My Date with a Wendigo

by Genevieve McCluer

  In the picture, I still have long hair, but she got the brown of my eyes perfectly. It’s like looking in a mirror, although my reflection is wearing a dress. I can’t even think of the last time I did that.

  “You changed your hair.” Her eyes travel up and down me. I’m not sure if she’s checking me out or sizing me up for a meal. “You’ve changed a lot. I wouldn’t mind painting a new one if you wanted to model.”

  “Holy fuck, yes. That sounds amazing. When did you start painting? I don’t recall you ever doing anything like that.”

  “About three years ago.” Her voice is as clear as ever, despite the fact that she’s talking to the floor, and none of her shyness seems to have touched it. I did hear her use another voice when she was telling her story. I thought it was my imagination, but it sounded like her father. Does she have some weird power with voices? Is her old voice gone? Unless, of course, she’s just a monster that can use anyone’s voice and is only pretending to be her.

  No, Liz, you’re being dumb. She would’ve already eaten you then. “It was when I was starting to hate what I’d become. For so long after it happened, I reveled in it, enjoying my instincts, enjoying—” She cuts herself off, likely to save me from having to hear more. “Well, about three years ago, I started to feel sick with myself. I hated everything I’d been doing for so long. I think part of me always did—otherwise, I wouldn’t have been concerned for your safety—but I never used to let it get to me. Then a little after I ate the guy who owned this place, I started to really miss being human. I missed thinking about more than my next meal. I missed having someone to share my life with. I missed being alive. I went to the Community Center, and they were having an art class. It was mostly angsty vampires and the like, and I got a few weird looks, but it really spoke to me. This is actually the first one I ever drew. It looked way worse then. I’ve painted back over it, but it was you. You were what made me realize that I couldn’t keep living that life.”

  “I was?” My cheeks heat up, and I continue to stare at the painting to avoid meeting those intense, hungry black pools she has for eyes. “Wait, community center? There’s some youth outreach program for monsters?”

  “Not exactly. It’s more of a black market but with some programs like art classes and support groups.” Her eyes widen. “Oh, if you ever do meet another or if you go with me to the Community Center, most of us don’t like the term ‘monster.’ ‘Fiend’ is actually the preferred term.”

  “How is it any different?”

  “Monster sounds silly. Fiend sounds, well, fiendish. It makes us sound evil, not like a boogie man hiding under the bed.”

  I shrug. “I guess that makes sense. Kind of.”

  She sits down on the couch, crossing her legs. Even seated, her head almost hits the ceiling. “It’s a really interesting place. I think you’d like it, assuming you’re there as a customer and not a product.” Her mouth twitches strangely. I’m not a hundred percent sure of the human equivalent of that expression. “The point is, you were always my inspiration. I tried so hard to put you behind me, but I never could.”

  “I know the feeling.” I sit beside her and hesitate for only a second before leaning against her bony arm. She wraps it around me, and I breathe in her strange scent. I hate to use the term, especially when it’s apparently not PC, but it’s monstrous, and at the same time, it’s comforting. It’s not her old scent, but I know it’s her, and I want to bask in it forever. Wow, I really am still in love with her. “Losing you really messed me up. I’ve fixed most of it at this point. I mean, it has been six years, but I could never quite move on. I think if we’d broken up, or even if you’d died, maybe I would’ve been able to find someone else, but that lack of closure left me waiting for a relationship I was convinced would never come, but now it finally can.” I sit up, looking into her eyes as I swallow the lump that just formed in my throat. “I mean, if you want to. I know you’re probably still sorting things out. We haven’t even talked in six years. I don’t mean to jump the gun.”

  “You’d really want to? I don’t know what I can offer you. I could never give you a normal life, we couldn’t go on dates—at least not any place with humans—I don’t know if we could ever have sex, and I can’t move to the city or anything. I mean, I absolutely guarantee that you’re better off without me.”

  Standing on the couch, I stare into her eyes and run my fingers through the soft fur on the back of her head. “I don’t need normal. I need you.” My eyes catch on her fangs for just a second, but I close them and lean in. She doesn’t lean in, but she doesn’t pull away either as my lips slowly meet hers. They’re not soft or warm like I’d imagined. There’s barely any lip at all, but her hands rest lightly on my back, almost completely enfolding me as she falls into the kiss.

  Her tongue presses against my lips, and they part to allow her in. I think it reaches my uvula. What was that about no sex? She actually tastes kind of good. I was worried it would be like kissing rotten meat, but instead, it’s more like a Popsicle. Her tongue is weirdly cold, and teasing it with mine sends a chill down my spine, but I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing. I lean into her, letting my own tongue into her mouth, lightly grazing a fang.

  She pulls back, her eyes wide as she wipes her mouth. She looks away and starts breathing in and out slowly. Her eyes shut, and she sits there without saying a word.

  “Am I moving too fast?” I ask.

  “No. Not at all. That was amazing.” It’s not her voice. It’s more of this weird growl. It would terrify me if it came from anyone else.

  I take a step forward, still standing on the couch, and rest my hand on her shoulder.

  She pulls away, suddenly standing at the stairs. “Just give me a minute. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I just need a minute.”

  “What happened?” I step off the couch but don’t move any farther.

  “You cut your tongue on my tooth,” she says.

  It takes me a moment, but I think I understand. “It made you want to eat me.”

  She nods, her eyes squeezed shut. “Just a little. I mean, it was all really romantic, and I want to be with you, and if you’re sure, then yes, I one hundred percent want to go out with you, but I just tasted human blood for the first time in two years, and I’m fucking starving. If I waited another second, I’m scared that I wouldn’t have been able to settle for only tasting your tongue.”

  Oh. Ow. “So leave my tongue in my mouth?”

  Another nod. “Yeah. It’s not worth the risk. I don’t want to end up eating it.”

  “Yeah, me neither.” Shaking, I sit back down. I didn’t think dating a wendigo would be so complicated. “You mean it, though? You want to be my girlfriend?” Focus on the positives.

  “I do. I really do.”

  I’m sure some blood shows on my teeth as I beam up at her. “I’ve been waiting six years to hear those words. Abigail Lester, my girlfriend.”

  She lets out a slow breath, and her fangs show in a pale imitation of a smile. Her breathing has returned to normal, and she takes a step toward me. “I have too. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. Although I never pictured me like this when I imagined it.” She gestures at her body, hidden as it is beneath the shapeless clothes.

  “You’re still beautiful,” I say, and she is. It’s not what I’d wanted either, but she’ll always be beautiful to me.

  * * *

  My eyes flutter open, and I see Abigail towering over me. If this is how I die, I guess I can live with it. After a massive yawn, I blink away sleep. “I’m sorry. I just passed out. Did you finish the painting?”

  Her teeth show in what I am learning is her smile. “I did. It’s fine. I’d already finished your face before you fell asleep. You looked beautiful, even sleeping. I think you were having a nice dream. You looked so happy.”

  “I know it sounds corny, so give me a break since I just woke up, but I was dreaming about being with you.”

  She takes a nervous swal
low, her smile vanishing. “As a human?”

  I shake my head. “No. Just as you are now.” It’s true. I felt so safe in her arms in my dream. I’m still a little scared of her, but it’s vanishing quickly. It’s Abigail; it’s really her. “You’re perfect.”

  She lets out a shaking breath. “Would you like to see it?”

  She’s spent what must be the last eight hours on this, since the sun’s up now. She was too scared to touch me after that incident last night, so she decided to paint me. I had to lie on her couch and model, and I guess that was a bit much for me. I rise, stretching, my arms almost hitting the ceiling. How does she walk in here? “Oh, wow.” In the painting, I’m lazing on a very old-fashioned couch, propped up on my arm, with sunlight filtering onto my face, and every part that’s untouched by it is drawn in more detail than the parts in the light. A red, toga-esque dress covers my body, slipped up to expose one of my legs from the thigh down. I look like a Greek goddess waiting for her servant to bring her grapes. “It’s beautiful. You’re an amazing artist, Abby.” I take a step forward to kiss her.

  She leaps back, appearing by the window. I guess the sun doesn’t hurt her. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared. I need to know I can control myself.”

  “You can.” She doesn’t run away as I take her hand and pull it to my lips, pressing them against the knuckle of her middle finger. Her hand is so large and yet so slender. Unfortunately, it’s also so sharp. Avoiding the talon, I look into her eyes. “But we can take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.” Shit, what time is it? “Except possibly work. How long did I sleep?”

  “It’s just past seven. I’m sorry. I know I should’ve woken you up, but you looked so peaceful.”

  “It’s okay. I have time. Do you have a shower?”

  With a quick nod, she replies, “I do. It doesn’t have hot water, though.”

  “It’s fine. Where is it?”

  “Upstairs. Do you want me to show you?”

  “Of course.” I never got the tour last night.

  She leads the way, stooping to make her way up the stairs. She points me to a small bathroom off her bedroom, which has a bed too small for her to fit in. I may have to see about changing that. “Take your time.”

  I shrug out of my shirt and let it fall to the ground. Her eyes drift over me before she turns around, hiding her face. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before; we’ve known each other for a long time. Though I’ll admit, I’m mostly teasing her. I refrain from asking her to unhook my bra, as that could lead to things that neither of us is ready for and that I definitely don’t have the time for, and quickly shed the rest of my clothes in the bathroom so I can take a brief shower in the freezing water. I could probably use a cold shower, anyway.

  She walks me to the door when I leave, and she looks terrified that I’ll never come back. “See you tonight?” I ask.

  Her face lights up. It really is a smile. I can sort of see it now. “Yes. Of course. If you want.” It’s a good thing she can completely control her voice; otherwise, she might’ve sounded a little overeager.

  “I can’t wait. What time?”

  “As soon as possible. I’ll be reasonable, though. How about ten?”

  I smile back at her. I’ll save the kiss for tonight. Maybe she’ll be feeling a bit more up for it by then. “Until tonight.”

  Back in my car, I navigate the dirt road, the footprints now a source of comfort instead of alarm. I just need to avoid gushing about this to any of my clients.

  * * *

  After work, I give Sandra a call. I’m not heading back to Abby’s until ten. It’s Friday, so I can spend the entire weekend with her. I just need to be patient for a few more hours.

  My phone rings through my car’s speakers as I wait for her to pick up. Sandra needs to know what’s going on in my life. She’s been worried about me, and she was the one who was there for me these whole six years of my being a total fuckup because I couldn’t get over Abigail. I won’t tell her that she’s a wendigo, but I will tell her that we’re dating. I’ll just come up with an excuse for why she can’t meet her.

  “Liz, you’re alive.”

  She’d have way more reason to be surprised if she knew what I knew. “I am, not for lack of trying.” Wow, that sounds so much dumber than any time I’ve said it before. Had I been depressed? “I had the most amazing night last night.”

  “Oh really? You doing anything? I’d love to hear about it.”

  “Well, I have to leave for a date by about 8:30, but until then, I’m not. I could swing by?”

  “A date?”

  “I thought we were gonna talk about it in person. You’ll just have to wait.”

  “You’re terrible.” A light chuckle drifts through the speakers. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Twenty-five minutes later, I pull into the parking lot in front of Sandra’s place and take the stairs up to her apartment on the third floor. The lack of an elevator would bother me so much more any other day. I knock on the door and hear her voice from behind me.

  “Hey, sorry, I was grabbing us food. A chicken sandwich okay?”

  “From where?”

  “Where do I get sandwiches?” Giving me the stink eye, she unlocks the door, and I open it for her.

  We take our usual seats in the living room, and she gestures pointedly toward the TV tray I’m meant to eat over. I deserve that. I probably made a mess in her car with that veal sandwich last week. I take a bite, leaning over the tray as dramatically as I can manage. Damn, their veal really is better. Normally, I love their chicken sandwiches, and today of all days, everything is perfect, but I would enjoy their veal so much more. Though of course, I’d have to get a human sandwich for Abby. I wonder how much that would be.

  “Are you going to tell me or not? It’s been half an hour, and the suspense is killing me! I’m not a young woman anymore.”

  “You’re twenty-eight.”

  “Like I said. I have, like, three gray hairs, and I’m a year older than you. Respect your elders, and tell me the damn story.”

  Leaning back, I receive a prompt glare that sends me back over the table. I chew angrily. “Abby called me back yesterday morning.”

  A Cheshire grin spreads across her face. “Go on.” She is, unfortunately, not steepling her fingers as she learns that her diabolical scheme has finally been realized.

  “I went over to her place, and we started talking, and she painted me, and we made out, and we’re dating!” I squeal. “We’re really dating. I’ve waited, like, ten years for this. I can’t believe it’s finally happening. She’s so amazing, and she makes me feel beautiful, and she’s so beautiful, and she’s gotten so strong and absolutely incredible at art. That picture was a fucking masterpiece. I want to plaster every wall in my house with it and see the very representation of her love for me every time I open my eyes.” I’m such a girl. I haven’t been this love-crazed since…well, since I figured out I had feelings for Abby.

  She lets out a long whistle. “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, you’re clearly completely besotted and mad at this point, but I can hardly blame you. I’ve been waiting for you two to get together since I’ve known you. I can’t believe it finally happened. I thought for sure it was a lost cause after she…well, you know. I’m so happy for you!” She takes a bite of her sandwich and grins with a bit of eggplant stuck in her teeth.

  “I’m seeing her again tonight. I’m gonna ask if I can spend the whole weekend with her.”

  “That’s wonderful. Oh my God, I’m going to die from sheer joy. This is the greatest news I’ve ever heard in my life.”

  My smile turns sympathetic. “You’ll have the same before too long, I’m sure. Any guy would be crazy to resist you.”

  “Yet they all seem to. Or even worse, they want me and are just terrible.”

  “See, this is why you need to go gay. Ladies are great.”

  She glares. “I would if I could. Believe me.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, you think about it for me?” I wink.

  “You have a girlfriend now, missy, so you’d best put a stop to that flirting nonsense.”

  She has a point. I’ve been such a slut for so long that I’m not sure how to handle being in love. “You’re right. I love her so much.”

  Her smile regains its full force. “Have you told her?”

  “I have.” A quick nod and I turn back to my sandwich. I wish I could share it with Abby, but even if I can never share a meal with her, it’s worth it. After this long a wait, I’d give up anything for her.

  “And did she say it back?”

  I laugh, a bit of sandwich falling on the floor, but she doesn’t seem to care at this point. “She did. She really did. Holy fuck, Abigail Lester loves me. It’s finally happening. My life is finally working out.”

  “Enjoy it. With any luck, you’ll have all the time in the world, but don’t let a day go by without savoring every second of it. It’s just fantastic to see you happy again.”

  “I couldn’t be happier.” Well, I’ll be even happier in a few hours when I’m back in her arms.

  We make it through dinner, and I manage to stick around until 7:30, checking the time every few seconds. After the end of some show I was barely paying attention to, I give Sandy a quick good-bye kiss on the cheek and run to my car so I can get ready in time to see Abby.

  Chapter Eight

  Abigail

  The sound of tires tearing along the dirt path drags me from bed. I throw on a nightgown and make it to the front door before Liz’s car pulls up. I haven’t worn this thing in a year. I felt horrid in it, like a monster playing at being a woman, but after how she looked at me, even though I could smell her fear, I feel like maybe I’m not so disgusting. She makes me feel pretty again. The cross hangs from its chain around my neck. I was never particularly religious, but I haven’t taken it off since I bought it last week. Maybe I could get a new necklace, something that suits me more now that I’m feeling comfortable enough to consider it. It’s weird thinking about clothes as anything more than a disguise.