I have to keep myself from groaning when my mum walks through the door as usual, on a Saturday night. She has somehow gotten it in her head that my attempting to kill myself once meant she had to come to me often for 'heart to heart' talks. Don't get me wrong, I love my mum, her only mistake, or mistakes is letting her heart guide her above her head. Getting pregnant for her best friend, my Dad, and living with him, falling in love with stepfather a year after Dad passed, and marrying him, they're all actions of a man easily swayed by emotions. I don't begrudge her the right to make her own choices; she's an adult. Hell, she's the 'Adult' here. I just don't think I want any advice from her, and I certainly don't want to gist my mother about how I'm sleeping my way through the male population at school because I never want to be domesticated and subdued like her.
Luckily for me, Stepfather thought therapy was a load of nonsense and I just needed to snap out of it. Which is just as well since I have no desire to give a breakdown of my fucked up life in some random shirk's office. Mum knocks once and enters my room, carrying a small red box. Her hippy mood simmers a little when she notices I'm all dressed but I pretend not to notice. "Hey Mum", I greet without taking my eyes off the mirror as I apply mascara. "You're going out?" she asks, watching me through my reflection and I nod, meeting her eyes in the mirror for a while. There's something weird about her eyes and my mind quickly runs through what it could be.
"You okay, mum?" I ask, finally dropping the brush and turning around to face her. She shrugs distractedly "Yeah, just thought you and I would get the chance to hang out for a bit and talk," she says, and she seems honestly downcast that that wouldn't be happening, I start to consider staying back. I mean, I could always text Justin that something came up but I'm losing my mind in this house. There's also the prospect of seeing my new fun thing at tonight's party, so I decide to stick to my plans. "I'm sorry Mum, Maybe some other time? I have plans"
"That's alright darling. Go on and have fun", she says and I have to ask again "Are you okay, Mum? Are you sick or something?" She shakes her head in that slow, sad manner again and stands up from my bed. She walks towards me at the dresser and hands me the red box in her hand. I wanted to give this to you. It's your father's and I just got it from your aunt Mischa yesterday. I take the box, seriously swayed to stay home now. She gives me a pat on the head and walks out of my room.
I have precious few of dad's stuff, especially since a lot of them went with the fire, so Mum knows that I cherish the few I can get. The box smells faintly of the peaches and blueberries we used to have at home all the time and another smell that I recognize as Aunt Mischa's perfume. Now that Mum mentioned her, I remember that I haven't seen her in months. When I was younger and I had just started "training" with step-dad, I used to run to her in tears and she would make me my favorite comfort meal, Tuna and macaroni and we would hang out for hours on her balcony, a cup of hot chocolate in my hand. She was my dad's youngest sister and she doted on me. My mum didn't allow it, or she would have had me living with her. The more I learned to fight back, the less I went running over there. Until I started to use other means to combat my pain, and Aunt Mischa started to become a feature of the past, of my childhood, of a time when I was wimpy and helpless.
String undone, I pull the box open and sit slowly on my bed. It's filled with pictures, pictures of me and Dad, pictures of the three of us, grinning at the camera. Pictures of me, red-faced and yelling, when I got my first mark at a year old. I can only go halfway through the pile when I close it and snap the box shut. I shove the box under my pillow and go in search of my boots with a vengeance. I need to get out before I drown.
I arrive at the party at a time that's my personal favorite, when people are starting to get shit-faced, drunk enough to mellow but not drunk enough or for long enough to start throwing up or babbling nonsense. I go in search of Justin and find him by the ping-pong table. I see his mouth open and close as he sees me coming. He probably wanted to nag me about me backing out of my promise of helping him set up. I'm sure he got my mood from my face though because he just reaches out an arm to me and draws me to him. "Hey babe", he says and we leave the others, predictably in the direction of the drinks.
I can feel his eyes on me but I stare straight ahead, nodding a greeting to the occasional person till we get to the coolers. Even though there's a communal fridge in the living room, they stopped using it for parties after someone threw up in it and they didn't find out for three days. Now everybody used a chiller for parties or drank their liquor warm.
Nice party, I say with a tilt of my head. "Seems everyone you called came up, even the ones you didn't". Justin shrugs and takes another swig of his drink from the red solo cup in his hand. What I want to know is if his roommate is here, but I can't ask that forthrightly. There's something that draws me to that nerd, and I get the same buzz that weed gives me. Justin watches me for a while before angling his head towards the stairs. "Wanna go up there?"
Do I? I think to myself for a while before shrugging. The room feels slightly cold after all that body heat downstairs and I'm slightly miffed that the first thing my eyes fall on is the framed photo next to Miles's bed. It just reminds me of the pictures in the box and I turn to Justin, more eager now than I was downstairs. Anything to take my mind off it. Maybe I'll even find something to pop tonight.
We kiss feverishly for a few minutes before we start to claw at each other's clothes, my frustration rising because all I can think of is the look on mum's face earlier this evening and the smell of the box, the smell of normalcy. I close my eyes and try to focus on the moment, to let the passion distract me and consume my mind and it works. I reach my high and Justin follows not long after. As I lay next to Justin, I want to scream out at the world. There's a bit of nausea building up in my throat as Justin slides his hand up and down my back and toward my thighs. I ignore him and get up. By the time I fumble for the switch and put on the lights, he already has his pants on, looking frustrated.
"What's up with you?" he asks and I start to shove on my clothes. "Did I say anything was wrong with me?" I say, aware of how defensive I sound. He stares at me as I slip my belt in place before he runs his hand down his face "Look, before whatever we have going on, we're friends, so you can talk to me if something is up" he says, faltering at the look on my face. I have to keep myself from laughing. Friends? The whole bunch of fuckers don't even know I'm a werewolf. I wonder what Justin's reaction would be if I just stuck out my paw right now.
Instead, I look at him and say "Wanna fuck or you wanna be my shrink, Mason? Pick a side". Without waiting for him to say anything, I head downstairs in search of my next high.