apologizing with a hand wave, but the event sent Balto sprinting the short distance remaining, passing a semi-crowded walkway of people enjoying a local ice cream shop about to close. Balto evaded the crowd entirely, opting to go around them, but that didn’t stop a few women and children from letting out startled noises as he passed in a blur.

Finding the post office, Balto looked up and down the street before crossing and carefully sliding the tied stack of letters and envelopes into a dropbox. Balto spent longer than he intended just staring up and down the road, unnerved and panicked.

He made his way back to the flight balcony within minutes, not spending a single second to apologize for startling the residents of Dursly. He scrambled up the steps, claws digging into the wood and gouging wounds into the planks.

The dragon launched himself out of the balcony without much thought, feeling a plank bend significantly and making his lift-off jarring.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

He wasn’t smiling for a long time after he left. He sobbed quietly as a forepaw felt his ribs. They still ached. He cried to himself for a while after he left, eyesight blurred with tears.

Balto had only been in Dursly for twenty minutes, just long enough for the horizon to burn orange and pink with sunset colors, but that was simply twenty minutes too long.

+++

It was dark out when Balto finally returned home, following instinct and muscle memory more than true memory. As the dragon soared over the vast blackness below him, he felt the hurt and cold tightness in his chest dissipate. The dining room light was still on!

He had made it in time for dinner!

Balto didn’t bother landing in his balcony, preferring in that instance to drop unceremoniously onto the cold, dewy lawn and hurry to the back door. He didn’t bother knocking again. Pushing into the house, Balto snaked his way around corners and walls to the dining room where he heard laughter and voices and the staticky noise of the family radio set retelling the events of the week.

“I’m home!” Balto announced as he approached the table, panting, still wearing his harness, and looking around the table. Father sat at the head with Mother and baby Leslie to his left. There was an empty seat to his right for when Susie was home while Harry, who was in the middle of slurping a bundle of noodles into his mouth, sat directly across from Father. “What’s for dinner?”

He already knew. He could smell it the moment he opened the back door. Balto recognized the taste of boiled noodles in the air and the smell of tomato sauce anywhere.

The dragon was giddy as could be and his stomach grumbled for him to hurry.

Mother smiled at Balto and answered, “Spaghetti, silly. Would you like some?”

Father and Harry carried on with their conversation about Harry’s adventure with Father’s car that day. The pride in Father’s voice gave Balto jealous pangs in his heart, but he set them aside. He couldn’t wait to tell Father about how he outran Mr. Johnson’s dogs. Father liked stories like that. Balto knew from the number of them Harry had told and Father had repeated to others over the phone or when guests were over.

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The dragon nodded and went closer to the chest high table. He watched as Mother took a scoop from the bowl of noodles and scooped some onto a spare plate set at the table. The plate wasn’t technically for him, rather for anyone who was visiting for the night and it was tradition that it was always set out with everyone else's, but Balto always ended up with it anyway. It was his place at the table by default. There wasn’t even a chair blocking his spot.

He smiled excitedly as sauce was spooned on top and the plate was set in front of him. Balto chirped excitedly, reaching for the silverware nearest him. He caught Father’s angered glare in his peripheral, pulled away from the table, and said, “I should wash my paws first.”

In the kitchen, Balto ran his paws over some gradually warming water and doused them in some soap from under the sink. It was expensive stuff, but it was specifically for scales, since normal soap would just irritate the skin underneath if it wasn’t thoroughly washed away.

Drying them on a towel hanging from a cabinet, Balto hurried back to the table.

“Um...Balto, dear…” Mother started, pointing at him then to her chest area. “Your harness.”

Balto gasped and quickly ran to the backdoor, unclasping the three straps keeping the harness fastened to his body. He set it neatly on a hook just outside the door, exposed to the chilly nighttime wind. The dragon felt a kind, late night breeze cool the now exposed scales. There were visible lines on him from the harness, scales much lighter than the rest. Greyish-blue stripes against his natural aqua. He ran his tail over the most chaffed spots, rubbing them until soothed.

Returning to the table, again, Balto placed himself at Harry’s left, grabbed his stray fork, jabbed it into his dinner, and started with a warm smile, “So Mr. Johnson’s dogs were out today…”

Father’s calloused hand reached clear across this table and smacked Balto’s fork clutching paw hard enough to make the drake drop it onto the table, a giant roll of sauced noodles with it. He backed away from the table holding his paw to his chest as it were in pain, and let out a confused chirp.

He looked at his unhurt paw, worried that maybe he hadn’t washed up diligently enough, but found not a smudge of dirt or stray pebble anywhere on him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Father snapped.

“George…” Mother sighed. Harry simply rolled his eyes at the situation and continued eating. “Not at the…”

“Quiet, Mary.”

“I’m…” Balto looked at his plate and back to his paws. “I washed my paws...see?” The dragon held up both front paws, showing inside and out their cleanliness.

“Not that, you dumb shit!” Father snapped in a quiet whisper, smacking the dragon’s paws down. His eyes darted to little Leslie who continued playing with a rattle that made little noises. “You were about to eat at the table!”

The dragon’s eyes zoomed around the table rapidly, confused, until they landed on Mother who put on a fake but indifferent smile. She shrugged after catching Balto’s pleading eyes.

“I...I thought I was allowed to…”

“Why would you think that? Because you’ve earned it?”

Balto nodded.

“Words, dragon! Use them!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Why is that? Because from my count you’ve been late three times this week. Now I’m willing to apologize for yelling at you about Mr. Watson’s gift to you. I called and he confirmed your story. I’m not going to berate someone who doesn’t deserve it so I’m considering that your punishment, but none of this changes the fact that you were late. Now tell me, dragon, does that sound like the behavior of someone at this table?”

“But...but…” Balto pointed a claw at Harry and cried louder than he intended, “But Harry got detention and was out past curfew the other night!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me!” Father shouted, rising from his chair. Balto let out a yelp and went to low to the ground, covering both of his eyes with paws. “And don’t use my son against me. Harry’s only a few months from the Marine Corp so if he wants to be a troublemaker for a little while that’s perfectly fine. Now answer my question, dragon: is being late the behavior of someone at this table?”

Balto uncovered his eyes and glanced around under the table. He shook his head.

“I don’t speak gestures, dragon…”

“No, sir, it isn’t…”

“I didn’t think so.” Father reset himself down in his chair. “Your plate will be here when we’re done. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” Balto mumbled before crawling out of the dining room and curling into a ball near the backdoor, crying yet again.

+++

No one went to the laundry room after dinner. No one went to tell him it was okay to get his dinner. No one checked to see if he was okay.

The dragon wasn’t hungry anymore. He just wanted to wait the minutes until someone finally thought to come get him, until someone found him waiting beside the dirty clothes and washing machine.

Balto listened to Harry tell Father more stories to which Father laughed at and lauded over his son. The dragon listened to Mother asking about Harry’s female friend Heather, and how Harry stumbled over words once the subject was opened.

“I got chased by dogs today…” Balto mumbled to himself, still waiting. “Mr. Bunsen’s truck broke down, and Mr. Fitzgerald was really mean.”

What happened with the dogs? Balto thought of Father’s voice. And what did that terrible old man do this time?

Balto rubbed his sore eyes, listening as the table was cleared and dishes were taken to the kitchen sink. He peered into the hallway bisecting the house and saw Mother carrying plates with Harry not far behind carrying the bowls.

He let out a quiet chirp, hoping to draw their attention, and when they didn’t respond and headed towards the front of the house for family TV time, Balto whispered, “Can I have dinner now?”

He was purposefully quiet, he knew, but the dragon still hoped that Mother’s keen ears would have noticed him.

When no one came to get him, a while after hunger had subsided into a cold pit in his gut, the dragon uncurled himself and snaked back towards the dining room to sneak his plate back to his shed.

It was gone.

And the dragon suddenly felt very hungry.

This is what you get for being late and breaking the rules.

The rest of the family watched Gilligan's Island, laughing and whispering between themselves. Someone said Balto's name and it made his ears perk upright. He stepped towards the TV room with a smile, hoping to be invited to watch, but Father, arm behind Mother, was staring at the doorway, eyes narrowed with a finger pointing back the way Balto came. Ears and smile deflating, the dragon snuck backwards, drawing no attention from the rest of the family.

Balto sighed and returned to the backdoor.

Harry and Susie didn’t get to watch TV when they acted up. This is the same thing.

The dragon thought of Susie as his paws touched the lawn. He missed his sister. She used to come to his shed after dinner and talk to him while he readied his next day’s deliveries. She would tell him about her day at school, the boys she liked, and the teachers she didn’t. Balto missed Susie and dearly wished she would come back from wherever she went. All Mother and Father would tell him was she wanted to join the Peace Corps and he had forgotten.

Balto wouldn't forget something like that...would he?

No, I definitely wouldn't.

He missed his sister and desperately wanted another letter to arrive. She hadn’t written in a long time.

Balto carried his harness to his shed, setting it heavily on his worktable beside the next day’s stacks of letters.

Mr. Watson’s book was sitting on the table as well. The dragon let out an excited chirp and brought it over to his nest, using the lamp hanging over his nest for light.

Worries evaporated as he opened to the first page.

+++

"Well someone's a messy eater."

He licked his chops and slurped up some noodles. He felt a nuzzle at the back of his head. He nipped at them angrily but kept eating. He couldn't believe how good it was!

"Give him another meatball. I think he likes those more."

He pounced on it once it plopped into his bowl. He couldn't wait to have a bowl as big as Mom or Dad's.