The Werewolf and the Human

What Did We Talk About?

“No. No. No,” I said, laughing slightly.

              “Seriously?” Bartholomew asked. I only nodded. “I have such a hard time believing that.” I looked away from him, a smile on my face. He touched my arm, and I turned to look back at him. “Maybe, I can fix that sometime.”

              “I would…”

              I didn’t get a chance to finish. Xander was storming up to us. Bartholomew straightened right away, and even I instinctively straightened myself slightly. “Sir,” Bartholomew said, looking between Xander and I.

              “Might I have a word?” Xander said, a rumble in the back of his throat.

              “Of course, sir,” Bartholomew said. Bartholomew glanced my way for a moment and smiled. The smile was forced. Something was wrong.

              I walked toward Doctor Manchester, who seemed to have barely noticed the exchange. He seemed pleasantly oblivious. I walked in front of him, and he seemed to jump slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

              He smiled. “It’s quite alright. I was just lost in thought. It happens more often when you get older.” I smiled, unsure exactly how to respond to that.? Thankfully, before I actually had to find an appropriate answer, Doctor Manchester continued. The conversation drifted to pleasantly simple. It was not something that would be remembered past a few hours, let alone a few days, months, or years, but it wasn’t really meant to do any of that. The conversation did what it was supposed to do. It calmed my mind and made the scene I had witnessed pushed to the background.

              Doctor Manchester and I kept this pleasant conversation for several minutes. I tried my best to not worry too much about anything. I for sure tried not thinking about the conversation that Xander and Bartholomew were having. It mostly worked too. I only thought about what the other two were doing in brief flashes. Why did Xander seem so angry? Had Bartholomew done something wrong? Had I made him do something wrong? Was this secretly my fault? Was I being narcissistic for thinking that it was my fault? That was the only answer I could, in fact, answer. I was.

              Eventually, the two reappeared. I tried not to notice, but I was acutely aware when they both reappeared from my kitchen. Bartholomew seemed a bit more solemn. Xander also seemed a little more solemn, and I didn’t think that was possible. No, it seemed quite impossible. Yet, those were the facts that I was coming across. Bartholomew and Xander both walked back over to Doctor Manchester and I. “Can I get you anything?” I asked when both of them were back into a comfortable position.

              Before they could answer my question, the doorbell rang. I was not ready for them to be here. Come back another day. Any other day. The problem was they were there then. They might not be there later, not that I necessarily have a problem with it. No, I could say they might never come back, and I would not be disappointed. Still, I knew I couldn’t get around it. I wanted to. I was desperate to avoid the situation.

              Still, there was nothing that could be done. It was too late for me. The decisions I had already made were coming back to me already. It was already cursing me. Still, there was nothing I could do. I had to go answer the door.

              I had to face the music. So, I took one last deep breath, said, “Excuse me,” and headed for the door.