Wolf Children

by Ross Davenport Simonini

Cillar began to disappear in the early stages of the party. Someone had fed her too many glasses of the purple drink and by the time I arrived, she was already knee deep in her horrible social routine. I found her on the stairs with a loose arm around Piken. She pulled at his hair and grinned at me, pushing her tongue through her teeth. She moved her head like the undead. She used my name like a fork.

I moved to the back patio. People stood around a brick fire pit with crisp hands in pockets and sheepskin flaps over ears. A few of them greeted me with handshakes or gentle rubs on the back.

-Did you see Cillar? someone asked.

-She looked comfortable, I said.

-Where is she? We were looking for her earlier.

-Don’t worry about her, I said. She doesn’t need it.

In a moment, a glass was in my hand. I sipped at it and a lukewarm treacle coated my teeth. I noticed a stranger speaking in the corner. He had heavy sideburns and a stout, masculine figure. People listened. Fiele was there. I hadn’t seen her since Christmas. I stood next to her and we smiled at each other and listened.

-I lost my soul, proclaimed the stranger. I vomited and felt it leave my chest. I watched it move out of the bathroom and flap away like a bat.

He stopped and took a pensive breath. I leaned toward Fiele.

-What is he talking about? I asked.

-I don’t know, she said.

I listened for another minute but couldn’t decode his story. My mind wandered and I walked away. Mario was on one of the lawn chairs by the fire and I sat down next to him and petted at his coat. He kept his head down and looked at me with simple, round eyes. His fur was soft and warm. The two of us observed people at a safe distance and I felt a little lonely for him and rubbed his ears.

-You’re such a good dog, I said.

Owet approached me. His face seemed darker than the last time I had seen him. He wore several different expressions around the area of his eyes. He stood next to me and gazed down at Mario, who was our centerpiece.

-You’re here? he said.

He took a long sip of his drink and ran his finger along his lips.

-Did you see her? he asked.

-Oh yeah.

-I’m sorry about that.

-Don’t be. I don’t care.

-Is that right?

He leaned down and patted Mario on the side.

-Hey Mario, Sweetheart, he said, What are you doing? What are you doing, sweetheart?

He smiled.

-You have a good dog, I said.

-I do.

-Dogs must be some lonely creatures, I said. They never see their own species. They maybe see another dog every few weeks at a park and that’s about it. Look at him. He looks lonely.

We looked. Piken nodded.

-That’s why everyone should have two dogs, he said.

-Even then, I said. Imagine being trapped with one other person. It’d be a nightmare.

-Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. All dogs think they’re humans anyway. Mario thinks he’s a human. It’s like the children who grow up with wolves. They’re basically wolves. He wants human food and human attention and a human family. He doesn’t know the difference.

-That could be true.

-It is.

We looked at Mario a bit more and he didn’t move. Then someone started yelling. It was the stranger.

-You won’t believe it, the stranger screamed. I was a zombie that night.

A few people laughed and I could distinctly hear Fiele’s laugh.

-Who is that? I asked, referring to the stranger.

-Tother. He lives next door.

-Who is he?

-I don’t really know. Sometimes he wanders over here for parties. We’ve never been friends. His family’s lived next door my entire life.

-A few minutes ago he was telling some story about losing his soul.

-That sounds about right.

He pointed at a girl reading a magazine. She had thick hair and a sharp nose.

-His sister’s nice, he said. She’s right over there. You’d like her. She just got some scholarship for graduate school or something.

He took a deep swig, coughed a little afterwards and walked away. I sat silently for a short while and caught some phrases from Tother’s harangue. Five or six people were gathered around him still, hanging on his words.

-A spider, he said. It was my only friend. I communed with it.

His brow furrowed and his head trembled.

- I couldn’t relate to anything but insects. I was living on a different plane of existence!

I laughed to myself.

A few minutes later, Owet motioned to me from inside the house and I went to him.

-I need you to deal with something, he said.

-Your neighbor is a lunatic, I said.

-What?

-Nothing.

-Go to my room, he said. You should see something.

His words hissed.

-Am I going alone? I asked.

-I’ll wait for you.

I walked up the stairs. Some anticipation snaked through me. I opened the door to his room and found Cillar on the floor, half-naked and seemingly unconscious. A cheese-like smell of vomit and sugar wafted at me. I closed the door and walked back to Owet. He was thin-lipped.

-I don’t solve these problems, I said.

-Honestly? He said.

-I’m serious. I’m no longer required to deal with this.

-All right, he said. But someone needs to help her.

-Where’s Nenna?

-She didn’t come. She had to work.

-Where’s Piken? Cillar was all over him earlier.

-He left twenty minutes ago. I think you intimidated him.

-Well, Shit.

-Please, he said. You’re the only one.

Fiele started to walk up the stairs.

-Stop, Owet said. Where are you going?

-The bathroom.

-There are problems in that room, he said.

-Oh, she said.

She retraced her steps and Owet explained the situation to her. She was not surprised. No one is ever surprised in this situation. She glanced at me during the explanation because she knew what was coming next.

Owet went into the bathroom and returned with a towel. He placed it in my hand. I wetted it in the kitchen sink and filled up a glass of water. This was the routine. I went to the stairs and I overheard Owet and Fiele talking.

-He shouldn’t have to deal with this, she said.

-It’s Okay, Owet said. He likes doing these types of things. He likes being the savior.

As he spoke, a surge of pain went through me. I wanted to tear out his throat. Instead, I went upstairs. Cillar was still on the floor with her pants bunched at her thighs, writhing. A bright lamp poured across the room and lit up her skin in yellows and pinks. Her breasts were unhappy sand dunes.

-What are you doing? I said. Get up.

She breathed at me. Her bra dangled from her shoulder. I took the wet cloth and rubbed it against her forehead and mouth and I soaked in the pooled vomit at her sides.

-Thank you, she said.

I didn’t want to hear her voice.

-Here, I said. Put on your shirt.

She squirmed. Her skin lightly trembled.

-I’m hot, she yelled. It’s hot.

-It’s not hot. It’s cold. Look at me. I’m wearing a sweater.

-It’s hot.

I moved to slip her shirt over her head. She convulsed, gripped my wrist.

-No. I don’t want it, she said. Don’t.

-Fine. No shirt.

She gazed around the room. Owet’s clothing was on the floor. She grabbed one of his socks with both her hands and pulled at it. I watched her and I felt my upper lip snarl.

-Stop, I said.

She didn’t. Her eyes were marbles.

-Put down the goddamn sock or I’m leaving.

She didn’t. I ripped it away from her and pinched her on her stomach. It was a malicious thing to do. Then she looked at me with complete sobriety. Her stare was focused and pointed and harrowing.

-Don’t do that, she said.

-You’re a child, I said.

I heard footsteps up the stairs. I rushed to the door, locked it and held the handle. Someone knocked.

-Hello? I said.

-Sorry.

-There’s a bathroom downstairs, I said.

-Is everything all right?

-Fine.

Cillar laughed and burped and laughed some more. It was her out-of-body laughter. It was the loose, flapping sound she made when she lost control.

-Can you not laugh right now? I said.

-You’re so stupid, she said.

I felt a bitter anger bite into me.

-Do you even know what’s happening right now? I said.

-What?

-No you don’t.

-What are you talking about?

-Everyone knows, I said. They know what’s going on up here. They’ve all seen it.

-No, she said.

-Look at you. There’s vomit all over you. It’s disgusting. It’s fucking disgusting. There’s vomit on Owet’s floor, on his towel, on his clothes. Are you listening?

-Stop, she said.

-Good.

She wiped something off her shoulder.

-I guess it doesn’t matter, I said. You’ll have forgotten all this tomorrow and you’ll pull the same shit next week. You’ll pull the same shit but I won’t be here. Then you’ll choke on your own vomit and die.

-Stop.

-I’m done. I’m so fucking done. What I’m doing now is a favor to Owet. You don’t get any more favors from me.

She breathed quickly. Her expression was vacant. Then she dragged her nails across her chest and pushed wet hair strands away from her face. I watched her grow more uncomfortable in her own body. I listened to people laughing outside and I could hear music from tinny speakers. Then another knock.

-Hello?

-Owet?

-Yeah.

I draped Cillar’s shirt over her chest and opened the door.

-Hey, he said. How’s it going?

-Not well. But I’m dealing with it.

-Good. Would it be all right if maybe you could take her home soon?

-What? No, I can’t drive. I’ve been drinking.

-Walk then.

-Come on. No. You walk her home.

-I can’t leave my house. There are all these people here.

His eyes avoided Cillar .

-It’s a ten minute walk, he said. It’ll sober her up.

-You’re an ass, I said

-Fine. I’m an ass. But I need to clean all this up soon.

Owet went back downstairs and tended to the party. It took ten difficult minutes to dress her. She fought with her feet and teeth and head. I had to force her arms through her shirt like tent poles.

-I hate you, she said. I hate you so much.

Her words were liquor needles.

We came out of the room and I dragged her to the top of the landing. Owet appeared at the bottom of the stairs and I told him to clear everyone out of the way because I didn’t want a scene. Then we hulked down the stairs and out the door and I was a little rougher than I should have been. She had six inches of alcohol padding and I knew she wouldn’t remember.

Outside, the temperature was cold metal. Cillar wore a sweater that clung to her body and the acrid smell of bile was on her breath. She seemed to concentrate all her energy on walking. If I didn’t talk, neither did she.

-How are you doing? I said.

-I’m drunk, she said.

We made it a block before she stumbled to the ground on her balled fists. I had my arms around her but she was dead weight and I couldn’t hold.

-Did I just step on a snail? She said.

I looked behind us at smeared residue.

-You might have.

-I always do that. I’m terrible.

Her tone of voice was unfamiliar.

-Get up. Come on. We have two more blocks.

This was a lie. We had five more blocks.

She pulled on my hands and when she lifted, her face pressed against mine. There was a subtle fuzz on her cheeks and I wanted to cry when I felt it.

She struggled. I directed her body down some wooden stairs and past vanilla-colored homes with silver cars parked in front. She tried to pry my fingers away.

-Let go, she said.

-No.

But I did. I let go for a moment and she almost toppled a second time. I gripped her side and felt her ribs- small and breakable.

-That’s not a good idea, I said.

When we got to her house I knocked on Nenna’s window. The curtain pushed back and Nenna showed her sleep-puffed face. She opened the window and I pointed to Cillar, who was sprawled on the lawn like a hobo. Nenna looked afraid.

-It’s fine, I said. She needs sleep.

She closed the window and came to the front door in pajamas. I let her take care of everything. I didn’t touch Cillar again and I didn’t go into the house. No one said goodbye.

*

On the way back, a woman was walking her dog. It seemed late for dog walking but I smiled as we passed each other.

I went back to Owet’s house so I could get my car and say goodbye. Most of the other cars were gone and his front door was wide open. Inside, there were one or two people in each room, having moments. I searched for Owet but he was nowhere. Fiele was asleep in an oversized plush chair. Tother, the vibrant speaker, the brother, was hunched on a kitchen stool, looking at a bowl of fruit.

-Have you seen Owet? I asked.

-Who?

-Owet, who lives here.

-Oh. No. I don’t know where he is? Maybe in his room with someone.

I thought about going upstairs and knocking on his door. I didn’t. Tother looked back at the fruit.

-What were you saying earlier? I said. About losing your soul.

- I didn’t really lose it. But once I took too many pills and spent the night on a bathroom floor. I thought it had come out of me while I was heaving. I communed with a spider. I thought he was my only friend. I watched him move for hours. Everything was bright neon and I couldn’t look at the lights. I had to hide in the dark until the dry heaves stopped.

I nodded.

-It sounds bizarre but it was more real than anything. I thought everyone else knew. I wouldn’t look any human being in the face for two days.

-I’m sorry you had to go through that.

He held the fruit like something important.

-You shouldn’t be, he said. I’m not.

I sat in the kitchen with him for a few minutes and we listened to someone snoring on the couch. The sound was knives against poles. Then the kitchen door cracked slightly. It was Mario. He was coming in from outside. Tother crouched down to pet him but Mario didn’t stop. He moved right past us and jogged through the house like a soldier. We listened to his paws tap up the stairs and across the landing and stop in front of Owet’s door. Then we heard the gentle scratch of nails against wood. Then we heard a door open wide.

**

Ross Simonini's writing has appeared in Lilies and Cannonballs, Seattle Weekly, Spillway, Word Riot and many other places. He edits for the journals

Identity Theory and Cranky. He plays with the group Trespassers William.

There is no other information known about him.

Archived at http://lit.konundrum.com/prose/simoninir_wolf.htm