Page 57 of Such Sharp Teeth

My body answers with another heave, because I belong to it more than it belongs to me.

VII

The next few days tangle together, a mess of sleeping in too late, going to bed too early. Waking sweat drenched and breathless from nightmares I can’t quite remember. Avoiding my reflection because I know the wolf will be there waiting in the mirror. Going out to the gas station to replace my mother’s cigarettes and getting some for myself. I stop at the liquor store and buy a fifth of Fireball, not that it has any effect. I keep hoping.

I’m desperate for anything that will numb me to this endless string of shitty realizations.

Realizations like I’m now going to have to plan my entire life around when there’s a full moon. I’m going to have to find somewhere new to live. Maybe a new job. Realizations like I can’t keep seeing Ian.

If he knew the truth, he’d want nothing to do with me. I could lie, try to keep this part of me a secret, but for how long?

It seems excessively cruel. My entire life I’ve reveled in my independence, and the second I open myself up to the possibility of a relationship, it’s snatched out of my hands.

He’s texted me twice. Once to send me an article about a band he told me about, and another time to ask me if I’m free next weekend after my mom leaves.

I haven’t been able to bring myself to respond.

I have managed to send some strong words to Ash about the ill-advised baby shower.

Your mom reached out! I couldn’t say no! she said.

Fair. It’s hard to say no to my mother.

It’s happening Friday afternoon.

None of those horrible games, I told Ash.

I’m doing my best!! she said.

I don’t know how I’m getting through this week without anesthetic.

“I’m worried about you,” Mom says.

It’s Thursday. We’re out running errands for Scarlett’s shower, and she insisted we stop for a mother-daughter lunch. Scarlett had sent me a stern text about spending time with Mom, so here I am.

We sit inside at the Bedford Inn, the oldest restaurant in town. I can smell mildew. There’s rotten food hiding somewhere. There are also some good cuts of meat in the fridge.

They’re serving brunch. I order steak and eggs and a Bloody Mary. Mom orders an arugula salad and a mimosa.

“What are you worried about?” I ask, sipping my Bloody Mary. “Scarlett’s the one knocked up.”

“She’ll be okay,” she says. “I know she will. And once the baby’s born, I think Matty will be back.”

“Ew. Fuck him,” I say.

The surge of anger surprises me. For a moment, I see nothing but red. My fingers curl in, nails digging into my palms. I huff and puff until I can regain control of myself. I take a deep breath and another sip of my Bloody Mary.

She gives me a look.

“What?”

“You know, I held it against your father for a long time, him leaving. But it ended up being for the best.”

Best for whom? I wonder.

“It’s not for you to be angry with Matty,” she says. “It’s not good to be so angry. With Matty. With me. For the past.”

For Dave is what she’s trying to but can’t say.