Fox Mate (Madison Wolves)

by Robin Roseau

  "Perhaps. Tell me about the children's songs you played when you were younger."

  "I suppose if Mary was a lesbian, and her girlfriend was really innocent and sweet, then maybe 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' would be the right words for a wolf."

  Vivian didn't even crack a smile. "Michaela," she said firmly.

  "Although I guess a dominant lesbian wolf still might prefer 'Mary Ate a Little Lamb'."

  "Michaela!" Vivian said. I grinned at her. "Tell me about the children's songs you played when you first learned to play the piano."

  "I don't want to talk about this, Vivian."

  "Why not, Michaela? We're just talking about piano songs."

  "I just don't," I said somewhat belligerently. I didn't look at her when I said it. "Aren't we almost done today? May I go?"

  "In a minute," she replied. "Right after you tell me of a children's song you played."

  I thought about it. "Fine. 'Brahm's Lullabye'."

  "That's a very pretty piece. Can you envision yourself playing it?"

  "Sure."

  "Close your eyes," she said. "And imagine your fingers are on the piano keyboard. Can you show me how you play it?"

  "All right," I said. "But this is silly." I placed my hands on my lap, thought about the piece, and began playing air piano, both hands moving through the notes and chords of the song for as much of it as I remembered. "I'm sorry, I used to have it memorized, but now I guess I need the sheet music."

  "That's all right, Michaela. You did well." She handed me the box of tissues.

  * * * *

  Vivian seemed preoccupied with my childhood. It seemed like she brought it up at every session. I had to hand it to her: she was at least as stubborn as I was.

  She came to the compound for sessions sometimes. Lara would attend if she could, but she frequently had other duties. We had set up Vivian with an office in the school; it was small but quite comfortable.

  "Did you ever have a boyfriend, Michaela?"

  I looked at her. "You know I like girls, right?"

  "Yes. But oftentimes teenage girls don't figure that out about themselves right away. Did you ever have a boyfriend?"

  "I-" I stared at the floor. "I like girls."

  "I know you do, Michaela. Tell me about your boyfriends."

  I didn't look at her. "I like girls," I repeated again. I couldn't figure out why she always wanted to talk about all this ancient history. I looked up at her. "Nothing about my past matters," I said. "You're supposed to be helping me cope better, not dredge up things that are best forgotten."

  "The best way to cope," Vivian said. "Is to confront the fears."

  I glared at her. "The best way to confront the fears is with silver! You lure the fear into the trap. You kill the fear. Then you kill the memory of the fear." I punctuated my remarks with a slicing motion.

  I looked up at her. "You're always trying to lure me into traps."

  "No traps, Michaela. Why do you talk about fears when I asked about old boyfriends?"

  I looked away. "I like girls."

  "When you were young, did you have a crush on any boys?"

  "I guess," I said. "Once. His name was Jimmy."

  "Tell me about Jimmy," Vivian said.

  "There isn't much to tell. He lived near our family, a valley or two further east. I used to watch him and wish-"

  "Wish what?" Vivian said when I didn't continue.

  "Nothing. Just that he liked me. I was very pretty, even at twelve. He should have liked me."

  "When did you first meet Jimmy?" Vivian asked.

  "I guess I always knew him," I told her. "I don't remember not knowing him."

  "So you remember being twelve, and wanting him to be your boyfriend, but you don't remember meeting him?"

  "He was older than I was," I said. "Do you remember the first time you met people you've known your entire life?"

  "All right," she said. "What happened to Jimmy? Did he become your boyfriend?"

  "No," I said. "He- Um. His family moved. I don't know where. One day they were there, the next day they were gone."

  "Did your parents talk to you about why they moved?"

  "No," I said. "We didn't talk about people who moved."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know. We just didn't. I was twelve. I didn't ask my parents questions like that."

  "Do you remember the last time you saw Jimmy?"

  "Sure," I said. "I was- I'm not proud of this. I was spying on him."

  "What was he doing while you were spying on him?"

  "He was- I- I don't remember. I remember hiding in the tree. I was hiding. I didn't want them to see me."

  "Them?"

  "I hid in the tree and was very quiet, high in the tree where they wouldn't smell me."

  "I thought foxes hunted by sound and sight," Vivian said.

  "We do."

  "Who were you hiding from, Michaela?" Vivian asked.

  I began rocking back and forth in the chair, then pulled my feet underneath me and hugged my knees. I didn't answer her.

  Vivian waited a while then asked, "That was the last time you saw Jimmy?"

  "Yes," I said. "I watched him leave, and then I listened for a long time. And he went home. The next day they were gone."

  "You were in a tree?" Vivian asked.

  "Yes. I liked climbing trees."

  "You still like climbing trees."

  "Yes. Trees are safe."

  "I imagine," she said. "What did you do when you climbed down from the tree?"

  "I- I went home."

  "Straight home."

  "No, I don't think so. I had something to do. Then I went home and told Mom and Dad that Jimmy and his family had moved." I looked at her. "I was crying. He was the only boy I knew, I guess."

  "What did your parents say?"

  "Mom wouldn't hug me at first. She made me take a bath. I was dirty. The water turned dark brown. Then while I was in the tub she told me over and over never to talk about it. To forget it happened."

  "To forget Jimmy moved?"

  I looked away. "I guess."

  "What did you do between climbing down from the tree and going home," Vivian asked. Her eyes were boring into me, evil wolf eyes, and I couldn't tell her. She was wolf. I couldn't tell her.

  "Nothing," I said in a small voice. "Daddy did it." I began rocking. "Daddy did it. It wasn't me. Daddy did it."

  "Honey. Michaela."

  "Secrets! Don't remember. Don't remember. Mommy said don't remember! Don't remember. Don't remember." I began keening and rocking back and forth. Vivian leaned forward and I shrunk further into the chair. "No! Don't think about it. Don't remember!"

  I don't know what else I said. Lara wasn't there, and then she was. I tried to pull away from her, screaming, "No! Secrets! My secrets!"

  And then I was in Lara's strong arms. She pulled my face to her, and I buried my nose, breathing deeply.

  "What set this off?" she asked Vivian.

  "No!" I said. "My secrets!" I glared at Vivian. "You can't tell my secrets! I won't tell my secrets!"

  I tried pulling away from Lara. I needed to run away, run away before she found out. She couldn't find out, but Vivian wanted to make me tell.

  But Lara held me tightly, not letting me go, and I began keening again.

  "Shhh," she said. "Shhh. Michaela, shhh... No one is asking any more questions today."

  It took her a long time to calm me down. Finally I apologized to Vivian. "I'm sorry. I guess I just really miss Jimmy and his family."

  "You're an amazing woman, Michaela," Vivian said. "You've been so brave."

  "No," I said. "Foxes aren't brave. We're just very good at hiding. But it's kind of you to say so." I allowed Lara to lead me home.

  I refused to see Vivian for our next meeting. For the one after that, I scheduled a conference with Scarlett's parents to talk about her academic progress. She was doing amazingly well, and I thought it was important for them to know.

  I canc
elled the third meeting, claiming I had too much grading to do.

  Lara stopped by my office in the school. I looked up to see her standing in the doorway. "Hey," I said. "I wasn't expecting to see you until later."

  "I finished early. Walk with me?"

  "I have all this grading," I said.

  "Short walk."

  "All right," I said. I came around my desk and folded myself into her arms first, accepting a strong hug and brief kiss. Then she wrapped an arm around me and pulled me out into the hallway.

  Elisabeth was there. So were Karen, Eric and Rory. The latter three were in fur.

  "I don't have time for a run," I said.

  "Just a walk," Lara said. She pulled me to the entrance. The other wolves followed us in flanking positions, keeping a respectful distance, but clearly on protective duty.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "Nothing."

  "Then why do we have such a sizeable protective detail in our own compound?"

  "Don't worry about them," she said. "Walk with me."

  She led me across the courtyard to our athletic field. We wandered the field; it felt aimless. The enforcers followed us at a careful distance, and it was making me nervous.

  "What's going on, Lara?" I asked. "Whatever you have to tell me: just spit it out."

  "There's nothing to tell. I had a few minutes and I wanted to spend them with you."

  She was full of shit, but it was clear she'd tell me in her own time. I told her she was full of shit, then bumped her with my hip so she knew I was okay. She squeezed my shoulder with her arm, and we walked around quietly, not talking.

  Finally she led me back to the school. But instead of bringing me to my office, we went upstairs, the enforcers flanking us.

  I didn't realize where she was leading me until we were standing outside Vivian's office door. I looked up at her. I looked at the enforcers. They were between me and the exits.

  "Shitty trick, Lara," I told her.

  "I know."

  "No one is supposed to know about this," I said.

  "No one does," Lara replied.

  "Well they do now."

  "No. I told them to escort me around for a while, that there was something troubling me, and I couldn't figure it out, and just to give me some time."

  "But they're here so I won't run."

  "Yes," she confirmed.

  "And they know that?"

  "No, but if you run, I'll order them to stop you. And then they'll find out."

  "Lara, don't make me do this. I don't want to talk to her."

  "Then don't. Go in and stare at her for a while, then leave."

  I glanced at the enforcers. "Do I have a choice?"

  "Please, Michaela," Lara said. "Don't think of it that way. Go in. Talk. Don't talk. Tell her what you had for breakfast. Tell her you're mad at me for tricking you. I don't care. But you need to keep seeing her, and you know it."

  "She isn't helping. She's delving into things that are best forgotten."

  Lara kissed me on the forehead then pulled me forward and opened the door, gently ushering me inside.

  "How long do I have to stay?"

  "Half hour," she said.

  "Fine," I said. "But you're not getting any tonight."

  I pulled out of her arm, stepped into the room, and plopped down in the chair, sulking. The door closed behind me, and I heard the wolves in the hall walk away. I glanced over my shoulder at the door.

  "She'll bring you back," Vivian said.

  I turned to face her. "I don't want to talk to you anymore."

  "I know." She looked at me sadly. "Will you talk to me about your house?"

  "My house?"

  She nodded. "Yes. I gather you are very proud of it, although you don't ever really say so."

  "You don't really want to know about my house," I said.

  "Why not?"

  I looked into her face. "Will you answer some of my questions for once?"

  "You can ask," she said. "I may not have answers for you."

  "Are you a good psychiatrist?"

  "I believe so," she said.

  "And a psychiatrist is a type of medical doctor. You went to med school." She nodded. "You have patients that pay you."

  "I can't talk about my other patients," she said immediately.

  "I'm not asking about anyone in particular, just in general. You have patients that pay you."

  "Yes. And I supervise a group of psychologists."

  "So, you make the same kind of money a doctor makes."

  "I am a doctor."

  "That's evasive. You know what I'm trying to ask."

  "Yes, I make the kind of money you expect."

  "How much did you make last year."

  "Michaela," she said. "I'm not going to talk about that."

  "I made thirty-one thousand dollars last year," I said. "That's pretty good for a public servant without a high school diploma. Francesca said I'll make thirty-eight beginning next school year and more if I get a four-year degree. I bet you make ten or even twenty times that much."

  She looked away. I'd never gotten her to look away before.

  "More," I said.

  "Yes, if you count investments."

  "In one month, you make more than I paid for my house," I said. "I've done a lot on it in the eight years I've had it, so it's worth more than that, maybe even two months' salary for you. And you want to hear about my house? You don't care about my house. Why aren't you being honest with me?"

  "I want to hear you tell me about your house," she said, looking straight at me. "And that's the truth."

  I stared at her for a minute. I didn't trust her. "So, I start talking about my house, and then you ask a few harmless questions. And then you're going to ask about the places I lived before."

  "No. Unless you bring it up, I don't intend to talk about anything from before you moved to Bayfield. Can we talk about your house, and Bayfield?"

  "No tricks?"

  "No tricks."

  "All right," I said. "We can talk about my house, and about Bayfield. I'll even talk about the Apostle Islands, if you like."

  "I would like that," she said. "Will you tell me about buying your house?"

  "All right," I agreed. "I'd had my job for a while, and I was saving all my money. Robert and Virginia helped."

  "Who are they?"

  "Bree's parents. Bree is the girl I saved. I think you know about that."

  She nodded.

  "So, they helped. I didn't know much about money then, but Virginia declared me a fast learner. One evening over dinner, I told them I hoped I could buy my own house one day. And Robert said I could, and it didn't need to be 'one day'. It could be 'next week' if I really wanted."

  I sighed, remembering. "I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't have anywhere near enough money for a house, even a really bad house. He told me about loans. I laughed and told him no one would loan me money. He assured me they would. He said, 'you have a good job and good references', and then he if necessary, he would co-sign a loan with me as long as I was sure I could make the payments."

  "That was very generous," Vivian said.

  "Have you always had money, Vivian?"

  "Yes."

  "So it's difficult for you to imagine not having money, I bet. Not having a home."

  "Yes, it is."

  "I didn't want his help," I told her. "I stayed late at work the next night and researched buying houses, loans, and everything. I saw that you need a credit rating, and I didn't have one. I hadn't done anything to build one. But I started wondering what a house would cost. I was living in a little apartment in Ashland, but I already knew I liked Bayfield better. So that weekend I found a realtor. I told her I didn't have much money, but I just wanted to know what houses cost. She told me if I promised to come back to her when I was ready to get serious, she'd give me a tour of what was available."

  I sat back, remembering. "She started with expensive houses. Not expensive for you,
but far too expensive for me, even now. Then she showed me more modest houses. They were cute, I guess. I asked her to show me the cheapest houses available. So she showed me some trailer homes, but I didn't like those at all. They looked like they would fall apart, and I wasn't going to spend my money on something that wasn't going to last."

  "Very prudent," Vivian said.

  "You really don't care about any of this."

  "Yes, Michaela, I do. Please keep going."

  "I told her no more trailers, but if she had any other cheap houses to show me, I wanted to see them. She said, 'I have one, but it is in really bad shape, and you wouldn't want it.' But I asked her to show it to me anyway. She was right. It was in really bad shape. The garage was falling apart, and I was afraid to even go in or lean against it. The yard was filled with weeds, there were boarded-over windows, and there were vermin in the attic; I could hear them scampering around."

  "Yuck," she said.

  "Yeah. The roof leaked, the basement leaked, the plumbing leaked. Well, you get the idea."

  "So you bought it."

  "Yeah. It had been on the market a long time. The previous owner had died and it now belonged to some distant relative from Minneapolis. They'd never even seen it and certainly hadn't put any effort into making it presentable. So I asked Julie, my agent, 'Do you just pay the asking price?' And she said, 'Oh no, you can make an offer.' So I told her, 'I bet this property is on the verge of being condemned. The house isn't worth a dime, and the proper selling price is whatever the value of the lot is minus what it would take to tear down both structures and haul everything away.' Julie smiled and told me that was about right."

  Vivian was smiling. "I've seen your house, Michaela. The description you just offered doesn't remotely describe your house now."

  "I know. But I didn't have enough money to buy even the lot the house was on. So I invited myself to dinner at Robert and Virginia's and asked them if they were serious about helping me. They went to see the house with me the next afternoon. Virginia took one look and didn't want to go inside. Robert went in with Julie and me, and he examined the entire house very carefully. Then he said, 'Let's go to dinner and talk about it.' And I was sure he was going to tell me I was being very foolish, and that I had disappointed him by even suggesting this house."

  "But that's not what happened," Vivian said.

  "No. He outlined everything that was wrong with the house. He had taken notes. And he told me what was right about it, too. The basic structure was still sound. The foundation seemed sound. And he said, 'Everything can be fixed. It would be a lot of work, and some of it might be expensive.' He told me what I would have to do first -- the various forms of water leaks. I asked him if I had to hire someone or, if I learned how, could I do it myself. He said I could do it myself, but I would need building permits for some of it and some of the supplies would be expensive."