Page 22 of Werewolf Heart

She couldn’t risk it.

Rita keeps calling her. That woman hasn’t let her out of her sight from the moment she texted her the situation.

“You don’t text that and then act surprised when I call you!” She shouted through the phone. “Just… Just talk to me. We don’t have to talk about what happened. Tell me what you’re doing right now. Anything.”

Which drove Sara to go on another rant about her thesis, that Alfred had grown a couple more centimeters, then hopping on Discord so they could chat while she played a cosy video game about farming and killing old gods. It was a fun distraction from the depressing ambiance around her.

No, she did not have any incidents going to school or work. Tom did not follow her anywhere. He did not call. He did not text. The stalking seemed to be over. (Who knew he just needed to have the fear of God beaten into him?) Her life was slowly getting back to normal. Yet, things at home were tense.

Rita actually spent a night at her place; she insisted, actually. They watched a horror comedy then a new k-drama on Netflix, all while eating bad (but yummy!) oily foods on the sofa. It was a fun night. Till Sara caught a glimpse of Robert going to the kitchen to fetch a cup of water. They exchanged no words. Rita immediately knew something was wrong.

“Did you guys have a fight or something?” She asked, visibly confused.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sara mumbled.

“Oh, so you guys did have a fight.” Rita frowned. “Did he say something about Tom?”

“It wasn’t— We just need space right now.”

“You want me to beat him up?” She asked, very serious. “‘Cause I can go beat him up right now.”

“Rita,” she sighed.

“I’ll put him in the hospital, you just need to ask.”

“You needed help opening up a popcorn bag.”

“It was a greasy, stubborn popcorn bag! Robert is a mushy human being. I can take him.”

Nope, she thought. Not anymore he isn’t.

“Everything is fine,” she said, with her best lying face. “You do not need to put Robert in the hospital. I promise.”

Rita looked at her pensively, like she saw right through her, like she was about to call her on her bullshit. She did none of that. Instead, her friend laid back and kept eating her greasy popcorn. Sara thought she was off the hook.

Then Rita had the gall to say, “If this is about your undying love for each other, I’m going to be really upset you pushed him away out of some sense of insecurity and self-hatred your mum instilled in you. Which is double bullshit, by the way.”

Sara couldn’t look in her direction the rest of the night. She did soften up, though, when Rita told her she’d put her mum in the hospital, too. She only needed to ask. That was nice of her.

Sara is not sure why she’s setting herself up for failure.

It’s my home, too, she tells herself. I deserve to be comfortable in my own home.

Truth be told, this past week has been a nightmare. They’re ignoring each other. They only talk when it’s strictly necessary. They can barely be in the same room together! For Sara, it’s like she’s back at her childhood home, doing every possible desperate thing to avoid being around her mother. The thought makes her grow ill.

So, that is why she is in the fucking living room. By herself. With no Rita to alleviate the tension between them. Sara waits. For Robert.

She wants to figure things out, under the guise of watching another marathon of reality TV.

It’s a very simple plan, really.

Robert is going to walk into the living room any second now. They’re going to have a talk. They’re going to fix things.

If he wants to.

If he wishes to fix anything at all…

This is a hard lesson she learned way too young—you cannot force people to make amends. You can’t force people to like you. If Robert is fine with how things are, then Sara just has to suck it up. (Or make plans to move out.) It is what it is.

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