Coyote Blues

by Karen F. Williams

  “Sorry for barging in, but you’ve missed two classes and aren’t answering your phone. I’ve been worried.”

  “Oh…”

  “Are you sick or something?”

  “Just a bad cold.”

  She didn’t sound like she had a cold. She looked like she’d just come in from the woods. Her sneakers were untied, she was missing a sock, and her hair bristled with twigs and bits of debris. “Would it be all right if I came in?” Peggy asked. “Just for a minute?”

  “Uh…sure.” Riley stepped to the side, brushing her hair with her fingers, and they both watched as a piece of an autumn leaf fluttered to the floor.

  “Were you out hiking with your dog?”

  “I don’t have a dog.”

  Peggy wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d seen one. Some sort of tan or brownish shepherd mix. Maybe only for a split second, but its face and large pricked ears were distinct. Riley had to be lying, but she didn’t push the issue. Students were always sneaking their cats and dogs into no-pets-allowed apartments off campus. Still, it was odd that the dog wasn’t barking or whining or scratching at the door of whatever room in which Riley had locked it. The cabin was quiet except for a dribbling sound coming from somewhere. And then Peggy caught the aroma of coffee.

  “Can I offer you something to drink? I was just making coffee.”

  Peggy sensed that Riley was hoping she’d say no and leave, but she was here now and determined to get a better sense of this student who was fast becoming a paradox. “Coffee sounds wonderful…if I’m not intruding.”

  “Not at all, Professor.”

  “We’re not in the classroom, so please call me Peggy.” She smiled at Riley and Riley smiled back, but the corners of her mouth trembled a little. She was definitely hiding something.

  “How do you take it?” Riley asked as she disappeared into what must have been the kitchen.

  “Just milk,” Peggy called to her. With Riley out of sight she took inventory of the small living room. The coffee table was cluttered with books. Some were textbooks, others from the library, and she noted the titles: Animals in Mythology, Wildlife of the Northern Woods, Lycanthropy in the Dark Ages. Strange, she thought, and moseyed over to a stack of movies next to the television: An American Werewolf in London was there, along with Stephen King’s Silver Bullet. What an odd but fascinating kid. “You certainly have a wide range of interests,” she said above the noise of Riley gathering cups and spoons in the kitchen.

  “I like to learn about everything,” Riley called back.

  “I can see that.” Peggy wandered to the kitchen to find Riley filling a creamer with milk. She’d already set the table for two with placemats with plates, folded napkins, and spoons. Peggy leaned in the doorway and watched as Riley took doughnuts from a bakery box on the counter and arranged them nicely on another plate. She’d certainly been taught something about presentation. Peggy assumed she’d been well raised…in Manhattan…by parents who’d be having Thanksgiving without her.

  “Have a seat, Professor Peggy.”

  Peggy laughed to herself. Riley really was adorable, her hospitality charming. “Wow, all this?” She hung her coat on the back of the chair and sat down. “I really shouldn’t have that doughnut I’m about to eat.”

  “Please, help yourself.”

  Peggy decided to keep the conversation light and put Riley at ease. “This doughnut is delicious, and you make great coffee,” she said. “I’m sorry for interrupting your studies, but I really stopped by to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”

  “At the college?”

  “No, silly. At my house.”

  Riley seemed stunned. “Won’t you be with your family?”

  Peggy wasn’t in the habit of coming out to students, but her gut told her that Riley was trustworthy. And gay. Definitely gay. “Yes, with my partner, Barbara.”

  “Your business partner?”

  “No…we’re a couple. Barbara’s parents are in Palm Springs, mine are in North Carolina, so it’ll just be us, Barbara’s brother, and a couple of friends,” she said. “We’d really love it if you joined us.”

  Riley was quiet for a moment. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll be fine here. Really.”

  “No one should be alone on Thanksgiving. How about if I leave you with my number and directions to the house in case you change your mind.” No one had GPS in those days, and Peggy waited for Riley to bring her a pen and sheet of notebook paper.

  Peggy talked as she wrote. “It’s about thirty-five miles from here, but once you get onto Route 23, it’s pretty much a straight run. She drew a little map below the written directions. You’ll pass through Otis, and when you see the Welcome to Monterey sign, check your odometer. The turn onto Tyringham Road will be exactly—”

  “Monterey?”

  “Yes. Do you know it?” Peggy stopped writing and glanced up to see Riley’s face pale.

  “Is that near the Appalachian Trail?”

  “Not far. There’s an entrance to the trail right on 23, a couple of miles past the house. Why, do you hike there?”

  “I was born there.”

  “No kidding, in Monterey?”

  “On the Appalachian Trail.”

  “On the trail?” This struck Peggy as funny, but it was a good thing she didn’t laugh, because Riley’s countenance was very serious. Who knew? Maybe Riley’s mother had been pregnant and out for a walk when she’d gone into labor.

  “I’m a foundling,” Riley announced. “I was abandoned…on the trail.”

  “Goodness!” Peggy didn’t know how to respond to this mystery-kid who tugged at her heartstrings the way no student ever had. “Do you know anyone in Monterey?”

  “No. But I’d like to see it.”

  Peggy nodded and got up. “It’s settled then. You’re coming to Monterey tomorrow for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Peggy didn’t stay long after that. Riley walked her out to the porch, where Peggy thanked her for her hospitality. “I hope you won’t change your mind.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Come early. Say two?”

  Riley nodded, and Peggy sighed with satisfaction. She’d done well to follow her instincts and come today. She started down the steps, then turned back on second thought and opened her arms. “Can I have a hug?”

  Riley hesitated at first, but then she melted into Peggy’s arms and held on, as if she’d been needing a hug for a very long time. When Riley finally let go, she quickly turned away, and Peggy saw her wipe her eyes.

  “Just a thought,” Peggy said as she walked to her car. “I don’t think we’ll have time for a walk tomorrow with dinner and all. It gets dark so early these days. But if you want to bring a change of clothes and spend the night, we can take a walk on the Appalachian Trail Friday morning.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Peggy opened her car door. “And feel free to bring your dog. We have two.”

  “But I don’t have a—”

  “Whatever,” Peggy said, humoring her. She knew there was a darn dog in that house, albeit a very quiet and well-behaved one.

  * * *

  Riley arrived on Thanksgiving Day with fresh apple cider and two pies from a local farm stand. “I figured you’d have a pumpkin pie, so I got an apple and a pecan,” she said.

  “You figured right. I told you not to worry about bringing anything, but thank you so much.” Peggy felt bad. Those farm stands were expensive, but it seemed against Riley’s upbringing to show up empty-handed. She’d been taught good etiquette. And she apparently had plenty of money. But she didn’t have a dog.

  Puzzled, Peggy started second-guessing herself. Maybe it was Riley who had peeked out the window that day. It had happened so fast, really—the curtains moving, the split-second image of a furry face, then nothing. A glare on the glass might have distorted her face and given the illusion of an animal. But with pointy ears? She searched to explain the dog she swore she’d seen, but her own dogs
, the two chihuahuas, distracted her. From the moment Riley walked in, Felix and Brandi were glued to her, oddly fascinated by the newcomer’s scent. They stood up against her legs, sniffing, jumping in her lap when she sat to smell her some more. Peggy threatened to lock them in the other room if they didn’t stop pestering her, but Riley stopped her. “Leave them. I love dogs. I haven’t had one since I was little.” And so Peggy let them have their way with her.

  Thanksgiving dinner went well. A botanist friend of Barbara’s had joined them, along with one of Peggy’s colleagues and his wife. And Barbara’s kid brother Tom was there with Peter, his “dick du jour,” as they jokingly referred to his ever-changing boyfriends. Both were doing post-graduate work in molecular biology. Unfortunately, Tom’s own molecules were prone to wanderlust, and Peter would probably be out of the picture by Christmas.

  And then there was Riley. She was polite, gracious, the perfect guest, and considering she was at a table with people ten to twenty years her senior, she held her own. Peggy suspected all that voracious reading she did served her well in conversation.

  “Who the hell leaves their kid all alone on a holiday?” Barbara said when Peggy came in the kitchen to whip cream for the pies warming in the oven. “She’s such a great girl.”

  “Isn’t she?” Peggy gave her dark ponytail a soft tug and hugged her from behind. “Thanks for letting her spend the night.”

  Barbara stood on her toes, reaching for dessert plates in the cabinet, and handed Peggy a stack. “She’s adorable. And you’re right,” she whispered, “definitely a little dyke. But I’m furious with her parents, and I don’t even know them. What’s the deal with them?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find out more tomorrow.”

  Peggy wasn’t sure if Riley would change her mind about staying. It was after nine and raining when the others left, and Riley suddenly appeared a little antsy. It seemed part of her was anxious to get home—maybe to walk the dog she didn’t have—but she stayed. No doubt the promise of a walk on the Appalachian Trail tomorrow, an overdue visit to her birthplace, kept her there.

  By morning the sky was clear, but November’s cold rain had left behind a damp chill, and Barbara opted out of a walk. Peggy, too, would have preferred to spend the afternoon curled up reading by the woodstove, but she didn’t want to disappoint Riley.

  “I really appreciate you having me,” Riley said as they finished a pancake breakfast. “I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.”

  Barbara rested a hand on Riley’s shoulder as she made her way around the table, topping off everyone’s coffee. “You couldn’t if you tried. You’re awesome. And welcome here anytime.”

  It was almost noon by the time they were dressed and in the car. “We can make it a short hike since the weather isn’t great,” Peggy suggested. “At least this way you’ll know where the entrance is and how to get there on your own in case you want to do more exploring.”

  Riley nodded as they turned out of the driveway onto Tyringham Road, and at the white church on the corner turned onto 23. After a couple of miles Peggy slowed down and pointed to two posts at the roadside. A hand-painted wooden slat that hung between them had an arrow pointing south and said Georgia. One below it pointed north and said Maine. “This is it.” Peggy turned into the small dirt parking lot. “Route twenty-three interrupts the trail, and it’s somehow incongruous to see hikers with backpacks crossing this busy road to get from one side of the trail to the other.” Peggy handed Riley an extra pair of gloves stuffed between the car seats and smiled at her. “Shall we?”

  Riley looked all around when they got out to access the narrow trail that cut through the dense woods. “So this is Monterey?”

  “Well, we’re actually on the Great Barrington border right now. If you continue driving another mile, you’ll reach Butternut. That’s our big ski area. And if you go another few miles, you’ll hit the town of Great Barrington. It’s our closest big town, sort of like Northampton—full of restaurants, music venues, the movie theater and grocery store. In fact, now that my private practice is growing, Barbara wants me to move my office out of the house and rent office space there.”

  Riley didn’t respond. She was quiet now, seeming lost in thought as they wandered farther into the wooded interior. Her jacket was open, and she seemed impervious to the cold, but Peggy wasn’t. It would be December next week, and winter was in the air. She followed, letting Riley take the lead and move at her own pace.

  “I’ve wondered about this place all my life,” Riley said after a while.

  Peggy couldn’t imagine what Riley must be feeling. What kind of mother would abandon a newborn baby out here? Why not drop her off at a hospital, a store, a laundromat—someplace safe where she’d quickly be found? It was a wonder she’d survived. “Do you know much about your birth?”

  Riley shook her head. “Only that I was born in May…out here in the woods somewhere…and that I…I had a tail.”

  Peggy stopped walking. “A tail?”

  “I don’t have it now. It was cut off before my parents adopted me.”

  Riley kept walking while Peggy stood there, shocked, for a moment. Was that even possible? Were human babies ever born with tails? It sounded ludicrous, although she remembered a friend who’d had a pilonidal cyst removed from his tailbone—some kind of growth containing skin and hair—and laughed about having a tail. She’d do some research, ask around the science department when she was back on campus.

  Peggy broke into a jog to catch up and, when she reached Riley, saw her crying. A big log lay right there, a tree that had been felled just off the path. “Hey, kiddo…do you want to sit for a minute?”

  “No. I’m okay.”

  But Riley wasn’t okay. Peggy grabbed the arm of her jacket and tugged on it, forcing Riley to turn and look at her. “Come on. I need a break. Sit with me for a minute.”

  Hm, so her suspicions had been correct. Riley was in crisis—depressed, lost, a foundling unable to find her way.

  The cold air always made Peggy’s nose run, and she was glad she’d stuck a packet of tissues in her pocket. She pulled two out and handed Riley one.

  Riley quickly dabbed her eyes and looked away, obviously embarrassed by her tears. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s stupid that I’m crying.”

  Peggy put an arm around Riley and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not stupid. And you have nothing to be sorry for. This is a tremendous moment for you. I’m glad I could be part of it in some small way.”

  “A huge way, Professor Peggy.”

  Professor Peggy…Peggy smiled and rubbed Riley’s back. “I kind of had a feeling you might be struggling with something.”

  Riley started to sob but quickly composed herself. “I don’t really know who I am or where I’m going.”

  “You’re only eighteen, Riley. Still a kid. I didn’t know where I was going at your age either. It takes time to figure ourselves out.”

  “I guess. It’s just that I…I get lonely sometimes.”

  “But you’re so sociable, always upbeat, and a great conversationalist. I’d think someone like you would make friends easily.”

  “I’m not allowed. My father says I shouldn’t.”

  Peggy pondered that remark for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, you know that Barbara and I are a couple…and I was wondering if maybe you were struggling with your—”

  “Sexuality? I’m gay, too, if that’s what you were wondering.”

  Her straightforwardness surprised Peggy. “Well, to be honest, I was, but…do your parents know and disapprove?”

  “They don’t know I’m gay.”

  “Then can you tell me why you couldn’t go home?”

  “They don’t want me home because I’m…I’m not normal in other ways.”

  “What other ways?”

  “I can’t say. It’s a secret I have to keep.” An orange leaf that been hanging onto an otherwise bare tree flutte
red down to join the others on the ground. It landed between Riley’s shoes, and she picked it up, nervously tearing it to bits and pieces as she spoke. “Something awful happens to me, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

  “You know,” Peggy said, “sometimes the best way to lift the burden of a secret is to share it. I won’t judge you, and just so you know, absolutely nothing would make me like you any less. Nothing at all.”

  Riley was silent and then finally said, “Someone else is living inside me.”

  “Someone else? You mean like…another person?” Split personality, dissociative identity disorder, was fairly rare, and always seen in response to severe physical and emotional trauma in childhood. “Can you tell me more about this other person inside you?”

  Riley’s knee began bouncing up and down, and she seemed to be fighting the impulse to bolt. “It’s not a person…it’s an animal. Something like a wolf…more like a coyote, maybe.”

  A chill ran up Peggy’s spine. Clinical lycanthropy? That would be a case of delusional misidentification syndrome. And although it might have been considered a common supernatural affliction in the Middle Ages, it too was extremely rare these days, always associated with other primary psychotic conditions such as schizophrenia and drug intoxication. Nothing about Riley’s behavior or thought process suggested a psychosis. Nonetheless, Peggy softly patted the pocket of her jacket just to make sure her car keys were at the ready, in case she had to make a run for her life.

  Riley sniffled, but then the sniffling sounded more like sniffing, and when Peggy looked over, she saw Riley’s nose twitching, her nostrils flaring.

  “You’re afraid of me,” Riley said.

  Peggy’s heart pounded. “No, I’m not,” she lied.

  “Yes, you are. I can smell it.” For the first time since she’d started to cry, she looked over and locked eyes with Peggy. “Please don’t be afraid. Everyone’s afraid of me. That’s why I can’t ever go home again.” Riley’s face looked pained. “I would never hurt you. I’m not the kind of vicious werewolf you see in the movies.”