by Kate Sundara
‘No it wouldn’t.’
‘Like, how can you know that?’
Mia shrugs. ‘I just know.’
‘You know?’
‘Hey, you were the one trying to scaremonger me with talk of cougars and banshees on the way down here, I thought you’d be glad of an animal interaction, or are you just the boy who cried wolf?’ That shuts Brent up.
‘I thought I was going to have a heart-attack!’ pants Megan. ‘All the years I’ve lived here I’ve never seen a wolf, not once, not ever!’
‘It’s unusual,’ says Wil. ‘They’re usually afraid of humans, they’ll try to avoid them. That wasn’t like any other wolf I’ve seen. It didn’t seem vicious at all.’
‘It seemed strange, sort of sad,’ observes Heather.
‘Don’t they usually hunt in packs?’ asks Amber, regaining her breath from the fright.
‘They do, unless they’re lonely. That’s when they howl,’ says Wil.
‘Why would a wolf be alone? Because it’s lost?’
Wil says, ‘A lone wolf is one who’s been driven from their pack or has broken away of their own accord. They travel great distances in a short period of time. They’re wary and hard to catch.’
Broken off from their pack, well-travelled, wary, hard to catch. Just like me, thinks Mia.
‘Our totems find us’ – she recalls Rosa’s words.
Hot in the sweat from their midnight trek, Mia unzips her Red Riding Hood top.
From this night on she is Wolf.
* * *
Feeling her feather talisman between her fingers, Mia lies wide awake, fully dressed in the back of the caravan, the cat asleep on April’s feet. It’s a warm night, the air close, the breeze wisha-wishers through the trees. Mia’s way too wired to sleep. Her mind and body are over-stimulated from being at the beach tonight. All that fresh air, fire and water – the elements have revitalised her spirit. She’s not felt this moved by nature since the island. Her head’s filled with the wild, with powerful images from the mythologies book Wil gave her, with coming face to face with her totem – the lone wolf – tonight.
She wonders how Zak spent his evening and wishes he’d wanted to come with her.
Is he still feeling remorseful? Is he thinking of her? Is he wishing she were with him too? Is he all alone or with company? Surely not. Surely he would’ve learnt from all of this?
Maybe April’s right, she thinks: those other girls in his bed meant nothing. Mia shouldn’t be beaten by them. What about all the lovely moments they’d shared those first few days? How even now she loves reliving them? Then she relives walking into that debauchery the other morning. It still turns her stomach.
Being out in nature tonight has cleared her head. She thinks things over from a fresh viewpoint. She looks at April, sleeping, and remembers her advice; she looks to the answerphone and recalls the sorry sounding messages he’d left her. Had she completely overreacted? Had she been neurotic, possessive? Zak said nothing had happened with those women, and there were other guys there too. Perhaps it was just the messy remnants of an after-show get-together. Zak has a big heart. Who’s to say he hadn’t given up his bed for tired party-goers? It’s not like he was actually in his bed with them. Okay, it seemed inconsistent with his need for privacy, but maybe if there were drinks and drugs involved – which there were? And she knew the inconsistencies of creatives.
Maybe she did get the wrong end of the stick. Maybe she’s more upset because she wasn’t a part of it. Maybe she should have given him the benefit of the doubt…
A memory of April in the sunshine pops up through the dark of night, sitting on the arm of the sofa outside, telling her how Zak was only acting so strangely because he’s afraid. When Mia thinks about it, it becomes almost cute, the same way kids are afraid of monsters under the bed. Is that all this is – Zak afraid of falling too fast? What else could it be?
She pictures him alone in his bed. Alone. Afraid. His paranoia left to rage like the undefeated Bogeyman, those looming shadows on his walls surely stretched out of all proportion by now.
What am I doing here? It occurs to her. Why am I staying away?
He needs her there. Now she hears it in his voice, in those messages she’s been pretending to ignore. His heart calling out to hers like a siren’s song…
Mia is wolf now. A wolf hunts out what it needs, following its instincts.
She’s hungry to get to the truth.
Made brave by the characters peeling off the pages of her book, she joins them, throwing on her imaginary leathers, her faux furs and feathers, and running to her beloved like a warrior of the night.
Three a.m. and feeling alive!
Like quicksilver she runs down April’s track, over moonlit gardens, down Hickory Lane and across Main Street, seeing it empty for the first time. Up long lamp-lit avenues, she flies, with a fire in her heart, a storm in her belly. Raw, feral and free is she with elk, deer, fox and all creatures of the night, on her quest to heal a wounded heart, shooting like a spear through the sky.
No-one about, not a headlight on the roads, just her panting breath, her pounding feet and the blazing hope that fuels her sprint and burns out fear. Oh, she knows of the assailant rumours that’ve spread like wildfire through this town, but she darts through starlight with her unseen protectors. Yes, silly it may be, but what of silliness? Mia’s a romantic – to her, there’s no clear distinction between the two. Besides, with her conviction, her sure-fire arrow of intent, there’s no messing with her tonight.
Bring it on, Zak! Test me all you need to. You’ll see that I won’t break. If this is what you want then I’m ready for your test! I’m strong, brave, wild, alive, drunk on the moon shine!
She outruns her animals, outruns her human restrictions, outruns the pent-up princess in the tower she’d started to become in London, the one waiting for that white horse to arrive at her door. Now is her time. She’s going for what she wants, and what she wants is to be with Zak, to understand him, for them to be real, to grow closer, to blast away doubt. The last of her urban shackles fall off her, the city no longer the reason for the sweat on her skin. That winter of the soul is over and the creature in her that’s been sleeping, is waking hungry – her wolf tongue stinging with the want to taste him, bite him, reach him. All those desires squashed behind pain-staking emails, all those letters of hidden hankering and tedious restraint. Well, no more repression, not here, no more. Setting those pretty words free, she throws them up into the night sky to burn with the stars!
Lucky stars. Now they’ve more than words, they’ve proximity. She’s gotten close enough to have him sleeping up the street from her, gotten close enough that, with sparks flying from her mercury feet, within minutes she can be at his door.
A strange thing happens when she reaches Zak’s lawn: as she stands, catching her breath, a loose black dog – a real animal – emerges from the darkness, stops and raises its head, its breath rising into the sapphire air. Moonlight casts a shadow from its body, but, in the blink of an eye, the shadow switches from dog to man. The illusion slides away, the dog turns to her and watches. They stare at each other, just as she and the wolf stared at each other, then it scampers off with its head hung low. Mia knows it’s her imagination running as wild as her body. She’s carried away and crazy but she doesn’t care. It’s brought her here to find the truth.
She ventures inside the house, walks up the stairs, punches in the code. Zak lies in the bedroom in a silver sliver of light. She slips under the bedsheets and into the warm folds of his arms, waking him wordlessly; he slides an arm across her belly. Mia finds the child in him, just as she thought – soft and vulnerable – she feels the boy–
And then the man.
His body heavy on her body, skin warm, she clasps his hair. Stubble against her neck, the stubble meaning he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days.
She doesn’t want to think, they’re sinking into their passions, but – those sisters from every corner of nigh
t are reappearing: wise women, huntresses, goddesses of moons – all peeled off the pages of that book she spent the daytime reading – now manifest in her mind as guardians. Out here, alone, she needs all the help she can get. In the intensity of her emotional tumult, they’ve become almost as real to her as I am – existing in the same realm – behind the veil that separates us. It’s the big beyond, the reality running alongside reality, the presence paralleling the perceivable, all of us elements and facets of a deeper dimension. Surrounding the bed with their furs and teeth, they’re not an easy bunch to ignore.
Is he strong enough for you? Do you feel good about yourself when you’re with him?
Go away! You’re just my subconscious, my conscience.
Girl, you should beware of merging, till you’re sure who you’re merging with…
Why does physical love feel like a battle of wills? Why does desire feel more like control? Why does she feel there must be a winner and a loser? Self-preservation: it’s part of a lone-traveller’s spirit.
She’s the lone wolf.
Is that really your reservation here?
Zak’s overcome with desire, suddenly too fast, crushing her buzzing body, his kisses everywhere. ‘I missed you,’ he whispers, his mouth disappearing behind her ear.
‘I miss you too.’ The you from the island, the you from your letters, the one you don’t want me to reach.
He has control over your emotions, says a sister, resistance of body is all that you have.
Oh shut up the lot of you! You’re only aspects of my psyche. I’m so alone I had to invent you! I didn’t invite you in!
They’ve run her into a net – Mia’s tangled in the dreamcatcher hanging in the bedroom window.
‘Wait,’ she tells Zak. ‘I just… want you to let me in…’
He’s wrapped around her like a bandage, his breathing heavy against her skin. ‘Stay with me,’ he whispers. Then, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear it, ‘I’m scared.’
‘Scared of what?’ she asks. In his admission she already forgives him. Her heart’s still booming. ‘Zak?’
Silently he trembles in the nook of her neck. Connecting with the elements tonight she found her fire, but feels the water in him. He seems to her like a coral-reef only spawning from its polyps under the light of certain moons. She doesn’t have all the answers now, but senses he’ll open up to her eventually if she just treads lightly. Though darkness masks his ocean eyes, this sensitive soul is a son of the sea. Zak doesn’t push for sex tonight. He seems to need something even deeper. He holds onto her like he’s holding on for dear life until together they submerge into sleep.
MAY, 2006
For two days she’s been crawling under windows and only speaking to Zak in front of walls. After his freak-out the other day, when he insisted that anyone could be watching, Mia is even more uneasy about being in his home. She wants to ask Zak more about the issue, but he’s not available for conversation, won’t tear himself away from the computer screen. She’s come to call his place the Ivory Tower. Not to Zak’s face. She’s still living with April but visiting him, encouraged by his receptiveness to her when she ran to him in the night. Zak said she should move back in, isn’t happy with her popping in and out like a cuckoo in a clock, but she’s not convinced that’s a good idea yet. Not if it means creeping around the apartment this way.
Zak spends hours, days, emailing on the computer. She assumed that once she’d reached his physical domain neither of them would want to hang out so much in cyberspace. She was wrong; he’s wired up to the thing like a life-support machine. When she asked him what he’s working on he snapped at her, so she doesn’t bother him. She knows how it is to be up against a deadline. Still, she’s craving some sort of connection. Maybe she should send him an email…
Every morning he purchases his energy in a cup. Mia arrives from April’s place and he greets her with a kiss. But then, wired on coffee, he returns to the computer, and that’s where he stays for most of the day. Long hours roll into dusk with he and Mia barely exchanging a word: he going on with his silent circle of coffee-consumption and computing, she going stir-crazy. She paints a bit, does a little journalling – she’d write something proper if she had inspiration. She refers again to Wil’s book – she could take it over to Rosa’s. Mia has questions about things she’s learning. She could go on an adventure, but that’d mean not being able to return here if Zak didn’t want her coming and going, and in all honestly, she only wants to be with him. She’s stuck in a rut though, and bored. How long can she stay immersed in his world, remaining a mystery to each other? I don’t like to see her lonely.
How strange it is, she thinks, being in somebody’s world for the sole purpose of being with them. She’s travelled for work, she’s travelled for holidays, she’s travelled to visit family and friends. But coming all this way to be with one man – to discover his world, and try to find her place in it – is entirely new to her. Photos of her loved ones lay wedged in her book on his bedroom floor. She’d figured as she’d be meeting his, he’d be interested in learning about hers. She wants to tell him about her ancestral link to the island, but since arriving here they’ve hardly mentioned Utopia. Zak doesn’t seem interested in her photos, he never asks about her former life. Mia tells herself not to be upset, that they’ll catch up when he’s not so busy. ‘To everything there is a season’, as she had read on a wall in Utopia.
Mia’s padding around the apartment when she sees an envelope on the table addressed to her. She looks between the English stamp and Zak but he doesn’t notice. She recognises my sister’s neat handwriting, remembers their spat in the London café. Facing enough raw emotions, she pockets the post for later.
It takes a knock on the apartment door to break Zak away from the computer screen.
It’s Wil.
‘Hey man,’ Zak greets him.
‘Buddy!’ A quick hug, a brotherly slap on the back.
Maybe Ruth was right – they were like brothers…
‘Congrats on the gig the other night, man! You rocked!’ Wil’s enthusiasm is a breath of fresh air to the stale, static apartment. ‘Hey Mia!’ he acknowledges her in his friendly tone. ‘How ya doing?’
‘Wil,’ she says, though subdued, relieved for his welcome interruption.
‘You still okay to sign the CDs?’ Wil asks him.
‘Sure man, sure.’
‘What’s this?’ asks Mia diffidently.
Zak, typically, doesn’t answer her question. Fortunately Wil is more inclusive and forthcoming.
‘Zak’s kindly agreed to sign and donate a couple his band’s CDs for a charity event we’re putting on. We’re trying to raise funds for the shelter.’
‘Nice.’
Zak’s leaning on his desk, scribbling on the discs with a black marker.
‘Hey Mia, come along if you can. Wednesday after your shift. It’d be great to have your support.’
She and Wil hold each other’s gaze awhile, she can only imagine what he’s thinking: Poor little lost girl with nothing to do. Wil and his Good Wil intentions trying to make her feel valued, involved.
Thing is, it actually works. I’m glad of that.
* * *
It started as a play-fight but now Zak wants sex.
‘Let’s get it over with’ he says, an order not a question. Pinning her hands against the mattress, he presses his hard-on between her jean-clad legs, growls at her like an animal about to attack. Mia looks anywhere that isn’t in his eyes. Those ocean eyes could pull her into anything, they have more pull than her own intuition. More pull than me. This is one of those moments where I feel wrong being here, yet it’s right that I am. My ongoing quandary.
‘You’re like a feather,’ he growls, ‘You give me goosebumps.’ She gives him more than goose-bumps judging from the protrusion in his pants. ‘You want it, don’t you.’ Another not-question.
Of course she wants him – it’d be easy were it just a case of desire, but it isn’t.
She has so much else going on. Her readiness is only physical. Besides, this is far from how she thought her first time would be. She doesn’t know if he knows she’s never done it; it’s another thing he’s never asked her.
‘Well hey, I’m not going to force you.’ Zak releases her hands, collapsing onto her chest. She lies there staring at the ceiling. If only they could make a deal, she thinks, not to pressure each other about their own personal issues, agree they’ll just get there when they’re ready. She’s afraid to suggest it, afraid to say or do anything that might provoke his aggression – he could flip at any moment; since she’s been here he’s been so on edge. At least he has the sensitivity to back down, even if it leaves them both frustrated for very different reasons.
The evening breeze sweeps through the open window, carrying a ghost-scent of jasmine from the climbers. It takes her back to the island; she wants to share the phenomenon with Zak, but instinct and experience tell her that’d be risking ruining memories she treasures, that he’d say something shattering. In silence she lay with his rich black hair in her hands, willing the Zak from the island back into the body beside her. This place isn’t warm like Utopia, it brings out different smells in their skin; Zak smells of nothing she recognises. The dark hairs on his arms stand on end, the chill almost enough to make her get up and close the window. But she doesn’t get up, because she knows that if she does, it means leaving the place she’s huddled in his arms, arms that could only offer a false sense of security and never any promise of return.
At least Wil turning up today meant Zak finally broke away from the computer. Now she has his attention; she’s just disappointed that lying down with him seems to be the only way of getting it.
‘Wil seems like a decent guy,’ she reflects.
‘Wil’s the best. A real brother. He’s got my back.’
‘So why don’t you hang out more? Why don’t you go to the parties with all his bunch?’
