Page 2 of Little Etheldreda Riding Hood

“Good. Let the trash take itself out is what I always say,” Mrs. James says vehemently. “You’re young, Red. You need to get out of this town and live a little. Other creatures don’t care about Lunas and Alphas. Go find yourself a Gobelin…ooo or a big Orc. I bet they have really big–”

“Lorelei!” Mrs. Whittaker admonishes.

“I was going to say big houses, you know, lots of room for kids.” Mrs. James winks at me, and I know that’s not what she was going for at all.

Mrs. Whittaker snorts. She knows her sister far too well. “Young lady, I’ve been around long enough to know how the world works. Trust me. Once he realizes this home wrecker is a real woman that he has to deal with and not just some memory he’s put on a pedestal, he’ll be back on your doorstep, begging for forgiveness.”

“Maybe,” is all I say in return, unconvinced.

I check my watch for the millionth time, hoping it’s two p.m., but it’s only one forty-five. Fifteen more minutes of rehashing my utterly depressing love life left.

“Etheldreda, I know you probably think I’m just some crazy old lady, but I’m never wrong. He’s going to miss what he had in you. He’ll be back.”

“Screw him, Red. You should get out of here and live a little. See the world. You’ll regret not busting out of this town when you’re my age,” Mrs. James says.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of leaving every day since Morgan walked out. But the logistics of it feel impossible. Where would I go? With what money? What would I do? I never went to college.

I’d wanted to be a teacher once like mama, but Morgan thought it was a waste of money when I was just going to be a stay at home mom to our kids one day. I went right from high school to working for my stepdad and caring for mom when she got sick. When my mom and stepdad passed, I had to take this job because Morgan didn’t think taking over my stepdad’s woodworking shop was an appropriate job for his future Luna.

Mrs. Whittaker and Mrs. James continue discussing my life as if I’m not there. I nod, and nod, and then nod some more as Mrs. Whittaker rehashes the whole thing over and over again. She says nothing new–at least nothing I haven’t thought about a million times over the past six months. He’s moved on. It’s probably time I started to as well.

It seems nearly impossible when I live in a town practically owned and operated by his pack. There’s nowhere I can turn that doesn’t have some kind of reminder of him or some reminder of us, together.

At two, I do my best not to launch from the couch like a kid leaving school on Friday afternoon. I check to make sure Mrs. Whittaker and Mrs. James are all set, even as Mrs. Whittaker prattles on about me and Morgan.

At two-o-five, I finally emerge from her small home and into the sun. It’s bright and chilly, but I can finally breathe. It snowed last week and instead of being pretty, it’s begun to get dirty around the edges of the roads, sidewalks, and driveways. Everything has been left with a grimy sort of look to it.

The sisters are my last clients for the day, so I turn up my favorite nerdy podcast—Repeating History—and try to drown out the voices in my head that are nitpicking everything I did at the end with Morgan.

But it’s so dang hard to hide from those voices.

Obviously, I was too needy. If I hadn’t been so needy, I would have seemed strong and more capable.

And I’m too silly. If only I was more serious. Luna’s need to be serious. They need to be a role model for the other women of the pack.

I’m not role model material at all.

Not even close.

Thoughts and words circle my mind all the way to the garage apartment I moved into after Morgan left. I couldn’t afford the place we had shared on my own. I was fortunate that my Aunt Mae and Uncle Jim offered to take me in. They had an empty apartment that is more of a mother-in-law suite my aunt and uncle turned their garage into for my grandma before she passed away.

They don’t charge me rent–at least not yet–and I try not to complain when their kids rummage through my stuff during the day while I’m gone.

Kara Lynn, their middle girl, is sitting on the ragged couch in my apartment, watching the small TV, when I walk through the door. Coming home to find a kid or two in the apartment has become so commonplace that I don’t even scold them like I did when I first moved in.

“How’s it going, Kara Lynn?” I ask as I set down my keys and purse.

“Misty Sue was trying to get into your makeup, but I shooed her off.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” I walk over to my dresser and find the makeup out and open, spread out all over the abused wooden surface. Nothing has been too messed up, thankfully, so I put everything away while trying not to think too much about how dirty Misty Sue’s tiny hands are on a daily basis.

“Kara Lynn!” I hear Aunt Mae yell through the door that separates the garage apartment and her kitchen.

Kara Lynn is on her feet in two seconds. No one messes with Mae. I follow the little girl in, hoping to forage for a snack.

“How many times have I told you to stay out of Red’s room?” Mae demands.

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

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