by Jada Cox
“Well, the next course is a blackberry, ricotta, and pigeon salad.”
“Pigeon? Really?” she asked, skillfully cutting her oyster as I, somewhat clumsily, fiddled with my own hors d’oeuvre with my fingers.
“Sure. You’ve never had it?”
“Is pigeon the same as squab?” Cora asked.
“I think it is. I’m actually not sure. I just know I used to hunt pigeon when I was younger. We’d roast it over a fire. This was when we were out in the woods camping, though.”
“I’ve never thought to eat it. Do you still like to go camping?”
“Oh yeah. I mean, when we were traveling, we did quite a bit of camping. A lot of times we would just find an area we liked, and instead of looking for a hotel to stay in, we’d just set up camp. It was a nice way to keep connected to nature, you know?”
“I’ve never been,” she admitted. “My parents were pretty much work-oriented. They expected me to do the same.”
“Did you and your folks ever go on family trips or anything?”
“We went to Disney World a couple of times growing up. I have an aunt who lives in Texas, and we would fly out to see her every now and then. But other than that, not really.”
“Those are fun places,” I said, mostly humoring her. Texas was a fun state: there was a lot to see there. But there had never been a part of me that wanted to go to Disney World. When I was much younger, still a kid, we had gone to Disney Land when it very first opened up, and the world had changed in such a way that I missed the old days. Back when things weren’t made out of plastic and cheap materials but were instead built to last. It was party of what I liked about traveling across the country so much. There were still remnants of the old ways of American life that lingered, places where capitalism hadn’t disturbed it much, where people just worried about getting on with their own life rather than keeping up with the Joneses.
“Do you ever want to go back to Disney World?”
Cora simpered. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’ve grown out of the magic of places like that.”
“What would be the most magical thing you could hope to see in your life?” I asked, trying to pick my words carefully. I needed to edge this into the conversation just right.
She laughed. “Do you mean if wishes and dreams could come true and fantasy were real, or do you mean something tangible in the world?”
I shrugged. “Let’s go with both.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed as she pondered, putting down her knife and fork and lining them together on the small plate. “I think that I would like to one day see the penguins in South America. I don’t know why that interests me so much, but it does.”
“What else?”
“Oh, I haven’t a clue. I don’t generally think about things that don’t exist. But, I suppose if I really had to pick some magical thing, I’d want to see a dragon.”
I almost choked but recovered quickly. It really was the perfect answer.
“What if I told you that I could bring a little magic into your life?” I asked.
“You sure think highly of yourself,” she giggled, taking another sip of bubbly.
“Actually,” I said, taking a slow breath in, “I’m being serious.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, trying to figure out what I was getting at. I couldn’t blame her. I probably sounded like a crazy person.
I took her hand across the table from me. “There’s something I need to tell you about me, and I know that it’s going to come across as strange, to say the least. But just keep an open mind through this, okay?”
“Julian, you’re beginning to worry me.”
“I’m sorry. I just want to be completely open with you, and this is something you’re going to find out sooner or later. But it’s also something that I need you to keep to yourself. You can’t tell anyone.”
Her humoring expression was turning into one of concern, and she withdrew her hand. “You didn’t make your money through tech and investments, did you? You’re involved in something illegal.”
“No, no, nothing like that,” I said. “It isn’t anything bad, I promise you. It’s just something important about me.”
Cora went for her water, and I could see her hand trembling slightly. I had really put her on her guard. If only she knew how nervous I was about telling her this.
I let out a long sigh. “There isn’t really an easy way of saying this. But there are things in this world that not many people know about, and that’s for a reason. And one of those things concerns shifters.”
“Shifters?” she asked, her face twisting in confusion. “What the hell is a shifter?”
“A shifter is a person who has the ability to change into an Animal at will.”
“Like a werewolf?”
“Kind of, but not quite. First of all, werewolves don’t exist. That’s just a myth. But there are people who can turn into Wolves. The difference is that they have control over themselves, and they can control when they shift.”
Cora laughed. “So you’re one of those weirdos who believes these things exist?” she teased. “Did you spend time at Area 51 or something?”
I knew she wasn’t being mean, that it was a joke. She thought I was joking, or at least hoped I was joking. Her face said it all.
“No, I am a shifter.”
She stopped laughing. “Oh god, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “This doesn’t change who I am, it just means that I’m a little biologically different, that’s all.”
“You actually believe this,” she said. “Oh my god. I knew you were too good to be true.”
“No, I’m not joking. I’m not delusional or insane. I honestly am a shifter. I can show you if you’d like.”
Cora looked at me hard. “You really aren’t joking? You’re being serious?”
“I swear it. This would be a pretty stupid joke, don’t you think?”
She was shaking her head as she pulled the napkin off her lap and threw it on the table. She pushed herself out of her chair using its arms. “No, no, I’m sorry. This is too much.”
“Please, Cora,” I said gently. “Sit. Hear me out.”
She leaned down so she was eye level with me and said in a whisper, “You are either crazy and believe what you’re telling me, or what you’re telling me is real, and I don’t understand anything about the world. You’re either asking me to believe you’re crazy, or that I’m crazy, and that was not what I signed up for this evening.” She straightened up and looked around, seeing if anyone would catch her wiping a tear from her eye. “I have to go.”
“Please, don’t go,” I said.
“No, I need to get out of here.”
“Let me drive you home.”
“NO,” she hissed. “No. Stay where you are. I’m going home, on my own.”
I asked the restaurant to box up the rest of the meal and paid extra for this usually unprovided service. I went home, unable to think straight, replaying the conversation like a nightmare.
I had known that it was going to be a hard conversation to have, but I didn’t think she would react that badly. But then again, she didn’t know about our entwined destinies. She was human, and as a human, she might not feel what I knew to be true. I still needed to win her over. And apparently, it had been too soon to tell her about me.
But when was the time to tell her? Could she truly reject me? If I knew that we were meant to be together, and she didn’t, did she have the power in her to go in the completely opposite direction?
I didn’t even stop to let the guys know I was back. I didn’t want to see them and let them know that not only had I had an unsuccessful date, but that I also had let someone know that we existed, and that person might not be a part of my life like I thought they would. It was a dangerous gamble. But wasn’t it the only appropriate thing to do? To tell your mate?
I went to my room and sat on my bed, not sure what to do with myself. I stood up, shaking my hands to get back some o
f the energy I was feeling out of.
I didn’t know how she’d gotten home. I assumed she’d gotten a taxi. By the time I’d gotten the food boxed up and ready to go, she’d been gone. I’d tried calling her, texting her, but she hadn’t responded.
I pulled my phone out again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything from her.
Nothing.
I opened our chat. The last thing showing was the wall of messages I had already sent her. Against my better judgement, I began composing another text.
“Please let me know you got home alright. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to talk. Please call me or text me and let me know you’re okay.”
I wanted to go over to her house, but I knew that if I did, it wouldn’t end well. While I didn’t seem to have any impulse control when it came to my phone and contacting her, I at least knew that I could stop myself from driving to her house and making things worse.
I began pacing, unable to stay still. I didn’t know what to do, and all I could think about was how badly I’d screwed things up.
What if tonight had been my chance and I’d blown it? What if I was never going to have a chance to be with her again?
Chapter 12 – Cora
I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that the guy that I had lost my virginity to was some lunatic who thought he was a—what did he call it? A shifter? I had never even heard of such a thing, and the idea sounded ridiculous.
But he seemed so smart and sound and grounded. He had had a world of adventures and had built a business. He was open to new ideas and concepts of artistic discussion. How could he be so sane yet so insane at the same time?
Unless he wasn’t. What if he was telling the truth, and that he actually was a shifter?
That idea felt so asinine to me, yet for some reason I couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be some truth to it. Hadn’t I, on some level, always hoped that there was something more to the world than what was generally accepted? Hadn’t I somewhat felt the presence of magic in the world?
No, that was just me being wishful. There was no way that something like shifters existed without people catching wind of them. The world was full of scientists who debunked this sort of fanciful stuff. They would have to have medical attention at some point if they lived in this world with us, and surely that would expose them as soon as their blood got tested?
Yet …
“Get a grip on yourself,” I said, walking back and forth in my bedroom. I was grateful that Margaret was out on her own date and that I had the apartment to myself. I didn’t want her hearing me wearing a hole in the floor as I marched around my confusion. “There are no such things as Animal people. It’s just not possible.”
Why couldn’t I shake the feeling that maybe it was possible? Was it because I felt something for Julian? Was this what hormones did to the mind? I had heard of pregnancy brain, and I knew people did crazy things for love—but believing a lunatic’s delusions was something else entirely.
I stopped pacing and sat down in the middle of the floor, aware of the stillness I had forced myself into. I became almost ridged in my positioning, feeling myself connected to the stability of my room. I could see the bed. I could see the dresser. I could see my closet. I could see the mirror on the back of my door. I could see my desk with my computer set up on it. All of these things were in front of me, and I could see them.
But everything in my room had something hidden to it. My computer, while I knew somewhat how it worked, was mostly a mystery to me. Yet, I had my whole life hidden away on there, from copies of contracts, to documents, to pictures, to portfolios, passwords—so many things in there that made up me. Wasn’t a computer some form of magic like that?
In my dresser, though it was a standard wooden, white-painted piece that I’d lugged with me all through college, concealed more aspects of me. With its contents, I could change who I was on the outside and be whoever I wanted to be with the change of an outfit. It wasn’t just the container for my clothes, but also the holder of my moods and the stories that went along with it.
Maybe he wasn’t full of BS. Maybe Julian was actually telling the truth, and I was too busy looking only on the outside. We all have the ability to transform, but maybe he just did it differently. Was that so far-fetched?
I sat for many moments, battling the logical side of my brain and trying to wedge my thoughts open to possibilities. There was so much about the world that we thought we knew to be true at one time or another, but that were proven wrong. There were plenty of times when the magical became the scientific. After all, wasn’t magic just something that science had yet to prove?
I let the stillness of the space wash over myself for an hour, thinking as calmly as I could about what Julian had told me, trying not to disturb my calm with clashing logic. I waited for the ripples of my emotion to settle into tranquility and finally decided that I was at a point where I could look at my phone.
I left my room for the living room, where I had flung my purse and dug into it.
There were six text messages from Julian and three missed calls. I knew about the calls and a couple of the texts. I had felt my phone vibrate as I was carried away in the back of the taxi, which had been conveniently loitering in anticipation of its next occupant.
I read them, trying to keep the calm that I had somehow attained in my bedroom. I could feel his panic, and I realized what hell he must be in. I had been so scared to be around him, and now he was scared, and it sounded like he was far more unnerved than I had been. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
I decided to call him.
“Cora,” he said as he answered, sounding relieved.
At the sound of his voice, I burst out into tears. What was I doing? What was all of this? The zen I had been experiencing dissolved into confused emotion. I didn’t know where these tears were coming from, or why they were there at all, but I knew that his voice had a much stronger effect on me than I had anticipated. “I’m sorry I ran out like that,” I said, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice.
“No, it’s alright,” he said. “I understand. I’m sorry I upset you. That was the last thing in the world I wanted to do.”
“You scared me,” I said. “You have to understand that what you said is a lot to take in, and—and—”
“It’s alright,” he cooed. “I’m just happy you called. Are you alright? Did you get home alright?”
I nodded, knowing he couldn’t see me, and squeaked, “Yeah.”
“Let me make this right. Can you come over?”
I paused. It was one thing hearing his voice right now, but coming over wasn’t something I knew that I could do. I was willing to talk to him, but how could I face someone when I didn’t know whether or not he was crazy?
I began to tell him that I didn’t know, that I didn’t think it was a good idea, but again, my mouth betrayed me. “I can come over,” I said.
While I was again shocked at my own body going against my directions, I was also relieved. I did want to go there. I wanted to be wrapped up in his arms and told that everything was alright. I hoped that maybe this date had even just been some strange dream and that I would wake up back in the hotel room. Maybe this whole day was just one long nightmare.
“I just want you to see for yourself. I think you’ll feel better.”
I nodded, though I didn’t want to hear any more about being shown anything. I knew that I was teetering on the edge of panic at what I was getting involved in. If he said that word again, that S-word, then I might just bolt and be gone for good. Part of me wanted to give him a chance, but there was a lot more of me that was still pretty scared.
“I’ll be there soon,” I said, then hung up the phone before he could say anything else.
What the hell was I about to do?
Julian was waiting for me in the driveway when I pulled up.
“Am I alright to leave my car here?” I asked. “I won’t be blocking anyone from getting in or out, will
I?”
“You’re fine,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Thank you for coming.”
I crossed my arms and looked down at the pavement as I approached him, nodding my response. He offered me his hand, and I looked at it. I wanted so badly to take it, but I was afraid. What if this guy turned out to be dangerous? Now I was at his place and on his grounds. If he was crazy and I took his hand, then he would have me.
But my heart urged me to take it, to feel our fingertips touch. So I did.
He interlaced his fingers with mine, and I felt a blanket of comfort wrap around me. No, he wasn’t a lunatic. I could feel it. I didn’t understand what he had been trying to tell me at the restaurant, but I knew that he wasn’t dangerous, and he wasn’t crazy.
The clouds began to part as he led me around to the side of the house, the moon lighting up the walkway. To my surprise, he wasn’t taking me into the house.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To the back of the house,” he said. “I want to show you something, but I can’t do it here, and … I don’t need the guys to be a part of this.”
There was a little walkway that went along the side of the house, which sloped steeply down before it leveled out. There was a patio in the process of being constructed that extended beyond where the level ground dipped down again. Concrete gave way to wood, which gave way to a staircase going down into the trees while another one went up to the deck on the main floor.
“This is nice,” I said. “I hadn’t really seen this part yet.”
Julian nodded. “We’re going to put planters all around here. I want to get a lattice up and have a wall of wisteria climbing up to the deck up there. Eventually, Cory wants to get a pizza oven down here as well.”
“You have the space for it,” I said. I liked listening to what he had planned for this place. He was taking a house and turning it into a home. There was something comforting in talking about normal things, things that I could relate to. He was human, in there. He was like me. He just … was confused, or something. But he wasn’t someone to be feared. I knew that now.