Fiction: Thrown to the Wolves Viggo/Sean Part 2
Sorry it took us so long to get this chapter out, folks! Akasha and I have had more on our plates than we expected to. But we're hoping not to leave you in suspense quite so long for the next installment. And hey look, we have a banner!
First Chapter
Title: Thrown to the Wolves
Authors: Akasha & Helyn Highwater
Beta: the wonderfully talented Namarie
Pairing: Viggo/Sean {Viggo/Orlando implied}
Summary: If a stray follows you home, can you keep it?
Rating: Probably PG-13 for this chapter, but NC-17 eventually
Warnings: Slippery when wet.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental…well, maybe not purely coincidental. *Whistles innocently*
Author’s note:
Canalla- (ca na ya) fucking bastard
Idiota- (e doy ta) imbecile, idiot
Earlier that night…
Viggo’s POV
The restaurant was crowded, as was usual for a Saturday night. The town was small and the restaurant of choice was Rohan’s. The entrees were famous; people would come from the neighboring towns, even the next county to get a seat at this place. I was glad I came in early to treat myself to bowl of chicken pasta primavera. It was always a popular favorite and I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to enjoy a hearty plate of it.
I was enjoying my dinner when my eyes caught a glimpse of something familiar. I turned my head to investigate further and what I discovered made my stomach clench up in a tight knot.
Karl.
The very name left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. You ever get that way? You see someone you can’t stand and you just want the earth to swallow you up because you are dreading being civil to a person who royally fucked you over? And believe me, this was a confrontation I would rather not experience.
I needed to get out of there and fast. There was no way I wanted a chance encounter with my ex-lover.
I looked down at my bowl; the aroma of the pasta dish steamed up to greet me, but it had somehow lost its rich flavor. The spoon fell from my hand. My appetite was gone.
I hastily threw a handful of money onto the table, grabbed my faded suede coat and made a dash for the exit. If Karl had managed to spot me, it would make for an uncomfortable situation all around. Especially since our break-up had been less than pleasant.
Living in a small town sometimes had definite disadvantages. There were only so many places one could go before bumping into that not so special someone.
I pushed past the crowd as politely as I could manage and hurriedly made my way toward my Jeep Cherokee. I fumbled around my pockets desperately searching for my car keys and panicked momentarily when I could not find them.
Oh, great! Don’t tell me I left them back at the…wait! Oh good! Found them! A sigh of relief passed my lips as I took them out of my pants pocket and shook them in victory. Which was in turn a very good thing, since the last thing I had planned for this evening was pretending to be polite with Karl.
Why all the hostility? Let me explain.
Karl had been the first person to befriend me when I moved to this town. I thought his shyness was part of his charm; I later came to realize that it was really just part of his deception. I had been blinded by love and had never questioned any aspect of our relationship. Like always meeting at my place for instance, that should have been a major clue.
But I was blissfully ignorant of the truth. Jeez, I was such an idiot!
I resented the man, but in all honesty, I could only really blame myself. I had been the one foolish enough believe what Karl told me.
Karl’s reasons had sounded legitimate enough. He had a sick elderly mother whom he cared for and she did not know about his sexual preference. Due to the delicate state of her condition, Karl wanted to handle things cautiously. He did not wish for his mother to find us in some compromising position, causing her to have a fatal stroke and sending her to an early grave.
I understood the importance of discretion, so I complied, knowing that Karl faced a difficult task of keeping his sexual orientation a secret both at home and at work. I could certainly comprehend his fear of loved ones reacting negatively at the revelation. I knew too well how unsympathetic people could be, how their behavior could turn dangerous if provoked, especially by ignorance.
My own experience with my parents’ dreadful divorce taught me that it was a very thin line between love and hate.
We had to be inconspicuous, to protect ourselves. We met in secret, seldom talked on the phone, acted circumspect toward each other if we happened to meet on the street. These things were all to be expected in a relationship such as ours. I had little hope for love for there was never any real romance; we were at a standstill. We had no real future together, but that’s not what made me angry.
I could deal with all of that. I was happy that I had someone who cared about me, who accepted me just as I am. I was never really in love with Karl, but I liked him and had looked forward to our casual encounters.
What came as a complete shock was when I called Karl’s home one day, pretending to be just another poker buddy inviting him to a game, and Karl’s *wife* answered the phone.
Yes, that’s right, his wife.
Karl had failed to mention he was *married*.
Now, I am by no means overly religious and I have my share of mistakes, but one thing I am a stickler about is betraying your vows. Whatever tradition they are made in, Christian, Pagan, whatever, vows are vows and I strongly believe that you should honor them.
Knowing that I participated in such a vile act as adultery was the worst imaginable sin. Every muscle in my body tensed up, my mouth turned dry, and in my stomach was seized with a real urgency to vomit.
I was tempted to hang up on her but that would rouse suspicion, so instead, I sucked it up and ending up talking to her for a little while.
She had been friendly and polite, asking about my veterinary practice, how did I like living here, was I settling in okay. By the end of the conversation, I felt like a total heel.
I hated the fact that Karl had lied to me and kept his marriage a secret, but the worst part was that I had betrayed her, however unintentionally. I couldn’t forgive Karl for such an atrocity.
Oh, believe me, in my rage, I was tempted to disclose the truth to her, but she seemed nice enough and I saw no reason to hurt her needlessly, so instead I opted to keep quiet and take my anger out on the person who deserved it - Karl.
Although I detest arguing and confrontations, this was one of the few times I gave in to my wrath and chewed Karl out royally. I made it very clear that I would not tell his wife anything but on the condition that he stay the fuck away from me.
“Canalla…” I murmured under my breath, as I turned the ignition.
For the most part, I avoided conflict. I hated quarrelling simply because most of my childhood was haunted by the memories of my parents fighting. They would sneak off into the basement, thinking I could not hear them, but their raised voices carried and I could hear the hurtful things they would spout at one another. As their shouts escalated, I would cover my ears and attempt to shut out the screaming; hiding my head under a pillow, snuggling up to my favorite stuffed animal, a wolf named Hemming. I would hold him close and tell him not to worry, that everything would be all right.
What saddened me the most was I could remember a time when my parents loved one another. I don’t know what caused them to turn on each other so suddenly. Even as I grew into an adult, I never understood what had happened. Neither of them spoke of it around me and they argued about so many things it was hard to guess which might have been the main issue. Whatever it was, it was a well guarded secret.
I didn’t know what they were fighting about; I just wanted it to stop… I wanted them to make up and get back together… for us to just be a family again… but my childhood wish never came true. Things just got worse and eventually, they divorced.
After it was decided that I would live with my mother, the next big debate was the holidays. While most children looked forward to Christmas, I dreaded it. It would mean having to decide which parent I would spend that day with and nothing made me feel worse than that. Whenever the decorations would start to appear, I could feel a knot growing in my stomach, painfully twisting inside of me. As the date neared, a strong wave of panic would wash over me until I was so sick from the stress, I would end up throwing up.
I don’t know if they realized how much they were stressing me out or if they came to a mutual accord of their own volition, but eventually it was decided that minor holidays such as Memorial Day, Labor Day, etc., with the exception of New Years were to be spent with my father; Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas with my mother.
It did not get any easier when my teen years rolled around; my parents became more demanding of my time. I had joined the track team and competed in the tournaments. Scheduling which parent could attend the major competitions gave me too much of a headache, so by the time I entered college, I just lost interest.
My parents fought even after they separated. I had hoped that after not living together they would begin missing one another, see what a terrible mistake they had made, and reconcile. Wrong. Whenever my dad phoned to see how I was doing, it took only a few seconds before they would be screaming at each other, name calling. It sometimes ended with my mother tearing the phone out from the wall and tossing it angrily across room.
Yeah, it got pretty ugly.
Their constant bickering made me a bit of a recluse at school. Sure, my self imposed isolation meant having only a handful of friends, but it was better than exposing them to those hellish arguments and having to make up an excuse for my parents’ irrational behavior. I never brought anyone into the house if I could avoid it since I never knew when my father might call and my mother often complained bitterly about him to friends and family.
I wanted to avoid any type of emotional attachments. I was afraid that any close relationship would end up being a disaster. It was best not to get too involved. This of course, did not mean I didn’t have feelings for someone or that I didn’t crush on anyone, it just made me…cautious. Hell, I even managed to go on a few dates.
However, that lead to a completely new discovery…I was attracted to my own sex. Shit! There I was 17 years old, confused as all hell, pining miserably after Brad the linebacker. When I say that I liked Brad, I’m talking the constant daydreaming, shy smiles in the hallway when I caught a glimpse of him, scribbling his name on the inside of my notebook…*that* kind of crush. Oh, yeah, I had it *bad*.
I used to go and sit on the bench while they practiced; pretending to watch the cheerleaders, but it was Brad that held my attention. He had an athletic build and I loved how his t-shirt clung to his body, accenting the muscled abs beneath. I used to picture myself writhing underneath him…told you I had it bad. He had this incredible smile that could light up any room and soft, feathered blonde hair that glistened in the afternoon sun.
I kept it pretty covert, not wanting the entire football team to kick my ass for being a fruity fairy. You can imagine my surprise when Brad actually asked me to go out with him. At first I thought he meant as one of the guys and I was willing to take anything Brad had to offer me, so I readily agreed. He smiled at me and called me cute; it made me blush.
I felt my entire face flush, like in those anime cartoons. Fearing he would discover my dirty little secret, I turned to look away because his dark blue eyes were penetrating mine and stripping me of my senses. I started to walk away but he grabbed my arm and when I turned around to face him, his mouth was inches from mine.
We were alone in the west section of the parking lot and teachers did not frequent the area. I thought I was done for, my heart raced; I caught my breath expecting the blow to come any second. Instead, Brad leaned in and kissed me…*passionately*.
Holy Jesus! I almost came in my pants, I was so excited.
It still makes my knees weak whenever I recall that first stolen kiss. I have yet to be kissed like that again and I doubt I will ever find anyone to match it.
As for Brad and I, well, we dated … secretly of course, until the end of high school when he went away to college. We kept in touch for a while, but once he went pro, it got harder and harder to maintain that friendship. If I know his team is playing, I’ll watch him on TV, content to know that he was once mine.
I sighed, realizing it was the closest I had ever been to anyone. As I mentioned, I was pretty reluctant to form close relationships. Most guys I dated eventually tired of my not wanting to commit and moved on.
I didn’t mind it too much, though sometimes it did get a little lonely. Perhaps I was meant to grow old alone and not find that one true mate. Maybe it was for the best. It was definitely better than the bitter mess my parents ended up in.
I sighed, annoyed that my thoughts had begun to depress me, so I flicked on the radio. I began signing along with the tune, attempting to relax my nerves when suddenly the driver in front of me swerved sharply to the right.
I heard a slight yelp and cursed under my breath. I knew what had happened. That asshole had probably hit some poor animal. I quickly pulled to the side of the road and jotted down the license plate of the bastard.
I shouted in the darkness after the unnamed driver, shaking my fist in his general direction, though I knew he was long gone. That kind of wonton cruelty disgusts me. I cursed him soundly as I put the Jeep in park, grabbed my veterinary medical bag, and stepped out to investigate.
With any luck, I would be able to save whatever he’d hit, but I had to work fast. Keeping my temper in check, I was careful not to slam the door shut and alarm the wounded animal. It was probably already frightened and didn’t need any encouragement from me to scare it further.
A hurt animal could be dangerous, so I had to advance with caution, letting it know with body language that I was here to help. I took another deep breath and walked toward the injured patient. It appeared that the driver had hit a large dog, but in the dark it was difficult to make out what breed it was.
I approached warily while it looked at me with obvious distress, as if it wanted to get up and flee, but it was too weak to move. I slowly crouched in front of it, allowing a respectable distance between us but close enough that I could still treat it.
I wanted to offer it a friendly smile, but I was too concerned with his injuries to remember my bedside manner. I placed the vet bag beside me I looked my new patient over. It was difficult to give an accurate diagnostic without proper lighting, but it was apparent the animal needed serious medical attention. I would need to take him to my office to fully treat his injuries, but first I had to make friends with him.
Sometimes an unthreatening voice was the best way to lure the animal into a sense of security. This technique did not always work, but if nothing else, the dog/wolf would familiarize itself with my voice and that was always a good start. I spoke to him gently, trying to sound as soothing as I could, hoping my tone be calming and promote trust.
I cautiously held out my hand near its nose so he could sniff me. I was ready to pull it back if need be, but I didn’t want to give the dog the wrong impression that I feared it, or we would start off on the wrong foot. It warily inspected the offered hand and to my surprise, he licked my fingers, signaling his acceptance of me.
That brought a smile to my face, the first one I’d had all evening. Slowly, I leaned a little closer and gently stroked its fur. The animal seemed to appreciate the gesture and I attempted to lean in closer. I kept up a running commentary, as I often do while I’m working, and wondered if my unlucky new friend had an owner. There was no collar, but that didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t have a home. Either way, I wouldn’t leave him by the side of the road and if nobody claimed him, well, I certainly had room in my house. Grayson, the cat who owns me, would no doubt be grumpy about a four-legged invader in his house, but he’d get over it. Eventually.
I scooted a little closer to the patient and moved my hand to grab hold of his muzzle with an apology I wished he could understand. My free hand lightly glossed over the animal, inspecting his injuries. Thankfully, he laid still and didn’t fight it. From what I could determine, the patient was an adult male, perhaps a hybrid of wolf/dog, or a wild dog species. It had sustained damage to its right torso, particularly its chest and shoulder areas; possibly a broken right front leg with probable fractures along the shoulder. The dog showed difficulty in breathing but there were no signs of puncture wounds in the rib area, perhaps he had a cracked rib or two at worst. I applied a little pressure to be certain and was given a small whine in response.
I petted the dog’s head gently, apologizing for hurting him. It seemed he had accepted my help, so I reached over to grab a clean blanket out of the bag. I kept my eyes on the dog, just in case it saw my movements as a threat. The animal watched me intently as I unfolded the blanket and slowly wrapped it around his form.
He protested only slightly as I lifted him and settled him into the back of the Cherokee. I secured the pet bed, which despite his size, fitted him and the blanket comfortably. “There we go, all set for now. I’ll try to make this a quick trip,” I assured him with a small wink before I closed the back door.
I jogged around to the front and slid into the driver’s seat. I turned around to check on my patient and offered him another warm smile when I saw he hadn’t moved. I started the engine and a quick, loud burst of Spanish music blared out of the radio. Shit! I forgot I had that on, I hurriedly shut it off. I apologized, wishing once again that he could understand me, or better yet, tell me what he needed.
I looked in my rear view mirror to check on him again as we rode along and he seemed somewhat amused at my conversation, but it was probably just my imagination. I’ve spent so much more time with animals than people that I was starting to see human characteristics in them.
I pulled out onto the highway, mindful to avoid any potholes or bumps. I wanted to grant my passenger a smooth ride; he’d been through enough already. I continued talking to him because I wanted him to have something else to focus on besides the strange traffic noises.
So, I ended up rambling on. I guess it didn’t matter much though, since animals respond more to your tone of voice than words anyway. In some ways, I was very grateful for that because I was usually a little nervous around new people; much like animals trying to get their bearings.
My bad mood from the near miss with Karl started creeping in and chuckled, deliberately putting it out of my mind and trying to keep things light. “But, if I keep on like that, my tone of voice won’t stay cheerful will it? You’ll start to wonder what kind of psycho just scooped you up, how many bodies I’ve got buried in the garden or stashed in the freezer and,” I dropped my voice in a playful gesture, having a feel for the dramatic. “How many neighbors will be telling the news stations how quiet and well-mannered I always was someday when the cops finally twig to me. Ha. Silence of the Dogs might actually make a fun premise for a farce now that I think of it. But that’s neither here nor there right now, is it?”
The dog whined in response and I figured he was either telling me to be quiet or did not care for the topic. I guess he had a point. My sense of humor always has been on the twisted side, so I shut up for a minute. The radio might have been okay on a low volume, but it can be hard to judge how loud it would be in the back, so I started singing a Spanish song that had been a favorite of my mother’s instead. It seemed to relax the dog and his eyes fluttered shut.
I pulled into the driveway, spying my log home/office looming ahead. I parked the Jeep in front of the vet clinic, relived that we finally made it home. I glanced behind me to make sure the dog was still resting.
I ran up the steps and hurriedly picked out the keys to the office. Once inside, I switched the lights on and made a quick call to my assistant, Orlando, as I hurriedly gathered the necessary instruments for surgery. “How long before you get here?” I asked while I put together a quick sedative and laid it in a tray next to the surgical tools.
“Fifteen minutes, tops,” Orlando assured me.
“Thanks, Orli. It’s going to be a busy night,” I said before I hung up and rushed back out to the car; I didn’t want to leave my patient out there by himself for too long.
I collected the wounded animal, cradling him in my arms as I pushed past the heavy wooden doors to my clinic. His eyes opened, surveying the area around him, but he closed them once they hit the bright lights of the waiting room.
I took him directly to the treatment area where emergency surgeries were performed and carefully laid him out on the metal table. He let out a small whine in protest and I stroked his fur, reassuring him that it was okay. Even if he was used to people and being indoors, this must have been disorienting for him. I shot him a small smile and began to unravel him from the blanket.
I gasped as I took in the beautiful honey gold colored fur tinged with reddish highlights. His eyes were an emerald green, sparkling like two jewels set upon his face. It was incredible! What an extraordinary beast!
In the light, I could clearly see that he was indeed a wolf, not a hybrid or wild dog as I had first suspected. “Aren’t you magnificent! And green eyes, too. I’ve never seen anything like it. You must drive all the lady wolves to distraction. I’ll have to call you Orito.”
The wolf seemed to approve of its name and I continued to stroke his fur, hoping to distract it from my next move. Animals never took kindly to being poked or prodded, so I slowly reached for the syringe I had readied earlier and quickly injected the contents behind the wolf’s hind leg.
He yelped in surprise, looking up at me in dismay with those emerald eyes. I petted the top of his head, gently soothing him. “It’s all right, Orito, it had to be done. I’ll take good care of you. You’ll feel much better when you wake up, I promise.”
Throw me to Chapter Three
First Chapter
Title: Thrown to the Wolves
Authors: Akasha & Helyn Highwater
Beta: the wonderfully talented Namarie
Pairing: Viggo/Sean {Viggo/Orlando implied}
Summary: If a stray follows you home, can you keep it?
Rating: Probably PG-13 for this chapter, but NC-17 eventually
Warnings: Slippery when wet.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental…well, maybe not purely coincidental. *Whistles innocently*
Author’s note:
Canalla- (ca na ya) fucking bastard
Idiota- (e doy ta) imbecile, idiot
Earlier that night…
Viggo’s POV
The restaurant was crowded, as was usual for a Saturday night. The town was small and the restaurant of choice was Rohan’s. The entrees were famous; people would come from the neighboring towns, even the next county to get a seat at this place. I was glad I came in early to treat myself to bowl of chicken pasta primavera. It was always a popular favorite and I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to enjoy a hearty plate of it.
I was enjoying my dinner when my eyes caught a glimpse of something familiar. I turned my head to investigate further and what I discovered made my stomach clench up in a tight knot.
Karl.
The very name left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. You ever get that way? You see someone you can’t stand and you just want the earth to swallow you up because you are dreading being civil to a person who royally fucked you over? And believe me, this was a confrontation I would rather not experience.
I needed to get out of there and fast. There was no way I wanted a chance encounter with my ex-lover.
I looked down at my bowl; the aroma of the pasta dish steamed up to greet me, but it had somehow lost its rich flavor. The spoon fell from my hand. My appetite was gone.
I hastily threw a handful of money onto the table, grabbed my faded suede coat and made a dash for the exit. If Karl had managed to spot me, it would make for an uncomfortable situation all around. Especially since our break-up had been less than pleasant.
Living in a small town sometimes had definite disadvantages. There were only so many places one could go before bumping into that not so special someone.
I pushed past the crowd as politely as I could manage and hurriedly made my way toward my Jeep Cherokee. I fumbled around my pockets desperately searching for my car keys and panicked momentarily when I could not find them.
Oh, great! Don’t tell me I left them back at the…wait! Oh good! Found them! A sigh of relief passed my lips as I took them out of my pants pocket and shook them in victory. Which was in turn a very good thing, since the last thing I had planned for this evening was pretending to be polite with Karl.
Why all the hostility? Let me explain.
Karl had been the first person to befriend me when I moved to this town. I thought his shyness was part of his charm; I later came to realize that it was really just part of his deception. I had been blinded by love and had never questioned any aspect of our relationship. Like always meeting at my place for instance, that should have been a major clue.
But I was blissfully ignorant of the truth. Jeez, I was such an idiot!
I resented the man, but in all honesty, I could only really blame myself. I had been the one foolish enough believe what Karl told me.
Karl’s reasons had sounded legitimate enough. He had a sick elderly mother whom he cared for and she did not know about his sexual preference. Due to the delicate state of her condition, Karl wanted to handle things cautiously. He did not wish for his mother to find us in some compromising position, causing her to have a fatal stroke and sending her to an early grave.
I understood the importance of discretion, so I complied, knowing that Karl faced a difficult task of keeping his sexual orientation a secret both at home and at work. I could certainly comprehend his fear of loved ones reacting negatively at the revelation. I knew too well how unsympathetic people could be, how their behavior could turn dangerous if provoked, especially by ignorance.
My own experience with my parents’ dreadful divorce taught me that it was a very thin line between love and hate.
We had to be inconspicuous, to protect ourselves. We met in secret, seldom talked on the phone, acted circumspect toward each other if we happened to meet on the street. These things were all to be expected in a relationship such as ours. I had little hope for love for there was never any real romance; we were at a standstill. We had no real future together, but that’s not what made me angry.
I could deal with all of that. I was happy that I had someone who cared about me, who accepted me just as I am. I was never really in love with Karl, but I liked him and had looked forward to our casual encounters.
What came as a complete shock was when I called Karl’s home one day, pretending to be just another poker buddy inviting him to a game, and Karl’s *wife* answered the phone.
Yes, that’s right, his wife.
Karl had failed to mention he was *married*.
Now, I am by no means overly religious and I have my share of mistakes, but one thing I am a stickler about is betraying your vows. Whatever tradition they are made in, Christian, Pagan, whatever, vows are vows and I strongly believe that you should honor them.
Knowing that I participated in such a vile act as adultery was the worst imaginable sin. Every muscle in my body tensed up, my mouth turned dry, and in my stomach was seized with a real urgency to vomit.
I was tempted to hang up on her but that would rouse suspicion, so instead, I sucked it up and ending up talking to her for a little while.
She had been friendly and polite, asking about my veterinary practice, how did I like living here, was I settling in okay. By the end of the conversation, I felt like a total heel.
I hated the fact that Karl had lied to me and kept his marriage a secret, but the worst part was that I had betrayed her, however unintentionally. I couldn’t forgive Karl for such an atrocity.
Oh, believe me, in my rage, I was tempted to disclose the truth to her, but she seemed nice enough and I saw no reason to hurt her needlessly, so instead I opted to keep quiet and take my anger out on the person who deserved it - Karl.
Although I detest arguing and confrontations, this was one of the few times I gave in to my wrath and chewed Karl out royally. I made it very clear that I would not tell his wife anything but on the condition that he stay the fuck away from me.
“Canalla…” I murmured under my breath, as I turned the ignition.
For the most part, I avoided conflict. I hated quarrelling simply because most of my childhood was haunted by the memories of my parents fighting. They would sneak off into the basement, thinking I could not hear them, but their raised voices carried and I could hear the hurtful things they would spout at one another. As their shouts escalated, I would cover my ears and attempt to shut out the screaming; hiding my head under a pillow, snuggling up to my favorite stuffed animal, a wolf named Hemming. I would hold him close and tell him not to worry, that everything would be all right.
What saddened me the most was I could remember a time when my parents loved one another. I don’t know what caused them to turn on each other so suddenly. Even as I grew into an adult, I never understood what had happened. Neither of them spoke of it around me and they argued about so many things it was hard to guess which might have been the main issue. Whatever it was, it was a well guarded secret.
I didn’t know what they were fighting about; I just wanted it to stop… I wanted them to make up and get back together… for us to just be a family again… but my childhood wish never came true. Things just got worse and eventually, they divorced.
After it was decided that I would live with my mother, the next big debate was the holidays. While most children looked forward to Christmas, I dreaded it. It would mean having to decide which parent I would spend that day with and nothing made me feel worse than that. Whenever the decorations would start to appear, I could feel a knot growing in my stomach, painfully twisting inside of me. As the date neared, a strong wave of panic would wash over me until I was so sick from the stress, I would end up throwing up.
I don’t know if they realized how much they were stressing me out or if they came to a mutual accord of their own volition, but eventually it was decided that minor holidays such as Memorial Day, Labor Day, etc., with the exception of New Years were to be spent with my father; Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas with my mother.
It did not get any easier when my teen years rolled around; my parents became more demanding of my time. I had joined the track team and competed in the tournaments. Scheduling which parent could attend the major competitions gave me too much of a headache, so by the time I entered college, I just lost interest.
My parents fought even after they separated. I had hoped that after not living together they would begin missing one another, see what a terrible mistake they had made, and reconcile. Wrong. Whenever my dad phoned to see how I was doing, it took only a few seconds before they would be screaming at each other, name calling. It sometimes ended with my mother tearing the phone out from the wall and tossing it angrily across room.
Yeah, it got pretty ugly.
Their constant bickering made me a bit of a recluse at school. Sure, my self imposed isolation meant having only a handful of friends, but it was better than exposing them to those hellish arguments and having to make up an excuse for my parents’ irrational behavior. I never brought anyone into the house if I could avoid it since I never knew when my father might call and my mother often complained bitterly about him to friends and family.
I wanted to avoid any type of emotional attachments. I was afraid that any close relationship would end up being a disaster. It was best not to get too involved. This of course, did not mean I didn’t have feelings for someone or that I didn’t crush on anyone, it just made me…cautious. Hell, I even managed to go on a few dates.
However, that lead to a completely new discovery…I was attracted to my own sex. Shit! There I was 17 years old, confused as all hell, pining miserably after Brad the linebacker. When I say that I liked Brad, I’m talking the constant daydreaming, shy smiles in the hallway when I caught a glimpse of him, scribbling his name on the inside of my notebook…*that* kind of crush. Oh, yeah, I had it *bad*.
I used to go and sit on the bench while they practiced; pretending to watch the cheerleaders, but it was Brad that held my attention. He had an athletic build and I loved how his t-shirt clung to his body, accenting the muscled abs beneath. I used to picture myself writhing underneath him…told you I had it bad. He had this incredible smile that could light up any room and soft, feathered blonde hair that glistened in the afternoon sun.
I kept it pretty covert, not wanting the entire football team to kick my ass for being a fruity fairy. You can imagine my surprise when Brad actually asked me to go out with him. At first I thought he meant as one of the guys and I was willing to take anything Brad had to offer me, so I readily agreed. He smiled at me and called me cute; it made me blush.
I felt my entire face flush, like in those anime cartoons. Fearing he would discover my dirty little secret, I turned to look away because his dark blue eyes were penetrating mine and stripping me of my senses. I started to walk away but he grabbed my arm and when I turned around to face him, his mouth was inches from mine.
We were alone in the west section of the parking lot and teachers did not frequent the area. I thought I was done for, my heart raced; I caught my breath expecting the blow to come any second. Instead, Brad leaned in and kissed me…*passionately*.
Holy Jesus! I almost came in my pants, I was so excited.
It still makes my knees weak whenever I recall that first stolen kiss. I have yet to be kissed like that again and I doubt I will ever find anyone to match it.
As for Brad and I, well, we dated … secretly of course, until the end of high school when he went away to college. We kept in touch for a while, but once he went pro, it got harder and harder to maintain that friendship. If I know his team is playing, I’ll watch him on TV, content to know that he was once mine.
I sighed, realizing it was the closest I had ever been to anyone. As I mentioned, I was pretty reluctant to form close relationships. Most guys I dated eventually tired of my not wanting to commit and moved on.
I didn’t mind it too much, though sometimes it did get a little lonely. Perhaps I was meant to grow old alone and not find that one true mate. Maybe it was for the best. It was definitely better than the bitter mess my parents ended up in.
I sighed, annoyed that my thoughts had begun to depress me, so I flicked on the radio. I began signing along with the tune, attempting to relax my nerves when suddenly the driver in front of me swerved sharply to the right.
I heard a slight yelp and cursed under my breath. I knew what had happened. That asshole had probably hit some poor animal. I quickly pulled to the side of the road and jotted down the license plate of the bastard.
I shouted in the darkness after the unnamed driver, shaking my fist in his general direction, though I knew he was long gone. That kind of wonton cruelty disgusts me. I cursed him soundly as I put the Jeep in park, grabbed my veterinary medical bag, and stepped out to investigate.
With any luck, I would be able to save whatever he’d hit, but I had to work fast. Keeping my temper in check, I was careful not to slam the door shut and alarm the wounded animal. It was probably already frightened and didn’t need any encouragement from me to scare it further.
A hurt animal could be dangerous, so I had to advance with caution, letting it know with body language that I was here to help. I took another deep breath and walked toward the injured patient. It appeared that the driver had hit a large dog, but in the dark it was difficult to make out what breed it was.
I approached warily while it looked at me with obvious distress, as if it wanted to get up and flee, but it was too weak to move. I slowly crouched in front of it, allowing a respectable distance between us but close enough that I could still treat it.
I wanted to offer it a friendly smile, but I was too concerned with his injuries to remember my bedside manner. I placed the vet bag beside me I looked my new patient over. It was difficult to give an accurate diagnostic without proper lighting, but it was apparent the animal needed serious medical attention. I would need to take him to my office to fully treat his injuries, but first I had to make friends with him.
Sometimes an unthreatening voice was the best way to lure the animal into a sense of security. This technique did not always work, but if nothing else, the dog/wolf would familiarize itself with my voice and that was always a good start. I spoke to him gently, trying to sound as soothing as I could, hoping my tone be calming and promote trust.
I cautiously held out my hand near its nose so he could sniff me. I was ready to pull it back if need be, but I didn’t want to give the dog the wrong impression that I feared it, or we would start off on the wrong foot. It warily inspected the offered hand and to my surprise, he licked my fingers, signaling his acceptance of me.
That brought a smile to my face, the first one I’d had all evening. Slowly, I leaned a little closer and gently stroked its fur. The animal seemed to appreciate the gesture and I attempted to lean in closer. I kept up a running commentary, as I often do while I’m working, and wondered if my unlucky new friend had an owner. There was no collar, but that didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t have a home. Either way, I wouldn’t leave him by the side of the road and if nobody claimed him, well, I certainly had room in my house. Grayson, the cat who owns me, would no doubt be grumpy about a four-legged invader in his house, but he’d get over it. Eventually.
I scooted a little closer to the patient and moved my hand to grab hold of his muzzle with an apology I wished he could understand. My free hand lightly glossed over the animal, inspecting his injuries. Thankfully, he laid still and didn’t fight it. From what I could determine, the patient was an adult male, perhaps a hybrid of wolf/dog, or a wild dog species. It had sustained damage to its right torso, particularly its chest and shoulder areas; possibly a broken right front leg with probable fractures along the shoulder. The dog showed difficulty in breathing but there were no signs of puncture wounds in the rib area, perhaps he had a cracked rib or two at worst. I applied a little pressure to be certain and was given a small whine in response.
I petted the dog’s head gently, apologizing for hurting him. It seemed he had accepted my help, so I reached over to grab a clean blanket out of the bag. I kept my eyes on the dog, just in case it saw my movements as a threat. The animal watched me intently as I unfolded the blanket and slowly wrapped it around his form.
He protested only slightly as I lifted him and settled him into the back of the Cherokee. I secured the pet bed, which despite his size, fitted him and the blanket comfortably. “There we go, all set for now. I’ll try to make this a quick trip,” I assured him with a small wink before I closed the back door.
I jogged around to the front and slid into the driver’s seat. I turned around to check on my patient and offered him another warm smile when I saw he hadn’t moved. I started the engine and a quick, loud burst of Spanish music blared out of the radio. Shit! I forgot I had that on, I hurriedly shut it off. I apologized, wishing once again that he could understand me, or better yet, tell me what he needed.
I looked in my rear view mirror to check on him again as we rode along and he seemed somewhat amused at my conversation, but it was probably just my imagination. I’ve spent so much more time with animals than people that I was starting to see human characteristics in them.
I pulled out onto the highway, mindful to avoid any potholes or bumps. I wanted to grant my passenger a smooth ride; he’d been through enough already. I continued talking to him because I wanted him to have something else to focus on besides the strange traffic noises.
So, I ended up rambling on. I guess it didn’t matter much though, since animals respond more to your tone of voice than words anyway. In some ways, I was very grateful for that because I was usually a little nervous around new people; much like animals trying to get their bearings.
My bad mood from the near miss with Karl started creeping in and chuckled, deliberately putting it out of my mind and trying to keep things light. “But, if I keep on like that, my tone of voice won’t stay cheerful will it? You’ll start to wonder what kind of psycho just scooped you up, how many bodies I’ve got buried in the garden or stashed in the freezer and,” I dropped my voice in a playful gesture, having a feel for the dramatic. “How many neighbors will be telling the news stations how quiet and well-mannered I always was someday when the cops finally twig to me. Ha. Silence of the Dogs might actually make a fun premise for a farce now that I think of it. But that’s neither here nor there right now, is it?”
The dog whined in response and I figured he was either telling me to be quiet or did not care for the topic. I guess he had a point. My sense of humor always has been on the twisted side, so I shut up for a minute. The radio might have been okay on a low volume, but it can be hard to judge how loud it would be in the back, so I started singing a Spanish song that had been a favorite of my mother’s instead. It seemed to relax the dog and his eyes fluttered shut.
I pulled into the driveway, spying my log home/office looming ahead. I parked the Jeep in front of the vet clinic, relived that we finally made it home. I glanced behind me to make sure the dog was still resting.
I ran up the steps and hurriedly picked out the keys to the office. Once inside, I switched the lights on and made a quick call to my assistant, Orlando, as I hurriedly gathered the necessary instruments for surgery. “How long before you get here?” I asked while I put together a quick sedative and laid it in a tray next to the surgical tools.
“Fifteen minutes, tops,” Orlando assured me.
“Thanks, Orli. It’s going to be a busy night,” I said before I hung up and rushed back out to the car; I didn’t want to leave my patient out there by himself for too long.
I collected the wounded animal, cradling him in my arms as I pushed past the heavy wooden doors to my clinic. His eyes opened, surveying the area around him, but he closed them once they hit the bright lights of the waiting room.
I took him directly to the treatment area where emergency surgeries were performed and carefully laid him out on the metal table. He let out a small whine in protest and I stroked his fur, reassuring him that it was okay. Even if he was used to people and being indoors, this must have been disorienting for him. I shot him a small smile and began to unravel him from the blanket.
I gasped as I took in the beautiful honey gold colored fur tinged with reddish highlights. His eyes were an emerald green, sparkling like two jewels set upon his face. It was incredible! What an extraordinary beast!
In the light, I could clearly see that he was indeed a wolf, not a hybrid or wild dog as I had first suspected. “Aren’t you magnificent! And green eyes, too. I’ve never seen anything like it. You must drive all the lady wolves to distraction. I’ll have to call you Orito.”
The wolf seemed to approve of its name and I continued to stroke his fur, hoping to distract it from my next move. Animals never took kindly to being poked or prodded, so I slowly reached for the syringe I had readied earlier and quickly injected the contents behind the wolf’s hind leg.
He yelped in surprise, looking up at me in dismay with those emerald eyes. I petted the top of his head, gently soothing him. “It’s all right, Orito, it had to be done. I’ll take good care of you. You’ll feel much better when you wake up, I promise.”
Throw me to Chapter Three