Reluctantly Lycan

Reluctantly
Lycan

By
Jez Strider

©2013
Jez Strider

A full moon hung high in the night sky. The illuminated orb always put Marala Dakota on edge. She picked up her glass of bottom shelf wine and a pack of cigarettes before climbing out onto the fire escape for her monthly ritual. With a shaky hand, she flicked her lighter to life and lit what she knew was a cancer stick. The alcohol and tobacco helped relieve some of the anxiety. She wouldn’t do anything reckless. But, this moon was harder to deal with than usual and she knew next month’s would be even worse.

June was around the corner and so was her birthday. That damned day
that tradition stated she should have gone through her transition. Only she hadn’t gone through it when she was eighteen and now seventeen years had passed. This birthday she’d be thirty-five and life had never become any easier. Mara knew for certain it wouldn’t get better.

She finished off her wine in a quick gulp and lit another smoke. Night
s like this she questioned every choice she’d ever made, regretted them all, and then eventually decided they were the right ones. Most nights she would have been in bed by now after working two jobs. The first at a diner in the mornings and the second an evening shift at a gas station.

“Mom!”
Her son called out. “Are you outside?”

Quickly, she took one last drag off the cigarette and tossed it over the railing. It disappeared into the darkness of the alleyway below. As vocal as she was about the dangers of smoking, she didn’t want her son catching her in the act.

After exhaling, she headed back inside away from the manipulative moon. “Needed some fresh air before bed. Everything okay? Homework done?”

Jak
nodded. He looked nothing like her except for his eyes were an odd yellow-green. His dark hair and build made him a spitting image of his father, especially as he neared adulthood. Thinking about it made Marala’s throat tighten and she brought her hand up to it in a nervous gesture as the fear took hold.

“You’re the one who doesn’t look okay.” He frowned. “I wish you’d let me pick up a few extra hours
at the movie theater so I could help out more around here. You never get to rest.”

Her eyes softened and she hugged him tightly to her. “I can rest when I’m dead. Besides,
your school work is more important.”

“Whatever.” The seventeen year old young man squirmed out of her embrace and
walked toward his room. “I’m going to bed. ‘Night!”

“Goodnight.” She felt tears form in her eyes and silently cursed the moon for causing her erratic behavior.

Mara watched until Jak disappeared through his door and made haste to the kitchen to refill her glass. The cheap wooden chair she slumped down onto wobbled. One leg was slightly shorter than the rest. She placed her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. Life had always been one step forward and three steps back. Every time she’d almost caught up with the bills, something else had happened to knock her back down into the dirt. For the amount of time she had spent kicked to the ground, she’d have been better off mudwrestling in a bikini on local access television.

For a
n hour, she stayed in that same spot, trying to find some sort of peace in her mind. It wasn’t until her bottle of cheap wine was empty that she went to her bedroom and lay down. In four hours, she’d have to wake up and get ready for work. When the alarm clock finally went off, she hadn’t slept a wink, but at least the damned full moon had been replaced by the splendid warmth of the sun.

Sunday morning meant the diner would be packed with early risers and then in the afternoon with people stopping in after church. Mara looked forward to the distraction.

Marala
spent half an hour in the shower. The water only stayed hot for about fifteen minutes, but the cold water helped her kick start the day. She ran her hands through her hair before pulling the red locks up into a tight ponytail. Satisfied, she made the short trip to her son’s room and knocked on the door.

“
Jak, I’m leaving.”

He gave an unintelligible grumble. Mara sighed and picked up her purse on her way out. She checked the door twice to make sure it was locked. The low class part of New York wasn’
t quite in the slums, but it was close. Every time she left Jak alone she worried about some drugged out loser breaking in. It wouldn’t have been the first time. At least they were both working during that burglary.

The walk to work took about thirty minutes. Mara had made the trek nearly every day since she’d run away, pregnant and alone. Her eyes drifted downward and she walked without thinking about how to get to her destination. She had fled with enough money to rent the apartment and take a few weeks off after her son was born. Since then, life had been work
… day end, day out.

Pausing in front of the diner, she finally lifted her head and looked around. Normally, George the mailman greeted her with a wave. She grew concerned before remembering it was a Sunday. Everything else was the same as the previous day. The ‘D’ on the sign flickered, familiar faces filed inside when Hilary unlocked the door, and there
Mara was, dressed in Pepto pink and a stupid hat.

What would my life have been like if I’d stayed?

That idea led to bad thoughts
and regrets. She forced it from her mind, entered the restaurant, and clocked in. It was far too late to change the past.

“Rough night, Mara?”
Hilary asked, holding out an apron for Marala.

“Insomnia.”

“I thought your admirer might have kept you up all night with steamy sex. I know better than that, though. You’re too uptight.” She placed a hand on Mara’s arm and led her to the door. “He’s here already.”

Hilary blatantly pointed so Mara pushed
her coworker’s hand down. “He’s not into me. He likes the pie.” The man came to the diner most days and seeing him was one of the few things Marala looked forward to. Not that the conversation had ever gone past the weather or waffles.

“
Your
pie.” Hilary said.

“Ugh, you’re disgusting.” Mara couldn’t help but smile a little, though, as she watched her loyal customer unfold his napkin and place it in his lap.

His name was Taylor Andin. She’d read it on his credit card the first time he’d bought lunch and she had been his waitress. He was a tall man, not overly broad, but lean and athletic. His hair was spiked a little and gelled, but not very long. Brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a friendly smile rounded out his face. Mara couldn’t bring herself to admit it, but she had a crush on him.

“Mara?”

She blinked a few times. “Right, sorry. Let me get to work before I fall asleep.” With a swipe down the front of her uniform, she smoothed the fabric and headed toward Taylor’s table.

“Lovely as ever, Ms. Mara.”
He said, tilting his head back to gaze up at her with a warm grin.

“Mr. Andin. You’re far too kind.” She could feel herself blush. The effect thr
ew her off since she typically despised most men who flirted with her. “Having the usual or would you like to be adventurous today?”

He bit his lip lightly. “Should I take a chance and try something new?”

The way he eyed her made it difficult to form a response. She pretended to make a note on the paper in her hand. “I’d go with the usual.”

Taylor leaned back, one arm stretching over the
cushion of the booth seat. “If the lady says the usual, then that’s what I’ll have.”

“Great. I’ll have your coffee out in a jiffy.”
She turned on her heels and disappeared into the kitchen. In her mind, letting a man like that get to you meant one thing… trouble.

Taylor ate his dessert, one of the diner’s “homemade” key lime pies, as slowly as possible. He gulped down his cup of coffee each time Mara had refilled it so that she would have to return to his table that much sooner. The woman fascinated him.
How were her eyes a color he had never seen? Why was she so standoffish? Was that her natural hair color?
He grinned to himself on that last one, wanting to check for himself if the carpet matched the drapes.

When he could manage it, which was often, he would take a cab across town from where he lived to eat at the restaurant. If not for a friend promising the best pie in town, Taylor would have never eaten in the diner and never encountered the beautiful waitress.

She was on her way back again with the coffee pot. He placed his hand over his cup and shook his head. One more sip and he predicted he’d burst. “I’m good, thank you.”

Mara nodded and tore off his check slip, placing it face down on the table. He noted her long fingers and that the
nails were chewed to the quick even worse than usual. “Sure there’s nothing else I can get you?” She asked, one hand resting on her hip and the coffee pot in the other.

“You could go out with me sometime.” He said casually. “Is that on the menu?”

“Thought you were sticking to what you know today.” She looked at him, but without making eye contact. Her voice was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard. Not musical or dainty, but husky and deep. Strong and sultry like a vixen.

“Guess that’s a no.” He laughed, shaking his head.

Mara glanced around. “It’s not that. You’re a good looking man and so very kind to me.” He’d never heard that softness in her tone before. “I have a kid and two jobs. Dating is kind of on the backburner. I’m lucky that I’m awake right now.”

Taylor pulled out his wallet and placed his Visa card on the bill without c
hecking the total. “So let me make your family dinner sometime. I’m a great cook and you’ve given me plenty of great meals.”

She wavered, he could see it in her expression, but a deeper worry creased her brow, something greater than lack of time.
“Okay, but only if we don’t call it a date. It’s two people… umm….”

“Talking and eating?” He grinned and then snatched her notepad from her right pocket. His phone number was written on it when he handed it back to
her. “Call me the next time you’re off and I will come to your house to make dinner.”

“What if I never call?”

“Well, I see you at work all the time so you can’t avoid me forever. I mean it… call me soon.”

To his surprise, she gave him an exact time on the spot. “I work here and then my other job earlier than usual on Wednesday so I will be home by seven o’clock.”

“Perfect. Write down your address.”

Mara wrote down the apartment number, appearing surprised herself and handed it to him. Without another word, she picked up his credit card and walked off to take care of his bill. A short time later she returne
d with a receipt for him to sign.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Andin.” She said.

“Only if you call me Taylor.” He laughed a little, trying to keep the mood light.

“Taylor, I look forward to our… meal.” In quick steps, she walked away.

He replaced the card in his wallet, then removed a one hundred dollar bill and placed it on the table under a salt shaker. Even though he considered himself a nice guy, he’d never left anyone a tip so large. If times were so tough, he figured she could use the extra cash.

Mara returned to clear off Taylor’s table knowing that he left tips. Always at least five dollars even if all he had was a piece of pie and coffee. At first she thought he’d left a one dollar bill, but when she picked up the salt shaker she saw the two zeros.

“Oh no.”
She crushed the money in her hand and ran out the front door. Taylor’s stood a short distance away with his arm extended, hailing a cab. “Mr. Andin!” Waving her arm and yelling, she attempted to get his attention.

He turned around and raised his left eyebrow. “I knew you would
fling yourself helplessly into my arms. I’m charming like that.”

“What? If that’s your fantasy, you’ll have more luck searching for a damsel in distress. Not me.”

Taylor smirked. “I was kidding. What
are
you doing?”

She offered him the money. “You left me a hundred instead of a one or five.”

His expression changed from a playful smirk to something softer. “I meant to leave that. Now you’ve made it awkward.”

“You meant to?” Her eyes went down to her hand and she shook her head before looking up. “I can’t accept charity, but thank you for the gesture.”

“It’s not charity. It’s gratuity.”

The yellow cab parked in front of them. A driver leaned over. “
You gettin’ in or not?”

“See you Wednesday, beautiful.” Taylor gave a wink before grabbing the door handle.

In a rush, she ran the numbers through her mind and gave out an educated guess. “You can’t give me a two thousand percent tip!”

“I just did.” He sat down in the back of the taxi and waved as
Marala stared on.

Conflicted with anger and admiration, she shoved the money in
to her pocket before jogging to the diner. By the end of the shift, her feet would hurt and she’d want to strangle several customers, but a smile played on her lips every time she thought about Taylor Andin.