Mum once told Dad that vices are only vices when looked at through the frame of society.
Somewhere fate laughs in her far-off country, because now I am the human and it is Grace I will lose again and again, immer wieder, always the same, every winter, losing more of her each year, unless I find a cure.
In the middle of all this, as Sean slips out of his jacket, he looks over his shoulder at me and he smiles at me, just a glancing, faint thing before he turns back to Tommy. I’m quite happy for that smile, because Dad told me once you should be grateful for the gifts that are the rarest.
I had so much free time that free time was meaningless.
He was not as soft as when I’d first met him, not as young, but the angles of his face, his quick gestures, the way he sucked in his lower lip to think before going on – I was in love with all of it.
That was pretty much all you needed to know about Cole, right there. He saw something he didn’t quite understand, liked it, and took it to be his.
I looked good when I sang the end.
Why did everything feel like saying good-bye?
I hated it. I hated this. I hated feeling so terrible because of someone else.
I could live inside a G major chord, with Grace, if she was willing.
When we kissed, it didn’t matter that I had been a wolf hours ago, or that I would be a wolf again. It didn’t matter that a thousand snares were laid for us as soon as we left this moment. All that mattered was this: our noses touching, the softness of his mouth, the ache inside me.
Then I began to play. Variations on a G major chord, the most wonderful chord known to mankind, infinitely happy. I could live inside a G major chord, with Grace, if she was willing. Everything uncomplicated and good about me could be summed up by that chord.
I started down but Sam caught my arm and knelt down himself to look. “For crying out loud,” he said. “It’s a racoon.” “Poor thing,” I said. “It could be a rabid baby-killer,” Cole told me primly. “Shut up,” Sam said pleasantly.
The room went dark and, after a moment, Grace whispered that she loved me, sounding a little sad. I wrapped my arms tightly around her shoulders, sorry that loving me was such a complicated thing.
Sorry for hurting you, she said right in my ear, but it wasn’t really an apology, because you don’t bite someone’s earlobe to tell them you’re sorry.
I slithered out of the sinkhole on my stomach. It was not the sexiest move I’d ever performed, but I was impressed nonetheless.
Not all. Some of them he probably lectured to death.
Mom, you’re the one who said to never stop in case I get raped or picked up by a democrat.
Wow, you’re never allowed to sleep late again. You’re crankier than a fat guy in stilettos.
Write the book you’ve always wanted to read, but can’t find on the shelf.