Love & Werewolves: A Collection Of Short Stories

by Eleanor Butler

suspected because Nat and I spent every moment we could together but they never said anything,” We sat silently as Miss Buckle processed this information. I wrote Nat’s name in the dirt and then quickly rubbed it away.

  “Were you planning to tell them?” she asked. “‘It is better to be hated for what you are rather than loved for what you are not’. Andre Gide said that.” I quickly turned away. Nat had used that quote many times when trying to convince me to tell people about our relationship. Nat knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me but she also knew unless we started to tell people her dream would never be reality. “Nat…” I whispered. Miss Buckle looked at me.

  “What did you say?” she asked. I looked at her and the anger I felt at Nat suddenly bubbled to the surface.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I shouted. “Nat’s gone. I don’t need to tell anyone. The only person I’ve ever loved is gone.” I stood up and started running again, I wanted to outrun the pain.

  Miss Buckle cursed her stupidity as she stood up, she was well aware that being gay was a sensitive and often secretive subject for many people. Guilt worked in funny ways Miss Buckle thought and Quinn had probably convinced herself that if she had agreed to tell their parents Natasha would still be with her. Knowing that she had to report Quinn for running away to the principal, Miss Buckle strolled in thought toward the office. When she had almost reached the school building a thought struck her and she quickened her pace. She burst into the office and asked “are there any rose gardens in the town?”

  “No, there aren’t any in town,” one of the office staff said

  “There is one out at the falls,” another said. “Quinn Michele and Natasha Waterson planted them.” Miss Buckle felt very sick as she realised what Quinn was up to. Miss Buckle now knew where Quinn had gone and that she had to get there quickly before another tragedy occurred. She was almost at the door when one of the office staff said something that made her pause.

  “They were a cute couple,” the first one said. “It was such a tragedy that Natasha died in that terrible house fire.”

  “You knew about them?” Miss Buckle asked. The second one laughed.

  “It was obvious to anyone who saw them together. The way they looked at each other gave it away,” she said.

  Miss Buckle had heard enough, she glanced at her watch and opened the door.

  “Can you organise for someone to cover my classes, Quinn has gone to the falls and I’m going after her,” she said.

  Tears ran freely down my face as I ran toward the falls. I knew that I had to hurry because it would not take Miss Buckle very long to guess where I had gone and follow me. I doubled my speed as the sound of water reached my ears and then I burst out of the forest to the falls. There it was, the rose garden that Natasha and I had planted. I fell to my knees, the pain immense in my chest. My memories of us in the rose garden together caused me to sob.

  Two years earlier

  “Why do we want to plant a rose garden?” I asked Natasha. She smiled and sprayed me water from the hose she’d been using to wet the dirt.

  “Because I can do that,” she laughed as I glared at her. “I want to have something to symbolise our relationship, somewhere that we can come and be ourselves.” Suddenly I was reminded why I loved her and was filled with an overwhelming urge to tell her. Ignoring the hose, I moved closer to her.

  “I love you,” I whispered in her ear as my hands crept around her waist. The effect was immediate. Natasha froze, this was the first time I had told her I loved her. Untangling my arms from her waist, I reached up to cup her face. I looked deep into her eyes and saw trust rather than fear for the first time.

  “I love you, Natasha Waterson,” I said and kissed her.

  “I love you too, Quinn,” she said when we broke apart and my heart skipped a beat. I laughed and pulled her into my arms, spinning her around.

  2010

  Outrunning the memories proved to be impossible but as I stopped for a second at the falls to catch my breath I heard a voice.

  “Don’t do it, Quinn,” I turned to see Miss Buckle, concern on her face. She had worked it out faster than I thought she would but I wasn’t worried.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” I asked. “I lost the person that I cared about most in the world.

  “Lamartine said “Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated’. But you still have lots to live for, Quinn. You have your parents and you have your friends. Your life is not over because your girlfriend died.”

  “It’s my fault,” I screamed. “It’s my fault she’s gone. That night she died, we’d had an argument. I’d been trying to push her into something. I slammed the door when I left and that made the smoke alarm fall from the wall. It broke.” Miss Buckle smiled sadly.

  “It’s not your fault, Quinn,” she said. Without me realising, she had moved closer and was now right next to me. “That may be true but it was not your fault. It was a freak accident. You may have lost Natasha but you can honour her memory by living your life to the fullest as she would want.”

  “How can I do that when it hurts to breathe?” I asked. Miss Buckle opened her arms and I walked into them.

  “The same way that others do when they lose loved ones,” she said. “One day at a time.”

  One Year Later

  “You’ve done a great job, Quinn,” Miss Buckle said as we walked through the newly planted flower beds at the falls. “Thanks,” I said. “Winter helped me a lot.” I nodded to Winter Tyler, a blond haired, blue eyed girl who’d moved to town two months earlier.

  “How’d you meet?” Miss Buckle asked and I looked at her. She smiled and I sighed.

  “At work,” I said. I’d finished school six months earlier and now had a traineeship with the council.

  “Is that her?” my mum whispered as she joined us. She was looking at Winter. I smiled and nodded.

  “That’s her,” I said. “Don’t smother her though, Mum. We’ve only been out a couple of times.” A week after the incident at the falls I’d decided that it was time I told my parents I was gay. Funny thing is that they weren’t surprised at all. They also confirmed that I’d been right in thinking they suspected my sexuality following Nat’s death.

  “This one is particularly lovely,” Miss Buckle said as we came to a yellow rose.

  “It’s in memory of Nat,” I said as I pointed to the sign.

  In Memory of Natasha Waterson

  1994-2010

  Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop.

  “Another door,” Miss Buckle reminded me as Winter walked over to us.

  “Everyone loves it. Especially the rose,” Winter said. I smiled and slipped my arm through hers

  “I knew they would,” I replied.

  Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurts when you’re not with them? I loved Natasha Waterson so much that I gave her part of my heart and then I lost her. Grief is the most horrible feeling in the world and it almost caused me to do something terrible but then I was very lucky that a special person helped me. I now understand that, although it is extremely difficult to accept, when one door of happiness closes another opens. The problem is that we look at the closed door for so long that we do not see the new door, which has opened for us. I may have lost my first love but she was not my last.