Page 117 of Forget Me Not

He looked around the room, listening as the phone rang but thinking that Truman would be pissed if Ray answered it. He finally focused back on the human with him. She was calming down, or at least seemed less agitated even if her mood remained low.

Ray leaned in again to discreetly sniff out more than lemon cleanser and lip balm. Nothing as dramatic asdespair, buthurtand some stress sweat. Despair would come after her stomach growled some more, or Truman returned and told her there was no hope of an appointment today.

“Are you going to the party… event… tonight?” Ray didn’t even know if there were tickets required to get in. He’d have to ask.

The human blinked several times as if going to a party was the last thing on her mind.

Ray could relate.

“I have to go,” he explained. “But they tell me that lots of local businesses will have stalls and booths. Some might be hiring. I know coffee shop hours are more flexible for students, but—“ The human stared at him, eyes big and alarmed. “Coffee stains on your fingers,” Ray explained. “I’ve seen baristas with them before. The place down by the courthouse grinds its own beans, for example. It’s right next to a bus stop as well. I don’t go there much. I once witnessed the owner or manager pick up a lid that fell on the floor and put it back in the stack for customers.” The woman parted her lips in shock. She must work at that coffee shop. Ray hoped she wasn’t going to scream. He cleared his throat. “There’s a concert as well.” That part was free, in that anyone around would probably hear the music whether they wanted to or not. “They really are going to be busy here today, and probably tomorrow if they have to help with the cleanup out there. Truman wasn’t lying. If anyone can see you today, it won’t be for very long.”

“It’s the only day I have.” The notes in the air around her might have been the beginnings of despair now, after that news. “I have to work all the shifts I’m given this week ‘to show that I’m responsible after being late.’ I explained why I was late, and it was only twenty minutes. The manager is a petty tyrant. And yeah, he’s cheap.”

“Impossible standards.” That, Ray understood. “So they can watch you fail. Being constantly asked to prove yourself would exhaust anyone, even a were.” Which was why she’d come here for help. That was smart. This place was for people who didn’t have connections as a safety net, or who had friends or family who were also struggling. Life in the city could break up community. Rainbow Wings was trying to bring it back.

The human put her head up, farther than before, as if reevaluating Ray’s size in light of what he’d just said. Her eyes widened a fraction, but then she took a breath and her words came out level enough. “Yeah. They act like they’re doing you a favor, but without any actual support. Then they tell you to be grateful and to work harder.”

Anger, hot and bright. Much better than despair, at least in the short term. A fight couldn’t be sustained on anger alone.

Ray reached into a pocket until he found baggies full of granola. Then he held one out for her. “My mother-in-law,” another term it was foreign to say, “makes granola for snacking.” Lots of big chunks to be eaten while hiking or working, she claimed. “She works at a coffee shop and bakery in Madera. This has almonds, if you’re allergic. And oats and chocolate chips.” Ray sniffed the other bag. “Cinnamon, brown sugar, a bit of oil, I think. She makes one with maple syrup, she said, but I don’t think we had any.”

The human seemed flustered. “I can’t take your…”

Ray put the extra bag down on the coffee table, then opened the other one to eat a handful. “A hint of salt,” he added, after he swallowed. “Cal, my”–he nodded toward the back of the center rather than trip over that incredibly human word again—“is part fairy, which means he eats a lot, and most of it sweet. So I have a lot of food on hand.” Ray tugged a bag of some caramels out of another pocket just enough to show her it was there.

“Oh.” The human pulled the bag of granola a little closer to her, but didn’t open it. “Thank you. Aren’t you a cop?” The abrupt question seemed to take her by surprise too. “Sorry. It’s... You’re a were, right? I heard them say in here a while ago that there’s just the one.”

Ray met her slightly abashed stare, then glanced toward the door, then the conference rooms. “I don’t know how to answer that,” he admitted. “Yes. And no. I’m on leave.” He rubbed his forehead. “It might be permanent.” Going back probably wouldn’t be up to him, regardless. “Technically, yes. At the moment.” He made a frustrated sound, not a growl. “Do they have job counselors here? That’s who you’re looking for today, aren’t you?”

The human listened to Ray’s small moment of panic in silence, then, as if he’d asked her to, listed some of the center’s many services. “Job counselors, assistance with rental forms and approaching landlords—especially if you have shit credit, or none. They also do mental health stuff if you’re lucky, but that’s always booked up.” She must have seen his confusion at that. “It’s low cost, because they work the state funding as much as they can. But that means more people want it. Hence the ‘always booked up’ part.”

She didn’t say which service she’d come in for. Maybe all of them. Maybe any of them. She had had what seemed like a bad few days, maybe after a bad few years. People came to the city to start a new life. They came to the village, most of them, looking for acceptance. That was brave but also exhausting and often lonely.

Truman chose that moment to slink back inside, pausing to give both Ray and the human a suspicious look. Then he started to check the messages that had been left while he’d been out. He swore to himself.

“Weres have places like this,” Ray informed the woman, and Truman too, probably, if he was paying attention to them. “Places to go for help if you don’t have a pack. They’re much farther away than this. Weres don’t often linger in cities. But humans, of course, would want their centers of help closer.”

“Do you go there?” The human gestured for Ray to continue, and when he didn’t, confused, she added, “since you’re alone here. You don’t have a pack, right?”

“I have a pack.” Ray’s face was hot. “But they aren’t wolves.” He took a large chunk of granola to feel the satisfying crunch between his teeth. “Friends. Family. They listen, and they sometimes bring me food. I try to do the same for them… I think. It’s like that.” He gestured toward the windows, the noise, the village itself. “I don’t like all the sounds, and it’s not an event planned with weres in mind. But it means something that it’s happening.”

Cal would be cooing at him right now. Ray crunched more granola. “Community, but in a wider, vague sense. Hope for the future is nice, but meanwhile, there is still you and what you need right now. You can’t just have the one, you need both, even though the people at the bluffs and City Hall people want you think you can do it alone, thattheydo it alone.“ They did favors for each constantly, behind the scenes, as Penn had snarled. “My… father-in-law says a hero has to match the times they are in. But I think a hero can be anyone. Truman, for being here. Gary, though he’s flustered. A witch giving you advice for free when you need it.” A bit of a growl finally slipped out. “The barista who puts a leaf in your ma—in your husband’s drink, making him smile on a bad day.” Ray stopped, not just his face hot but his neck as well. “The city is pack. And then the neighborhood you’re in. Then your family… however you define that. I know humans see it as a matter of blood, but weres don’t, which is why it’s so hard to remember that care isn’t always returned, or natural for everyone. But… it’s all pack,” Ray finished, and realized how foolish he must sound to them.

The woman’s heart was beating faster. So was Truman’s, for that matter.

Ray looked up. “That isn’t your problem. Sorry.”

The human looked as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t think of what. “I’ve never met a were before,” was what finally came out.

Ray tossed his head. If she was worried about a faux pas, she hadn’t made any.

“Thank you for listening,” the woman added, quieter.

Ray tried to smooth his frown away. “I can’t help but listen.” He gestured toward his ears and had no idea why that drew a small laugh from her.

“Thanks anyway,” she said again. “And for the snack.”

Ray was just glad she had calmed considerably, and that her scent wasn’t nearly so pained and sad. “Eat it before you go home and bite the hand of anyone who tries to take your food.” Ray huffed, then considered how that advice would sound to a human. “Not literally.”Unless they’re a wolf, he added to himself. Out of habit, he reached for his wallet, only to hesitate with it in his hand. But since it was out, he pulled a card from it and slid it across the table. “I don’t know about the rest, but the phone number on there is still good. I have no knowledge of how to deal with roommates or how to get a better job, but I have more granola, if you need some. And bright blue breakfast pastries that never seem to run out.” He sighed. There were boxes upon boxes of them in the pantry.

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