On a Sunday during mothers day, I went to Nicholas's house. I first stood fixed at the door before chiming in on the doorbell. I was holding a present, which would have been quite ok if the present I was holding was for my mother.
But unfortunately, it was not for my mum because she died a long time ago, and I never tried to keep in touch with any of my foster mothers, let alone fetch them gifts. The present was actually for Nickolas's mother.
Furthermore, this would have been extremely normal if Nickolas had been there with me, but he was not.
He had called earlier from his office to tell me that he could not make it away from his office. He asked if I would want to go alone to his house. Or would I wait for him instead? so that we can go together?
But I had chosen to go to his house rather than wait for him, and now I stood at the door wondering if I had actually made the right decision. Should a woman visit her boyfriend's mother on Mother's Day without his said boyfriend?
Perhaps I was trying too hard. And that was not the first time I had made such decisions. Human rules stymied me.
It was not as if I had been brought up in a cave before I became a werewolf, I had already memorized the basic mechanics, how to flag down a taxi, make use of an elevator, apply for an account in a bank and all the minor details of human life.
The problem I actually had was how to interact with the humans because my childhood had been pretty mucked up. Then, when I had been on the point of becoming an adult, I had been bitten and I spent the next ten years of my life with other werewolves.
Even during those years, I was growing up, I had not been shut away from the world of humans. I travelled with the others, went to the university, and even had to take on jobs.
But the humans had always been there for support, protection, and companionship.
I never had to make it on my own, and I had not needed to make friends or take lovers or go to lunch with my coworkers, so I had not. But last year, I had to cut down my relationship with the others and I came back to Montreal alone, I believed fitting in would at least be the least of my interests. How hard could it be?
I just had to take the basics that I had learned from my childhood and blend them in with the adult conversational skills that I had learned with the others. I had been making friends and chatting up new neighbors in no time.
Hah! Was it too late to go? I did not want to go. I had to take a deep breath and I rang the doorbell. Minutes later, I heard a barrage of footsteps inside the house. Then seconds later, a round-faced woman with graying brown hair replied.
"Ariana!" Elizabeth said, tossing the door open. "Mom, Ariana is here" Elizabeth screamed.
"Is Nickolas parking the car? Elizabeth asked.
"I can not believe how packed the street is, everyone is out visiting," Elizabeth added.
"Actually, Philip is not here with me, he-uh-said he had to work, but he will be coming along soon," I replied to her.
"Really? Working on a Sunday? Come on Ariana, you need to talk to him girl." Elizabeth clasped the door open. "Come in baby girl, everyone is here."
Nickolas's mother, Anne appeared from behind his sister. She was little, not even up to my chin, with a glossy iron gray pageboy.
"Still pressing the doorbell, dear?" she said and move up to hug me. "It is only the salesmen that use the bell, family steps right in."
"Nickolas will be coming home late," Elizabeth said. "He said he had to work."
Anne made a little noise in her throat and led me inside. Philip's father, Liam, was in the kitchen stealing some pastries from a tray.
"Those are for dessert," Anne said, clearing him off.
Liam welcomed me with a one-armed hug, while he was still clutching a brownie with the other hand. "So where is Nickolas?" He asked
"He is working, so he will be late," Elizabeth abruptly replied. "Let us go into the living room, Ariana. Mom had invited the neighbors, Sally and Zoe, for lunch." She lowered her voice whispering to me. "Their kids are all out south." She moved open the French doors. "Before you got here, Mom was showing the neighbors your last few articles in Focus Montreal."
"Uh-oh. Is that nice or bad?"
"Don't worry, they are loyal Liberals. They adored your stuff. Oh! here we are, Zoe and Sally, this is Ariana Williams, Nickolas's girlfriend."
"Nickolas's girlfriend....?" I paused. That always sounded unusual, not because I disputed being called a "girlfriend" instead of "partner" or anything else as implausibly politically correct.
It hit me because it had been years since I had been anyone's girlfriend. I do not like getting into relationships. For me, if the relationship had lasted till the weekend, it is considered too serious.
The only lengthy relationship that I had ever been into had been a disaster. More than a disaster it will be considered catastrophic. But Nickolas was actually different from all of them.
I met Nickolas a few weeks after I had moved back to Montreal. He had been living in an apartment a few blocks away from where I stayed.
Since our buildings shared the same property manager, therefore the tenants in his complex had entry to the health club in my building.
He had come to the pool one day after midnight and found me alone swimming laps, he had asked if I minded if he joined me, as if I had what it takes to kick him out.
Since then within the next month, we had often found ourselves alone in the health club late in the night, and each time he came, he had checked to make sure I was relaxed being alone there with him.
Eventually, I told him that the reason I was working out in the health club was to make sure I did not need to worry about being attacked by strange men and I had be defeating that very purpose if I was uncomfortable about having him there.
And That had made him laugh and he had lingered after his workout and bought me juice from the vending machine.
The moment the post-workout juice break became a tradition, he worked his way up the meal chain with a series of invitations to coffee, then to lunch and dinner too. By the time we had got around to breakfast, it was nearly six months from the day we had met in the pool.
Perhaps, that could have been part of the reason I let myself fall for him, and the fact that anyone would put that amount of time and effort into getting to know me got me flattered.
Nickolas had what it takes because he managed to woo me with all the patience of someone trying to coax a half-wild animal into the house and like many a stray, I had already found myself domesticated before I could even think of resisting.