She Named Me Wolf

by Tenkara Smart

  “He’s going to kill me,” Wolf muttered.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, slipping her light-as-air hand into his. “Let’s play something and try not to think about it. Knucklebones?”

  “I don’t feel like it, Polly.”

  “Please, Wolf. Let’s try to think about something else, okay?” she begged.

  Wolf sighed then stood up. He opened the side drawer of his desk and grabbed five ivory- coloured pieces of plastic that mimicked sheep’s knucklebones. He sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of Polly and tossed the plastic knucklebones up in the air, and Polly stuck out her hand, trying to catch them on the downfall, but as she closed her fingers around them, they cut straight through her palm, landing on the rug. One side of Wolf’s mouth curved up slightly.

  “Toss them again,” she said, her eyes glued to the knucklebones strewn on the carpet.

  Wolf collected them in his fist and threw them up again. Polly tried to catch them for a second time, but they passed through her hand, landing on the carpet. This time, they both giggled.

  Eventually, their thoughts left the broken lamp and they focused on the game. Hours later, after the sun had set, his mother opened the door and saw Wolf laying on his side on the floor, holding the knucklebones in his open palm.

  “Wolf, tell me the truth; you broke the lamp.”

  “But I really didn’t do it, Mum. I swear,” he implored.

  “I am so surprised by your behavior, young man. You won’t get dinner tonight. You think about what you’ve done, and when you’re ready to tell me the truth, you can come out of your room and apologise. Until then, you stay put,” she finished, her index finger raised.

  After she left, Wolf and Polly moved to his bed to read from his book about crocodiles. Around nine p.m., Orville moseyed into the room, ready to sleep. He flicked off the light switch, making it too dark for Wolf and Polly to see the words and pictures in his books, so Wolf got up, brushed his teeth, changed into his pyjamas, and crawled back into his bed, hungry because he had no dinner and anxious because his dad still hadn’t come home.

  In his bed, Polly and Wolf curled their fingers together, staring at the ceiling until at least two hours had passed, and they finally heard the hum of a car engine coming up the road.

  “Oh, Polly, he’s here,” whimpered Wolf, his throat tightening, stifling the airflow to his lungs. He squeezed Polly’s hand, trying to steady his breathing as he listened to his father's car pull into the driveway. Wolf heard the engine on the Holden turn off, the sound of the car door open and close, and then his father's footsteps as he entered the kitchen.

  “Lizzie, get me dinner,” he commanded.

  Orville turned on his side in the bottom bunk and pulled the sheets up over his head, enclosing himself in a cocoon of cotton. Wolf panted softly, thinking that he sounded a bit like his dog Carla when she was anxious.

  “I feel so bad. I’m sorry I got you in this mess,” Polly sighed.

  Wolf listened to the sound of his mother dropping a plate onto the countertop of the breakfast bar, and he heard his father’s knife and fork screeching the surface of the ceramic as he ate. After a few minutes, the noise of cutlery stopped. Then, Wolf heard his father pour himself a glass of brandy before walking down the hall. Luckily for Wolf, his father entered his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

  “Phew. He’s gone to bed. Maybe he won’t see the lamp tonight,” Wolf whispered to Polly, the tips of his fingers touching the center of his chest. “If he doesn’t see it now, it won’t be so bad tomorrow because he won’t be drunk.”

  As he finished his sentence, his parent’s bedroom door reopened, and he heard his dad marching down the hallway towards the loungeroom. Wolf listened as he flipped on the light switch, and then there was silence.

  Wolf held his breath.

  “Goddamnit!” His father’s words echoed through the house.

  Mum left her bedroom, walking in quick, short steps to the loungeroom, and Wolf heard her speaking quietly. “George, it was an accident. Sometimes things get broken. He didn’t mean to do it,” she said.

  “Like hell he didn’t. This kid’s been trouble since the day he was born.”

  “George, please,” she urged. “At least wait until tomorrow.”

  “I need to take care of this now. That was my lamp,” his father replied, his words slowed by alcohol.

  “George,” his mum said.

  “What?” his dad growled.

  His mother was silent.

  “Choose your words carefully, Lizzie.”

  There was no response from his mum as his dad turned and marched down the hall, his feet thumping as they hit the carpet.

  His father threw open the door to the boys room. Wolf lay in his bed, his bedsheet clenched between his teeth, and his dad ripped off the sheet and grabbed Wolf by the front of his pyjamas, pulling him over the bunk bed railing and onto the carpet. “You broke my lamp, you little shit,” his dad said, holding a coiled, leather belt in his hand.

  “I d-d-d-didn’t do it. It w-wa-was-wasn’t me!” he appealed, standing obediently in front of his father with his arms stiff at his sides.

  His dad hit Wolf’s right ear with the palm of his hand, causing a high-pitch ring in Wolf’s eardrum, then said, “Turn around.”

  Wolf tried not to cry, suffocating his tears as he pleaded, “Bu-but Dad, I-I did-didn’t do it, I swear!”

  “Turn around!” his father roared.

  As Wolf turned to face the wall, Polly became blinding white and started swinging her arms and kicking her legs next to where his father stood. His dad turned in her direction and, for a brief moment, his confused expression made Wolf think he could see the ghost, but his father shook his head and looked back to where Wolf stood, uncurling the leather belt. As his dad pulled back his arm, preparing to snap the strap on Wolf’s backside, Polly positioned herself between Wolf and his father as the belt came down, her eyes the colour of burning red coals. The leather cut through Polly’s belly and landed sharply across Wolf’s hamstrings. Wolf whimpered as his father whipped his back, butt, and legs, and the whole time, Polly never moved, trying desperately to use her energy to create a defensive barrier as the strap cut through her. The ghost even attempted to catch the belt with her hand, but, as with the knucklebones, the leather band passed right through her hand like a sword cutting air.

  After multiple, stinging hits, as Wolf’s skin burned and began to welt beneath his cotton pyjamas, his dad cracked the belt one more time and stopped. Without being told, Wolf turned and walked silently to the box, his shoulders limp. He opened the cedar chest, got in and lay down, closing the hinged lid above him.

  Just after his father left the room, shutting the bedroom door, Polly came into the box and hugged Wolf. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

  Wolf said nothing for over an hour, curled up on his side as Polly held him in her arms. With a defeated look on his face, his back and legs flaming hot, he got out of the box and crawled up to his bed with Polly clinging to his neck. He tried to lay on his back, but it hurt too much, so he turned onto his side, faced the wall, and cried softly. Polly cradled him from behind and wept with him, and Wolf thought of how hard it was going to be for him to sit in his chair at school tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Wolf filled the bathtub, squeezing bubble bath under the tap before tossing in his plastic Aquaman action figure and a plastic shark. He stepped in, submerging his long, thin body in the soapy water, and felt a stinging sensation on the welts where his father had lashed him the night before. He took deep breaths in and out like Master Kelly had taught him, and as he relaxed, he heard a familiar voice speaking to him.

  “What Aquaman? There’s a noah?”

  The superhero was dressed in his signature green leggings, orange shirt, black briefs, and a thick yellow belt, and he kicked his feet below the bathwater to stay afloat while holding a golden trident in his right hand.

  “I’ll get the troops!�
�� Wolf declared.

  Wolf stretched his skinny arm over the edge of the tub and grabbed a handful of small, plastic army men from a bucket, dumping them into the water. The six, dark green soldiers lay sideways, bobbing like pieces of driftwood as they waited for their commands. Wolf cupped his left palm at his ear and held his right fist to his lips. “Men listen up. There is a shark. I repeat; there is a big shark in the water. Code five alert! Code five alert!” he said loudly. “And guys, this is a man-eater, so be vig…vigal…um, be careful. This is not a drill. I repeat; this is not a drill.”

  The troop of plastic soldiers started breathing, wiggling the platforms stuck to their feet to stay afloat while communicating with each other via hand signals. Aquaman used his powerful legs and launched his body out of the bathwater and onto the metal faucet for a better view just as Wolf reached over the tub’s edge and clamped two plastic helicopters in his fingers, his touch causing their blades to whirl faster and faster until they were ready to take off.

  The choppers drifted upwards and flew to the water-filled tub, swaying back and forth like flies in a windstorm. Hovering above the bathwater, the pilots lowered ropes to the six soldiers bobbing on the surface, and the men tied the ropes around their waists then waved. When the pilots received the signal, they extracted the soldiers from the water, flying them over the edge of the tub.

  Away from the bathtub, the soldiers untied themselves and dropped to the linoleum floor. They geared up in bright yellow scuba vests, tanks, masks, and snorkels and reattached the ropes, again signaling to the pilots that they were ready to return to the watery battlefield. Aquaman saw the army men returning and dove back into the water, undulating his hips as he swam to the bottom. The soldiers untied the ropes in midair and dropped straight down into the water, descending towards Aquaman who was now standing upright on the bottom of the tub with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed. The soldiers became neutrally buoyant in their scuba gear, awaiting Aquaman’s instructions as air bubbles from their regulators drifted up to the water’s surface.

  With Aquaman’s powerful sonar, sound waves penetrated the soldiers plastic helmets and echoed in their heads, communicating his instructions. Per his direction, the soldiers swam away as Aquaman slammed his trident on the bottom of the tub, forcing a massive wave of invisible energy that caused ripples on the bathwater’s surface.

  Suddenly, the great white shark that had been lurking in the water’s depths shot upwards, launching its massive, grey body out of the bathwater and onto the tiled wall. Its pectoral fins and belly suctioned the tiles, holding the fish vertical, and the shark used its fins and powerful tail to shimmy up the tiled wall.

  Wolf knew his fighters needed more support, so he grabbed more army men from the bucket, yelling to the helicopter pilots, “I need those choppers now!”

  The two helicopters flew towards Wolf. They lowered transport ropes to the fresh troop of plastic soldiers still cupped in Wolf’s hand, and the six fighters came to life, grabbing the helicopter lines and knotting the ropes around their waist. Once the ropes were secure, both choppers flew towards the shark who was still climbing up the tiled wall. When the helicopters were within a few feet, the aircraft made a sharp, ninety-degree turn and launched the dangling soldiers through the air, putting them on a perfect trajectory to punch the shark in the center of its head, right above its mouth. After the soldiers struck the shark in its snout, the helicopter pilots flew the fighters to the shark’s caudal fin, hovering the men close enough so that they could land on its back and take hold of the thorn-like denticles that covered the fin’s surface. The helicopters began flying away from each other, the soldiers pulling on the shark’s skin and loosening the fish from the wall.

  Under the water, Aquaman lifted his trident and pointed the forked end at the great white. He paralyzed the fish with powerful vibrations, causing it to fall backwards into the tub where it landed with a splash before sinking to the bottom. Wolf tossed the shark out of the water, its wet body skidding across the floor and hitting the wall below the sink before stopping dead. As Aquaman raised his trident in victory, the men cheering and clapping, the celebration came to an abrupt halt.

  “Wolf, out of the tub. Time for bed,” his mother said through the closed bathroom door.

  Aquaman and the others went completely still, floating lifelessly in the water. Wolf got out, dried off, put on his red pyjamas, and pulled his toys from the tub, using his white, terry cloth towel to dry them before placing them back in the bucket.

  “Goodnight, Mum,” he yelled as he went to his room.

  “Sleep tight, son,” she replied from the loungeroom.

  After hours of sleeping soundly in his bunk, he heard the metallic ringing from the phone hanging on the kitchen wall, and his mother’s hushed voice answering, “Hello.” His heart beat fast as he listened to his mum whispering unclear words and the sound of the hard- plastic handset hitting the cradle.

  Immediately after she hung up, the phone rang again. After the fourth ring she still hadn’t picked it up, so Wolf curved one of his small fingers for each ring, silently counting until he heard his mum finally pick up the receiver when nine of his fingers were bent. For several minutes afterward, there was an eerie silence.

  “Damn you!” she finally shouted, slamming down the receiver. “Boys get up now!” she yelled. “You have five minutes. Dress warm and meet me in the kitchen.”

  Wolf’s heart pounded because he had never heard his mum’s voice so high pitched.

  “Come on, Wolf,” Polly said, tugging on Wolf’s arm, “we need to go with your mother.”

  Wolf raced down from the top bunk and grabbed his shirt, pants, and jacket that were piled on the floor, listening to Orville pretending to snore, not budging from his bed.

  “Orville, you heard me. Get up!” his mother demanded, flipping on their bedroom light as she stood in the doorway.

  “Alright, alright,” he moaned, sliding out of bed.

  Minutes later, both boys were dressed and in the kitchen.

  “Kids, we’re going to the Shields. I know it’s the middle of the night, I know it’s dark, and I know we don’t have the car, but you need to trust me. We need to go,” his mum said as she folded a piece of paper and wrote ‘George’ on it, setting it on the breakfast bar near a bunch of bananas.

  Orville’s eyes were rounder than usual, and his mouth hung open slightly as they left the house to walk five-kilometers to the Shields. As they passed the aviary, Cecelia stood on her perch and watched as the family walked by. Her beak curved down at the edges, and the moon mirrored in her black eyes as she stuck out her red chest and lifted her wing. Wolf waved back at her before he turned the corner and followed his mother to the sidewalk. Wolf’s mum took his hand and held it tightly, and Orville trailed closely behind them, being careful not to step on the back of his mother’s lace-up shoes. The streets were dim and shadowy as they passed sleeping houses, closed up shops, and stretches of open land, and Polly walked slightly ahead of the group, her white dress glowing like a beacon that only Wolf could see.

  When they finally reached the Shields house, they stood on the front porch of the two-level home as Wolf’s mum rang the bell. After a few seconds with no answer and only the sound of barking dogs echoing from inside, she pressed the bell again, squeezing Wolf’s hand as the windows on the second floor illuminated. Finally, the light in the foyer came on, and the front door opened, spilling light onto the veranda.

  “Lizzie, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Mr. Shields asked, tightening his red cotton robe at the waist. He stuck his head out of the door and looked at the boys, scanning the moonlit street with his eyes. “How did you get here? Where’s George? Where’s the car?”

  “Can we please come in?”

  “Of course, of course” he replied, graciously stepping aside.

  Four greyhounds shot at the family, sniffing and licking their hands, and a tall, Irish wolfhound sauntered in, sitting beside Mr.
Shields.

  “Knock it off!” Mr. Shields shouted at the greyhounds, placing his hand gently on the obedient wolfhound’s head. The greyhounds stopped jumping and sat down on the carpeted floor, their backsides squirming, before losing interest and leaving the room.

  “Lizzie, my goodness,” Mrs. Shields exclaimed, rushing down the stairs. With her left hand, she gripped her pink polka-dot robe tight at her neck and asked, “What’s happened?” while her right arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulders.

  “Let’s go have a seat,” Mr. Shields said, stretching out his arm and motioning for everyone to go into the loungeroom.

  Once inside the loungeroom, they all found seats, and Wolf’s mother said, “Harry, Sandy, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know where else to go. It’s George. I had to get us out of the house.”

  Mrs. Shields was sitting next to Wolf’s mum on the couch, cupping his mother’s hands in hers, trying to comfort her. “Of course. No worries. What’s going on?” she asked.

  Mum explained that his dad had called her just before midnight and that he was drunk and slurring his words. “The first time he called,” his mum said, “he wasn’t making sense. He said he’d had enough, and then he said that people were going to have to learn to listen to him, one way or another. I got scared because I noticed earlier he had taken the shotgun from next to our bed when he left for work, and I just don’t know why he would take it,” she said, her voice shaky and barely audible. “When he called the second time, I got this terrible feeling he might try to kill us,” she gasped, sucking back tears.

  “Oh, Lizzie, really? George?” Mr. Shields said, stunned. “He’s a fine bloke. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and definitely wouldn’t hurt you or the boys.”

  “Harry, you have no idea what he’s like when he drinks. No idea. He gets so angry.”

  “Blimey. I’ve known him for almost twenty years and I’ve never seen that side of him,” Mr. Shields said.

  “He hides it well. The truth is he always needs to be in control, and it’s a million times worse when he drinks, especially for Wolf.”