Don't spend your teenage years as super-heroes, kids, trust me. It fucks you up. Bad. Take me, for instance. I have this thing about wolves… I don't like them, and there's nothing my therapist, my earthy-crunchy, all-creatures-are-beautiful girlfriend, or anyone else can do about it. In my mind wolves = danger = supreme violence. Don't spend your teenage years super-hero-ing kids; it gets you kicked out of your apartment. Okay, it got me kicked out of my apartment. Still, it's a slippery slope and a long way down. Just avoid it, huh?
"What the hell do you mean by that?" "Just what I said, you smell like them." "And this is why you're sleeping on the couch?" "No, I'm sleeping on the couch because there's no room available in my price range." "You're an asshole, you know that?" "Me? I'm Mr. Sensitive. Not about those fleabags, though." "You know what? I'll give you the money just to get you out of my face."
Oh, Emmaline.
"You and Emma on the rocks again?" "Yeah." "Man, you guys break up more often than Ryo and Mia." "That's not humanly possible, stop exaggerating." "You really need to get over the wolf thing, Sage." "You need to stop star-gazing." "That was below the belt. Astronomers star-gaze for a living. Can you make 40,000 a year out of lupinophobia?" "Emmaline paid me eighty bucks to get out of her face." "Even if she did that every week, you'd need years to break twenty thou." "Man, and she gets twice that to take care of the filthy bastards." "I kind of like wolves." "Traitor." "That's some language to use on your best friend." "Sorry. Traitor to the entire human race." "Get over yourself. And more immediately, shut up and go to sleep."
Oh, Emmaline. I love you.
"Re-introduction? As in, into the wild? You realise the entire reason I moved to the States is because you don't have wild wolves anymore, right?" "No, you moved here because you're a co-dependant and Rowen was moving here." "Can we please leave my mental health out of this?" "No, see, this is all about your mental health. Your phobias, your weird friends, your insistence that I shower whenever I come home from work..." "I had a very complicated childhood." "I think you had a very complicated head trauma." "So why are you still here?" "Fucked if I know."
She's right, of course. I'm fucked up beyond belief.
"Jesus-fucking-Christ. Did you just hit me?" "I-" "Get out." "I-" "Get out of my apartment!" "But, I-" "Get out before I call the police!"
Get out before she calls the police. Well-to-do white girl attacked by immigrant, if that doesn't spell deportation, what does? Oh, Emmaline.
Our children would have smelled like rain a few miles away. Oh, Emma.
I'm sorry.