Page 112 of Such Sharp Teeth

I don’t know how I didn’t register these decorations last night. Ash’s lawn is covered in inflatables and wire reindeer and angels and wooden elves. There’s a giant menorah and Star of David. There’s an animatronic Santa at the end of the pathway that I’m tempted to punch.

I walk in silence. I didn’t think to bring headphones. But with no music or podcast, I have nothing to listen to but my own thoughts.

Everything I’ve done—confronting my past, forgiving my mother, working through my anger, seeking a cure—was that really for me or was it all for him? At the time it seemed like a werewolf necessity, something I had to do to manage my monstrousness, but maybe I was just filing my teeth for him. For someone who never actually gave a damn about me.

I’m on a busy stretch of road. I pass the strip mall with the nail salon and the Dunkin’ Donuts. I consider coffee but being more awake doesn’t really appeal to me at the moment. What I really want is meat. The grocery store is a little farther down. I keep walking. A few cars honk at me. I must be a sight, in my leather jacket and black stockings and sky-high heels. Walking down the street at . . . what? Nine a.m.? Hard to tell because it’s overcast.

When I get to the grocery store, I grab a cart and fill it with rotisserie chickens. I slog through the aisles tortured by the cheesy radio classics playing through muffled speakers.

I head over to the meat counter and say a smiley good morning to the woman behind it. I’m extra friendly to camouflage the subtle nag of embarrassment I’m experiencing ordering this much cow.

I’m waiting for steaks when my phone vibrates in my jacket pocket.

Message from Mia. Morning, sunshine! Sorry I left without saying goodbye. Had fun tho

There’re the little ellipses. She’s typing something else.

Sorry about the whole Ian thing. Promise I’m not interested in him at all!!

My grip tightens and I watch as her message is distorted by broken glass. Next thing I know my phone is in pieces. Pieces too small to hold. They fall through my fingers onto the floor.

I didn’t just crack the screen this time. I crushed it. Brand-new phone obliterated.

“Oops,” I say, attempting to discreetly kick my mess under the meat display case.

I receive the steaks and then proceed to order a rack of pork ribs. Just really working my way through the animal kingdom.

“Thanks!” I tell the woman, who, in addition to meat, is serving me some serious side-eye. I give her an affable wave before sliding away.

I turn a corner and my cart collides with someone else’s.

With Matty’s.

“Rory,” he says. He doesn’t appear too chuffed to see me. At least we’re on the same page.

“Matthias.”

We stare at each other, neither of us really knowing what to say.

“How’s your shoulder?” I ask. He’s not wearing the sling anymore.

“Okay,” he says.

More silence.

Finally, he throws his hands up. “Do you have a problem?”

“Yes. In fact, I have quite a long list of problems. And you’re on it! Right at the top. Congratulations.”

“I don’t understand why you’re mad at me,” he says.

I try to push my cart past his, but he won’t let me.

“Will you just talk to me for a sec?”

“I have somewhere to be,” I say, nudging his cart again.

“Where?”