40. Making Friends

Laura - The house in the suburbs
The first rays of the sun find me on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The carpet is fluffy and has the typical scent of old things. I can’t imagine how hard it was for Paul to find all these things for the house. But I guess he simply delegated someone to do it for him.
I stand and look around. No, that’s not it. Everything falls into place in a natural, human-like way, not as a designer would envision it. Somehow, I bet he had personally overseen the renovation.
My eyes stop over the backrest of the chair in the corner. Paul’s jacket is leisurely draped over it, a reminder that he was here last night. How can a person be both warm and cold at the same time? Do I have the strength to want to find out?
The jacket compels me to go at it. At first, I just brush the soft material with my fingertips, not wanting to wrinkle it. But why would I care about a damn jacket that he left behind? I yank it from the chair and crawl onto the couch with it in my arms.
I sit on the cushion, hugging the garment against my chest. The warmth of it is familiar, and I breathe in its scent. The fabric smells like Paul. I can almost hear his voice, see his face in front of me.
As his familiar scent embraces me back, an idea takes root in my mind. What if I go to his place to bring the jacket back? Nothing’s wrong with that, right?
No, I should just stay here and read a book. The world of words always serves as an outlet, a sanctuary for me. A single sentence has the potential to transport me to a place where the sun always sets in a symphony of soft shades, and my feet don’t have to stay rooted to the ground. Sadness entrenches in my chest. Paul's kisses uproot me even more than the books.
As soon as I get off the sofa, I make a choice. I take my bag, put on my sneakers, and go out the door. I step outdoors, the jacket lying on my bent elbow. I begin by taking a glance up and down the street. Sighing in relief because I don't see Dan, I start my morning hike.
With a strolling pace, I should arrive at the villa in about an hour and a half, a bit too long and enough for my mind to go back on the decision several times over.
Why do I waste my time on someone who only wants me around when it fits his needs? I huff more audibly than I like since people start looking at me on the street. Well, I have nothing better to do with my eternity.
As I get closer to Paul's house, I clasp his jacket harder to my chest. I'm not sure what I'll say, so I'll have to wing it based on what he does when he sees me.
I nod and smile at the wolf at the gate. He lets me through right away, most likely because he hasn't been notified that I no longer reside here.
Complete silence inside the villa, no one in sight. But an enticing smell comes from the kitchen. As I don't eat much more than to keep up appearances, I have never been there before. I have never been invited to a meal here because everyone knows what I am.
I let Paul’s jacket fall over a seat in the living room and push open the kitchen door. To my surprise, the cooks aren’t there, just the girl from the gathering who sniffed me to determine I’m not a wolf.
“Hi!” I say with a smile.
"Hello," she says as she hastily wipes her hands with her apron. "I had no idea anybody was at home right now. I hope I didn't create too much of a fuss. I'm still getting acclimated to this kitchen."
“Oh, no, I’ve just arrived. What are you cooking? It smells delicious!”
"A few appetizers and steak for tomorrow night. It’s best to have the wolves all fed up before the shift, or else the rabbit and deer population would suffer greatly." She giggles. "By the way, I don’t know if I have ever introduced myself before. I’m Maria."
“I’m Laura.”
We shake hands, and she returns to her pots.
She's a really easygoing person, which shocks me. Except for Paul, no wolf has ever welcomed me so warmly. Dan and I communicate a lot these days, but it took a while of suspicious looks and brief yes-or-no discussions before that happened.
“May I help?”
“Sure. Can you mince the garlic?” She covers her mouth with a hand. “Oh, sorry, let me find something else for you to do.”
“Why?” I ask with a garlic knot already in my hand.
Maria looks at me with wide eyes. “Do you mean you’re not afraid of garlic?”
With her innocent face and the look of amazement in her eyes, her question makes me chuckle. "This is to ward off evil spirits. But I haven't seen one yet."
"Ok, then." She beams happily, knowing that she didn’t make a blunder. "You can proceed with the garlic."
When we finish the dishes, Maria doesn’t bother to make them look good or carefully place them on platters like in a restaurant. She tosses everything in casseroles.
"I understand that flavor is more important than appearance. But if you want, I can help you arrange them a little."
Maria locks the cover of the last casserole. “It's not like I'm cooking for a large party for company executives with catering and required formal attire. It's more like a family gathering before the full moon rises and we shift.”
After a brief pause, she inquires, "Will you be at the meeting grounds tomorrow night? Given that you're Paul's mate, no one would say no. Oh, and from what I've heard, he's visiting his father. He'll most likely meet us there. If you like, you may accompany me. I have space in my car."
“Yes, of course, I’ll be thrilled to come.”
I mean, a pack of wolves during a full moon and a strigoi. What can go wrong?