Page 71 of Wolves & Watercolors
My sister is my last stop. She’s lounging on the patio enjoying the morning sunlight as Slate paces back and forth with a fussing Timber.
“Everything okay?” I ask, sinking down beside her.
She throws a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn before answering. “Yeah, just had a long night. What’s up?”
“I’m going home.”
“I figured from the bag,” she says, tipping her head toward me. “I wish you’d stay, but I understand. I’m so sleep deprived, I don’t blame you for not wanting to stay longer.”
“No, that’s not it. I’ve loved seeing you. And it’s okay you’re busy. You had a baby, Haze.” Guilt pangs in my chest. “I’m sure it’s a lot to handle. Can I do anything to help?”
She smiles. “Nah. Marigold won’t stop coming and cleaning, Clove and Crickett have filled our fridge with food, and Timber is only happy when she’s attached to my boob or outside walking with Slate. Hence,” she says, waving an arm in her partner’s direction as she trails off.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more useful.”
“I didn’t expect anything from you.” She reaches up and smooths my hair behind my ear. “But it was lovely to see you. And I’m so glad you met Timber.” Another yawn punctuates her words. “When you come next time, maybe she’ll be sitting up and laughing or whatever. It’ll be more exciting.”
“I love you,” I say roughly, throwing my arms around my big sister. “You’re the best big sister and an amazing mom.”
Pulling me tighter, Hazel murmurs into my hair. “Love you too. I’ll miss you. Stay longer next time.”
Timber lets out a squall and Slate steps up on the porch. “I think it’s time for another feeding.”
“Alrighty. Is this what they meant by cluster feeding?” Hazel askes, accepting Timber from her partner. With practiced movements, she settles her baby in the crook of her arm and tugs her shirt down. It takes a few attempts to get Timber to latch, but then Timber drinks happily.
“I’ll want daily updates, Mama,” I say. Gingerly, I take Timber’s waving hand and give it a little squeeze. “Bye, my little niece. I love you! I’ll see you soon.”
A sadness that has nothing to do with Cedar sweeps over me as I untuck my legs and force myself to walk away. Leaving shouldn’t feel like something is being ripped away from me. Maybe it’s proximity to my hormonal sister.
Hazel blows me a kiss and waves before turning her attention back to her baby. It felt so right being near her again.
The walk south to the parking lot is quiet, though several people wave in greeting. No one is that friendly in Los Angeles. Carefully, I lift my paintings into the trunk, and then tuck my bag in the back seat.
The car grinds to life, the sound feeling unnatural after so many days without it. Chewing my lip, I roll the wheel and slip it into reverse. The car lurches a few inches and stops abruptly. The momentum jerks me forward.
Frowning, I throw it into park and fling the door open. What the hell is stopping my car from moving? As I step out, a stalk of greenery sprouts at my feet and curls over my shoe.
A veritable patch of bushes has grown up around my car, stems twining into the wheels.
Suppressing curses, I clench my hands into fists. The bite of nails into my palms triggers another surge of growth, forcing me to step back.
So much for having control.
With a deep sigh, I reach out and brace myself against my car. I have to get this under control. After several deep breaths, I sense the power I am putting out without meaning to. It takes a few attempts to bend it to my will, but eventually the plants withdraw.
Why is it so difficult to leave?
Climbing back in my car, I keep a tight lock on my ability while I reverse out of the spot and roll toward the road. As I wind through the trees on the access road, my tension eases. The tug to stay lessens, though it leaves behind a gaping emptiness that grows with every mile.
I have to force myself to pull onto the freeway. It’s several hours to reach the motel I’ve picked as my half-way point. Tomorrow, I’ll travel the rest of the way back to the city and resume my life. Nothing to do but go through the motions and wait for the emotions to clear. If they ever do.
Cedar
The garden feels empty and somehow lifeless. My favorite place in the world isn’t the same now that I know what it’s like with Aurora in it. I need to harvest the spinach she planted and thin the beets, harvest the blackberries, and a million othertasks. But instead, I sit under the tree where she painted me and stare into nothingness.
When I took a break for lunch, I found the painting wrapped in brown paper outside my front door. It’s now safely tucked in my room. She captured my wolf perfectly, sunlight streaming across my fur and the garden looking wild around me. That’s what I want in this space now, and it’s not possible. Not without her.
Exhaling slowly, I rest my forehead against the arm slung across my knees. Closing my eyes doesn’t alleviate the deep ache of loss. I feel like I’ve lost a limb. A chunk of my soul is cut out.
