"Laur, please let me in."
I had my forehead pressed up against our front door, peering over the chain that was keeping me out. A beautiful blue eye narrowed.
"We don't have anything to talk about."
"Yes, we do! I know I hurt you--"
"Nick, what you did wasn't humane."
"I know. That's what I need to talk to you about. Please let me in."
I was beginning to think she had walked away when finally the chain dropped. I gently pushed the door open and walked in. Lauren backed up, her arms crossed over her chest. The bruises had already turned an ugly shade of yellow.
"First off, I'm so sorry. I don't remember what happened," I said. Laur looked down at the floor.
"Can we sit down and talk?" I asked. "This might take awhile."
She pointed towards the living room. "Go ahead."
I walked through the house, trying to ignore the cardboard boxes scattered throughout. Moving boxes. I sat down heavily on the couch. Lauren sat on the edge of what we both called her 'fluffy' chair.
"Something happened to me down in South America," I said thickly. "Something...completely insane."
Lauren didn't say anything, but she didn't throw anything at me either. I took a deep breath and pushed on.
"That night when...this happened," I said, motioning towards her. "This was the night before I turned into a werewolf."
I was expecting some type of reaction from my big revelation. Instead Lauren sank back into her chair and looked at me sadly.
"Nick, what are you on?"
"What do you mean, what am I on?"
"Heroin? Cocaine?"
I started. "Laur, I'm not on anything. I'm serious. You left, there was a full moon and I turned into a wolf."
"Nick, werewolves don't exist. You obviously had a bad trip on whatever you took. I'm okay with the occasional drink, but you know how I feel about drugs--"
"I'm clean!" I said heatedly. "I need you to believe me. I'm...I'm scared."
"You can't be as scared as I was that night," Lauren said. Her voice wavered. "Nick, I love you, but--"
"Please give me another chance. I'll take a drug test if it makes you feel better."
I could see the tug of war playing out across her face as she weighed her decision. My eyes welled up with tears.
"Okay," she said. "I'll stay. But if you even lay a finger on me wrong, I'm out of here."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Deal."
Lauren got up slowly. She walked over an wrapped her arms around my neck. I pulled her down on my lap.
"Tell me," she murmured. "How in the world you came up with the werewolf excuse. Too many horror movies?"
I tilted my head back. "I didn't come up with an excuse. I'm serious. I looked it up on the Internet. You know those chest scars from that attack in Germany? I'm pretty sure I was attacked by another werewolf."
She shook her head. "I--"
"I was covered in hair. I had extra bones poking out of my back."
Here, she looked nervous. Her eyes dropped to the floor.
"Did you see them?" I asked breathlessly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly.
"You know something."
Her lips quivered slightly. "When we were in bed and you went nuts I tried to hit you and I felt something weird." She shook her head. "But I know it was just irrationality from the fear."
"It wasn't. It was real."
"Nick, do we have to talk about this now?"
I decided not to press my luck. I didn't want to end up sleeping in the doghouse.
Even though at the moment, that's where I was pretty sure I belonged.
Two weeks later, Lauren and I were back on track. I had successfully sucked up with days of flowers, dinners, and jewelry. I felt so normal that even I had begun to think that I had just gone crazy in South America. Our best guess was that maybe they had put opiates in the water. Only I was dumb enough to drink tap in a foreign country, after all.
As usual, I woke up later than Lauren. I buried my face in the soft down pillow and inhaled. Lauren always sprayed this fabric refresher that smelled like lemons. It was a great morning aphrodisiac.
My mind had just begun to float around possible breakfast choices when my happy little morning routine was interrupted by the sound of retching. I sat up and ran a hand through my hair.
"Lauren?" I called out. A little groan came from the bathroom. I swung my feet over the side of the bed and stood up. My arms stretched towards the ceiling as I unfolded my body. The retching continued.
I headed towards the bathroom. The moment I opened the door, I recoiled. I'm no stranger to vomit, but this was no ordinary vomiting. The smell triggered my gag reflex. Puke in and of itself isn't pleasant, but the odious odor wafting from the woman on the floor was like a cesspool of the most vile things known to man.
Before going in again, I brought my shirt up over my nose. It did little to mask the odor. Lauren's long arm hooked around the toilet bowl. Her hair fell in sweaty tangles.
"What's wrong?" I mumbled, desperate not to get a good wiff of air.
"I don't kn--" The rest of her sentence was caught off as she jerked forward, her head deep in the bowl. She let loose again.
For one insane moment, through the other foul smells, I thought I caught a wiff of blood. It wasn't 'woman' blood, as I called it. It wasn't blood from a fresh open wound.
Somehow, it smelled exactly like something fairly appealing.
It smelled like the blood oozing from a rare steak.
