The Wolf's Song

Team Diana

Diana.

“Dang it!” I groan as I wrap the towel around my body. My video call is going off and I know it’s the second or third time. I reach it just before its last ring but barely see the name.

“Hello?” I say, my wet hands making my grip weak at best.

“Diana, are you busy? Oh, I didn’t mean to catch you and Michael…” Martha starts, but I laugh as I toss her to the bed, drying my hands off.

“I just got out of the shower, Grandma. Oh god,” I laugh.

“I was young once too,” she starts.

“No! Grandma, please,” I gasp, my horror honest.

I don’t know why we are always shocked to hear that our grandparents used to get busy when clearly our parents came from them, but the images of a young Martha doing what Michael and I…ahhh. Stop it, Diana! Martha laughs and waves me off. I put her on the dresser stand as I move out of view to get dressed.

“So, what’s up?” I ask.

I haven’t been over as much, but I do try to check in. She is the reason I’m even in Germany after all. I like to remind her that I do remember that fact from time to time. She inhales deeply and I know to prepare myself for bad news. Ugh, I just washed all that bad news talk away; I wasn’t ready to get dirty from it again.

“Your mom called me,” she sighs.

“Here we go. Grandma, I can’t talk about this anymore, my mind is already torn enough as it is. My mother wants me home and safe; Michael wants me safe, meaning I’ll have to go home. I want Michael and a life with him, but I am torn about my life at home not fitting in with the life I want him. I just can’t not keep going back and forth with this.” I vomit the words at her.

I know she’s not the one I should be snapping at, but if she too wants to send me away, it’s just another voice in my head adding to the confusion.

“Actually, I think you belong here,” she says.

“See, even you want me to leave, no one is even trying to figure out how I can—wait, what did you say?” I ask when the answer she gave conflicts with the one I was expecting.

“I think you should stay. Bamberg is unlike any place, and I believe you will find your home here, if you hadn’t already,” Martha explains.

I grab my phone and drop to the bed. I was not expecting that, but again, she has always been the most honest about the goings-on here.

“Are you serious?” I hear myself asking.

“Oh Diana, you and your mother are different. Love her, but your strength is why you belong here. Michael will behave like any man in love. It’s easier to leave himself, like your father did, or to send you away--anything that will ensure your safety. But what they both fail to admit is that separation does not make one stronger. A violin would not sound the same with only one string,” Martha says.

Her words reachme so deeply; my eyes water. Stronger together.

“Grandma speak plainly, what are you saying? He has promised to come get me, if I have to leave. We’ve even talked about turning me, but that’s impossible right?” I fumble out, my words and the faint hope of staying throwing me off guard. I truly thought I would be alone in my endeavors to stay. Finding an alley has renewed me, even if I’m shaken by it.

“Turning hurts Diana, and if there is one thing that Michael refuses to do, is cause you pain or hurt you. But you must show him, show him your strength, for he will think he has to be it. You are your own power, Diana,” she nods at me, trying to drive her words into me, and I feel them.

I think back to my training, and I start to see what she means. I am not weak or powerless.

“But how do I convince him? I’ve seen his wolf, I know he is strong, but if he’s worried shouldn’t I be?” I ask, being my own devil’s advocate.

“Worry and alert can coexist. When one is worried, they are twice as watchful. But of course, if leaving is what you think is best, then that is what you should do.”

Martha shrugs her shoulders, and a part of me wishes I could shake her for messing with my head. I sigh again, and glance at the door.

“Hold on,” I say before dipping off the bed and going to the door.

I slowly turn the knob and pull it back, poking my head out. No Michael. I return and pull the phone close to me.

“I want to stay here, but maybe I can go back and tidy up my life back home. I can say goodbye to my mother, maybe move my college courses online. I don’t know. I think I have to go, but not stay. I like it here and not just for Michael. I’ve made friends, getting to know you has been a delight, it’s beautiful. I can see myself here, even with all the dangers and the wolves,” I laugh, and her smile is reassuring.

“Well, whatever you decide, know you have my support,” she says.

I needed to hear that, actually I needed to be around someone like her.

“Grandma, I think I might come back tonight. I miss you, and I could use some help on trying to convince Michael about me having a life here,” I say.

She perks up and it makes me happy to see. I really do love her. Being around her has been an almost spiritual cleansing.

“Wonderful, I’ve had something I wanted to discuss with you as well. Take the day, I’ll see you tonight,” she smiles at me and waves, leaving me in suspense.

I toss my phone to the bed and lay against the headboard, my mind racing with everything I would have to do before heading back and everything for coming back. The list seemed endless, but I know I’m making the right choice in returning.

Telling Michael will be a different story, but once I’m back, maybe we can talk about turning me. I hadn’t really given it much thought, but it would make things easier. I wonder if I could sneak away and speak to Francis’ wife. I hadn’t met her yet, but surely, she’d put the question to her husband, or is she the only crazy one willing to give up her mortal life for love?

“Diana, food is done!” Michael yells up.

I’m thankful for the distraction as I can feel the questions, stress and worry returning. I longed for the days when I would roll over and not have my mind crammed with impossible choices. To stay or not to stay. It sounds easy--but seeing as I’ve been going back and forth with it for the past two weeks at least, maybe not.

I hop down the stairs and find Michael in joggers and his cute cooking apron. He wears it for me, as I die laughing every time I see it. He models it off for me as I fully enter.

“Work it baby,” I laugh, pretending to throw dollar bills at him.

“Those better me hundreds,” he teases and hands me a plate with smothered pork chops with roasted onions and mushrooms.

I roll my eyes and eagerly receive the food, plus the wine he turned to grab as well.Yeah, no matter what, I’m finding my way back home to him, because a girl could get used to this. He joins me and thankfully our conversation is light and just like before, we slip into an easy normal.