Fur

08 | A Familiar Friend

^ not how I picture the McNamaras' café, but you get the general mood

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The fairy-like chime of the bell resounds throughout the café as I wander in. My keys slip from my fingers above a table. They clatter against the wooden surface when they land.

Lattie is at the front counter like she isn't allowed to be; but there are no customers and it's one minute until closing, so it doesn't much matter. She looks at me with her big brown eyes as warm as coffee, and I let them warm me as well, like that coffee is pouring over me, because I know them. They're familiar. Safe. I don't have to dig familiarity out of the strangeness, or discern one from the other because they're so intertwined. Lattie is all one: she is entirely familiar. There are no tricks about her, nothing to muddle my brain between stranger and friend.

"Leila," she tries, concern and fear stitched into every fabric of her voice. It doesn't slip my mind who is responsible for doing that to her: the stalker with a peeping hole in her grandmother's garden; the maniac who killed her best friend; me, the idiot who took her to see that friend's desecrated body. "Are you okay?"

I fall back into a chair at one of the tables, plopping down and releasing a heavy breath. There's so much I've been keeping from Lattie lately, all of it to try to protect her from the very fear that has already burrowed into her voice. But this? This I have to let go. There's only so much one can hold at one time, and I've reached capacity.

"I saw an old friend," I admit. It's even more surreal, now that it's out in the open in my new world, created so far away from my old.

Lattie's countenance falls blank. She's across the café and at my side in an instant, bending down and lugging my shoulders into her embrace. She may not know the specifics of my past, but she knows that 'old' is not good.

At her delicate touch, and the sweet, airily light scent of her perfume, I crack. I return her hug, and curse at myself as I feel the wetness gathering in my eyes.

"He's here," I murmur flatly against the soft wool of her sweater, a daze still gripping me. "He's in Heisenbühl."

She leans back to search my eyes, her hands still poised on my shoulders. "Who?"

I hesitate, thinking carefully about my next words. Is there a word to describe what he is to me? We were inseparable, years ago before being separated for five. We were partners in crime. Allies. Comrades. We had sleepovers and prank wars. We shared secrets and belongings. From the day his family arrived at my family's pack to the moment we were pried apart when they left, Zakai and I were best friends.

So I tell Lattie that, though I bend the truth to fit a human's narrative. I tell her that Zakai and I were neighbors rather than pack members, that his family moved to follow his father's job and that mine wouldn't allow me a phone to keep in contact with him.

"It's fate," Lattie concludes, except I don't particularly like that word.

"No," I say, "it's a freak coincidence."

"Well I'm happy for you. You were reunited with your long lost best friend and met your boyfriend the same day."

I blink at her, catching her wrist lightning fast as she goes to move away.

"What did you just say?"

A paleness falls over her porcelain face. She's slow to form a response. "I said..."

"I don't have a boyfriend," I state firmly. Then I distinctly remember Nanni taking my apron before I was ready to leave and my eyes narrow to a glare. "You snooped!"