by Kody Boye
My past—
My present—
My future—
All are inexplicably tangled together, like a massive knot in a ball of yarn. Unable to free it with my own hands, I understand that I must allow the tides of fate to eventually work its way forward—and use, either by force of hand or the blades of scissors, something to free me from myself.
Seated on the floor, and playing with Belle, I wait for inspiration to strike me like lightning through the eye of an impenetrable needle.
But, I wonder: will it ever come?
It has to, I think.
Because if it doesn’t—and if it really, truly wishes to leave me stranded—then I do not know what I will do.
Sighing, I lift the cat wand in my hand for Belle to swipe, then startle when a knock comes at the door.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“It’s me,” Zachariah says.
“Come in.”
The door opens. The man slides into the room. He closes the door behind him, then leans back against it, cane in hand.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, grimacing as Belle swipes the cat wand from my hand and drags it under the bed.
“No,” Zachariah replies. “I mostly wanted to come and see how you were.”
“Oh?”
“Would you care to join me in the kitchen?”
A few moments later, we are there—me in a barstool, he standing across from me. He stares at me for several long moments before he clears his throat and says, “Jackson told me you guys went and got your stuff from the school the other day.”
“We did,” I reply.
“A part of me is relieved that you don’t have to worry about the people who might cause you harm,” the man replies. “Another, though…”
“I know,” I say, after he trails off. “I’m a bit nervous about the whole no school thing myself.”
“College isn’t necessary. Trade school isn’t either. But it does help if you want to reach the places you want.” He turns and surveys the world outside my window.
“What did you used to do?” I ask. “I mean… before the MS got to where it did?”
“I worked as a ranger.”
“A park ranger?”
He nods.
“Why a park ranger?” I frown.
“You ever heard the saying closer to nature, closer to God?”
“Once, I think,” I say.
The man smiles. “As a shifter, it’s easy to lose sight of your powers. It’s even easier to forget what you’re able to do.” He pauses and turns his eyes back on me. “I’m not sure how your wolf spirit is—because unlike me and Jackson, you invoked a spirit rather than being born with it—but some of ours feel the need to run free, which was why I chose to work so close to nature. The Sabine National Forest was my domain for some time, at least until I met Jackson’s mother.”
“You met her in Louisiana?”
“While I was a ranger, yes. I’ll spare you the details, but we met, fell in love, got married, started a family. Then we moved here at one point… and that was when everything fell to pieces.”
I frown as Mister Meadows once again turns his head toward the window.
“This wood,” he says, and taps the floorboards beneath him with his cane, “is historical. Though Alecia Meadows has always owned this house, she meant for it to become Jackson’s at one point in his life, should he ever wished to return.”
“But you were called back to save the wolves,” I offer.
To which he nods and replies by saying, “Yes. We were.”
“Are you happy you’re back here, sir?”
“Sometimes I am. Sometimes, I feel as though I’m living a lie—that my happiness is not really there, or even guaranteed.”
“What will you do when Jackson goes to college?”
“Honestly?” the man asks. “I don’t know. A part of me wonders if Jackson will even go to college.”
“Are you worried that he’s…”
“Coddling me?”
“I was trying not to use those words.”
“I don’t know what Jackson is doing, Oaklynn. I know he’s concerned about my illness—because the truth of the matter is that the longer I’m a human, the more my body may eventually rebel against me—but honestly?” He smiles. “We all have to die eventually.”
“That’s a grim outlook,” I say.
“But it’s a true one.”
“Would you ever consider abandoning the world?”
“Like… Alabaster and Celestina did?” he replies. He purses his lips and closes his eyes for a brief moment. Then he says, “No. I wouldn’t.”
“Even if it spared you from the MS?”
“There’s no guarantee if it would. It might just translate into something different, something lupine.”
“I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Oaklynn. You’re young. You’re concerned. That’s one of the traits I admire in you… and one I know my son does, too.”
I tilt my head down to hide the blush.
“Either way,” Mister Meadows says, “I know for a fact that he cares about you, and I imagine you care about him, too.”
“He’s my friend,” I say.
“I’m glad he has someone to stand at his side.” The man twists about and turns to face the refrigerator. “I’m thinking about starting dinner. Would you care to help me?”
“Of course.”
As I round the kitchen island—and as I come to stand beside Mister Meadows—I am briefly reminded of the times when I would help my father cook, and find myself sighing on the inside.
The wounds are still fresh, the Light Wolf says. Allow yourself time to heal.
I will, I think. Don’t worry. I promise you that.
I see, in the span of a second, the Light Wolf standing at my side.
Then, she is gone.
And I am left to the world alone.
Chapter Five
There is one thing that has not been addressed this entire time.
Their funerals.
The idea of laying what remains of my parents to rest, even in passing, is haunting. Like a phantom lingering over my life, it has troubled me for weeks, lingering at the back of my mind as if it is a sore whose itch I am desperate to scratch. But now that the medical examiner has deemed their bodies fit for release and burial, I can’t help but feel an unbearable weight that I have never experienced before.
You have to do it, a part of me says. You can’t just leave them to sit in the morgue forever.
I know I can’t. I know that. And yet, even the idea of watching their coffins be lowered into the ground, or deciding whether or not to cremate them, makes me want to scream.
Sitting here, in my room, staring at my phone, I try not to replay the medical examiner’s message in my head, but can’t help but hear it anyway.
If it’s any comfort, he’d offered, in a casual voice that made me wonder if he was even talking about the dead, they didn’t suffer. The autopsies showed that their lungs were filled with smoke. They both passed away in their sleep.
In their sleep, I think.
Didn’t suffer, I muse.
While that is a small comfort in some respects, it doesn’t change the overall fact that my parents are dead, and there is nothing anyone—not even the police—can do about that.
A part of me wants to cry. Another, larger part of me wants to die. But I know, deep down, that despite all the grief I feel—all the pain, all the suffering, all the anguish—I know I have to go on.
I’m only seventeen years old.
I still have my whole life ahead of me.
But so did they, a part of me thinks. So did they.
The Light Wolf shimmers into existence in the corner of the room. Radiant, with white light spilling from her person, she appears to be an angel sent from the Heavens, and looks upon me with eyes emblazoned with gold.
Oaklynn, she says.
You’re h
ere, I think, turning my head to regard her as she begins to make her way across the room. But… why?
I am always with you, Oaklynn Smith. Do not think that just because I do not speak often means that I am not here always.
I— I think, then frown. I struggle to piece together my emotions, but when they come, I can only manage: I’m sorry.
For what, my friend?
For thinking you didn’t care.
You are at a threshold you never thought you would experience in your youth, she says, before stepping forward to stand directly in front of me. This is a moment that should have occurred far into the future, when they were both old and frail, and you stronger with experience and age. But now that it has happened in your presence, you feel lost, bewildered, and—
Alone, I finish.
The Light Wolf nods. Yes. Alone. She leans forward—and though I know she is not real in the physical sense, at least in this moment, I swear I can feel the heat of her body as she presses her head against my hand, the breath coming from her snout as it falls across my arm. But I want you to know something, Oaklynn Smith. I want you to know that, as long as I am here, you will never be alone.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
The Light Wolf lifts her eyes to face me; and though I have never truly beheld the world within her gaze, I can see, within the pupils of her eyes, a land untamed, a world uninhibited.
Know that they watch over you, she says as she begins to fade away. Have faith in that.
Faith, I think, and close my eyes.
And though I try my hardest to keep from sobbing, the tears come anyway.
Within moments, I am prone in bed, my cat at my side and my life rushing past me.
It takes all I can manage not to call out for help.
I fall asleep sometime during the afternoon, and am stirred awake only when I hear my bedroom door crackopen.
“She’s asleep?” Zachariah Meadows asks from the hall outside.
“She is,” Jackson replies.
The door closes quietly; and though I am still half-asleep, I hear their voices, deep as they are, carry as they make their way down the hall.
The first words out of Zachariah Meadows’ mouth are: “What are you going to do?”
“About what?” Jackson asks.
“About the funerals.”
“What about them?” my friend asks.
His father sighs and says, “It might be seen as disingenuous for us to go with her.”
“We can’t let her go alone,” Jackson replies. “That would be cruel.”
“Yes, but the town doesn’t know us, and we may be seen as—“
“What?”
“Conspirators,” Zachariah finishes.
I frown.
Conspirators? What could he mean by that?
I quiet my breathing in an effort to hear them as they continue to speak.
“The town has its eyes on her,” Zachariah continues in the moments that follow. “And the Wells family has her in their sights.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means: we have to be careful, especially if we don’t want to be discovered.”
I can’t help but frown once again.
Is Zachariah really still that scared of being discovered? Especially now that things have, effectively, died down?
They haven’t ‘died down,’ my troublesome conscience offers. It’s simply come to a standstill.
Regardless, the fact that he’s worried about something as seemingly innocuous as attending a funeral doesn’t help much, especially considering that I was depending on them for the emotional support.
Even if they don’t go, I then think, you’ll still have J’vonte and her mom there.
With a sigh, I roll over to face the doorway, then push my legs over the side of the bed and seat myself upright.
Though a part of me wants to simply go back to bed, I know for a fact that wasting the day away isn’t going to do me any good. For that reason, I rise, then make my way into the hall.
Jackson and Zachariah turn their heads to regard me as I close my bedroom door.
“Hi,” I say.
“How are you feeling?” Jackson asks.
“Fine,” I reply. “Why?”
“You normally don’t sleep in the afternoon,” Zachariah offers. “We were concerned.”
“I’ve managing. I’ve just… had a lot on my mind.”
“I understand.”
A long silence stretches between us as I look at them and they at me. I want to know what exactly they think of this predicament—because in standing here, watching and waiting for them to respond, a part of me wonders if they knew I was listening—but I know I won’t get an answer without broaching the topic. So, for that reason, I sigh, then clear my throat and ask, “About the funeral…”
Jackson’s eyes fall to the floor. His father’s, meanwhile, remain fixed on me.
“Oaklynn—“ Zachariah begins.
“Wait,” I say, and lift a hand to stop him from speaking.
The man falls silent.
I shift my eyes from him, to Jackson, then back to him again before saying, “I understand if you’re concerned about going.”
He blinks, obviously stunned. “You… are?”
I nod. “Yes, sir. I am. I… I know that we have to be concerned about what happened during the fire, especially because of… well… what the Dark Wolf did…”
“We’re strangers here,” Zachariah says. “We don’t want anyone to have even the slightest inclination that we’re different from them.”
“Which is why I’m electing to go to the funeral without the two of you.”
Jackson coughs. Lifts his hand to his face. Says, “Oaklynn—“
“It’s okay, Jackson. Really. Neither of you knew my parents, so… it just makes sense that I would go without you. Besides—“ I pause and take a moment to consider what I’m about to say. “I’ll have J’vonte and her mom there with me.”
“Are you sure?” Jackson asks.
“I’m sure, Jackson.”
The young man sighs, but doesn’t argue further. He simply says, “Okay,” then steps forward and offers me a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Oaklynn.”
“For what?”
“For what happened to you. Your parents. Everything.”
“It’s just the way life works, Jackson,” I say. “You either swim or you sink.”
“Sadly,” Zachariah says, “that’s very true.”
And it is, too. Because no matter how much I want to deny it—for things to go back to normal, for my life to return to some sort of synchrony—I know for a fact that it never will.
No.
Now, I must face what’s been presented to me, and rise as a result of it.
As Jackson and I part from one another, I look into his eyes and force myself to nod.
I know I can do this.
I can survive my parents’ funeral.
Chapter Six
Despite my prior convictions, I feel like I’m going to drown.
Standing here, in J’vonte and her mother’s apartment, looking into the mirror before me at the dark clothes and the sad expression I wear, I find myself dreading today and what it will bring.
“Hey,” J’vonte says as she appears in the threshold leading out into the hallway.
“Hey,” I reply.
“Are you okay?”
There’s really no way to answer that question. On one hand, I want to tell her everything is all right—because the lie, brazen as it would be, would at least offer some comfort to her, and maybe even some to me. On another, though, I know that telling false truths will get me nowhere.
And will only pull you down, a part of me says, into the ground.
A sigh escapes me—long and hard, cold and filled with remorse.
Come time I lift my eyes to face J’vonte, all I can say is: “I’m… managing.”
“I guess that’s all we can expect on a day like this,” m
y friend says.
I force a nod and turn my head to regard my friend as she steps up beside me. I frown as she considers her reflection in the mirror, plain and sad as it happens to be.
“I’m sorry,” J’vonte says.
“For what?” I ask.
“That you’re having to go through this.”
“It isn’t your fault, J’von.”
“Still… I can only imagine how hard this must be for you.”
I don’t say anything. Rather, I turn my head to look at my reflection in the mirror again, and sigh.
“Oaklynn,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“I know they’re looking down at you right now.”
Had she told me this at a previous point in my life, I would’ve considered her words, and even her logic, improbable. But here, though, and now, I know that things are not as they seem, especially when it comes to life and death.
Though I want to reply, I can only offer a nod in response.
A knock comes at the threshold, catching me off-guard.
Missus Fawn stands in the doorway, looking sad as ever on a day when she, too, will put a loved one to rest. “Girls,” she says, in a voice so low that I can barely hear her. “It’s almost time to go.”
“Are you ready?” J’vonte asks.
Though I want to nod, I know I can’t.
Who can truly be ready to put their parents to rest?
Rather than say anything, I simply say, “I think so” and turn my head to face Missus Fawn. “We’re ready to go?”
“I just have to grab my purse. Then we’re ready.”
The whole process takes less than five minutes. Walking out of J’vonte’s room, then out of the apartment, down the flight of stairs, then climbing into Missus Fawn’s car. As she pulls the vehicle out of its assigned space, and begins to drive away from the complex, I feel a tug of emotion that instantly makes me wish that Jackson and his father were here with me.
It’s better this way, I think.
I’d told J’vonte and her mother that the Meadows family had come down with a stomach bug. Whether or not they believe me I’ve still yet to determine.
