Page 36 of Jacob Michaels is Not Here

Oskar was finishing up sweeping the kitchen floor when I walked in the backdoor later in the morning. Oma was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee and eating her breakfast while playing on her phone. No other Kobolds were in sight. Oma looked up from her phone, rolled her eyes at me, and then went back to whatever it was she was doing. Oskar gave me a warm smile before disappearing into the broom closet, shutting the door behind himself. He could put the broom away and make use of the shadows. No point in coming back out again.

I made my way over to the coffee maker and grabbed a mug from the cupboard so that I could pour some of the delicious dark brain juice for myself. It was going to be needed. Looking into the pans on the stove, I saw sausages, eggs, hash browns, and fried tomatoes. So, I made a plate for myself as well. When I slid into the chair across from Oma, she set her phone down and picked up her fork, her eyes settling on me. Instead of immediately launching in on her, I picked up my fork and cut off a chunk of sausage, bringing it to my mouth quickly. No matter what Lucas said, I could eat meat sometimes as my first choice.

When I had left Lucas’ house, he was leaving as well, on his way to do sub duties at the high school. He had warned me that he was going to help Mr. Barkley out at the hardware store after, so he wouldn’t be able to come by the house until much later in the evening. That was fine by me—in fact, I was hoping that he might not be able to stop by the house after work at all, that he would be too tired. There were other things I really wanted to attend to first.

“I saw him last night,” I said to Oma. “In a dream.”

Oma’s eyes grew wide, but it didn’t stop her from shoving another forkful of hash browns into her mouth. I popped another piece of sausage into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully, taking my time, figuring out what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it.

“He’s not coming anytime soon.” I continued. “He can’t. I mean, for now. Eventually…anyway, we’re good for now. Talking or thinking about him is not going to be that big of a problem. It won’t make any difference.”

“You sure about that?” She snorted. “Your track record ain’t great.”

“Seeing as I am only oh-and-one, I wouldn’t call that much of a record, right?” I quipped, scraping up hash browns onto my fork. “So…why don’t you stuff it, old woman?”

“Sassy,” Oma said. “It’s a wonder it took me so long to figure out you was gay.”

“You didn’t figure it out,” I said nonchalantly. “I told you.”

“I guess you wasn’t lyin’ about your memories bein’ back.” She grumbled. “Why the hell are we talkin’ about this anyway? What difference does it make? What’s gonna happen is gonna happen, so—"

“He threatened me with the pack,” I interjected, still shoveling food into my face. “If I don’t do something to help him come back from…wherever…he’s going to use the pack. He can’t give them their memories back—about why things are the way they are—but they’re always willing to be violent if commanded.”

“Christ in a goddamn gravy boat, Robbie!” Oma dropped her fork alongside her plate and threw her hands up. “Ya’ buried the damn lead.”

“Well, I figured you’d ask how I knew that, so I lead with that. You’re always asking questions.”

“You don’t ask enough!”

I rolled my eyes.

“So, that’s it, is it?” Oma grumbled, picking up her fork once more. “We gotta worry about the goddamn wolves before we can even take a damn breath? Is that it?”

“Essentially.” I shrugged. “It shouldn’t be a problem, though.”

“How the hell do you figure that?”

“I’m going after Jason tonight if I can,” I explained. “Lucas works late and probably won’t feel up to coming over—”

“Hm.”

“—keep your comments to yourself.” I snapped, though I was somewhat amused. “So, I figure it’s a good night to go cut the head off a Hydra.”

“You and all your damn uppity references.”

“It’s Greek mythology, Oma.” I sighed, shoving eggs into my mouth. “It’s not uppity.”

“Whatever you say.” She replied snootily. “You want to slow down on them eggs before you choke yourself?”

“I’m hungry.”

“I see that.” Oma snorted. “Probably lost a lot of calories last night, I’d imagine.”

“Ew.”

Even being disgusted by my grandmother wasn’t enough to keep me from continuing to shove food into my gob. Within a few more scoops of my fork, my plate was empty. I felt ravenous.

“Guess your appetite’s improvin’.” Oma reached out and snatched up my plate while I was still chewing and swallowing the huge wad of food in my mouth. “I’ll get you another plate.”