Shifter

“Michael?” my grandmother whispered through the door.

I looked up at her from where I lay, lost in thought. She walked in carefully, watching her step. She stepped over a pile of dirty clothes in the center of the room, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“Sorry, I’ll pick it up,” I promised, pulling myself up.

“Please do,” she sighed, hugging me and kissing my forehead. “How are you? Everything okay?”

I looked up at her worried face. I pulled on a tired smile, nodding my head. For once I was being honest; nothing had happened during the night. Not a single nightmare had passed.

“I’m fine,” I reassured with a smile. She let out a gentle sigh, smiling down at me through her glasses.

“Good, good,” she commented.

“Mm,” I mumbled, hugging her again before getting out of bed.

“You still keeping quiet?” she asked as I walked past. I stopped, sighing.

“No, Nonna, I can’t,” I replied.

“And why not?” she frowned.

“I barely understand them myself,” I answered.

“Then maybe I will,” she offered matter-of-factly.

“Nonna, please?” I sighed, glancing at her.

She gave me a stern look before shrugging, defeated. She walked by, leaving my room to go start breakfast. I glanced at my clock before getting ready and walking to the bathroom. I passed a brush through my curly locks in hopes of taming them. It did nothing in the slightest. I stared at the mess I called hair before going back to my room and grabbing my glasses, slipping them on.

“Breakfast, Michael!”

“Coming,” I answered as I got some converse on.

I slipped on a Born of Osiris t-shirt and left my room. My bag lay at the bottom of the staircase, all my books scattered over the floor. I gave a low groan and stumbled off the bottom step as something in the bag shifted.

“Jamie,” I whined as I looked in.

The kitten froze gazing up at me innocently. He glanced at the papers lying crumpled under his paws. I sighed, reaching in and pulling him out. He meowed softly as I sat him down, scampering off the moment my hands were off him.

“Come on, Michael, you’ll be late!” my grandma called.

“Coming, Nonna,” I replied, walking to the kitchen.

She motioned for me to come forward. I joined her at the stovetop. She motioned to the bowl beside her.

“You know the drill,” she smiled as she turned the stove up and added butter to the pan.

I got to work putting the pancakes together, beating the batter together. My grandmother watched me carefully as I worked, her cautious side kicking in. I finished up and handed her the bowl. She accepted it and poured some into the pan, letting the pancake cook. I watched her work, smiling as she went on about different topics, wondering what my life would be like had with my parents around.

“Don’t,” she said, catching my attention.

“Hm?” I asked.

“Don’t think about them,” she repeated, “you don’t need to. I don’t want you to be all sad.”

“Nonna,” I murmured after a moment, stabbing my pancake and putting a piece in my mouth.

“Yes?” she asked softly, looking up.

“What...what was she like?” I asked, holding my breath afterward like every other time.

She stared at me for a second before looking down into her pan. She never opened up to me about it. Every time I tried finding out about my mother she’d stop and change topic. She couldn’t bear thinking about it. Being completely honest, I couldn’t either. All the same, I wanted to know what my mother was like. I’d known her five years before she died. After that my dad went psycho on us. Literally.

“Your father is expecting you,” she sighed, avoiding my gaze. “Preferably tonight.”

I sighed, looking at my sneaker-clad feet. “Why can’t you just tell me,” I whispered weakly.

“Michael,” she repeated, looking up this time.

I let out a sigh as she finished up her pancakes and took her bowl out to the living room. The TV flicked on and I listened as Family Guy’s theme song filled the hollow silence. I finished my meal and rinsed the syrup off my plate, slipping it into the dishwasher. I grabbed my bag, sweater and jacket, slipping the last two on before walking to the door. I froze, my hand on the knob.

“Bye,” I called.

“Bye,” she replied lamely.

I opened the door and let myself out. My gaze snagged on a small car by the driveway. I walked down the cobblestones, slipping into the passenger seat by my uncle, Jordan. He looked down at me, smiling brightly.

“Hey, how are we today?” I responded with a groan. He frowned.

“Huh...I see,” he replied, starting to drive. “What happened?”

“Why won’t she just tell me,” I breathed, burying my face in my hands.

He didn’t answer. He knew very well I knew why. It was hard to hold up after losing a child. I could only imagine. It was murder to lose a mother and father, though.

“Any...dreams?” he asked, changing the subject.

I smiled, realizing my answer. “No.”

“That’s good,” he grinned. “See? It’s going to end soon, buddy, just trust me.”

I glanced ahead, my school coming into view. He stopped by the front entrance, turning in his seat to face me. I looked up at him curiously.

“I’ll come pick you up later,” he said, “your dad.”

“Right,” I nodded, opening my door.

“Michael,” Jordan called as I climbed out. I leaned down, looking at him.

“Yeah?”

“Keep in mind that maybe Nonna’s trying to protect you, okay?” he asked. “It won’t be easy to hear what she has to say. I guarantee it.”

I looked down, my hand resting on the top of the door. I gave a weak nod. “I know,” I replied, before shutting the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” he replied, driving off.

I turned to the building, walking to the front doors. I hesitated at the top, my hands clutching the handle. I took a breath, steadying myself. It was time to push it all away. It was time to live.