Page 59 of Bears Behaving Badly
“It’s odd that you know that. And you’re so definitive! So then, prove me wrong. How about you step over here and take a look?”
“How about you fuck the fuck off—”
“Fuck the fuck off? How would one even begin to fuck the fuck off?”
“—and mind your own business?” This from the larger, bulked-up male, who made the mistake many such men did: he assumed that hours in the gym made him an authority figure.
“I’m fine right here.” She could see them more clearly now, hear them better. She was hyperaware that there was little to no wind, and that she had the sun at her back, and that the three of them smelled like fear, heavily spiked with aggression. She could feel her pulse pick up in response as she filtered the data: shocked to see her. No running or shouting. Quick to assure her that there was Nothing To See Here. Trying to drive her off with a threat display. Absolutely would not walk up to the edge.
“You dumped her, didn’t you? Or she fell because you weren’t paying attention, and you got the hell out so you wouldn’t get in trouble. The latter, I’m guessing, given that you smell like happy hour in a dive bar and haven’t brought help back with you. Chicken wings and Budweiser with just a smidge of meth. Jesus wept.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“And you.” She nodded at the woman who wouldn’t look at her. “You talked them into coming back, didn’t you? But only to reassure yourself there was no saving her. Then you could resume your life, presumably with one or both of these men, with minimal guilt.”
Tell them there’s an ambulance coming? One likely followed by a police unit?
No. They might run.
“They’re my husband and my brother,” she burst out, glancing at both men, then looking away. “We grew up together.”
“Lorraine, shut the fuckup.”
“We’re family,” she gasped, and fell silent beneath the larger man’s glare.
“Family.”I may vomit. Yes, I really think I might. And I would hate to lose that outstanding banh mi I had for lunch.“And your daughter?”
“She’s, uh, I mean, she’s mine. Not, um—”
“Oh Christ.” Annette rubbed her forehead. “You got pregnant by another man while your husband was inside. Now he’s out and he doesn’t want any cuckoos in his nest.”
“What?”
“This is your Big Test of True Love. Get rid of your daughter, and you can all go back to being the Terrible Musketeers.”
Before she could elaborate, or kick someone, there was the sound of furiously beating wings as Nadia shot out of the ravine and soared above them, hoarsely screaming what Annette assumed was the red kite equivalent of “you all suck.”
“Oh, look! I found my bird. That’s twice! I should buy a lottery ticket. I just keep finding things. Isn’t that lucky? Oh, goodGod.” The two men had their heads together, while the woman stayed on the outside of their little group, studying the horizon like she’d never seen it before. “You’re trying to figure out if you should toss me over the side or run away. Or both. And I’ll be honest, I’m rooting for options one or three.”
Their eyes widened, and she realized she was grinning at them so broadly her cheeks hurt.
(“Sometimes…when you do that…you look like you have a thousand teeth.” Pat, blood pouring from the six-inch slash down his face, both of them trying to keep their balance on the slick floor; he didn’t pass out until she dragged him across the threshold to the ER.)
Before she could say anything else, Nadia swooped in to land. Annette obligingly stuck out her arm so Nadia wouldn’t feel the need to roost on one of the men’s skulls. “Gorgeous, isn’t she?”
“What the fuck isthat?”
“Stop that, you’ll hurt her feelings. She’s…Ack!” Annette brushed the feathers away from her face as Nadia displayed her six-foot wingspan. “The poor thing was a helpless, hideous bag of bones and feathers when I found…Ow!Dammit, Nadia! I’ve only worn this sweater twice!”
Q. Why didn’t I wrap her skirt around my arm as a shield?
A. Because I’m an idiot.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
Annette glanced over at the smaller man. “Oh, don’t look at me like you’ve never seen someone in a public park using a raptor to hunt small game.”
“What?”
