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Title: Ollie Ollie, In Come Free (4/4)
Part three.
The next time she showed up at his place, she said she had something for him. Brown paper bags could mean anything from beer to take-out to lacy underwear – and that’d been an interesting night – and he really hadn’t expected a gift and didn’t know what to guess when Beaux sat him on the couch and handed him something in tissue paper.
“Wow.” Dan traced a thumb over the edge of the frame. “You – wow. Thank you.” He leaned over, kissed her square on the lips, “Thank you.”
She kissed him right back. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t think – what you said about how much it cost…”
“I can budget, and I’ve got some more clients, but I know you liked it.” She jumped onto her feet, almost bouncing on her toes. “So where should we hang it? Over here? Bedroom? Come on.”
“In a minute.” He kept staring at the photo. “Just give me a moment with this.”
“Bedroom, then. That way you two can be alone for a while.”
By the end of the night after some trial and error and double-checking the lease agreement it ended up in the bedroom after all. Dan had to admit it really worked, and spun to grab Beaux off her feet and turn them around to land on the bed, dinner coming after inaugurating and welcoming the piece into the bedroom.
The rituals that made up his life now didn’t fill it or mark it the way the old ones did, but they still filled it, and for now, a Saturday night spent slow-dancing with her out on the floor and gently buzzed on slingshots, it worked fine. Not great, just fine, and maybe that was why he was so restless tonight. Maybe he hadn’t had enough to drink yet, maybe she was wearing too much perfume and he couldn’t smell her hair, maybe he made a mistake and should’ve gone to the movies with her instead.
There were lots of people out tonight, and he knew plenty of guys checked Beaux out when they thought she wasn’t looking, he thought he saw a couple of them doing it tonight – hell, he’d done it, but at least he’d had the balls to talk to her, not keep making eyes over at her when they thought her boyfriend wasn’t looking, either. He turned his back to them as the music got louder, started to twirl Beaux around along with it and smile when she laughed. They had another round of drinks, made jokes about walking home and what she was packing in her purse, danced through two more songs getting looser with each verse and chorus, and then Beaux pulled away and laughed and said, “I think I’m done for the night.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. Aaaahhhb-sah-lutely.” She shook herself out from the shoulders down. “I gotta use the bathroom first, so you think you can wait outside?”
“I’ll be right there.” He watched her move off, and for a moment stood out on the dance floor alone before breaking it apart and leaving to wait right by the door. It wasn’t that late, but even if it was it was too bright here – in the whole city – to see any stars, and maybe that was getting to him, not moving around. He didn’t miss it the way he missed his dad but sometimes he did want to go out into the country and sleep by the stars and maybe he could talk Beaux into it, get some sleeping bags and hike out through some fields…
“Watch it!” Someone shoved him aside. He stumbled back a step in reflex and it was easy to move forward in instinct and anger and push the jerk back. The guy turned around, glaring, and Dan recognized his face. “What?”
Dan swallowed. “You were, you were flirting with my girlfriend.”
“Listen, I didn’t even talk to anyone –” He stopped when Dan grabbed his arm.
“You were looking at her wrong,” and he was on thin ice but wanted to keep going to the middle of the pond, wanted to keep pushing out, “and I want an apology.”
“What the fuck?” There were a few people around now, watching.
“Tell me you’re sorry.”
“Fuck that, I’m not sorry, even if I was I’d be sorry to her for picking you, fuck off, come on.” He tried to wrestle free but Dan held on tight.
“Tell me you’re sorry.”
The guy twisted loose and snarled, “Listen, you son of a bitch –”
The guy wasn’t even talking about Beaux and didn’t know about Dan but it set something off in him, and before he knew what he was doing, Dan punched him. His fist hit the guy’s face and pain shot up to his shoulder. He swore and shook his hand to get the pain out. The guy stumbled back, everyone yelling, and then the guy yelled something else he didn’t hear and punched back. Dan saw it coming and managed to turn enough it hit his good shoulder instead of his face. He twisted on his feet and the guy charged at Dan, who stood and rolled with it, spinning to keep the guy going.
He fell into the dirt and grabbed Dan’s leg and pulled him down too. He tried to get on top of him but Dan kicked back, hit his face again. He tried to scramble away but was too close, the guy tangled in his legs, and the guy pulled at one ankle and grabbed the other, hauled himself up Dan’s body.
Dan grew up wrestling with his brothers when they were on all fours. It was just practice for now. He kneed the guy in the balls and he let go and curled up, his hands in his groin and shouting in pain.
The crowd had gathered around them yelling and whooping. Dan pushed himself up and away. He got onto his feet and slapped the guy’s head with both hands, grabbing his ears and pulling hard and the guy was making sounds Dan hadn’t heard in a long time, grabbing Dan’s hands but not getting a good enough grip to pull them away. Dan pulled the guy up to his knees and head-butted him right in the face. He smelled blood – everyone was yelling and screaming now – and he let out a growl. He bit the guy’s cheek, sinking his teeth in and not letting go. Everyone was screaming, and huge hands were on his body, pulling him pulling them apart and holding him and he was kicking but couldn’t get free and spat to get the guy’s blood out of his mouth.
“What the fuck!”
“What the fuck is this!” Beaux yelled back. Two bouncers held Dan back while another held the other guy, and someone from the crowd was looking at his cheek. It was bleeding pretty well, two perfect half-moons next to the blood from his nose. Under the parking lot’s streetlamps it looked fake, coming out of him like that, and Dan spat again and the bouncer on his right held on tighter.
“Fucker bit me!” The guy’s bouncer was pulling him back as hard as he could, and the guy was still moving and everyone was still yelling. “Son-of-a-bitch bit me!”
Dan shouted back, “You’ll thank me for it in a week!”
“Fuck you mean?” He looked so confused, like some lost puppy, God it was pathetic.
Dan was gibbering, laughing, “Full moon’s in a week, motherfucker!”
“What the hell?”
“Dan, come on!” Beaux yelled.
“Full moon, you –” The guy stared at Dan and his eyes went wide, suddenly scared. It wasn’t even how it worked but most people didn’t know that and Dan knew this idiot didn’t either. He laughed again.
“Baruch Ha’shem to you too.” Dan grinned, blood still on his teeth. The guy went limp in the bouncer’s hands, and the ones holding Dan suddenly let go. He shook his arms out, glaring at everyone and wishing he knew how to swear in Hebrew, and stalked off in silence instead. Nobody came after him.
It took almost a minute for Beaux to come running. He didn’t look back, staring down at the sidewalk, heard her getting close and saw her shadow appear before she finally made pace with him.
“You mind telling me –”
“Ask me when we get home.”
“Daniel, you –”
“When we get home, okay?”
She didn’t say anything, her footsteps and presence next to him more than enough. She waited all through the walk, getting into his place, and after they got into the kitchen she turned the light and patiently waited for him to finish brushing his teeth. All the energy he had was gone, leaving him where pulling out and sitting in a chair was almost too much to think about and do. He wanted to curl into bed and forget but Beaux was here and he owed it to her.
She sat down across from him. “Okay, we’re home.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So what was that about?”
“Did you ask anyone?”
“Someone told me you’d been fighting over me, which would be sweet if it was the eighteen-hundreds.”
“I was really drunk.”
“You had three drinks. You were not ‘really drunk.’”
“Okay, I wasn’t all that drunk.”
“So what was that all about?”
“I don’t know, I was just –”
“You bit him. I’ve seen and done my share of dirty fighting but that’s really far out there.”
“Yeah.”
“So – so what? Dan, I don’t even know how to think about what you were doing. And that thing you yelled at the end, what, was that Russian or something? Were you on drugs or –”
“It was Hebrew.”
“What?”
“It means ‘praise God.’ ‘Praise the name,’ actually.”
“How come you know Hebrew?”
Blessed be the name. Blessed are you, Lord our God, creator of Heaven and Earth…for anything and everything. Dan closed his eyes, knew it wouldn’t get any easier, and somehow found himself feeling better for knowing what he could say. “I’m Jewish.”
“All right, so that’s the Hebrew. Okay. And that, the biting, what –”
“I’m a werewolf.”
“What.” It wasn’t a question this time.
He didn’t know why he was smiling, he just was. “I’m a werewolf.”
“How come I’ve never seen you on all fours?”
“That’s because I can’t. I don’t shift.”
“Don’t you have to? Isn’t that how it works?”
“It doesn’t, that’s the thing. The…the switch inside to do that is stuck. So I don’t shift. Even if it’s a full moon.”
“Dan, I don’t know if I can believe that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Didn’t think it mattered.”
“Something that big does.”
“I know. And that’s why –” He sighed. “I promise I’ll tell you everything, but I’m going to need some coffee.”
“Pour me a double.”
Dan spun the grinder, poured the water, and set the machine to percolate; he set out the mugs and sugar with particular care, leaving the cream in the fridge until it was needed. Three parts coffee, two parts cream, just the way she liked it. When he set it down, she pulled it close, wrapped her hands around it, and didn’t drink right away.
“Just tell me.” She looked up at him, face open and still. “Please, just tell me.”
He started from the beginning.
It’d been a long time since he’d put any of it into words for himself, never for anyone else, and he kept stumbling over himself while he tried to keep going; he kept doubling back to add more, retreating to say something differently. He didn’t know what she did and didn’t want to hear so he told her everything he could think of, letting it all come out of his mouth without trying to think too much about it before it left. As he kept going, it got easier, less tangled in his head and mouth, digging up the thoughts he’d kept inside for so long. Where he’d come from, why he’d wanted to go, what made him leave in the end. God, he’d been such a stupid, stupid kid. Twenty years old, angry and tired of being angry, thinking the same things as every angry kid and coming to the conclusion everyone would be better off without him– no more guilt, no more worrying, no more of them forgetting he was their brother and son and not someone to feel sorry about – and how, somehow, he’d managed to go through with it, actually run away in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep or away and couldn’t stop him. And by the time he stopped being angry and realized he’d been just as wrong he’d been away for so long it was too long to come back. It was too big to go back anymore, too much, more than he could handle. And he knew it’d be all right if he went back, open arms would be waiting for him. But he also knew he couldn’t just go back, show up on the doorstep one day. He had a life here now, one where nobody knew who he wasn’t, where he could just be someone without anything. He hadn’t thought of what he’d brought with him, didn’t like to think about it even when it happened every lunar cycle, too used to being away to think to go back anymore.
When he was finally done it was well into Sunday – thank God it was a Sunday and neither of them had work – with dawn just a couple of hours away, the first all-nighter he’d pulled in years. They’d gone through cup after cup of coffee, Beaux saying almost nothing, just listening, and when he was done she looked like she didn’t know how to say anything anymore, just a fragile, gentle expression on her face.
She stayed quiet as she pushed her mug away, stood up, and walked over to him, sitting in his lap the way he liked and wrapping her arms around him, holding him to let him know she was there. He wrapped his arms around her too, fingers in her hair that she’d let down when he talked about going over to friends’ houses for the first night of almost every holiday from Pesach to Yom Kippur, pulling her close to breathe her in.
“You could, you know.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “You could go back.”
“I can’t,” he pleaded.
“You can. You left, you can just go.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You won’t if you stay.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You’ve done it before. You don’t need to be scared.”
“But it’s too much to go.”
“It’s more if you don’t.”
“I know,” he cried into her hair, “I know.”
-
He waited until Thursday morning to knock on Alpert’s door. He’d walked over when it was still night, waking up early again because he still knew what to do when he knew what was coming for him. He waited until the day was really going before getting up from his desk and knocking on the door to Alpert’s inner office. There was a muffled “come in” and Dan opened the door gently and sat down in the chair opposite the desk. Alpert clicked a couple more keys, “Just a moment,” then took off his glasses to smile at Dan. “So what’s going on?”
“I need to resign.”
“I’m sorry, I’m going to need more than that.”
“I’m going away for a while, so you’re going to need to get someone else.”
“Someone to fill in for you, or replace you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“So where exactly are you going?”
“Back home.”
“Holy shit. Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“And what brought this on?” Dan thought about telling Alpert about the fight, then shrugged it off when Alpert shook his head. “No, I don’t need to know. When are you leaving?”
“This Sunday.”
“Are you coming in tomorrow and Friday?”
“Yes. Why? You want to throw me a good-bye party?”
“Maybe a going-away dinner. You could bring your girlfriend, what was it, Beaux? I know I said hello once, but we never really got introduced.”
“Beaux, yeah.” He smiled. “That’d be nice.”
The rest of the week was a flurry of getting everything set up so Alpert could manage for a few days before he got someone new – “I’ve gotten used to having help,” he confessed when he asked Dan to describe his work for the job listing – and making sure he didn’t forget anything. He met his landlord and got his lease signed over to Beaux, and kept putting off packing for the trip, trying to plan how long it’d take to get from here to there.
Friday evening, after turning off the computer and handing Alpert the keys, showering and putting on one of his better shirts, Beaux drove him over to Alpert’s place. He had to tell her it took so much less time than the bus, the not-very-funny joke making her laugh and letting both of them relax a bit. She’d met Alpert once when she’d picked up Dan for the trip to her parents’, but that took all of four minutes to exchange names and occupations. Dan wasn’t scared about them getting introduced, and smiled when Beaux started talking shop about opening her own business soon and if he had any good advice for that he might share over coffee one day.
“Call me Isabel,” Alpert offered, and Dan knew this, at least, would be okay.
He lingered a bit and then followed them upstairs, caught a bit of Alpert’s explanation – “…it’s not quite right, but woman-who-lives-as-a-man is more of a mouthful, so I needed something easier to say and most people know that phrase already…” – and went back down outside to give them some more time together. He was still there when Alpert came back outside, where they stood quietly together for a while, watching the afternoon move into dusk, faster now that it was starting to get ready for autumn.
“She’s a keeper, all right.”
“She really is.”
“So how’d you meet again?”
“She looked hot, so I asked her to dance.”
“Of course.” He chuckled, then cut off suddenly. “Listen, I know you don’t want this to turn into something – here, just take this.” He pressed an envelope at Dan, whose eyes went wide when he opened it. “It’s not a lot, but it’s enough so you don’t have to walk home. And it’s a gift, so please don’t refuse it.”
There wasn’t anything Dan could say, except “Thank you.”
“The charm works perfectly, by the way.” He pulled it out of his shirt, dangled it from a new, delicate chain. “Not a single hot or cold flash since I put it on.”
“Glad to hear that.”
“Come on,” he slapped him lightly on the shoulder, “Dinner’s not getting any warmer.”
It was a fantastic meal, Alpert pulling out all the stops; he must have been preparing the meat for days, and actually had been, at least some parts of it that needed extra time to marinate and simmer. It lasted much longer than everyone expected, drinking beer and eating too much and laughing bittersweet, and at the end of the night Alpert gave Dan some honey to bring home and the biggest hug he could. “Promise you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I promise.”
He wasn’t going away forever. He knew that. He just didn’t feel it; he didn’t feel much of anything, not sure what to do with himself in the little limbo. Two more days before heading off, every moment with Beaux that he could, then one more day, one last night before she drove him over and he kissed her good-bye at the train station. The train would get him close, a bus would get him closer, and he’d walk the rest of the way from the depot. If there wasn’t any unexpected catastrophe it’d take almost the full day and get him home sometime around noon.
He knew he should be asleep but even after that dinner he couldn’t calm his mind down. Beaux was already dreaming, groaning over something that made her rub her face into the pillow, and he pulled his knees up to watch her, reached out to stroke her hair. She’d joked about cutting it once and he’d pushed against that, even though she was being silly; some nights he thought he’d fallen in love with her because of her hair.
Dan climbed out of bed, got dressed, and slipped out the door as quietly as he could, down the stairs and onto the street and started walking. It wasn’t that late, just later than he’d been awake and out in – God, in years. He didn’t need to be out this late anymore since he didn’t travel, and didn’t need to be awake this time of night – this time of day since he’d gotten something that waited for him in the morning. The realization made him laugh and stare up at the sky with the stars hidden by city lights, the waning moon still the brightest thing he could see. It’d be new in two days, new on the night he’d be getting home. If he went. He could still cut and run like he’d done, start running into the night and not look back. Glancing up at the windows, imagining everyone sleeping upstairs safe and sound, he remembered how he felt back on that night, more scared than anything else, knowing he wasn’t anywhere yet and could still turn around and stay and that there wasn’t any chance he’d do that. Everything about going back was too big. He knew these signs lit up on their own, the street names, the bus routes without having to think about it – the best store for apples and the right shop to stop for a late afternoon coffee and which place had the French chocolate bars.
There was a life here he’d become a part of, adjusted to, using words he’d never heard until he came down here without thinking about them. He’d gotten used to warm winters and changing his shirt twice a day in summer. There was – there were the ways people said hello, they took their time, how it was so much like home with everyone knowing everyone else and always speaking kindly, slowly, the way people did their best to hide things away.
There was a pay phone across the street half-lit from one of the streetlights. He’d grabbed his wallet before leaving; he dug two quarters out of the change pocket, dropped them down the slot, took a deep breath and dialed the numbers. The dial tone was almost a good thing. He closed his eyes as it rang two, three, four times and he didn’t know what he’d do if no one picked up, maybe just stand here a while and –
“Hello, Wilson residence.”
Dan’s eyes snapped open.
“Hello?”
He stayed silent. They were still there. The number was still the right one, they were still there. Home was still there.
“Hello? Who’s calling? Who is this?”
Dan’s hands were shaking, and he could, he could if he wanted, he could say hello and hi and here he was, but he hung it up, gingerly, not slamming it down, just keeping it quiet. He couldn’t stand to hear more. He kept walking until he stopped shaking, wandering through the streets until he felt ready to turn around and head back to kiss Beaux good-bye.
He knew if he’d stayed on the line he’d hear her ask if it was him. And he didn’t think he could stand to hear her say his name.
-
Dan had come home before. There were Thanksgiving vacations and semester breaks, summer camps and camp-outs and sleep-overs, and he felt like he was fifteen and fresh from a sleep-away camp all over again, looking for familiar sights along the road, thrilled and sad to be going home. He pressed his face against the window, trying to see if he recognized anything. It’d been eighteen years – eighteen years, six months, almost half his life. He didn’t know if there’d be anything left to remember until the bus passed by the old drive-in and he shook to see the sign faded and worn but still the same, still the same one he remembered.
After that it was easier, even exciting, to look around and see what he could, his heart leaping up into his throat and staying there: past all the new houses into the old ones, past the old ice-cream store advertising it didn’t serve chocolate, creeks and parking lots and big trees and home, home, home. He almost leapt off the bus, not having to stop and think about where he was, just hefted his bag up and started to walk without having to check anything for directions. He knew the way home from here. He took in a deep breath; it was almost September and autumn was in the air that it wasn’t when he was down South, something rustling though the air, getting ready to wait for winter to pass and spring to return. He didn’t know how he’d forgotten that smell.
Moving on foot took out the excitement, reminded him there was still time to turn around and run away, but coming so far meant he couldn’t go back anymore. Going slow like this meant he had to think about it now, too. He couldn’t doze or drift off in a seat on a moving vehicle; he had to look around and see what he remembered and how it was different – trees missing, houses the wrong color, toys in yards where there hadn’t been any before, the front yard all wrong, the car missing from the driveway. He stopped, stared, and walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. No one answered.
He waited a couple of minutes and went to check around back: there was a newer car back there, something blue instead of red, and both Mom and Dad’s bikes were there too. There weren’t any newspapers but mail was in the box, so they must have gone out for the morning. Maybe for brunch, maybe grocery shopping, whatever, but something that’d be over soon and bring them back home. Where he’d be waiting. Right here. Not so patiently, but when they got here, he’d be here too.
Dan dropped his bag down and sat on the steps of the front door, knowing they’d be home soon. He counted the cars passing by, always hoping it was the old station wagon. Even if he didn’t know what would happen when it arrived, he knew that when it did, he’d finally be here waiting.
The next time she showed up at his place, she said she had something for him. Brown paper bags could mean anything from beer to take-out to lacy underwear – and that’d been an interesting night – and he really hadn’t expected a gift and didn’t know what to guess when Beaux sat him on the couch and handed him something in tissue paper.
“Wow.” Dan traced a thumb over the edge of the frame. “You – wow. Thank you.” He leaned over, kissed her square on the lips, “Thank you.”
She kissed him right back. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t think – what you said about how much it cost…”
“I can budget, and I’ve got some more clients, but I know you liked it.” She jumped onto her feet, almost bouncing on her toes. “So where should we hang it? Over here? Bedroom? Come on.”
“In a minute.” He kept staring at the photo. “Just give me a moment with this.”
“Bedroom, then. That way you two can be alone for a while.”
By the end of the night after some trial and error and double-checking the lease agreement it ended up in the bedroom after all. Dan had to admit it really worked, and spun to grab Beaux off her feet and turn them around to land on the bed, dinner coming after inaugurating and welcoming the piece into the bedroom.
The rituals that made up his life now didn’t fill it or mark it the way the old ones did, but they still filled it, and for now, a Saturday night spent slow-dancing with her out on the floor and gently buzzed on slingshots, it worked fine. Not great, just fine, and maybe that was why he was so restless tonight. Maybe he hadn’t had enough to drink yet, maybe she was wearing too much perfume and he couldn’t smell her hair, maybe he made a mistake and should’ve gone to the movies with her instead.
There were lots of people out tonight, and he knew plenty of guys checked Beaux out when they thought she wasn’t looking, he thought he saw a couple of them doing it tonight – hell, he’d done it, but at least he’d had the balls to talk to her, not keep making eyes over at her when they thought her boyfriend wasn’t looking, either. He turned his back to them as the music got louder, started to twirl Beaux around along with it and smile when she laughed. They had another round of drinks, made jokes about walking home and what she was packing in her purse, danced through two more songs getting looser with each verse and chorus, and then Beaux pulled away and laughed and said, “I think I’m done for the night.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. Aaaahhhb-sah-lutely.” She shook herself out from the shoulders down. “I gotta use the bathroom first, so you think you can wait outside?”
“I’ll be right there.” He watched her move off, and for a moment stood out on the dance floor alone before breaking it apart and leaving to wait right by the door. It wasn’t that late, but even if it was it was too bright here – in the whole city – to see any stars, and maybe that was getting to him, not moving around. He didn’t miss it the way he missed his dad but sometimes he did want to go out into the country and sleep by the stars and maybe he could talk Beaux into it, get some sleeping bags and hike out through some fields…
“Watch it!” Someone shoved him aside. He stumbled back a step in reflex and it was easy to move forward in instinct and anger and push the jerk back. The guy turned around, glaring, and Dan recognized his face. “What?”
Dan swallowed. “You were, you were flirting with my girlfriend.”
“Listen, I didn’t even talk to anyone –” He stopped when Dan grabbed his arm.
“You were looking at her wrong,” and he was on thin ice but wanted to keep going to the middle of the pond, wanted to keep pushing out, “and I want an apology.”
“What the fuck?” There were a few people around now, watching.
“Tell me you’re sorry.”
“Fuck that, I’m not sorry, even if I was I’d be sorry to her for picking you, fuck off, come on.” He tried to wrestle free but Dan held on tight.
“Tell me you’re sorry.”
The guy twisted loose and snarled, “Listen, you son of a bitch –”
The guy wasn’t even talking about Beaux and didn’t know about Dan but it set something off in him, and before he knew what he was doing, Dan punched him. His fist hit the guy’s face and pain shot up to his shoulder. He swore and shook his hand to get the pain out. The guy stumbled back, everyone yelling, and then the guy yelled something else he didn’t hear and punched back. Dan saw it coming and managed to turn enough it hit his good shoulder instead of his face. He twisted on his feet and the guy charged at Dan, who stood and rolled with it, spinning to keep the guy going.
He fell into the dirt and grabbed Dan’s leg and pulled him down too. He tried to get on top of him but Dan kicked back, hit his face again. He tried to scramble away but was too close, the guy tangled in his legs, and the guy pulled at one ankle and grabbed the other, hauled himself up Dan’s body.
Dan grew up wrestling with his brothers when they were on all fours. It was just practice for now. He kneed the guy in the balls and he let go and curled up, his hands in his groin and shouting in pain.
The crowd had gathered around them yelling and whooping. Dan pushed himself up and away. He got onto his feet and slapped the guy’s head with both hands, grabbing his ears and pulling hard and the guy was making sounds Dan hadn’t heard in a long time, grabbing Dan’s hands but not getting a good enough grip to pull them away. Dan pulled the guy up to his knees and head-butted him right in the face. He smelled blood – everyone was yelling and screaming now – and he let out a growl. He bit the guy’s cheek, sinking his teeth in and not letting go. Everyone was screaming, and huge hands were on his body, pulling him pulling them apart and holding him and he was kicking but couldn’t get free and spat to get the guy’s blood out of his mouth.
“What the fuck!”
“What the fuck is this!” Beaux yelled back. Two bouncers held Dan back while another held the other guy, and someone from the crowd was looking at his cheek. It was bleeding pretty well, two perfect half-moons next to the blood from his nose. Under the parking lot’s streetlamps it looked fake, coming out of him like that, and Dan spat again and the bouncer on his right held on tighter.
“Fucker bit me!” The guy’s bouncer was pulling him back as hard as he could, and the guy was still moving and everyone was still yelling. “Son-of-a-bitch bit me!”
Dan shouted back, “You’ll thank me for it in a week!”
“Fuck you mean?” He looked so confused, like some lost puppy, God it was pathetic.
Dan was gibbering, laughing, “Full moon’s in a week, motherfucker!”
“What the hell?”
“Dan, come on!” Beaux yelled.
“Full moon, you –” The guy stared at Dan and his eyes went wide, suddenly scared. It wasn’t even how it worked but most people didn’t know that and Dan knew this idiot didn’t either. He laughed again.
“Baruch Ha’shem to you too.” Dan grinned, blood still on his teeth. The guy went limp in the bouncer’s hands, and the ones holding Dan suddenly let go. He shook his arms out, glaring at everyone and wishing he knew how to swear in Hebrew, and stalked off in silence instead. Nobody came after him.
It took almost a minute for Beaux to come running. He didn’t look back, staring down at the sidewalk, heard her getting close and saw her shadow appear before she finally made pace with him.
“You mind telling me –”
“Ask me when we get home.”
“Daniel, you –”
“When we get home, okay?”
She didn’t say anything, her footsteps and presence next to him more than enough. She waited all through the walk, getting into his place, and after they got into the kitchen she turned the light and patiently waited for him to finish brushing his teeth. All the energy he had was gone, leaving him where pulling out and sitting in a chair was almost too much to think about and do. He wanted to curl into bed and forget but Beaux was here and he owed it to her.
She sat down across from him. “Okay, we’re home.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So what was that about?”
“Did you ask anyone?”
“Someone told me you’d been fighting over me, which would be sweet if it was the eighteen-hundreds.”
“I was really drunk.”
“You had three drinks. You were not ‘really drunk.’”
“Okay, I wasn’t all that drunk.”
“So what was that all about?”
“I don’t know, I was just –”
“You bit him. I’ve seen and done my share of dirty fighting but that’s really far out there.”
“Yeah.”
“So – so what? Dan, I don’t even know how to think about what you were doing. And that thing you yelled at the end, what, was that Russian or something? Were you on drugs or –”
“It was Hebrew.”
“What?”
“It means ‘praise God.’ ‘Praise the name,’ actually.”
“How come you know Hebrew?”
Blessed be the name. Blessed are you, Lord our God, creator of Heaven and Earth…for anything and everything. Dan closed his eyes, knew it wouldn’t get any easier, and somehow found himself feeling better for knowing what he could say. “I’m Jewish.”
“All right, so that’s the Hebrew. Okay. And that, the biting, what –”
“I’m a werewolf.”
“What.” It wasn’t a question this time.
He didn’t know why he was smiling, he just was. “I’m a werewolf.”
“How come I’ve never seen you on all fours?”
“That’s because I can’t. I don’t shift.”
“Don’t you have to? Isn’t that how it works?”
“It doesn’t, that’s the thing. The…the switch inside to do that is stuck. So I don’t shift. Even if it’s a full moon.”
“Dan, I don’t know if I can believe that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Didn’t think it mattered.”
“Something that big does.”
“I know. And that’s why –” He sighed. “I promise I’ll tell you everything, but I’m going to need some coffee.”
“Pour me a double.”
Dan spun the grinder, poured the water, and set the machine to percolate; he set out the mugs and sugar with particular care, leaving the cream in the fridge until it was needed. Three parts coffee, two parts cream, just the way she liked it. When he set it down, she pulled it close, wrapped her hands around it, and didn’t drink right away.
“Just tell me.” She looked up at him, face open and still. “Please, just tell me.”
He started from the beginning.
It’d been a long time since he’d put any of it into words for himself, never for anyone else, and he kept stumbling over himself while he tried to keep going; he kept doubling back to add more, retreating to say something differently. He didn’t know what she did and didn’t want to hear so he told her everything he could think of, letting it all come out of his mouth without trying to think too much about it before it left. As he kept going, it got easier, less tangled in his head and mouth, digging up the thoughts he’d kept inside for so long. Where he’d come from, why he’d wanted to go, what made him leave in the end. God, he’d been such a stupid, stupid kid. Twenty years old, angry and tired of being angry, thinking the same things as every angry kid and coming to the conclusion everyone would be better off without him– no more guilt, no more worrying, no more of them forgetting he was their brother and son and not someone to feel sorry about – and how, somehow, he’d managed to go through with it, actually run away in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep or away and couldn’t stop him. And by the time he stopped being angry and realized he’d been just as wrong he’d been away for so long it was too long to come back. It was too big to go back anymore, too much, more than he could handle. And he knew it’d be all right if he went back, open arms would be waiting for him. But he also knew he couldn’t just go back, show up on the doorstep one day. He had a life here now, one where nobody knew who he wasn’t, where he could just be someone without anything. He hadn’t thought of what he’d brought with him, didn’t like to think about it even when it happened every lunar cycle, too used to being away to think to go back anymore.
When he was finally done it was well into Sunday – thank God it was a Sunday and neither of them had work – with dawn just a couple of hours away, the first all-nighter he’d pulled in years. They’d gone through cup after cup of coffee, Beaux saying almost nothing, just listening, and when he was done she looked like she didn’t know how to say anything anymore, just a fragile, gentle expression on her face.
She stayed quiet as she pushed her mug away, stood up, and walked over to him, sitting in his lap the way he liked and wrapping her arms around him, holding him to let him know she was there. He wrapped his arms around her too, fingers in her hair that she’d let down when he talked about going over to friends’ houses for the first night of almost every holiday from Pesach to Yom Kippur, pulling her close to breathe her in.
“You could, you know.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “You could go back.”
“I can’t,” he pleaded.
“You can. You left, you can just go.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You won’t if you stay.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You’ve done it before. You don’t need to be scared.”
“But it’s too much to go.”
“It’s more if you don’t.”
“I know,” he cried into her hair, “I know.”
-
He waited until Thursday morning to knock on Alpert’s door. He’d walked over when it was still night, waking up early again because he still knew what to do when he knew what was coming for him. He waited until the day was really going before getting up from his desk and knocking on the door to Alpert’s inner office. There was a muffled “come in” and Dan opened the door gently and sat down in the chair opposite the desk. Alpert clicked a couple more keys, “Just a moment,” then took off his glasses to smile at Dan. “So what’s going on?”
“I need to resign.”
“I’m sorry, I’m going to need more than that.”
“I’m going away for a while, so you’re going to need to get someone else.”
“Someone to fill in for you, or replace you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“So where exactly are you going?”
“Back home.”
“Holy shit. Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“And what brought this on?” Dan thought about telling Alpert about the fight, then shrugged it off when Alpert shook his head. “No, I don’t need to know. When are you leaving?”
“This Sunday.”
“Are you coming in tomorrow and Friday?”
“Yes. Why? You want to throw me a good-bye party?”
“Maybe a going-away dinner. You could bring your girlfriend, what was it, Beaux? I know I said hello once, but we never really got introduced.”
“Beaux, yeah.” He smiled. “That’d be nice.”
The rest of the week was a flurry of getting everything set up so Alpert could manage for a few days before he got someone new – “I’ve gotten used to having help,” he confessed when he asked Dan to describe his work for the job listing – and making sure he didn’t forget anything. He met his landlord and got his lease signed over to Beaux, and kept putting off packing for the trip, trying to plan how long it’d take to get from here to there.
Friday evening, after turning off the computer and handing Alpert the keys, showering and putting on one of his better shirts, Beaux drove him over to Alpert’s place. He had to tell her it took so much less time than the bus, the not-very-funny joke making her laugh and letting both of them relax a bit. She’d met Alpert once when she’d picked up Dan for the trip to her parents’, but that took all of four minutes to exchange names and occupations. Dan wasn’t scared about them getting introduced, and smiled when Beaux started talking shop about opening her own business soon and if he had any good advice for that he might share over coffee one day.
“Call me Isabel,” Alpert offered, and Dan knew this, at least, would be okay.
He lingered a bit and then followed them upstairs, caught a bit of Alpert’s explanation – “…it’s not quite right, but woman-who-lives-as-a-man is more of a mouthful, so I needed something easier to say and most people know that phrase already…” – and went back down outside to give them some more time together. He was still there when Alpert came back outside, where they stood quietly together for a while, watching the afternoon move into dusk, faster now that it was starting to get ready for autumn.
“She’s a keeper, all right.”
“She really is.”
“So how’d you meet again?”
“She looked hot, so I asked her to dance.”
“Of course.” He chuckled, then cut off suddenly. “Listen, I know you don’t want this to turn into something – here, just take this.” He pressed an envelope at Dan, whose eyes went wide when he opened it. “It’s not a lot, but it’s enough so you don’t have to walk home. And it’s a gift, so please don’t refuse it.”
There wasn’t anything Dan could say, except “Thank you.”
“The charm works perfectly, by the way.” He pulled it out of his shirt, dangled it from a new, delicate chain. “Not a single hot or cold flash since I put it on.”
“Glad to hear that.”
“Come on,” he slapped him lightly on the shoulder, “Dinner’s not getting any warmer.”
It was a fantastic meal, Alpert pulling out all the stops; he must have been preparing the meat for days, and actually had been, at least some parts of it that needed extra time to marinate and simmer. It lasted much longer than everyone expected, drinking beer and eating too much and laughing bittersweet, and at the end of the night Alpert gave Dan some honey to bring home and the biggest hug he could. “Promise you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I promise.”
He wasn’t going away forever. He knew that. He just didn’t feel it; he didn’t feel much of anything, not sure what to do with himself in the little limbo. Two more days before heading off, every moment with Beaux that he could, then one more day, one last night before she drove him over and he kissed her good-bye at the train station. The train would get him close, a bus would get him closer, and he’d walk the rest of the way from the depot. If there wasn’t any unexpected catastrophe it’d take almost the full day and get him home sometime around noon.
He knew he should be asleep but even after that dinner he couldn’t calm his mind down. Beaux was already dreaming, groaning over something that made her rub her face into the pillow, and he pulled his knees up to watch her, reached out to stroke her hair. She’d joked about cutting it once and he’d pushed against that, even though she was being silly; some nights he thought he’d fallen in love with her because of her hair.
Dan climbed out of bed, got dressed, and slipped out the door as quietly as he could, down the stairs and onto the street and started walking. It wasn’t that late, just later than he’d been awake and out in – God, in years. He didn’t need to be out this late anymore since he didn’t travel, and didn’t need to be awake this time of night – this time of day since he’d gotten something that waited for him in the morning. The realization made him laugh and stare up at the sky with the stars hidden by city lights, the waning moon still the brightest thing he could see. It’d be new in two days, new on the night he’d be getting home. If he went. He could still cut and run like he’d done, start running into the night and not look back. Glancing up at the windows, imagining everyone sleeping upstairs safe and sound, he remembered how he felt back on that night, more scared than anything else, knowing he wasn’t anywhere yet and could still turn around and stay and that there wasn’t any chance he’d do that. Everything about going back was too big. He knew these signs lit up on their own, the street names, the bus routes without having to think about it – the best store for apples and the right shop to stop for a late afternoon coffee and which place had the French chocolate bars.
There was a life here he’d become a part of, adjusted to, using words he’d never heard until he came down here without thinking about them. He’d gotten used to warm winters and changing his shirt twice a day in summer. There was – there were the ways people said hello, they took their time, how it was so much like home with everyone knowing everyone else and always speaking kindly, slowly, the way people did their best to hide things away.
There was a pay phone across the street half-lit from one of the streetlights. He’d grabbed his wallet before leaving; he dug two quarters out of the change pocket, dropped them down the slot, took a deep breath and dialed the numbers. The dial tone was almost a good thing. He closed his eyes as it rang two, three, four times and he didn’t know what he’d do if no one picked up, maybe just stand here a while and –
“Hello, Wilson residence.”
Dan’s eyes snapped open.
“Hello?”
He stayed silent. They were still there. The number was still the right one, they were still there. Home was still there.
“Hello? Who’s calling? Who is this?”
Dan’s hands were shaking, and he could, he could if he wanted, he could say hello and hi and here he was, but he hung it up, gingerly, not slamming it down, just keeping it quiet. He couldn’t stand to hear more. He kept walking until he stopped shaking, wandering through the streets until he felt ready to turn around and head back to kiss Beaux good-bye.
He knew if he’d stayed on the line he’d hear her ask if it was him. And he didn’t think he could stand to hear her say his name.
-
Dan had come home before. There were Thanksgiving vacations and semester breaks, summer camps and camp-outs and sleep-overs, and he felt like he was fifteen and fresh from a sleep-away camp all over again, looking for familiar sights along the road, thrilled and sad to be going home. He pressed his face against the window, trying to see if he recognized anything. It’d been eighteen years – eighteen years, six months, almost half his life. He didn’t know if there’d be anything left to remember until the bus passed by the old drive-in and he shook to see the sign faded and worn but still the same, still the same one he remembered.
After that it was easier, even exciting, to look around and see what he could, his heart leaping up into his throat and staying there: past all the new houses into the old ones, past the old ice-cream store advertising it didn’t serve chocolate, creeks and parking lots and big trees and home, home, home. He almost leapt off the bus, not having to stop and think about where he was, just hefted his bag up and started to walk without having to check anything for directions. He knew the way home from here. He took in a deep breath; it was almost September and autumn was in the air that it wasn’t when he was down South, something rustling though the air, getting ready to wait for winter to pass and spring to return. He didn’t know how he’d forgotten that smell.
Moving on foot took out the excitement, reminded him there was still time to turn around and run away, but coming so far meant he couldn’t go back anymore. Going slow like this meant he had to think about it now, too. He couldn’t doze or drift off in a seat on a moving vehicle; he had to look around and see what he remembered and how it was different – trees missing, houses the wrong color, toys in yards where there hadn’t been any before, the front yard all wrong, the car missing from the driveway. He stopped, stared, and walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. No one answered.
He waited a couple of minutes and went to check around back: there was a newer car back there, something blue instead of red, and both Mom and Dad’s bikes were there too. There weren’t any newspapers but mail was in the box, so they must have gone out for the morning. Maybe for brunch, maybe grocery shopping, whatever, but something that’d be over soon and bring them back home. Where he’d be waiting. Right here. Not so patiently, but when they got here, he’d be here too.
Dan dropped his bag down and sat on the steps of the front door, knowing they’d be home soon. He counted the cars passing by, always hoping it was the old station wagon. Even if he didn’t know what would happen when it arrived, he knew that when it did, he’d finally be here waiting.