Wolf

Christa smiled at all the familiar faces as she walked down the corridor. The walls were white and sterile-looking except for a few pieces of art on the wall. People shuffled by with canes, walkers, even a few in wheelchairs. She smiled at all of them, giving a light to their lives even if hers was in the toilet.
She got to the door she was now very familiar with and knocked.
“Come in!” came a sing song voice.
Christa smiled. Maybe her mother was having a rare good day. She let herself in to find her mother adjusting a piece of art on the wall that she’d picked up for her at a yard sale.
“Well hello there. Come in, come in, have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”
Or not. Her mother knew she hated coffee.
“Isn’t this just a delightful painting?” her mother asked, admiring the art in the frame. “My daughter bought it for me. Thought it would brighten the room. It does, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Christa said quietly.
“Now my husband would like something with more subdued colors. He’s an outdoorsman if there ever was one. He likes natural colors. Browns, greens, blues, golds, that sort of thing. He loves to fish and hunt and garden. He should be coming any day now with squash and corn and beans. All kinds of beans. And hunting season is right around the corner so I can look forward to deer jerky. Now that is one thing I cannot cook. I told him if he wants to go out and shoot the poor things, he can clean them himself and make them into whatever he wants.”
Christa felt the tears wheeling up in her eyes but stubbornly held them back. She could remember her mother telling this to someone she’d just met or anyone who would have a conversation with her. The woman was so open and chatty. And that’s who she thought Christa was: someone she had just met. Over the past few months it had gotten worse. Only a couple days out of the month did her mother recognize her. Christa doubted that she even knew her husband was no longer alive.
She let her mother talk for a half an hour before she had to leave for fear of breaking down.
“Well it was lovely talking to you dear. Do come again.” Her mother was walking her to the door like any of her other guests.
“I will,” Christa managed. Once safely outside the nursing home apartment, she let the tears flow, careful to keep them silent. One of the nurses that she had gotten to know very well came over and put an arm around her shoulder. Her nametag read Diana.
“Not a good day?” the nurse asked.
All Christa could do was shake her head.
“I know it’s hard dear,” Diana said. “There’s not much more we can do when people start getting like that. She’ll be in a better place soon.”
Christa felt bad for nodding. Her mother truly would be in a better place. She would be with her husband and have her memories not clouded by Alzheimer’s.

“It’s funny, watching you get all stuck up on a woman.”
Wolff Reese glared down at the wolf. “I have a good reason to be interested in her.”
“Which you still haven’t told me.” The wolf bounded onto the couch in Wolff’s apartment and laid down.
“She could be the key.”
The wolf sat up. “Whoa hold up here. The key? Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”
“Don’t be obtuse,” Wolff said, pouring himself a scotch.
“I’m not; I’m just trying to understand. You think this bimbo is the key to breaking the curse?”
Wolff tossed down the drink and hissed a little through his teeth. “I’m sorry I don’t take the easy way out of everything,” he said with a glare of at the wolf. “And she’s not a bimbo.”
“Whatever she is. What makes you think she’s the one? You’ve been trying to help people for years and you still turn into a wolf every full moon.”
Wolff shot a glare over his shoulder. “The witch said I had to change someone’s life for the better. The best way I can think of is to loan money to people in need.”
“Who really only need it to help pay for their bad habits.” The wolf tilted his head.
“Exactly. I can’t see this girl having any bad habits. I think she just needs help.”
“You could have just taken the easy way like I did,” the wolf said with a shrug that was almost human.
“I’m sorry but I couldn’t condemn myself to living as an animal for the rest of my life.”
“Why not?” the wolf lay back down and stretched out. “Because I have a human half-brother…well, half-human,” he said with a teasing glint in his eyes that made Wolff growl, sounding almost like an animal. “He feels obligated to take care of me-”
“Which I shouldn’t. It’s your fault I’m in this mess in the first place.”
“How was I supposed to know Esmeralda would flip shit when I cheated on her? Hell I didn’t even know she was a witch.”
“You still didn’t have to drag me down with you!” He started cursing under his breath in French.
The wolf’s ears perked up. “Just because I’ve picked up most of the English slang doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you’re saying. And don’t try lowering your voice because I can hear better than you can.” The wolf smiled, pulling back his teeth, looking fierce.
“I should take you somewhere isolated during a snowstorm and drop you off, drive away, and never look back.”
“Esmeralda wouldn’t like that.”
“Oh yes she would. She still hates you. Even more for taking the easy way out of the curse.”
The dog huffed and put his massive head on his paws. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
And of course he wouldn’t eat dog food like a normal pet, Wolff thought grudgingly as he wandered into the kitchen.

Several hours later Wolff took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He kicked back from his computer screen and stared at it for a moment, even though he couldn’t see much of anything without his glasses.
He’d been right: the girl was different. She had a mountain of debts that needed paid. For one, outstanding student loans for a degree in business management. She was twenty-five years old and as a waitress, she hadn’t done much with the degree from the University of Minnesota. There were other debts too. Paying for a nursing home for a mother with Alzheimer’s, rent on a small apartment on the wrong side of town, and most recently a funeral for her father.
Wolff felt something that had been doormat inside him start to come back to life. Compassion. He felt sorry for this girl... He forced himself to stop there. The last time he’d started caring for someone, trusting someone, it had blown up in his face.
He put his glasses back on and set about searching for a phone number or email address. After all, this girl could be the key to breaking a two-century old curse.

Two days later, Christa was six hours into a nine-hour shift when a familiar face appeared in her section. She held her head high and walked up to the table.
“Good afternoon Mr. Reese. What can I get for you?”
He glanced up from his menu. “With a business degree, what are you doing waiting tables for minimum wage?”
“Th-there weren’t any job openings in the area,” she said, not prepared for the question.
“And you didn’t move out of the area because of your mother correct?”
She stopped acting like she was taking his order. “How did you know that?”
He looked up from his menu again. “I told you I check people out before I lend them money to see if they really need it. It would appear that you are one that needs it.”
Her spine stiffened but she realized that she didn’t have any room for pride. So she responded with a simple, “yes.”
“However there is the matter of repayment.”
Christa barely kept herself from cringing. He would probably charge some outrageous interest rate and she would never be able to pay him back.
Wolffe saw that and hesitated on the rate he was about to give her. “There are a couple different options,” he said slowly. “Why don’t we discuss them over dinner this evening?”
Christa was struck speechless.
“Uhh…”
“Strictly business,” Wolffe explained, even as he wondered exactly what he was doing.
“I’m not sure…”
“You want the loan yes?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, terrifying thoughts running through her head. This man could be some sort of murderer or identity theft or sexual predator. He did have a wolf as a pet after all. That wasn’t normal was it?
“I’ll pick you up at six. Wear something nice.” With that he set down his menu.
“Will-will you be having anything?”
Wolffe couldn’t help but look her up and down. “A steak, rare.”
Christa quickly scribbled it down; barely able to read her own handwriting her hands were shaking so badly from the look he’d given her. “Anything else? To drink?”
“The water will be fine,” he assured and to prove it, took a sip. As she walked away he couldn’t resist saying under his breath: “for now.”