June

Heat like hot syrup dripped down Mia’s skin, the sun was barely risen but the oppressive warmth of West Virginia summer was already layering the land with a fanged vengeance. Her reborn body was simmering with its own heat, but Mia’s mind was elsewhere. Something was wrong with her arm.

Sticky fluid ran down her right wrist and she couldn’t help but swallow waves of nausea cutting through her gut as she walked. Mia couldn’t feel the cut yet, not enough of her body was back, but she could tell it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

The trail of hot blood dripped in between her fingertips, the wound wasn’t deep, but it was long-- curving elegantly from the soft of her inner elbow to her shoulder. At first, she worried she had been found, that it had been the thing in the woods, or a hunters trap, or worse, a pack. She had been so careful, moved around just enough, kept to herself just enough, didn’t linger anywhere.

Mia’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as her mind flew to images of being scented or tracked, gutted or recruited. She should have left town when she had the chance.

Luckily, she retraced the wolf’s steps and found a broken tree branch with some blood and a bit of clothing stuck to it, she exhaled in relief when it all smelled like her own. The dumb dog part of her seemed to have run into a tree; Mia opted to ignore the cut for now.

She turned toward the familiar highway.

Why does the wolf drag me all the way back to this road? All the way back to the neon sign in the dark? She didn’t have an answer for that.

Mia wandered thoughtlessly back toward the 24-hour diner in the middle of nowhere, she was relieved to see the same waitress on duty that night. Does she ever take the day off?

She entered the establishment quietly, feet padding soft on the cold tiles and shoulders hunched as she approached sheepishly from behind. Hannah/Xena/mystery-waitress was attending two other customers.

Mia found herself sprouting a tiny smile to the other woman’s back, “booth for one.”

The waitress was filling up a coffee cup, two older men in jean jackets and frowns sat at the counter, pointedly ignoring Mia. Xena/Hannah/Woods Girl turned slowly.

“Oh my God,” the waitress's mouth fell open, her expression blanking quickly. “You’re bleeding.”

Mia hadn’t felt it yet, but she looked down anyway, blood spread down her entire forearm the way tree roots seep into dirt. It was much more than she remembered. “Oops.” She said lamely, realizing that she was surely pushing her luck with this latest antic. “Uh.” She scratched the back of her neck with her good hand.

The waitress put her coffee pot down. “Are you--”

Mia cut her off before she could finish the thought. “Let me just go tidy this up.” She put her finger up. “One sec. Promise not to bleed on your nice floors, just,” She hesitated, “save me a booth.” It somehow made her stomach sink to think of being formally kicked out of this place, though she was no stranger to such things.

“That’s gotta hurt.” The waitress frowned. “Don’t tell me there was another accident on your construction site.”

Mia took a step backward and didn’t meet her eye. “One second. Right.”

She tried to slip out the door, but to her dismay someone else was just behind her, the odds were against her that morning in more than one way. She slid into the corner as the door dinged open and a couple walked through, looking exhausted and irritated.

“I told you to take 167.” The woman swore at the man.

“Look Julie, I need coffee and then we can discuss your mother’s original directions.”

“I told you not to listen to my mother!”

The waitress gave Mia one last forlorn look and then seated the young couple. Mia slipped out the door and into the dark of the parking lot. She hurried over to the side, past two large trucks and one minivan. Mia planted herself on the hard concrete, neon sign to her back and body hunched over, she tried to tear off a section of her already ragged shirt.

Mia had heard not all wolves went completely wild during the moon, that they didn’t roll in dirt, run into trees, and do God knows what every time. She heard they had packs though, and den mothers that kept them all in line. She had had a den mother once, but that was over now.

Mia had no interest in staying in line, however much she resented waking up starving with leaves in her hair.

She inhaled sharply through her nose when she moved her right arm and a stab of pain shot right up into her shoulder. Her body was becoming fully hers again. She whimpered. “Come on,” she hissed and tried to move so she could bandage herself, “just this one thing.”

She fiddled with her strip of shirt, trying to stop-up the wound while cursing at herself for several long minutes. She tensed every muscle in her body when she heard footsteps approach from behind, Mia sat up perfectly straight and tried not to panic.

“Hey there,” a voice called. “You might try not getting gangrene out here.”

Mia looked over her shoulder, the waitress was holding out a wet rag and what appeared to be Neosporin. Mia looked blankly back at her.

The waitress joined her at the edge of the parking lot. “I won’t pry,” she said simply, “but you’re gonna want to actually clean that up.”

Mia just kept looking, her mouth pinched shut. “It’s not what you think,” she said slowly, and then turned her face away.

“You don’t know what I think.” The waitress sounded wary. “Mostly, I think credit card insurance is a scam, NSYNC was the best band of the last couple decades, full stop, and spam gets a worse rep than it deserves.”

Mia couldn’t help but grow a small laugh. “Is that all?”

The waitress knelt to the ground, crouching in her fitted jeans and looking off into the dry yellow fields. “No, I’ve got more.”

Mia shifted in place. “Spam is disgusting.”

The waitress snorted. “Have you had it in rice with eggs and cheese? No, and I don’t accept unsourced opinions.”

Mia’s shoulders untensed, she watched her closely, the light of the newborn sun and ancient sign bathed her freckles in a mix of oranges and yellows. The shadows were long and shifting around them and she seemed like the strangest thing of the night.

“Well alright.” Mia reached out. “You sound like you cite your sources, I’ll take your magic germ-killer.” She shifted toward her. “Though I don’t usually trust witchcraft or such.”

The waitress handed over the rag first, carefully passing it to Mia’s good hand. “You’re the one that called herself Lucifer.”

Mia shook her head. “Mia is fine too,” she said firmly. “And I was only trying to keep up with…?” Mia leaned over and squinted into the light, “Carol today?”

The waitress gave a small smile. “Carol today.”

Mia leaned her head back, exposing her neck to the warm air. “Can I choose your next one?”

“Absolutely not.”

Mia chuckled and lifted the warm rag to her cut, trying to wipe out the grime and clear away the trail of thick dried blood. She flinched and gritted her teeth when she got to her upper forearm, a burn eating its way into her muscle, she wrinkled her nose and exhaled slowly.

“Oh, give it here,” the waitress snapped. “I only have a fifteen minute break and I’m not being accused of stealing company property if I leave this out here with you.”

Mia scowled. “I would give it back.”

The waitress, Carol today, took the rag and scooted over to start dabbing and clearing it out, she mumbled to herself as she did. “Really.” Mia curled into herself slightly but let her work, the feel of the warm water and soft touch making her squirm slightly. The waitress paused. “This will sting.”

That was all the warning the waitress gave before Mia was yelping, a fresh pain bursting over her whole arm as she slathered disinfectant on the area. Mia looked up at the sky, scrunched her features up, and only twitched a little. The waitress had a big grin on her face.

“And here I thought you’d be all brooding and tough,” she whispered to herself.

Mia stuck her bottom lip out. “I’m not immune to Neosporin, thanks.”

The waitress laughed and then got something out of her back pocket. “You’re from up north you said, right? Is this your first time in the states? Because this will definitely be the best healthcare you’re gonna get I’m afraid to say.”

“Not my first time state-side.” Mia snorted. “But thank you, nurse.”

“Nurse now?” She shook her head. “That will be a first. I mean, I’ve been called baby doll, sweetheart, candy face, butter biscuits, but nurse is new.”

“Do you have a preference then, waitress?”

She winked. “You can call me anything you want, candy face.” Mia almost choked on her own spit. The waitress lifted three band aids in the air, “Because this might hurt again. We’re out of big ones.” She explained. “Think about home or something while I put them on.”

“I’m not that hurt.” Mia looked away. “And,” she paused, and something subdued, soft, entered her tone, “thank you for this.” She swallowed thickly. “I didn’t even know I tipped this well.”

She snorted gently. “Don’t mention it. Now . . . Hold still.” She delicately applied the three band aids, plastering them up the long cut that ran from her elbow to her shoulder. Mia flinched but held herself still as the waitress worked, it was a quick process done by nimble hands.

“Watch that now.” The waitress said with a gentle pat to the band aids. “You’ll want to change them later.”

Mia met her gaze briefly-- the waitress’s eyes were large, glimmering, hazel. “I will.”

They sat in silence for a long moment after she finished, looking off into the grasses now glowing golden in the light and waiting for something. The waitress scratched her chin, Mia watched her closely. She spoke in a hush, it felt like the moment for such things. “Have you been sleeping walking any?”

The waitress shook her head. “Not since you led me out of the woods. Thanks for that.” She gave a small crooked grin. “Consider us even.”

“No way.” Mia said and wanted to lean forward and touch something, but she dare not. “For this? I owe you now.”

The waitress nodded shortly and looked down at her knees. “Alright.”

The silence dragged on with a heartbeat in its throat. Mia sighed. “Did you need to go in?”

The waitress inhaled, long and noisy. “No.” She hunched over. “Give me a moment.” They waited once more, hovering over something. The waitress blinked. “I wanna smoke.”

Mia wrinkled her nose. “Okay?”

She glanced over to her. “I’m trying to quit.” She reached into her pocket and seemed to dig up a slim, nearly broken cigarette. “Do you mind? Last one.”

Mia reached out hesitantly. “You just said you’re trying to quit.”

“I want to quit,” she looked down at the end of the white stick. “Yeah. I really do.”

She brought the cigarette to her lips and looked visibly upset, Mia plucked it back out of her mouth. “Then do it.”

Mia took the cigarette from the waitress and put it into her tattered pocket, the waitress exhaled and nodded, they both stood up together to go back into the restaurant. They didn’t look each other in the eye again that night, but Mia could feel it.

Something was growing in through the cracks of her and she really should have left when she had the chance. She couldn’t afford roots. However, the waitress handed her a warm cup of coffee that morning. Their fingers brushed, her heart spasmed in her chest, and she couldn’t imagine leaving.

This wasn’t good.