A Wolf And His Man - 11. Stories of Home

“Are you really sure you wanna do this?” Oli arched at eyebrow at his friend. “Really?”

Buddy tilted his head, one ear turned outwards. Oli knew that look; the wolf was doubting his ability to make useful decisions again.

“OK, fine. Go grab your collar.”

Oli slung his denim jacket over his shoulder and packed a smaller size sketchbook, some pencils and a tin watercolour set into his bag before heading downstairs. Buddy was waiting on the doormat, collar in his teeth, tail wagging happily. Oli rolled his eyes as he fastened the collar, taking the time to touch his own, as yet unused, collar hanging with his keys, and let them out of the house.

The trip was Buddy’s idea. For the last half of the week, the wolf had bugged him about his parents. Considering he didn’t have vocal chords capable of holding a conversation in English, it was fairly impressive the way he had managed to sway Oli’s mind. Any time anyone at the office had mentioned family, when Oli had been discussing the family-related angle of the pet shop campaign, and anytime anyone on the television had said the word ‘parents’, Buddy had whined and wheedled and poked Oli with his cold wet nose, and Oli hadn’t been able to put the conversation off forever.

“Why do you want to go see my parents?”

Buddy glanced at him in despair.

“You want to meet my parents?”

Nod.

“Because…” Oli had frowned, “you think I should talk to them more? No… OK, you want me to… oh…”

Buddy had wagged his tail happily as the truth dawned on Oli.

“You want me to introduce you to my parents.” The rest of the sentence was left unsaid.

People introduced boyfriends to their parents, and when a person got within grasping distance of their thirties, then the people you introduced to your parents tended to be people of great importance: partners, fiancés, people you wanted to marry. As Oli walked with Buddy down to the end of their road, he wondered what his parents would make of their unconventional relationship.

Buddy had never been on a bus before, and while Oli bought his ticket the wolf put his paws up on the barrier dividing the driver from her passengers and did his best puppy-dog impression. This got him ‘ooh’s and ‘aww’s from both the driver and most of the assembled lower deck of the bus, and Oli realised that his friend rather liked being the centre of attention sometimes. They sat up on the top deck, because, having taken the bus into university every day for three years, Oli had never quite gotten over the teenage fascination with sitting above most other traffic. Buddy spent the time alternating between standing on hind legs looking out of the giant windows, or trying to sit across the spare seat and Oli’s lap and failing because he was simply too much wolf to fit on such a small perch. Oli was also quite used to drawing on public transport, and so he drew his favourite subject as the wolf snuffled around the bus, grinning at him and pulling silly faces with his ears.

It was about an hour’s drive out to the village where Oli’s parent’s lived, and as soon as they arrived, Buddy whimpered, his nose turning directly towards the large village green. They went to go and seek some relief.

“Is that your dog?”

“Yeah,” Oli turned to the older gentleman who had spoken, “oh, hi Mr Turner.”

Turner smiled at him.

“I thought that was you, even though you have gotten taller since you left school. How’s your father?”

“He’s good.” Oli didn’t like that a chance encounter with his old English teacher had turned so quickly towards his least favourite subject.

“I see him around sometimes on the hills with that big Alsatian of his, she’s a handsome dog.” Turner stooped to scratch the ears of a slightly elderly springer spaniel. “Of course, I see you’ve got yourself a new friend. And who is this lovely boy?”

Buddy came running back across the green towards them, going full pelt with all his feet off the ground at once. He failed to check his speed as he got closer, and went skidding full-on into Oli’s legs. From his prone position on the grass, Buddy grinned at him before righting himself and shaking down his fur.

“This is Buddy. Bud, this is Mr Turner, and this must be Sally,” Oli hunkered down and held his hand out to the old liver and white dog, “hey girl.”

She sniffed him, but was much more interested in Buddy.

“I swear, she might be getting on for fifteen now, but she’s still a spring chicken whenever there’s a handsome man around,” Mr Turner chuckled, “we bred her with a standard poodle, and there are few of her pups about the county. They made lovely children. Is Buddy going to be making the acquaintance of your father’s Alsatian?”

“Um, no,” Oli said firmly, “it was nice to see you Mr Turner. C’mon Bud!”

Oli didn’t bother with a lead across the green and through the village, and he took Buddy on a looping route that gave the wolf a bit of a tour of the place Oli had grown up in, and told him whatever facts came to mind.

“My friend Harvey used to do a paper round down that road. I used to fill in for him on Sundays because a bunch of little old ladies used to leave chocolate out and Harvey didn’t like getting up. I didn’t either, but it was a good excuse to get out of the house. Ruff used to come, and mostly we took the long route home across the fields. That’s our old school,” Buddy’s reaction to the institution was to lift one leg against the green painted industrial strength security gate, “it was alright I guess. My attendance scores were rubbish, but the art department liked me.” They headed at an oblique angle away from the rest of the village and down a country lane with no pavement on either side. “And this is us, the last house in the village.” Ten yards from the front gate Oli stopped and turned to the wolf. “Buddy…”

Buddy pressed up against his leg reassuringly, his scent like a blanket of warmth and strength. Oli took a deep breath, smiled to the wolf, and nodded.

“Yeah, I hope they like you too.”

Oli was about to turn and step away, when the wolf woofed softly. Buddy bounced up onto his hind feet, front paws resting neatly on Oli’s chest. The wolf was tall enough to look at him almost head on and Oli found his fingers looping automatically around the wolf’s back. Buddy pressed his face against Oli’s, cheek to cheek, and drawing back pressed his nose and muzzle against Oli’s lips. He nodded before hopping down and automatically shaking out his fur. Oli stared at him. Regardless of shape, fur, the presence of muzzle, fangs and tail: that had been a kiss.

Oli was still in a bit of a daze as he opened the gate and walked with his fingers in Buddy’s fur up the front door. It had been years since he’d bothered to use it.

*

“C’mon…”

Oli hung back, hands in his pockets, watching the guy he’d brought home dance excitedly up the front path. Twice during the horrifically expensive taxi ride home he had wondered what on earth he was doing. Bringing someone back to his parent’s house was not a sensible decision. Unfortunately, Oli was no longer in a position to send the young man back home.

“We never use the front door; this way.”

The pretty boy took Oli’s hand and Oli spooled back through his memory to try and find his name. All he could manage was a chemical blue scent tinted with shiny overtones. His new friend took his hand, walking close enough to have their hips touching, and as they rounded the back of the house, he dragged Oli with him up against the wall. Oli lost himself in the kiss, because it was fun and it had been months since he and Liam had finally buried the hatchet in what had been left of their relationship. By the time they parted, Oli was nursing a hard on in his best jeans which was rather successful in overriding his subconscious objections.

“What’s the shed?”

“Dad’s studio,” Oli was sure he’d mentioned something about living with his parents, “I promise that my bed is way more comfy.”

“If you insist!” The boy giggled, squeezing Oli’s hand before trying to get his hands inside Oli’s clothes. They stumbled through the back door. Oli tripped on the doormat and ended up on his back. His new friend purred in delight, straddling Oli’s hips as he opened his shirt. “Oh, I did well…”

Oli shook in a combination of anticipation and desire, heat and misty-red lust spreading from his crotch. His new friend ground against him, and Oli pushed his fingers into the boy’s hair bringing their lips together.

They’d met in the club. Oli had gone out to the pub with Travis, Dennie and the other’s from his course. It was a Tuesday, which meant student night at Revenge, and so Oli, a few of the girls and a couple of slightly more open-minded and adventurous guys had all headed there and paid their two quid cover charge. Oli had stood with a Jack and coke and held up the wall right up until the point where a beautiful boy with a shiny scent had looked his way, twirled around, glanced back at him and drawn him away from the wall with swishing hips. They chatted about nothing, flirted with promise but without actual meaning, and when it had gotten late, Oli had grinned and asked if he wanted company. The boy had roommates, and it wasn’t convenient, and Oli had been sort of crestfallen, admitting that he lived a fairly long cab ride away from the city, preparing to be disappointed. And yet the shiny boy had gone with him. It had cost Oli a lot, but he was intending to make it worth the money and the wait.

“Well that’s not normally the way you ask for treats.”

Oli froze, and without fully breaking the kiss, looked up past his date to where his father stood above them hands on hips, looking pretty much the way a person would expect a werewolf to look in its human form: big, hairy, and threatening. And there was Oli, with his shirt open and someone else’s hands down his pants.

“Oh fuck!” There was a mad scramble to get upright and dressed, during the process of which Oli knocked skulls with his date and ended up apologising to the boy whilst trying not to meet Alexander’s eyes. “Dad!”

“I was just going to the kitchen for hot chocolate. You boys want some?”

“Dad!”

“He looks like he could use a few hot dinners. These city kids are so skinny.”

“DAD!” Oli growled at him, “go away.”

“Your mother made lasagne. Yours is in the fridge.”

Oli hid his face as his father finally walked out of sight towards the kitchen. His father’s appearance had sent his erection into hiding too. His date finished straightening his clothes and cleared his throat.

“I’ll be off then.”

“What?”

“Sorry, I’m not so keen on hook ups where your parents are gonna be listening. I figured they were out of town or something.”

“Oh…” Oli stuffed his hands in his pockets. The shiny scent had faded, the boy wasn’t so happy anymore. There was no way he was getting a phone number and a second date.

There was a long moment of silence.

“Can you call me a cab?”

*

“Oliver!” Oli growled silently; he hated it when his parents used his full name, “what a surprise!” his mother glanced down, “and you brought a friend.”

Oli felt like a guest in his parent’s house, hanging his jacket and bag on the bannister, leaving his shoes by the front door and taking a seat at the kitchen table. Buddy stuck right up against him the entire time, not wandering off to sniff at the myriad greenish scents that Anastasia and his father had left behind all over the house, and waited with his head on Oli’s lap as his mother fussed around the kitchen.

“Your father should be in from the workshop in a minute.” Andrea placed tea, cookies, and a selection of bone-shaped biscuits on the kitchen table. Oli’s jeans became quickly damp with Buddy’s desire to taste his mother’s home baking. “Who is your friend?”

“This is Buddy, I mean, Boris,” Oli shuffled in his seat, allowing Buddy to put his front paws up over his thigh, bring him into eye level for the conversation, “he’s a werewolf.”

“Fuckin’ strangest werewolf I’ve ever seen.” Oli gritted his teeth at the wash of green and yellow cedar scents of his father, entering with his usual good timing.

“Hi dad,” he wrapped his free arm around Buddy and felt the wolf press against him reassuringly; “this is Boris.”

“So I heard. He’s a wolf.”

It took a lot of explaining, another three cups of tea, and most of the dog-biscuit selection for Buddy, who was very appreciative of Andrea Volkov’s cooking, until Oli finally managed to get through to his father.

“So on the full moon, he’s a person?”

“He’s a still a person now dad,” Oli felt like tearing his hair out, “but he’s human at the full moon, and a wolf the rest of the time.”

“How interesting,” true to form, Andrea had absorbed this knowledge as easily as she coped with the over-eager pet ‘mothers’ at the clinic, “Boris dear, would you like a drink?”

“Anastasia’s bowl is right there.”

“Dad!” Oli glared at his father, “thanks mum.”

Andrea got another dog bowl out of the cupboard and filled it from the water-filter jug kept in the fridge. When she placed the bowl on the floor, the Alsatian immediately went to go investigate, but Buddy glanced at her sideways, and something about the big wolf made her retreat to Alexander’s lap with her tail between her legs. Oli didn’t miss his friend’s happy little tail-wave.

“I’ve never heard of anything so backwards,” Alexander’s tone was derisive, and Oli knew that he had taken Buddy’s snub of his dog personally, “bloody weird if you ask me.”

“I have.” With the exception of Anastasia, every single one of them stopped what they were doing to look up at her. Andrea turned from the kitchen sink to find three assorted werewolves giving her their undivided attention. “What? I have.”

“Mum?” Oli’s single word query was accompanied by Buddy’s inquiring ‘wrow?’

“Andrea?” Alexander sounded incredibly confused, “what on earth do you mean?”

Oli’s mother rolled her eyes and sighed. From the kitchen she brought back a pair of wooden chopping boards, some knives, a saucepan, a selection of vegetables and a large piece of fresh salmon. She pushed the some of this across to Oli.

“Dice the onion and the asparagus please darling,” she began slicing the salmon into fat orange cubes, and spoke mostly to Buddy, “Oli’s father was always awful at keeping his schedule. About the time we got engaged and about two months after the whole ‘I’m a werewolf’ conversation, his mother sat me down to teach me about the calendar. Yana was a wonderful woman, and a very good werewolf,” she turned to Oli, “I always wish you could have known her better. When she was teaching me how to work out the length of the full moon and all about the phases, we got to talking about lots of werewolf lore. I probably know more than either of these two.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Oli frowned. He’d always trusted his mother to be more truthful with him than his father was.

“Oliver sweetie, you never showed the slightest interest in being a werewolf. I didn’t tell you because you didn’t ask.”

“Oh…” Oli didn’t have much of an argument for that, so he focused on cutting all the thin asparagus spears at the correct angle and while Boris stood with his paws resting on Oli’s thigh, listening to his mother.

“Yana came from a little village outside Saint Petersburg originally. She met your grandfather while Kostya was on a trip visiting home. He had finished university by then, and he was going to go into business like his father. They met just before a full moon, and by the time the luna sway had dimmed, they were in love. Yana emigrated over here, the rest is history.

“But she came from a big family, and the woman in her family, nearly all of them wolves, had taught her all of the old legends and stories. But there were also newer stories. She told me about a man her father had met, many years before she was born, whose son was afflicted, as he called it, because his wolf was backwards.” She stopped to smile at Boris, “that was the phrase he used dear, and I don’t think he meant anything derogatory by it, it was just that, as far as he or any other werewolf was concerned, the wolf inside his son was the wrong way round. I remember Yana said he must’ve been ‘scared of the moon’.

“The boy had a perfectly normal childhood, was prepared for the time when he would change and what the moon would mean to him. Sometime around the waxing half-moon, he became a wolf, and he didn’t change back until the rest of his family had donned their fur. Yana said it was a shame, because she met him when he was an old wolf, and he seemed very friendly indeed. I believe he had a child with a human girl, but Yana never knew what had happened to them.

“Boris, if either of your parents, but especially your mother, was a ‘reverse-wolf’ then it is likely that she was human while she was pregnant with you, like all werewolves are.” Oli frowned at his mother and she shook her head despairingly. “Well, women were another thing you were never interested in. Female werewolves don’t change shape while they are pregnant. It has something to do with the relationship between foetus and mother. She would have turned back after she had you, which would explain why you were abandoned. If your father was another reverse-werewolf, they would have had no choice. If he was human, he may not even have known.”

“But do you know why it happens?”

“I’m not a geneticist Oliver,” Andrea took the saucepan and added butter before putting it on the heat. She sliced the potatoes with a tiny knife against her thumb while the onions began to sizzle. “I don’t know why it happens. It is probably very much like any other genetic condition, where packets of genetic material get mixed up, lost, switched or doubled.”

“Like chimera animals?” Oli remember meeting a housecat which had been half black with a green eye and half white and orange with a brown eye; it had been a fascinating and beautiful creature, if not overly friendly towards him.

“Quite possibly. Yana said the father of this poor boy had told her dad his misfortune had been because he was conceived during an eclipse, but that’s just silly.”

“How is it I never knew that you knew so much?”

“Because Oliver, you were much too busy being a moody artistic teenager,” Andrea winked at Buddy, “next time you two come over, I’ll show you his baby photos.”

“Aww, mum…”

Buddy barked happily, and waved his tail with excitement.