Once, long after my father had returned to the moon, it was just Kelly and me. We were too old to be sleeping in the same bed, but here we were all the same.
He lay facing me, his knees bumping into mine.
He said, “It’s all inevitable, isn’t it? Everything.”
I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to tell him that there was no such thing as fate, that we could carve our own paths, that a name was nothing but a name.
He knew what I was thinking. He knew what was in my head and heart. He said, “A rose by any other name….”
I closed my eyes and dreamed of wolves running under the light of a full moon.
IT WENT LIKE THIS:
I was seven and Kelly said, “I want to be big like you.”
I was three and my father picked me up in his arms, holding me close.
I was ten and I chose my tether.
I was twelve and Joe sat on my shoulders wearing a wolf costume our mother had made for him because he wanted to be a wolf like me. We were walking through the woods, Kelly’s hand in mine, Joe tugging on my hair, saying, “Faster, Carter, go faster.”
I was four and Kelly took his first steps, reaching for me, always reaching.
I was eleven and the moon was calling me, it was singing, singing, singing, and my mother said, “Here, my son, here, let it wash over you, feel it calling. I won’t let it hurt you. I won’t let it take you away.”
I was sixteen and close to murdering boys in a bathroom at school who dared put their hands on Ox.
I was thirteen and Kelly shifted into a wolf for the first time, and we ran together as fast as we could, the earth beneath our paws, the wind in our fur.
I was twenty-three when a monster came to town and tore a hole in our heads and hearts. My father died before I could get to him. The last thing he ever said to me was “Protect your brothers with everything you have.”
I was twenty-seven, bursting out of a bar filled with humans, claws popping and fangs gnashing, and there was a wolf there, a timber wolf bigger than any I’d ever seen, and it came for me, it came for me, and the moment before we collided, the moment before its body struck mine, I smelled something unlike anything I’d ever known before.
And I burned.
waiting for you/say my name
It was dark.
I was cold and stiff. My neck had a crick in it, and my head was pounding. I groaned and rubbed a hand over my face, trying to clear my head. I pushed open the door to the truck and stumbled out. My knees were weak, and I almost fell. I caught myself on the door.
Before me was farmland. In the distance, set on a hill, was a house. The porch light was on, but the windows were dark. I walked away from the truck, my boots crunching against gravel. I unzipped my pants so I could empty my bladder. I sighed as I looked up at the sky, the stars like chips of ice.
Once I finished I went back to the truck, pulling my coat tighter around me. It was getting colder again. I didn’t know exactly where I was. I thought I’d crossed into North Dakota before finally pulling over to get some sleep. I’d gotten used to spending the night in the truck.
I shut the door behind me.
I was tired, but I knew I wouldn’t get any more sleep. The sun would rise soon, and I didn’t want to get caught here.
I glanced at the picture on the dashboard. The edges had started to curl. I left it alone.
I pulled my duffel bag across the seat. In the side pocket was a cheap phone, a burner I’d picked up before I left Green Creek. It was something Gordo had taught me when we’d been on the road after Richard Collins. I doubted he’d ever thought I’d have use for one again after we’d come back.
I hit the Power button, stretching my neck as I waited for it to turn on. I winced against the bright light in the dark. It was just after five in the morning.
I tried to ignore the date in the upper right corner, but it was almost impossible.
Saturday, November 6, 2021.