“Because anything that matters is scary.”
It’s the same thing my parents told me when I left home for Montreal, the first of their kids to head out of our small town. I was standing there with my suitcase wondering if I should just haul it back up the stairs when my dad came up behind me and grabbed the handle while my mom hugged me and said those words.
Anything that matters is always going to scare you. That’s how you know it’s real.
“And I matter to you?”
I place my hand over hers and squeeze. “So fucking much—and yes, I’ll swear like a sailor until you believe me.”
She giggles, and I pull my hand away, keeping hers clasped in mine as I let them both drop to the couch. We sit there holding hands while she finishes her half of the toast.
I feel like the sun itself is beating inside my chest.
It says something about the force of my hunger that I actually give up holding hands with DeeDee Beausoleil to go make more toast, but when both our stomachs starts rumbling in unison, I figure it’s necessary. I come back with a heaping plate of slices and a bowl of grapes I found in the fridge.
The tapestry is still pulled over the window, making the whole room look like it’s bathed in a rosy sunrise glow even though it’s almost eleven. DeeDee’s got her legs tucked up under her as she spins that ring she’s always wearing around her finger, two little creases forming between her eyes.
“I’ve always meant to ask you about that.” I gesture at the ring after setting the food down and reclaiming my couch cushion. “You wear it all the time.”
She stops messing around with it and gives me a guilty look, like I’ve caught her indulging a bad habit.
“Ouais. It belonged to mygrand-mère.”
She holds her hand out, and I take a closer look at the burnished gold band and blue gem.
“It’s pretty. Were you close with your grandmother?”
She shrugs. “Not really. She died when I was little. She used to scare the shit out of me.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “So why do you wear her ring every day?”
“She told me some important things.”
She catches my curious look and sighs like she’s resigned herself to sharing more of the story.
“She grew up in this cabin in northern Québec, real pioneer-style, you know? No electricity. No running water. It wasn’t even that long ago, but it took a while for them to build stuff like that so far up north. She was always telling me about the wolves.”
She shudders at the word ‘wolves’ the way people do when they’re talking about murderers or thieves.
“They’d come all the time in the winter. They were big wolves. Mountain wolves. Not the kind you see in the zoo—like, these were big ass wolves.”
“Now I’m just picturing wolves with big asses.”
She smacks my arm. “I’m serious! They’d eat babies, these wolves. They’d eat people. In the summer, they stayed away, but in the winter they got hungry enough to come close. At night, mygrand-mèresaid you could hear them right outside the cabin. Howling.” She shudders again. “The only way to stay safe was to never be alone. That’s what the wolves wanted: to cut you out of the pack. If you were in a big group, you were usually safe, but the less people there were, the braver the wolves got. That’s what her parents told mygrand-mère: you never leave the cabin alone, especially not in winter, and especially not in the dark.”
She’s playing with the ring again, alternating between stroking the gem and twisting the band around her finger.
“Yep,” I agree, hoping to shake off some of the darkness that’s crept into the room. “I can see how that would scare a kid shitless.”
DeeDee nods, still staring at her fingers.
“So why do you wear it every day?”
“To remember,” she murmurs. “To remember not to be alone.”
I wait for more of an explanation, but she stays quiet.
“DeeDee.” I hesitate before laying a hand on her knee. “There are no wolves here.”
