The tires of the sedan squelch in the mud. The brakes stick slightly. Your drive through town was muddy and humid, stuck in some permanent state of thawing even in the summer. Opening the door of the sedan your tennis shoes immediately sink into the silt. You sigh and trudge toward the house.
A short pickup sits in your driveway. It’s filthy, more brown than its original maroon, the windshield above the path of the wiper blades stained with a beige film. Though it’s familiar you can’t remember the owner of the truck; it doesn’t belong to your parents. A family friend, maybe.
Your parents. They were always angry you never made the visit. You spent dozens of long phone calls, fed them hundreds of imaginary excuses for why you couldn’t make the six-hour drive from Lansing to Bridwell; your car broke down, you were feeling sick, you had to study for midterms.
The house is large, one of those sprawling country homes with wood siding and flaky dull red paint. Memories come back to you in bright astigmatic frames. The thick green elm tree with the tire swing and the sharp needled sticky pine trees stand identical to as they were, the tree line mere feet from the house and they loom over it, press into it like askant columns of some massive leaning structure overhead. You take this in with a pause and a breath on the uneven planks of the porch and open the front door to the voices of your parents. The words are hushed and sharp, though the full sentences escape you. Passing the mudroom you enter the kitchen to see them in the middle of dinner; it’s chili. A third bowl sits, steaming, in front of an empty chair.
Dad smiles. His eyes are wide in surprised joy, the soft violet scoops below them magnified by his thick glasses. “Anon! You said you weren’t coming home for another couple days!” Beside him your mom, a tan swift fox, rises from her chair.
You grin. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Hi, mom,” you say as she smothers you in her chest.
“I missed you so much, college boy!” She smushes a kiss on your head. “Oh, let me fix you up a bowl.” She releases you and scrambles off to the stove before you can tell her you aren’t hungry, her clawed feet clicking with measured taps on the vinyl floor.
You pull out a chair. “So, who’s here?”
Dad starts but he is interrupted by the creak of a door and quick padded steps down the hall. You turn and are met by a soft furry hug, arms wrapping behind your back and squeezing you.
“Anon! You’re back!” a muffled voice says into your hair. It is feminine and familiar and you grab her shoulders to pull her off. Greeting you, her mouth open in a pant and a smile, all her features wagging and animated, is your childhood friend, Alice.
“Your parents said you would be back soon. I didn’t know it would be today!” She goes to hug you again but you hold her back.
“Hi, Alice. What are you doing here?” you ask through a forced smile.
“Well, Mrs. and Mr. Mous have been having me help around the house a little, since you were gone and they’re getting older. Loading the wood stove and stuff, you know.” You know well. Her words bring back painful memories of rising at five in the morning to load the woodstove in the freezing cold.
Your mother returns from the kitchen, places a bowl before you, and taps you on the shoulder. Alice takes this sign to sit and eat. You follow her lead. She immediately begins to lap up the chili, her head low to the table, barely using her spoon. Red oily drops of tomato sauce splatter on the tablemat and stain her white t-shirt. “This chili is delicious, Mrs. Mous!” she says between bites.
“Use your spoon hon, it’s good manners,” Mom says, admonishing the girl like she’s a child. “I’m glad you like it.”
Dinner is loaded with questions about your college life. The argument from before your arrival is forgotten. Alice is strangely quiet, a departure from her previous behavior. You assume it’s because she’s busy packing down two or three bowls of chili. Your parents want to know everything—favorite classes, clubs, friends, girlfriends (Alice perks up at this). Answering them without earning their ire or revealing anything too embarrassing is exhausting.
Eventually your parents retire from the table, Mom practically pulling Dad who leaves you with a hurried, “Goodnight, Anon, Goodnight, Alice.”
A moment passes in silence before Alice says, “It’s getting dark, huh?” The sun has set and the corridor lights beside your parents’ bedroom are flicked off. Only the dining room lights remain, leaving you and Alice surrounded by the inky blackness of the drafty house. “Wanna have a bonfire? Like when we were kids?” she asks.
You shrug and agree. It might be fun to relive old memories for a night.
In the backyard cicada choirs sing. The moon is dark and reflects no light on your surroundings. Alice strikes a match against a matchbox, a flashlight clenched in her teeth, as she tries to start the fire. After several broken matches and cusses it catches. She blows on the kindling flame and it grows, spreading to the thicker branches above it. She takes this as a sign that her work is done and retreats to the canvas lawn chair across from you.
This reminds you of your childhood. You wrestled by the fire over some silly childhood argument, puppybodies squirming in the tawny pale firelight. She emerged triumphantly, sitting on your chest cocky and satisfied, when her tail caught and she yipped, rolled, and cried until you finally managed to catch her and smother out the fire.
“It’s great to have you back,” Alice says for the twentieth time. She stares at the fire, poking it with a branch and sending soft showers of sparks in the smoky air. They float down and disappear in the dirt. There is an unfamiliar shyness to her features, a side of the girl you don’t know.
“Yeah. It’s nice seeing you.”
She perks up at this. “Hey, where do you plan on staying now that you’ve graduated? You can’t live with your parents forever.” She rubs her long legs together, perky black fur poking out from beneath her boyish tennis shorts. “Y’know, you can move in with me.” She looks up suddenly, as if shocked at the abrupt nature of her words. “If you want! My apartment is pretty big for just me.” Her eyes are hopeful, ebony and ivory periorbital fur cast in the dozen glowing red and orange hues of the campfire. Her tail beats the earth behind her in a rhythmic thump.
A pang of guilt strikes you as a shiver rippling down your limbs. You didn’t mention it at dinner. She thinks you’re staying. How cruel you’ve been. You’ve left this girl, heartbroken, for four long years—now you’re going to do it again.
“Alice, I’m not staying. This is just a visit. I have a fellowship in Illinois.”
Her features contort and work through three distinct expressions: she blinks several times in confusion; her brows drop in a flash of anger, accompanied by a slight baring of her teeth; finally, her amber eyes settle wide and wet, fire-lit, in betrayal. “You can’t leave. You just got back.”
You mutter an apology. Your voice feels small and pathetic and Alice is standing.
“So what’s all this?” She waves the branch vaguely toward you and the fire. “You’re just humoring me? Spend a single day with your best friend then go off and be a cheap whore to get fucked in Chicago?”
You’re shocked. She’s never spoken like this before. You can barely sputter out a response. “That’s not—I didn’t—”
“No more!” She charges forward and tackles you, knocking a chair into the fire as she scrambles around it. Your cheap lawn chair crumples beneath you. You’re pinned down, her claws pressing into your shoulders, hot tears dripping and running down your cheeks. “That’s not fair! I waited four years for you. I did! And now you’re just gonna leave? Do I mean anything to you?” The fur around her eyes is matted. She takes frantic, quick breaths, hot phantoms rolling down your face.
“We were childhood friends, Alice. That’s all. You’re acting crazy!”
Her breath slows. “That’s all, huh.” The pressure lifts off your right shoulder and she delivers an open-handed smack, whipping your head back, the tips of her dull claws grazing your skin. “So, what do you like? Wolves? Are you a slut for hyenas? How many did you fuck? Tell me.”
“Please, stop! You’re scaring me.”
A demoniacal smile appears on her face. “Good.” Behind her the fire roars. “I get it, now. Mama was right. She said I was too soft on you, that you wouldn’t come back. But stupid little Alice was loyal. She dreamed of you. While you were guts deep in some frat girl.” She pins you down with her whole body as one hand covers your mouth. Through it you yell muffled pleas. The other hand reaches to your pants. She rubs you through the denim and fidgets with your belt buckle, soft at first then harsh as she grows frustrated trying to release the tongue with one hand. After this struggle the belt comes loose and she tugs down your pants. You cry and jerk but she’s always been stronger than you, even when you were children, holding you against the hard ground effortlessly.
The lust is clear on her face. Her mouth is open and panting. A thick bead of saliva gathers on the left side of her mouth beside her canine. It rolls along the side of her black lip and stretches down in a thick strand, landing on your face. Her breath is hot and she removes her hand from your mouth to end the strand of saliva with a wet kiss, her long tongue slimy and squirming. It explores your mouth, your gums, your teeth, it fights with your own, until she sticks it down your throat and you choke. She holds this for a moment and removes her appendage. You suck in deep breaths while she rises from you to pull down her shorts.
The white fur of her underside is grey like slush from the wetness of her slit. You are hard and she grabs your dick, maneuvering it to her entrance, slightly spreading herself to fit. This is difficult and when you’re finally inside the sensation is overwhelming. Her face is pure bliss, black and white, mouth agape, pink tongue hanging to the side and she is cast in firelight like some lustful spirit.
She rakes your chest, ripping your shirt. Small beads of blood form in little rows. “Oh, Anon,” she says between heavy pants. You make out a grunted, “I love you.” She pauses her humping for moments to awkwardly stretch down and kiss you in brief wet excursions. Your body is excited, flowing with adrenaline, and you are quick to burst in her warmth. To your despair she does not realize this and continues, hugging you now, head close to your own and she is moaning and grunting directly in your ear. You are not even hard now, your dick laying limp as she continues to thrust and rub against your abdomen and thigh, drawing her pleasure from some unknown, imagined source. She is going to kill you, you think. Her entire presence is heavy and suffocating.
Finally her movements slow. She rolls off you but still clenches you with one arm, pulling you close to lick the side of your head in great long passes like an animal. You allow this, your limbs drained, the fight gone. The fire dies to small glowing coals. This moment stretches wide and long until it is interrupted by a wet cool drop on your skin. It is followed by more and soon rain is pouring down. You hear it smack on the leaves, slam on the tin cover of the woodstove, evaporate with faint sizzles in the few coals still burning in the fire. There is a crack of thunder and this stirs Alice. She rises and grabs you, carrying you close to your chest. She navigates to the house, through the back door, up the creaking stairs and delivers you to your bed. Wordlessly she exits the room. You hear quick steps that are soon drowned out by the shaking of the house and the angry rage of the storm outside. You watch through your window in infinitely short flashes the swaying of the silhouettes of trees. This lulls you to sleep.
In the morning Alice’s truck is gone. You learn the address of her apartment from your parents—your mom with a sly smile—and drive off in pursuit. In the aftermath of the storm you see the town in a different light; it is clear and cheery in the aftermath of that violent summer storm.
You arrive at her apartment, an unassuming flat on the other side of town. No hesitation affects you when you knock. You hear a frantic padding which stops at the door. Through it you hear several deep breaths. Finally, it opens. Upon seeing you a huge smile takes Alice’s face and she pulls you in. You let it happen.