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Chapter Two

Union's small house stood at the foot of a dead end like a dark stranger: only the foolish would approach. An open garage harbored no vehicles (the only vehicle always sat curbside), but years of junk no one cared to toss. The front yard faired no better, overgrown grass and weeds choking the dirt from which it grew, a bare tree clawing its way to the sky from the center, an old tire swing sagging from a half-broken limb.

It was either this or the streets.

Without much effort Union pushed the door open, cut through cigarette smoke, and announced his arrival. From the couch, his mother, Val, took a puff and flipped to a channel of static, the next few reflecting the same blizzard of grey. She had confined herself to this daily ritual soon after her husband left, her life nothing but a blur now, like the television she probed through daily, forms of different characters drowning in static, going through the motions of a script; the rest of her life was laid out for her like this, no one bothering to adjust the antenna. She flipped the channel to the only static-free station: a television chef cooking yet another masterpiece she could not touch, smell, or taste. Her son enjoyed watching this channel, learning all the things around the kitchen her own mother never taught her, the very reason she hated the channel. A curse escaped from under her breath. If only she could afford a dish.

"Got any cash?" she finally asked, extinguishing her half-finished cigarette into a dirty ashtray as she cycled through the set of channels again. "Got a few bills in the mail today."

"I don't get paid 'til next week. You know that."

"'Right." She switched off the set, tossing the remote onto the coffee table half-smothered with junk mail. "You were at the gym again?"

Her question reminded him of how sore he was. "Yeah. Made a new acquaintance there, I think. Quite the big guy."

"Oh? He single?" She wasn't afraid to admit--at least to herself--that things were lonely. If she could get a little bit of help from her son, so be it. "Need a man to pay some of these bills."

Union forced a laugh. Odd imagining himself as his mother's middleman for a hook up. "He's probably half your age!"

She croaked in disagreement, gesturing her nonchalance for age restrictions as if shooing him away.

"Besides, I don't think he's the Sugar Daddy-type."

"You know him that well already? I thought you just met."

"Call it a hunch, but I'm pretty sure most people don't want to pay someone else's bills for a living unless that person were, you know, hot as hell or something. And no offense, you're no super model, either, Mom."

She huffed. "Shoulda seen me when I was younger, back when I carhopped. I remember sharing a peppermint shake with the school's quarterback on my break. Oh, your Aunt Pat was so jealous!" Pat wasn't really Yune's aunt, just an old family friend, Val's best friend since childhood to be exact, and a similar breed of fox, so similar they almost passed as twins. Inseparable as the hydrogen and oxygen in water, they shared clothes, swapped boyfriends like dolls, and had sleepovers almost every weekened even when they were too old for that. They weren't like sisters, they were sisters. Hence, Aunt Pat. The only thing separating them now was a couple-hundred miles of marshland and a rhinoceros of a husband that knew only the word 'no.' "Too bad I settled for your father. Oh, I wish, I wish I would've listened to Pat about him."

"Well, why not go to a bar or something. Look around."

"Yeah, right. Find myself another loser." The same mistake twice was out of the question. She'd even sworn off Screwdrivers, his breaking-the-ice drink of choice. Minute Maid in the morning was also omitted. Just brought back too many memories. And although he wasn't much of a looker, he was slick. Much smarter than any of the jocks she'd dated back in school. Union's father made her feel like she was the only fox in the city worth his time--anyone's time. Instead of a sport to be won or a sports car to show off, she was a woman whose respect you had to earn like the spare key to the house; and he managed to unlock every door. Several months passed and she was pregnant. Later, married.

Television: off.

"Wake me in ten minutes. Got work in an hour."

* * *

His room was the only source of solace, of cleanliness, rows of books aligning the walls on shelves he dusted every other week. Sure, he'd scoured clean the rest of the house before, but it was only a matter of weeks before it declined to its current dilapidated state. Amazing how his mother had all this extra time moping around the house husband-less, but no time to clean after herself. Dumping himself onto his bed, he fumbled for the power switch on the nightstand radio. His favorite classical station blurted its hazy music and he resumed his usual position: arms and legs outstretched as he traced patterns on the knockdown-finished ceiling with his eyes, forming recognizable geometric shapes you'd find in a child's drawing, sometimes an oblong one that resembled a penis, not that it fascinated him too much. Just an observation.

Wanting to read, thoughts of Harvey were too much of a destraction and he again realized how much his muscles ached, although that wasn't what was really bothering him. Why hadn't he seen the wolf before, as big as he was, over the last few weeks he'd been at the gym? Nevertheless, he was glad someone was friendly enough to aid him. It took all his courage to even sign up in the first place, much less keep going day after day around guys much bigger than he'd ever hope to become--it was like his high school days all over again. He even planned to forgo renewing his membership next month, but now that he had a sort of tutelary to guide him, he felt a renewed interest in maintaining his goal--as long as Harvey was there tomorrow.

* * *

Ten minutes.

Still muzzled by sleep, she coughed and shifted position. Yune glanced her over for a moment, her snout sugared with age. The smell was horrid and although he detested her smoking habit, he learned to live with it like one learns to live with loud neighbors. Currently, the closest neighbor they had was a block or two away, so all that was left was this. Picking up an empty carton and crushing it, he disturbed her respite.

"Time already?"

"Yeah."

Sitting up, she coughed heavily.

"You really should quit, y'know."

She groaned. "We've already had this discussion, Union." She trudged towards her room, sifting through the mess on the floor. "I'm an adult fully capable of making my own decisions."

"Well, when're you gonna make the right ones?"

"Please, Union." She heaved on her uniform. It was enough sacrificing a third of her life ringing up merchandise and handing out change, but to come home and be hassled like this? "You're sounding like a teenager again. You're twenty-one; if you don't like it, then move out."

Yune's fur began to bristle and he wanted to tear some off his own head since anything he said wouldn't seep into hers. "Geez, I show some concern for your health and you respond with telling me to get out? Like you can even afford this place if I leave."

She'd picked up the habit ever since her ex-husband left, she wasn't afraid to admit. The warm rush of smoke and the cocktail of chemicals kept her nerves cool. It was either this or overeat. Cigarettes were cheaper. Besides, they'd already come to a compromise: she wouldn't smoke inside when he was home. Regardless, he was right--her house would be foreclosed in no time without her son's help.

"Aren't I allowed a little bit of happiness?" She held in a cough; he'd only use it as fuel.

"You call smoking your life away in front of the TV 'happiness?'"

"Union. Please, just shut up." Shouldering her purse, she headed for the escape-exit. "I'm going."

"But you don't have work for another forty-five minutes."

"I'm leaving."

The door clicked behind her and he stood in the silence of their home, arms crossed. Outside, his mother hacked, spat phlegm into the grass, and stepped into her car.

* * *

Roses. A whole garden of 'em. Definitely roses.

The aging wolf thought for a second, holding a jigsaw piece to his lips and glancing over what he'd already put together. Perhaps they were petunias.

On the dining room table with him lay stacks of boxes housing different puzzles, any indication of the kind inside defaced or masked by duct tape. In real life no one had the benefit of knowing how the whole picture appeared. Every conflict, every problem came with its own steely fog, clarity saved for the gods--and the elderly. Might as well dig right in and figure things out as you go, headstrong like salmon up-river. For the wolf who was creeping into his seventh decade, these jigsaw puzzles were just practice.

The door hummed open.

"Hey, Pops." It was the sound of familiarity: his firm voice, the rustle of shoes being sloughed off, the burst of cool air before the door was shut. "Isn't it supposed to be your naptime?" Harvey strolled in, a grin plastered on his face like sun in the sky at high noon. "Oh, look--tulips."

"Tulips?" Perhaps only the gods then. "Ah, yes. You are correct."

"Don't tell me you guessed petunias again. Or roses." Harvey took a seat, fumbling through some of the boxes, picking at the tape.

"How'd you know?"

"You did that same puzzle a month ago!" Harvey gave a hefty laugh.

"Now, now," the old wolf replied, connecting another puzzle piece. "Show some respect for your elder before I send you for a nap."

The younger wolf whined in compliance then rummaged through the refrigerator, noisy as a child. "Y'know--there's quite a bit of difference between tulips and petunias. And everyone knows what roses look like." Harvey's taut behind saluted the air as he searched, his thick tail brushing an invisible canvas.

The elder wolf fit another piece in, taking notice of the younger's rump. How many diapers has he changed, pats of encouragement as he learned to walk? All that rearing--the least the young wolf could do was indulge him in his senectitude. "I oughta give you a whoopin', you know." Another piece.

"Like you've ever done that."

"And now's a good time to start."

Harvey dumped an armful of ingredients for sandwiches on the counter. "Well, I'm a big boy now. And you never know--I might actually like that."

"Oh, dear heavens."

Reverberating with their laughter, the dining room lay witness to too many similar moments, family photographs (almost none of them recent) and random knickknacks peppering the walls, an exhibition of Harvey's youth and his caretakers' own eccentricities. One photo in particular displayed a tear-drenched Harvey surrounded by his folks in spacesuits during the town's annual autumn festival, costuming oneself being optional, but highly encouraged. It wasn't Harvey's favorite photo on the wall, namely since it was his folks'. Too many embarrassing visits as they hooted with their guests over the frozen open-mouthed wail of his visage, his face squirting tears. Your folks being swallowed by terrible homemade spacesuits was terrifying for a five year old.

"Well, now that we're on the topic," the old wolf spoke, stroking his thin beard that made him look too much like a wizard, still piecing together his puzzle without looking up, "how's your love-life been?"

Harvey blushed, focusing on spreading mayonnaise on a slice of sourdough. "Uh, that's not exactly something I'd enjoy discussing with you. That's what I have Bubba for."

"The runt--he doesn't know anything about love or the acts of making it. I've nearly got seventy years on me--"

Harvey dropped the bread and covered his ears, repeating the la solfège syllable until he was sure the old wolf was done talking. "Not what I want to hear, Pops."

"Nonsense, Harvey. Your Nanna and I have taught you that sex is perfectly natural."

"Natural, but still weird when it comes to certain people." Harvey commenced sandwich-making as if diffusing a bomb.

"We circumvented the educational system just to make sure you weren't corrupted by society's backward priorities. We glorify violence, but the act of two bodies doing what they're programmed to do puts uptight Sunday-school mothers in a bind." He sighed, fitting in another puzzle piece before pointing an unsteady finger at the sandwhich-bound wolf. "Don't be afraid of what's natural."

Yune suddenly popped into mind--he'd almost forgotten him.

"I think I made a new friend today."

"Changing the subject or adding to it?" Another piece.

"Does it matter?" Harvey took a bite from his sandwich, the elder wolf gesturing his indifference. "Met him at the gym."

"What's his name?"

"Yune. Scrawny little guy."

The old wolf mumbled, placing the final piece in position, the garden of tulips fully burgeoned on the table. Unable to remember what kind of flowers these were bothered him--a flower as common as the tulip.

Harvey noticed this stretch of silence, his pointy ears shifting involuntarily as if to catch some whispered code, something dire. "What're you thinking?"

The old wolf took his time to answer, as if he were asked the million-dollar question. "Do you know why I chose this particular puzzle today."

Harvey took another bite and shook his head.

"It was her favorite. Tulips."

Harvey swallowed. "Nanna?"

"Yeah."

Three years now.

"I miss her."

The old wolf stood, his back aching from sitting for so long, his tail slung heavily behind him like a chain of sausage links. In one breath he crumbled the puzzle before him and scooped it back into its box.