by Chase Connor
It was difficult, but I kept myself from informing him that in Northern and Western India if you ate with your hands, they might tell you that you “ate like a Bengali,” which was not a compliment, and that not all Indians ate with their hands. In fact, a lot of Indians regarded guests in their homes and at their table as higher than God. If cutlery was asked for, and it was available, it would be provided—no questions or comments. Additionally, it was quite common for restaurants, hotels, and upper-middle class homes in India to have tables and chairs for those who were dining.
When he gave me a lecture about how samosas were his favorite Indian pastries and how they had originated there, I had to hold my tongue again. Then he talked at length about how most Indian foods were highly seasoned but rarely had enough spiciness for him, I was tempted to “accidentally” kick his shin under the table. God, he was arrogant. And he knew the effect his looks and charisma had on other diners at other tables. I wanted to throw my water in his face. But I also found him very attractive and desirable, so there was an epic battle between good and evil going on inside my head. He seemed to put off some type of pheromone that made me want to drag him across the table and have angry sex with him right there. However, he was just arrogant enough that I wanted to throw my water in his face more than I wanted to fuck him.
After we had ordered—Andrew opting for Chicken Tikka (Northern India) and I opted for Bhindi Masala, also from Northern India—Andrew asked if I ever managed to travel much. Feigning ignorance, I told him that I didn’t get to travel much and wished I could travel more. The second part was true, so I didn’t feel too bad about the first part being a lie. Then I was treated to a lecture about how travel was the best education. He asked where I went to college. I told him I hadn’t. He asked what I did for a living. I told him that right now I was between jobs. At first, I wanted to be embarrassed at my answers to his questions but realized that maybe sounding like a roustabout would make him less interested in dating me.
Unfortunately, it didn’t.
Sounding like I was uneducated, not worldly at all, and unable to find gainful employment just made me a prime target for his arrogant belief that he was better than me in almost every way and needed to educate me. If it made the date easier, I was willing to have him believe that I was just some country bumpkin. However, when he told me that he really wanted to travel more because racism was almost solely an American problem—I wanted to hit him. For someone, who racism was obviously a very prominent issue, I thought it was so ignorant to not be aware of racism and ethnic cleansing and classism in other countries. Even people who looked similar to others in a country might commit acts of war and genocide over preconceived superiority.
I kept my mouth shut.
“So, what do you think you’ll do, once you go back to work?” Andrew asked as he struggled to pull some Chicken Tikka off of its skewer with some Naan and shove it into his mouth. “Surely you have something in mind?”
I shrugged, using my spoon to scoop up some of my food.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I’m not so sure what I want to do next. If at all.”
“Well, we all have to have money to survive, right?” He smiled at me, his thumb covered in sauce. “You can’t just sit at home and live off of your savings forever.”
I replied with a shrug again.
“You’re not very forthcoming.” He chuckled.
Another spoonful of Bhindi Masala was shoved in my mouth.
“Would you like some of my food?” I smiled simply. “It’s really good.”
“Thank you.” He smiled and reached over with a piece of Naan to scoop some up, performing the action poorly.
I sipped my water, watching as he stuffed the entire bite in his mouth. I waited. His eyes grew wide, and he brought a hand to his mouth as the spiciness of the Bhindi Masala made itself known.
“Good, right?” I sat back in my seat and smiled sweetly.
“It’s—it’s very good.” He coughed and reached for his water.
That simple act of douchebaggery on my part made me feel like a complete, well, douchebag. I decided to remind myself that I didn’t want to be on this date anyway and I had only done it to be nice to Oma. It wouldn’t hurt me to be nice and just suck it up for a few hours.
“So,” I asked, picking up my spoon, “where do you hail from?”
“I live in Point Worth…”
“Did you grow up there?” I asked, shoving more food into my mouth. “I was born and reared there.”
“Well, no.” He coughed again and looked down, paying an inordinate amount of attention to his plate. “I grew up in upstate New York.”
“Any more north than Utica and you may as well call yourself a hillbilly.” I teased, bringing food to my mouth.
His eyes lit up with a smile.
“Around Adirondack State Park.” He said vaguely. “I moved to Athens here in Ohio to go to the university…then I found my way to Point Worth.”
“That’s strange, right?” I was egging him on but trying not to. “I mean, Point Worth of all places. Who wants to move here if they haven’t already lived here before?”
He took a page from my book and shrugged.
“Of course, it is cheaper to live in Point Worth and work in Cleveland or Toledo.” I continued. “You can get a much nicer place in Point Worth for not even half the money you’d spend in Cleveland, right?”
He nodded.
I got the distinct impression that this line of questioning was something that he wanted to avoid at all costs. That made me want to ask more questions, simply because it would make him squirm. But I managed, somehow, to keep myself from following my instinct to behave like a complete asshole. I continued to eat my food as Andrew took a few moments to collect himself.
“So…Esther Jean says that you don’t date much?” He asked, pulling another piece of Naan off of his plate. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I’ve been too busy,” I replied with the truth, realized how it sounded, and corrected myself. “You know, trying to figure out what I’m going to do with my life and all.”
“Well, I figured it was a conscious choice on your part.” That hungry, lascivious look he had shown at the center was back.
He was practically eye-fucking me.
I literally had to press my lips together to keep from saying something.
“Do you date a lot?” I asked simply, quickly shoving food into my mouth.
“I suppose so.” He nodded with a grin. “I mean, I do okay.”
Rolling my eyes was not beneath me, but I didn’t do it.
“Well, that’s good,” I stated simply.
“What are you looking for?” He grinned evilly at me.
I stared at him, collecting myself so that I wouldn’t say something mean to him. Something like “you are incredibly sexy, but I’d rather punch you than fuck you, to be honest.”
“Something long-term,” I stated evenly. “A decent guy. Who is kind. Moral. Funny. Educated and well-traveled.”
He smiled arrogantly.
“Nothing casual.” I finished. “Ever.”
“Well, serious long-term relationships can be good.”
“They’re the only kind I like.” I nodded.
“I can see that you’re interested in me.” He smirked arrogantly down his nose at me. “And you want to start something serious…”
“Actually,” I stopped him, “I find you insufferable, Andrew. You don’t know the difference between dining etiquette in South and East India from North and West India but act like you do. You like generalizations. You aren’t aware that tables and chairs are quite common in many areas of India. Or that a lot of the food in India can be quite spicy. Or that racism and ethnic genocide and cleansing occurs worldwide. Especially in the most ethnic countries in the world. Or that having a college degree doesn’t make you an expert on hardly anything. You are absolutely insufferable. And eye-fucking me every chance you get is not the best way
to ingratiate yourself to me. I don’t know if you assumed that I’m just some wild and crazy sex maniac who is staying with Oma because he’s down on his luck…or what…but I would love to hit you.”
“Or fuck me.” He leaned in, completely unfazed.
Maybe both. I found myself thinking.
“God, I despise you,” I stated simply and sat back.
“That can lead to some fun.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Does this work?” I gestured vaguely at him. “Do guys see this confidence and arrogance and assume things about your virility and stamina? Or is this just who you are? Because, hard pass, Andrew.”
“We don’t have to get along to date.” He was not letting up.
“We have to get along to keep me from slashing your tires and getting an Uber home.” I snapped.
“An Uber back to Point Worth would be incredibly expensive.”
“I’d use all my savings if I had to,” I replied flippantly.
“Nah.” He shook his head, bringing more food to his mouth. “I think you actually enjoy hating me. Most guys do.”
“What does that even mean?” I rolled my eyes.
My mouth was getting ahead of me, but I just couldn’t tolerate any more of this evening with the world’s rudest financial manager. The evening hadn’t started out bad, but it was quickly digressing into me wanting to flip the table like an entitled housewife from a certain T.V. channel. Of course, drawing extra attention to myself was always a bad idea. Calling an Uber was definitely not the worst idea that I had ever had. If riding a half-hour back to Point Worth meant that I’d have to be alone with Andrew, I was willing to spend more money.
“A lot of guys don’t really care to date me, but they don’t mind dating me.” He smirked.
“You’re disgusting.” I spat.
“You’re intoxicating.” He actually sniffed the air.
“Are all of your synapses firing properly or what?” I snarled lowly, trying to keep things discreet. “And did you just sniff at me?”
“You smell like cinnamon and citrus and something…spicy.” He seemed almost drunk on whatever it was he was feeling. “You smell absolutely delicious, Rob.”
“And you smell like Backpage.” I snapped.
“I want you.” He leaned in with a snarl, his eyes ferocious, his teeth showing.
He looked deranged. I frowned deeply and sat back, putting as much distance between us as possible. Just as suddenly as he had seemed to become possessed by his overactive hormones, Andrew shook his head, and a look came over his face as though he couldn’t remember what was going on. He looked around slowly, taking in the restaurant, the other diners, the tabletop, me. Then he looked chastened, and his eyes were on his plate again. My frown deepened even more as I just stared at him with disdain, but also concern. Concern for my safety and concern for his mental health.
Was everyone in this freaking state crazy as shit?
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head.
“What is wrong with you?” I snarled lowly again.
“It’s…it’s a bad time of the month for me.” He said.
“Like, you’re on your period or something?” I snorted hatefully.
He chuckled nervously.
“Maybe we should go?” He said. “I should get you home.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said all night.” I tossed my napkin next to my plate as I stared blankly at him.
Andrew motioned for our waiter, and I had my credit card out and was shoving it in his hand as soon as he approached our table. Objections were made by Andrew, but I told the waiter to just hurry and bring back the receipt for me to sign as I glared at Andrew. I didn’t bother trying to make conversation with my dinner companion as we waited, choosing to just glare at him the entire time instead. Once the waiter returned with my card, I signed the check quickly and rose from the table, thanked the waiter, and made for the exit.
I was out of the door before Andrew could even get out of his seat, but he was next to me at the valet station soon enough. When the valet came with the car, Andrew tipped him, and we both got into the car in silence. I folded my arms over my chest and stared blankly through the windshield as Andrew drove us away from Toledo. The sun was below the horizon as we left the city behind, on our way to Point Worth. I just wanted to be out of the car, back at Oma’s house, telling her to never set me up with anyone ever again.
Regardless, I also had a niggling feeling that maybe I was still being unfair to Andrew—and I had no idea why I would feel such a way. The man had been nothing but a bore, arrogant, and sexually aggressive all night long. Maybe not all at once, but he had hit all of the checks on a list that would be titled “Stay Far Away from This Guy.” Twilight started to settle in as we drove the mostly deserted highway back towards home. Andrew seemed to get tenser by the moment as we rode in silence, trying to ignore each other. His hands were clenching the steering wheel as he drove and I was getting more and more worried about my own safety as the seconds ticked by.
A few miles outside of Point Worth, where there was nothing on either side of the road except trees and fields, Andrew jerkily pulled the car to the side of the road. I clenched my teeth together as he put the car into park, wondering if I should just open my door and take off on foot. Whatever Andrew had in mind, pulling the car to the side of the road, I knew I was not in the mood for it. Whether it was to talk, argue, or apologize, I was done with this date and with Andrew himself.
“You really should reconsider your feelings about me.” He turned to leer at me, his voice throaty and hoarse.
“You should really drive this car to Oma’s house.” I didn’t keep my eyes on him, I was afraid of what I’d say or do if I did.
“I can really be quite nice.” He reached over, his hand reaching for my knee. “If you let me.”
I shoved his hand away violently, reaching for my seatbelt.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I growled at him angrily.
“You know you want me.” His hand was reaching for me again.
Swatting his hand away, I turned my hand to glare at him as I violently unbuckled my seatbelt. Andrew’s face was distorted in some kind of sexually depraved stalker fashion, looking as if he would launch himself at me at any moment. For once in the evening, I was beginning to truly feel unsafe. This man was nowhere near as sweet and kind as Oma had wanted to believe. My mind flashed back to earlier in the day when Oma had shown concern about me actually going out with Andrew once the day had arrived.
I looked around quickly—only fields to the right and woods to the left. There were no other cars in sight, and it was entirely possible that Andrew had chosen to pull over at this place in the road for that exact reason. Why the Hell did this lunatic think that I wanted anything to do with him? Especially after such a disastrous dinner date? His mood flip-flopped back and forth so much—from arrogant, to tacit, to pervy, to quiet, to sexually aggressive. He was absolutely insane. Dark was falling quickly. I had to make a decision about how I was going to handle this. If I was going to walk the last few miles to Oma’s, I needed to take off.
“You are an absolute asshole.” I snarled at Andrew as his hand shot out at my leg again.
I attempted to swat his hand away again, but it was like trying to swat away a wrecking ball. Andrew was stronger than he had let on and his hand grabbed ahold of my knee as he leered at me. My hand reached for the door handle as I kept swatting at his hand and he leaned closer and closer, smiling wickedly, his eyes looking more and more crazed. Andrew ripped his seatbelt off and started to climb out of his seat towards me. With no other option, I let go of the door handle, reeled back, and punched out as hard as I could.
My hand connected with his eye and his head snapped back, bouncing off of the glass of his door window. I grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open violently, kicking at it with my foot. Leaping out of my seat, I exited Andrew’s car, putting my feet upon the ground and feeling a lot safer all of a sudden
. I turned on my heels and looked at a deranged Andrew collecting himself angrily in his seat.
“Fucking pig!” I bellowed at him and slammed my door.
The glass in the window spiderwebbed at the force of the slam.
Quickly, I began walking in the direction of Point Worth. I heard Andrew’s door open, but I ignored it.
“Get back here, you fucking cocktease!” I jumped at the sound of Andrew’s voice.
It sounded deeper, feral, crazed. Instead of heeding my instincts and continuing to walk in the direction of Point Worth, I turned around to scream back. I wanted to tell him one last time that he was a “fucking pig” and he should have his ass kicked for the way he had behaved. However, when I turned around, I didn’t see Andrew the “fucking pig.” Andrew didn’t look like a pig at all. His face looked more wolfish…very wolfish.
Chapter 12
“Get…back…over…here!” Andrew took jerky steps towards me, his face twisting, his jaw seeming to stretch out.
“What the fuck…?” I whispered to myself, completely terrified.
Andrew moved jerkily towards me, his whole body jerking and twisting as he tried to close the distance between us as I stumbled backward to get further away. Absolutely terrified at what was happening before my very eyes, I jumped as Andrew leaned back and…howled at the sky. I looked over my shoulder. The full moon was beginning to show in the almost dark sky. Something deep inside of me told me an absurd, but obviously absolute truth, and I turned my head back to look at…Andrew?
The “person” before me dropped to his hands and knees in front of the car on the side of the road and howled viscerally as its body jerked and twisted. The face of this thing elongated, its hair began to grow longer, the seams of its clothes began to split, its body grew larger in front of my eyes. Hands and feet gave away to paws as shoes and clothes fell away. Andrew no longer looked like Andrew, but instead, he looked like a giant wolf. I was sputtering and mumbling to myself, still backing away as this thing that had been Andrew, but was now a wolf, started panting, shaking off the pain and agony of its transition from human to…other.