Page 26 of Jacob Michaels is Not Crazy

“What the hell were you stuck in your head about then?” She asked as she walked over to the stove to make her own plate. “You sure have been thoughtful lately. Wish you’d been like that a decade ago when you packed up and ran off in the middle of the goddamn night.”

“Oma…”

“Oh, just tell me what you was thinking then.” She stopped me.

Oma’s phone dinged. I reached over and looked at the screen.

I’d love to come have breakfast. Be there shortly. That’s what Lucas had responded. He hadn’t even asked what we were serving.

“I think I need to talk to Andrew, right?” I responded as I set Oma’s phone down. “Lucas is coming over.”

“Good,” Oma said. “And why the fuck do you think you need to talk to Andrew? He done messed up. That ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.”

Oma filled her plate and came to sit down across from me, immediately grabbing up her fork and cutting off a piece of gravy-laden biscuit. She stuffed the bite in her mouth with a satisfied, nearly orgasmic expression.

“Because I have questions.”

“What questions could you have?”

I thought about that.

“You’re just curious ‘cause you found out he’s a damn werewolf.” She shook her head before stuffing another bite in her mouth. “Let that go, Robbie. It ain’t gonna lead nowhere but trouble. He tried to attack you, Lucas stopped him, he learnt his lesson, it’s over.”

Andrew had said some things over dinner that I had questions about that were starting to come back to me. It was like experiencing a trauma—which I guess nearly getting attacked by a werewolf was trauma—and my mind had shoved details out of my mind in the moment. Like temporary amnesia. Now I was starting to remember the details of our conversation over dinner at the Indian restaurant. Things like how he thought I smelled. He had said I was “intoxicating”. Lucas had recently said the same thing.

What does Oma smell like?

I smelled the air, pretending that I was clearing my nose. Everything just smelled like food. I couldn’t pick out a particular scent on the air that could be attributed to Oma’s person.

“I just want to know why he acted the way he acted.” I shrugged, trying to play it all off.

“’Cause he’s a damn werewolf, that’s why!” She jabbed her fork at me. “You mind my advice and just push that out of your mind, Robbie. Andrew is no good and you don’t need to put up with his shit.”

“This from the woman who described him as a ‘sweet boy’ just last week.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I mean, he seemed pretty contrite the other morning.”

“Nothing like a fist to the face to do that.” She snorted.

We ate in silence for several minutes before I heard the front door open and close. Oma looked up expectantly as my stomach fluttered again. I took a big bite of biscuit as footsteps sounded in the main part of the house. My mouth being full when Lucas entered would keep him from trying to kiss me in greeting in front of Oma and I wouldn’t be expected to have anything intelligent to say upon his approach. Lucas entered the kitchen, looking just as delectable as he had the past few times we had…hung out?...and it made me wish that we had met at his house instead of him coming to Oma’s.

“Well, good morning there, Lucas.” Oma cocked an eyebrow at him and then shot a glance at me.

Stuff it, old lady. I thought to myself.

“Good morning, Mrs. Wagner,” Lucas responded. “Thanks for inviting me over.”

“You’re welcome, Lucas.” Oma started to stand.

“I can fix my own plate.” He gestured for her to sit. “Good morning, Rob.”

I smiled around the mouthful, gesturing at my bulging cheeks with a finger, before giving him a nod. He winked back at me. Oma grinned at that and went back to eating her food. As Lucas prepared himself a plate of biscuits and gravy, I ate my food slowly and thoughtfully, trying to keep my mouth full but not eat quickly or appear anxious. Oma kept glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she ate her food.

“Guess Jackson didn’t need you in the store today?” Oma asked. “How’s that old bastard doing?”

I frowned at my grandmother.

“Grandpa’s fine,” Lucas responded from his spot at the stove. “Thanks for asking. He said to tell you to wait at least three days after tomorrow before you start digging or planting. You should be good to plant then, though.”

“Tell him thank you so much for his damn expert advice.” She waggled her head. “Always tellin’ me how to run my damn garden like I ain’t been doin’ it since he was learning to play with his pud.”