Page 65 of True North
Lenny and Marie lived on the east side of town, right by the water. The house itself was nice enough but modest, a one-story cottage painted a cheerful pale yellow, but the view was to die for: the property backed up directly onto the river. Lenny led Misha around back to a shady patio overlooking the water and said, “Wait here for a minute. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
He brought cheese and crackers, a peeled and segmented orange, a glass of water, and a beer, and Misha sat at the outdoor table in the lengthening evening light and watched boats putter along the river and felt the wind blow through his hair. All the tensions of the past few days slowly sloughed from him like a snake’s discarded skin. His worries were still there, hovering at his shoulders, but no longer perched with their talons digging into his flesh as they screamed into his ears. He could be at ease, at least for a little while.
When he was done eating and had slowly sipped down the last dregs of his beer, he went inside through the screen door and found Lenny in the cramped, homey kitchen, chopping a tomato. “I help?” Misha asked as he rinsed his plate in the sink.
Lenny shook his head. “Nearly done. Will you take the dog out? She likes to have a stroll along the water.”
The dog turned out to be an ancient, somewhat crotchety thing of indeterminate breed, small and white with short, stubby legs that tottered uncertainly over the paver stones of the patio. She spent a long time nosing around in the planter beds bordering the patio, then hobbled her way down toward the water. Misha followed her as she made her way onto the jetty, at which point he said, in Russian, “Maybe we should stop here, don’t you think? Lenny wouldn’t be happy with me if I let you fall into the water.”
She looked up at him with rheumy eyes and seemed to consider his words. He sat down on the jetty to give her the idea. After a moment, she sat beside him. Her tail thumped weakly against the planks.
“It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it,” he said. He touched a tentative hand to her back. Her tail thumped again. He petted her gently, and they sat there together and watched the water, her eyes mostly closed as she took in the smells and sounds carried on the warm breeze.
He’d had a dog like this as a child, a little white thing who slept beneath his parents’ bed every night. He hadn’t thought about her in years.
At last, the dog rose and made her painstaking way back to the house. Misha opened the door for her, and she went straight to Lenny and lay down between his feet as he stood at the stove.
“Good walk?” Lenny asked her and crouched to give her ears a fond ruffle.
“Very good,” Misha said, even though Lenny hadn’t been talking to him. It was still true.
Twenty-Five
Lenny had to go back to the pub after dinner for some reason Misha didn’t fully understand—something about one of the cat shifters who needed to drop off a payment. He didn’t ask any questions. He was feeling very full and very tired, and he lay down on the couch after Lenny left and almost immediately fell asleep.
He woke sometime later to the sound of Lenny’s voice speaking quietly in another room. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep. The living room was dark, but there was a light on in the kitchen. Misha turned onto his back and lay there with his eyes closed, disoriented and still swathed in sleep. He had been dreaming about something, but already he couldn’t remember what.
“—not emotionally, but physically, yeah,” Lenny was saying. “He ate seconds at dinner, so he’s not dying. You only have to really worry about a bear if they won’t eat.”
Someone laughed in response, even more muted than Lenny. That was JT’s laughter, and Misha’s body flooded with a surge of adrenaline before he realized JT wasn’t actually there in the house. Lenny was on the phone.
Misha’s ears were sharp enough to pick up JT’s reply. “Do you know if he wants to come home? Or I can get him a hotel room for the night—”
“He can stay here. It’s not a problem. I’ll see what I can get out of him in the morning.” Lenny sighed. “Or maybe Marie can pry something out of him. He’s not too communicative.”
“Christ, he sure is not. Okay. Thanks, Lenny. Sorry for all the bother. Tell him to check his phone, eh?”
“Will do. I’ll give you an update tomorrow.”
Misha flushed with shame and anger to hear himself discussed that way. JT thought he was abother? JT thought he was uncommunicative? He had done the right thing, then, to leave.
His throat closed over. His eyes burned. He lifted the neck of his T-shirt to cover his eyes and soak up the tears that leaked out. He was crying so much lately and he hated it. He didn’t want to feel so many things. That was one of the nice things about spending time in his bear form: he didn’t tend to have many emotions beyond hunger.
He got himself under control after a minute and sat up. A digital clock on an end table read 10:34, so he had been asleep for a few hours. Lenny was making some noises in the next room, opening and closing cabinets and talking quietly to the dog. Misha gave his face one more thorough wipe with the hem of his T-shirt and hesitantly ventured into the kitchen.
Lenny was wiping down the counters with a rag. He smiled at Misha as he came into the room. “Hey. You’re up.”
“Yeah.” Misha rubbed his arms, feeling chilled even though the house wasn’t cold. “You called JT?”
“He called me. Again. He said to look at your phone. But I bet you probably heard that.” Lenny tossed the rag in the sink and gave Misha a wry look. “And heard me saying you aren’t communicative. Well, you aren’t.”
Misha scowled. “And JT said—”
“JT is extremely worried about you. I know you’re having a shitty week, but he’s having a shitty week, too. And you did, after all, leave his house in the middle of the night without telling him where you were going. Whatever you heard, I wouldn’t take it to heart.”
Misha stuffed his hands in his pockets, chagrined. “I’m sorry, Lenny. I’m—” He swallowed. “It’s bad for me, in Toronto, when I left. So now, it’s like—” He made a circular motion over his chest, trying to indicate how churned up he was, an absolute mess of a human being. “Maybe I don’t think good right now. Um, like I do stupid things.”
“I know, man. I hear you.” Lenny clapped him on the shoulder. “Let me show you to the guest room. I think you need to go back to sleep for the next eight to ten hours. It’ll do you good.”