Claws & Crochet

Part 42

ZOEY

My mom's question might as well be a defibrillator, shocking me back to the present moment.

Silent seconds sit between us as my lungs struggle to pull in air.

Then I'm gasping.

"You knew!" If this treehouse were any bigger, I'd stand up and pace, but all I can do is pound the floor with an angry fist as disbelief has my words coming out choked. "You knew there were werewolves!"

"Of course, I did." She could be discussing the weather or a mildly interesting work story from the nonchalant tone she uses to flip the whole fucking world on its side.

"Of course? What do you mean of course?!"

"Sweetheart, there's no need to worry about them."

I clutch my head, trying with all my might to keep my brain from exploding. "Werewolves are real. Supernatural creatures are living in Pine Falls. And you didn't think this was something you should share with me?" By the last sentence I'm back to shouting because this is what my family does to me.

With the rest of the world, I can keep a cool, logical head. But put me in a room with another Gunner, and soon I'll be hollering until my throat is hoarse.

"I did tell you."

"No, you sure as hell, did not!"

"Of course, I did. The werewolf stories were your favorites when you were younger."

Maybe I am, in fact, losing my tether to reality. Seems like that trait runs in the family.

"Mother," I speak slowly to keep from yelling, but now my voice comes out tighter than a guitar string. "Parents tell their children fairytales. Make believe stories. Why would you think I, now twenty-seven-years old, would accept them as fact?"

She huffs on her side of the line, as if I'm the one being unreasonable. "It's not my fault you didn't want to believe that werewolves existed. I never told you they didn't. If you had asked me—"

"Why would I ask you that?!" I'm shouting again. "That is not a normal question!"

"Sweetheart, you know I'm all for dramatics, but I really think you're overreacting."

That's the final push. There is a precarious balance between horrified disbelief and manic hilarity. My mom has always been a master at upsetting my scales.

I laugh.

I laugh as if I'm dying and this is my last chance to find something hysterical. I laugh to the point of tears and gasping. I laugh because I can't contain the unfathomably absurd love I have for my outrageous mother.

She's too ridiculous to stay mad at.

So, I laugh.

The phone slips out of my hand at some point, probably when I curl into the fetal position to keep my ab muscles from cramping. The device lies on the treehouse's floor, a foot from my head, and I can hear my mother's voice calling out from the speaker.

"Zoey? Sweetheart, are you still there?"

I reach for the phone, pressing it to my ear. "Yeah, Mom. I'm here."

"And you swear you're not hurt?"

"Werewolf saved the day, like I said." And now I'm thinking about Warner coming to my rescue.

Right after he stripped down to his briefs. Guess that last bit of fabric tore off like Hulk's shirt when Warner shifted.

The replay of the fight flashes through my mind, and my humor fades as the memory of claws and teeth and blood.

I'm not hurt. Not really. But he was sporting some major lacerations.

And what about infection?

Can werewolves get sick? Can they catch rabies?

I open my mouth to ask my mom, but then slowly close it. For some reason, getting intel from her almost seems wrong.

If I want to learn about werewolves, I should go straight to the source.

That is, if he'll forgive me for treating him like a pariah after he saved my life.

"Well, you were lucky one of the pack was nearby. They tend to only hang around their own kind."

That spikes my curiosity, but I've already made my decision about who to bring my questions to. Maybe if Warner refuses to talk to me, I'll reconsider pumping my mom for info.

But right now, I have some groveling to do.

"I know. I was lucky. I'm sorry, but I have to let you go Mom. I need to meet up with someone."

"Wait," she pauses for a stretch. "How are you feeling?" Mom clears her throat. "There, I mean. You're ... okay?"

Her hesitation speaks to how worried she is for my mental wellbeing. I don't see a point in rehashing the last few days of my shocked zombie state, so I give her the current truth. "I'm fine. This is helpful, I think. Being on my own for a bit."

"Oh, okay. Well, I miss you."

"You already said that." I smile.

"I could say it ten more times and it still wouldn't cover it. You've left me outnumbered. It's all men, all the time."

I chuckle. "Even if I was there, they'd still have the majority."

She rattles on a bit longer about my brothers and my father before we finally hang up.

As I climb down from the treehouse, my brain is already strategizing.

Guilt sits like a heavy muck coating my heart. The way I reacted, maybe it would be understandable to some, but I've prided myself on how open minded I can be.

That night, I treated Warner like a freak.

The need to apologize tugs me toward Pine Falls, but I resist the urge, instead returning to the cabin. Words aren't enough to make this right. He needs to know I'm not saying some empty platitude.

Plus, there's the whole thank you for saving my life situation.

That werewolf better brace himself for a Gunner Apology.