Page 2 of One Night with the Werewolf
We discuss plans for a new school to help young adults overcome social anxiety, which would clearly be a hit, but my attention wanders the longer we talk. Jason’s now almost an hour late, which is late, even for him.
But I try not to keep my eye on the clock. He must have run into something along the way. He doesn’t work on Saturdays, but there’s always construction in this town, especially in the summer. He might have been out hiking with his roommates earlier today.
I realize then that I don’t even know what his plans were. I was busy getting myself ready for the party. It occurs to me thatmaybe it’s odd my boyfriend and I didn’t do anything together on my own birthday. I just don’t want to come across as clingy.
More time passes, and my friends buy me more drinks that I sip on while I wait. Luckily, Elroy’s offers great pub snacks, so we order plenty of fried food to go around and soak up the alcohol. Martin, the bar manager, approaches me to say “Happy Birthday” and offers to play some of my favorite songs on the jukebox.
Roscoe is mostly quiet, his chair tilted back as he watches and listens without contributing. I hope he’s not bored with our chatter.
An hour and a half has gone by, and still no sign of Jason. Everyone but me is drinking and having fun, and while I’ve got my happy face plastered on, I’m worried. Did he get into a car accident? Did he just… forget?
Finally, I get out my phone and text him.
Hey, where are you? We’ve been here for a while.
But there’s no answer. I wait another twenty minutes, thinking maybe he was just driving, but still—nothing.
When I look up, I find Roscoe watching me.
“Hasn’t called or anything yet, has he?” It’s not really phrased as a question, because we all already know the answer: my phone hasn’t rung since he showed up two hours ago.
“No, but I’m sure he has a good reason,” I answer defensively.
Roscoe gives me a flat look. “Why don’t you call him up? Put him on speakerphone. I’ll make sure he gets over here.”
He says it like a command, and immediately I obey, tapping Jason’s number and setting the phone on the table as it rings. I hope I don’t regret this.
On the fourth ring, there’s a long pause and a huff of breath. Then Jason’s voice says—loudly—“Oh, hey.”
I cringe at his impatient, annoyed tone of voice, as if I’ve interrupted something important by calling.
“We’re all at Elroy’s,” I say quickly into the phone speaker.
“Hey Jason!” Kimmy calls out.
“Oh, what for?” Jason asks. His voice is slurred, like he’s been drinking. I hear a woman giggling in the background.
“We’re here for… my birthday?” Does he not remember at all that we had plans tonight? Does he evenknowit’s my birthday? I told him about my promotion yesterday, and how this was a celebration of me moving up in the world, too.
“Where are you, Jase?” Roscoe cuts in. “You should have been here hours ago.”
“Oh, hey Dad.”
The woman on the other end of the line says, “Come on, get off the phone.”
“Sorry,” Jason continues. “I didn’t realize your birthday party was tonight, Em.”
“Well, it is.” I try not to sound too put-out. He hates it when Italk downto him, which is pretty much any time I criticize him at all, so I try not to do it.
“Babe, can I take a raincheck? You’re with your friends, right?”
“Yeah, she is,” says an irritated Becks. She’s been quiet this whole time, but now she sits forward to speak into the phone. “We can all hear you.”
“Then you don’t need me, right?”
Roscoe glares down at the phone, his eyes like razorblades. “Son,” he snaps, “is there another woman with you?”
There’s silence on the other end. Then we hear a secondwoman in the distant background calling out, “Where did that wine go?”
