Hairwolf
Chapter Thirty Three

Later, Foster pulls into a parking lot of another motel. He pulls alongside Stef’s parked Tahoe.

Lillian asks, “you have to have some idea what Ominous wants with you.”

“I don’t!” Stef replies. “And I doubt I’m going to find out. Not after this weekend. I’d be long gone.”

“Why? Where?” Brizzbee asks.

“Another forest,” Stef says. “Why, because he’s a werewolf, too. He’s got to be very scared knowing that Maine game wardens are onto him. He probably thinks I’m one, too.” Stef is getting worked up and worried about missing the opportunity to talk with him.

“I’m telling you, he has an interest in you. He’ll be back,” Lillian says.

Brizzbee is in agreement with Lillian on this.

“Alright, Stef, that’s one way of thinking about it. There is another side to this. To him.”

“What side is that?” Lillian asks.

“His,” Foster says simply. “His side. We don’t know a thing about him. Let’s let the day play out... maybe we’ll hear from him.”

Stef is okay with that. More over the fact that he’s taking control. Lillian, not so much.

“He already knows how to find you and is probably just waiting for the right time,” Lillian says. “And the problem with that is it gives him the element of surprise, not us.”

“If we don’t hear from him,” Stef says, “drop me off in the parking lot tonight and see what happens. But I doubt anything will.” Stef looks to Foster for approval.

“We’ll figure something out,” he says, not really liking the fact of dropping her off.

Stef and Lillian step out of the wardens truck. Lillian takes a long pause on their new, but equally distasteful motel. It’s a quaint setting with a full-scale wood carving of a moose standing in the middle of a man-made pond with its snout in the water. It’s a good bet the owners spent more on the display than they did seasonal repairs. A loose gutter swings in the breeze at the corner of the single-story building knocking chips of loose paint to a pile beneath it. Screens hang detached from two window frames at the far end. The paint job, white trim over a yellow face, reveals carelessness to detail with attention on haste. Although the lawn is mowed, borders have not

seen a weed whacker in weeks. HBO and a Pool are advertised on the marquee.

“Give us an hour...” Stef says to Foster.

This leaves Brizzbee in a panic as he clenches his stomach. Lillian whispers, “thirty minutes, tops.”

The girls enter the motel room. Inside they find dual beds divided by a small bureau, flat screen T.V., two rocking chairs, and a faded picture of the shoreline with a heron in the foreground.

Lillian pulls open the drapes, revealing the street-view with mountains in the distance. It’s a nice view. She wipes away the cobwebs and dead flies on the window-sill.

“They’re not going to bother you,” Stef says. “They’re dead.”

“It’s not the flies that bother me. It’s that none of this bothers you. You’re too willing to settle for mediocre.”

“It has a roof, a bath and a bed. More than I’d get if I were camping out. Not all of us need the Hilton, Lillian.”

Stef rifles through the bureau, looking for left-behind treasures. She pulls out a used stick of deodorant, a hairbrush, and a brown leather pouch containing assorted grooming tools. She un-caps the deodorant and takes a sniff... “Nice!”

Lillian marches over and snatches the deodorant from her and throws it in the waste basket. “Are you out of your mind? You don’t use someone else’s deodorant.”

“I wasn’t going to keep it. I was just smelling the scent.”

“What’s that?” she asks regarding the leather pouch. Stef is about to open it when Lillian reaches for it. Stef gives it to her. It has a selection of trimmers, a miniature pair of scissors, tweezers, and

a tiny comb. Lillian likes it. Stef wants to say something in her defense but doesn’t know if it’s

worth it.

“What?” Lillian asks, feeling her silence.

“If I wasn’t who I am, I’d probably be a lot more selective. But I’ve had to make sacrifices you’ll never have to make. I’m not here on vacation, Lillian. I can’t make friends or hobnob with

other guests. I have to be totally discrete and unaccounted for.”

“What does any of that have to do with choosing a better motel?”

“A better motel attracts people on vacation. No one on vacation is going to stay in this dump.”

“Well I’m glad you said it.”

Lillian throws her bag onto a chair and kicks off her shoes and socks. Stef considers the torn skirt from the previous night and if it’s worth saving. Lillian doubts it.

Stef tosses it in the garbage, dismayed. But she can’t do it. It holds too much sentimental value now. It was her first night with Foster. “I’m going to keep it anyway. I might be able to save it.”

A car pulls up just outside their window. Lillian steps up to the window to see who it is but the mountain view wins her over, highlighted by beautiful cumulous clouds. Dramatic grays indicate moisture and a possible storm. Two car doors slam shut drawing Lillian’s attention off of the mountain view and back to the parking lot. She spies a family of three. The husband retrieves a suitcase from the trunk as the wife unbuckles a two-year old from the rear car seat. They cross to the main office and Lillian’s eyes go back to the mountain view.

Another vehicle, an older Chevy van, parks in the lot drawing Lillian’s attention once again.

“This place is starting to get busy,” Lillian says. “Must be a termite convention.”

Stef smiles at her comment but says nothing. She’s happy Lillian’s with her. She pulls clothes out of her suitcase and considers her options. Lillian watches a man in his forties exit the driver’s seat and cross to the back of the van. He’s very rigid. Must have been a long ride. She notices the front tag. It’s a Vermont registration. A second truck pulls in alongside the van, also Vermont tags.

The driver exits and enters the main office.

The forty-year old man emerges from behind the van carrying a bag from Target and a McDonalds Kids meal in one hand, and in the other, a wrapped grinder, two drinks, while cradling a twelve-inch Smokey-The-Bear stuffed animal. The Teddy Bear drops to the pavement and he stares at it, perplexed as to how he’s going to pick it up. He attempts placing the beverages on the slanted hood of the van but that won’t work. He kneels down on one knee, sets the bag down, pinches the fur of the bear and then hooks the bag with his pinky. The bear is dirty. He tries blowing it off but it’s still dirty. He crosses back to the rear of the van, out of Lillian’s view.

The man crosses to the passenger side carrying only the Teddy Bear. He removes a roll of duct tape from under the passenger seat and unwraps about six inches of length. He wraps his hand with duct tape, sticky side out, and rolls it across the bears dirty fur.

He catches a lose piece of thread from the bears jean pocket. The top corner of the pocket flaps over. His attempts have just made things worse. He gently peals the thread form the tape and retrieves an emergency sewing kit from the glove box. He pulls out a needle with white thread already laced through the needle and does a quick repair. He then bites the loose thread off and

secures the sewing kit back in the vehicle.

Lillian, watching the man, mouths to herself, “Obsessive, compulsive . . .”

The man collects all of his items and walks without incident down to the end of the complex.

Lillian turns away and pulls a clean shirt and underarm deodorant from her over-night bag. She heads towards the bathroom, removing her shirt. She wets her face with a cloth and commences with a sponge bath and a new thought. “What do you think about Hairwolf?”

“Hairwolf,” Stef asks, puzzled.

“You ain’t the only one that can come up with names, lil’ sis. Have me a few of my own.”

“You didn’t dig too deep for that one, did ya?

“Don’t have to go deep. Just have to go. In this case, I went with the obvious. Hairball,

Hair up your ass, Hairwolf.”

Stef throws a pillow at her and lays her head down, eyes on the ceiling, thoughts narrowing in on a single memory. “I want to find them.”

Lillian turns from the bathroom waiting to hear more.

“I need to find them,” Stef says. “I hope they’re still alive. She was so beautiful. And he was so strong and handsome. She changed on the fly. How’d she do that? She didn’t have much time to think about it. It was more like a reflex than . . . I hope they still have each other. What a gift,” Stef says, petting the Egyptian Ankh on her chest.

“What do you mean, what a gift?”

“Life partners,” Stef says, sitting up from the bed. She peels out of her shirt and slaps on deodorant. “I’ll let this air out a little.” She then pulls out her toothbrush and joins Lillian brushing

her teeth.

“Aren’t you gonna take a shower?” Lillian asks.

“I don’t have time to take a shower. You said thirty minutes. We’re already at fifteen.”

Together, they face the mirror, watching each other. Stef reveals the complications are stressing

her out. Lillian knows and bumps her lightly on her shoulder, indicating she’s there for her. It’s a comforting thought for Stef and she gives Lillian a light bump in return. Lillian bumps back. Stef

bumps back slightly harder. Lillian bumps back, even harder, sending Stef into the bathtub. From

there, she bursts out laughing. Lillian reaches over and blasts her with the shower. Stef screams to no avail. Lillian lets the cold water land. “Trust me, you smell like a buzzard in a shit wagon,” spraying her with liquid soap.

Stef reaches up and grabs her, pulling her into the tub. They start laughing and screaming hysterically, dowsing each other with shampoo and soap.

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