Skinwalker

“When is Levi coming back?” Tanya asks as she rounds the bar with a tray full of dirty glasses for the kitchenette.

Tearing the receipt from the printer, I say, “Maybe soon.”

The truth is, I don’t have an answer for her or anyone else.

Since his discharge from the subhuman hospital three weeks ago, Levi’s become a shut-in. While Lydia hasn’t made her peace with me, we’ve come to terms that right now we have to be allies during his recovery. Our shifts are opposite at work and at Levi’s, giving him an hour here or an hour there unattended.

Somedays are better than others. In the beginning he mostly existed in his bedroom. He was having trouble with nausea at first, thankfully that subsided after six days. His remaining obstacle is the depression over the loss of his ability. At first Lydia and I were both helicopters on our shifts, hovering over him and catering to any need he would express. There haven’t been many which caused us to started distancing ourselves. It’s proven useful as I’ve learned hovering wasn’t helping and even the distance of a room could draw him out of bed.

When it’s time for a meal, I make enough for two and sit at the kitchen table. If he’s hungry, he’ll join me. If not, his sister usually eats it when she comes over. She’s harsher than I am in this regard, insisting it’s time he make his own meals. I feel if he’s left to his own devices, he’d probably starve to death. She only validates that in the reports she leaves for me on the yellow notepad in the kitchen. He didn’t eat today.

When we share a meal, he’ll periodically maintain short conversations. This seems to be something he is freer with his sister about; she reports him being things like irritable, defensive, reminiscing, moody, etcetera. She never tells me what they talked about though.

Yesterday, I learned something new about Levi’s current mental health. During the day I chose not to check on him between meals and after dinner, about an hour before I wanted to go to sleep on the sofa, he emerged. Together we watched television before he got up, said “goodnight,” and went back into his room.

Progress is being made. It’s just not enough progress to say he will be back at work next week. At the rate he’s coming back to life, I doubt he’d be ready to return to work in a month if I was being honest.

Home is hard enough; work would be excruciating. Here he has two of us worrying for him. To knowingly be surrounded by subhumans and no longer being one of them will take a much stronger version of Levi than this one. A version, I’ve realized, that may never come. There would be more sympathy surrounding him than acceptance, and the pity could crush him.

Tanya emerges from the kitchen with a sad smile on her face. “I’m sorry, love,” she says. “I hope you’re doing alright?”

I nod my head and tuck the receipt into a black bill fold. “How are you doing? Any news?” I’d rather get an update on her pregnancy than discuss painful subjects.

She waves a hand. “That’s old news, the whole club knows. I’ll go on leave in a couple of weeks when the pups start showing. Nobody wants to look at a pregnant burlesque girl at a gentlemen’s club.”

“Pups?”

Her smile covers her entire face. “Twins.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Congratulations.” I put the bill fold on the counter and give her a hug.

When she hugs me back, all the weight I’ve been carrying feels like it’s melting away. For the first time in weeks, I begin to weep. Tanya only pulls me in closer as she feels the way my body moves. I want to let the rivers flow down my cheeks but here at work, they can’t.

I try to move away so I can clean myself up, but her hand holds the back of my head, and she says, “It’s okay to cry.”

A moment later a different hand rests on my shoulders. “I got her,” Kendal says.

“I’ll watch your tables for a bit,” Tanya tells me. “Take your time getting yourself right.”

Kendal leads me into the locker room, sits me on a bench, and the two of us sit in silence for several minutes. When I’m finally able to compose myself, she hands me her makeup bag. While her skin tone is much deeper than mine, I’m able to use most of the other supplies, including some eyedrops, and make myself presentable for the dark club once again.

“Feel better?”

I sigh. “Actually, I do.”

“Enough to face Cassandra?”

“What?”

Kendal closes her locker and lets out a heavy breath. “She was sat at table seven before we came back here.”

What on earth could she want now?

Kendal puts her hands on my upper arms and rubs them. “I’d like to tell her to screw off, but I didn’t think you’d like that.”

I laugh. “That’s true.”

“If she’s pulling you into something else for Scarlet, I will.”

I reach up and squeeze her hand. “I’ll let you.”

She nods and we both leave the breakroom.

I go to the bar, make a dirty martini with three olives, and walk to the table Cassandra is sitting at.

“You look well,” I say earnestly.

Once again, Cassandra looks healthy with full cheeks, bouncing curls, and a modest hourglass shape that’s dressed in clothes that look like they’d actually be worn for a night out.

“I hope you are,” she says.

The glass is placed on a napkin with the club logo. “Enjoy the girls.”

“They’re not my type,” she says and then pulls the olives from the glass.

“Tails?”

“Girls.”

“Then you’re in the wrong place.”

She bites an olive from the toothpick. “You know I’m not.”

I sigh. “Haven’t you helped ruin my life enough?”

“Can we go outside and talk?”

“I have tables to wait.”

She glances at Tanya, then around the room. “I’m sure she can handle it for five minutes.”

“Fine.” Undoubtedly, I’ll hate myself later. “Come with me.”

Cassandra bites off the other two olives, leaves the drink, and follows me through the club and out the employee entrance. On the way past the bar, I tell Tiffany that if I’m not back in five minutes, to come check on me. It’s a request she takes seriously, and I notice her observe Cassandra overly critically.

“What do you want, Cassandra?” I ask a moment after the metal door clanks shut.

“I never wanted to ruin your life,” she says.

I cross my arms. “What’s done is done.”

“That doesn’t mean it was my intention.” When enough time has passed with no response, she pulls a file from her shoulder bag. “If your life is truly ruined then maybe you’re looking for a new one?”

“You’re absolutely unbelievable.” This time she has no response. “Last time you handed me one of those it turned Levi into a human. Why on earth would I take another one?”

“I’m starting a program with the government. It’s something I’ve been working on for a long time and I think it will appeal to you.”

“With the queen is what you mean.”

Ignoring the statement, she pushes forward. “It’s a foster program for subhuman children that live in environments where they’re abilities aren’t being nurtured.”

She extends the envelope in my direction.

“It’s just a start up program but I’ve got a short list of children that have come of age who need our help. They need to be removed from their current situation before they go mission or are abandoned. I know families who are prepared to help, we just have to attain the children.”

Once again, Cassandra has talked a file into my hand.

“This doesn’t mean I’m giving up.”

She nods in agreement.

I open the file and am introduced to data sheets. These aren’t like the ones I’ve seen before because these are the faces of children. That is what Cassandra told me, that is what I heard, but it still hadn’t prepared me. Data sheets are limited, mutations are, for the most part, only speculated based on their family lineage. Knowing what I know about different species, some of these children may never mutate.

The children I am now introduced to are all displaced from their biological families, the ones who gave them their subhuman genetics. Reasons aren’t listed, they’re probably not known. However, they run the risks Cassandra had mentioned. If they mutate with humans around them, use their abilities recklessly, or tell the wrong person what’s happened to them then they’ll be killed or abandoned and left to fend for themselves, which is a risk all its own.

“I can’t uproot my life.”

“Think about this, Piper. Think about how important this is.”

I close the folder. “If you were in my shoes, would you think about this?”

“If I were in your shoes, I’d think about how much this program could have meant to you when you mutated.”

I nod my head and extend the folder back in her direction, but she doesn’t take it. “Don’t make me feel guilty about this. I can’t help.”

“Can’t?”

“I can’t leave him.”

She considers her next words. “Is he getting better?”

“It’s slow but there’s progress.”

The smile she puts on isn’t quite genuine. “I hope it continues.” Then she nods her head. “Good-bye, Piper.”

Again, I extend the file. “Cassandra…”

“Keep it.”

Cassandra leaves me under the yellow light behind the club with the folder in my hand and I watch until she’s out of sight.

When I’m back inside, Tiffany is heading toward the door. She sighs with relief to see me.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to fetch Noah,” she says.

“Me too.”

“What’s that?”

We both look at the folder. “Nothing,” I say.

For the remainder of the shift, the folder is in my locker, with the combination mixed up and the lock shut. I’d hate for it to grow legs and walk away accidently. Not that I truly believe the people I work with would steal it. Kendal asks me what she wanted but doesn’t press the matter when I tell her it wasn’t important. We both know I’ll eventually tell her.

At the end of the night the folder comes with me to Levi’s car. It sits in the passenger seat as I drive back to his apartment. It comes with me as I walk through the apartment complex, up the stairs, and through the front door of his apartment.

I’m surprised to see Levi in the kitchen, cooking. “You’re up.”

Levi glances over his shoulders “I’m making us dinner,” he answers.

I close the door, lock the bolt, and lean against the door. Relief washes over me and it feels good. I bask in it for several moments before going into the kitchen and see what he’s prepared.

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” I announce to no one in particular.

He dumps sauce on the meatballs while the water continues to boil the noodles. “I’m trying.”

“It’s perfect.”

“What’s in your hand?”

I glance at the file in my hand.

I’d never told Levi why I decided to come clean about what subhuman species I am the night he was abducted from this apartment. He’d never heard of the Manilla Envelope Project, as Kendal called it. To him there was no messenger; there was no knowledge of subhumans actually being abducted, and there was no reason to believe the queen had sent for me. It wasn’t my intention to leave him in the dark, it was supposed to be part of my speech, but I was never given the opportunity to tell him. I’d planned to ask him for his advice until I was given no other choice but to help.

“It’s nothing,” I reply.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Maybe you could pick a movie?”

The information Cassandra gave me earlier this evening gets put in the gym bag of clothes I intend to take home and swap out for slightly warmer items. My plan is to shred the pages within the very next time I’m alone because I don’t want Kendal to see it.

Zipping up the bag, it suddenly occurs to me what time of year it is. “Do you feel up to decorating this weekend?” I ask.

“Decorating?”

Slightly warmer clothes only mean one holiday in Arizona. “For Christmas.”

There’s a lengthy enough pause that I almost retract my request before he answers, “Sure, Pipe. If that will make you happy.”

“We don’t…”

“I want to try, for you. Okay?”

Trying is heavy burden for him right now. It means getting out of bed, taking showers, and putting on fresh clothes every day. It’s cooking for himself on a regular basis and eating, too. On top of all of that, it means adjusting to life as an ex-subhuman, functioning in society as an adult, and going back to work at the club where Noah has assured me, he is still welcome.

“Promise?”

Levi clicks off the stove and walks around the island leaving the dinner behind. He pulls me into a hug, tight against his body, and kisses my head. “I promise.”

-End