Chapter Two
Milo
“Sorry to leave you alone to open again, but I’ll be back before the lunchtime rush hour.” I gave Sophia an apologetic smile and pocketed my phone. I had shown her the urgent message I’d received from the director of the nursing home where my last surviving family member lived.
“No problem. Tell Ethel I said hi and that I’ll come over for the bracelet-making workshop tomorrow night. She promised me we’ll be swapping fandom quotes to use.” Sophia pulled her green hair into a tight bun and fixed her apron. “I’ll let you know if the hot, hairy guy comes by again.”
“Who? Oh.” I grinned. “The grumpy fella. Yeah. He’s something else.” A dreamy note tinged my voice. I had no interest in dating now, but an easy-on-the-eyes dude was a nice addition to the morning rush.
“He was totally into you.” She waggled her eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes. “Into whoever would serve his coffee.”
“Nope. He didn’t look at me the way he did at you. So I had a very important call when it was his turn to order.” She shimmied her shoulders in a sassy, triumphant move.
I couldn’t contain my theatrical gasp. “I knew that was fake. You’re such a shit stirrer.”
“Nah, you can do that all by your lonesome, Mr. I’ll-bump-into- the-hot-new-dude-in-town-and-spill-my-fruit.”
“Shut up.”
She finger-waved at me. I left the coffee shop, shaking my head.
During the colder months, I’d take the bus to visit Ethel, but the summer weather warranted a bike ride. It would be faster, and I could use the fresh air to clear my thoughts in the morning.
After my parents had passed away when I was thirteen, I’d ended up at my great-aunt’s house while she’d dealt with paperwork and custody.
I hadn’t had to beg dear Anabelle to let me stay with her—she’d welcomed me with open arms and I’d lived with her and her wife, Ethel, until they’d both decided to move into a care home together five years ago.
They’d been happy there amongst friends and endless entertainment until Anabelle had got a rare pneumonia last year that was deadly to snake shifters like her.
Since Anabelle’s funeral, I tried to visit Ethel several times a week, more often in the summer when I had a break from my classes at college. But sometimes work at the cafe took up all my energy.
The twenty-minute ride got me to the expanse of neatly trimmed greenery at the main entrance to the colonial building that housed Happy Life Senior Home.
I parked my bike, ran up the stairs, and registered at the front desk, where a young woman handed me my pass on a lanyard.
“Could you let Mrs. Patton know that I’m here?
She wanted to discuss something.” The director of the place was a nice person, but I was still wary of what news she might have for me.
On my way to Ethel’s suite, I said hi to the residents passing by who recognized me by now. I pushed the door open and grinned.
Ethel was painting some small clay sculptures she’d made in her pottery class. While her peers had been busy creating mugs and jewelry holders, Ethel had sculpted…vulvas.
Her bright orange hair was in a high bun, catching the sunlight from the window.
Last year she’d asked me to dye her hair the same color she’d worn back in the day—strawberry blonde.
Something had gone wrong with the dye, or I’d fucked up, and it had turned orange.
Ethel loved that color even more, and we’d been refreshing it to the same ridiculously happy shade ever since.
“I can hear you loitering.” Her voice carried so clearly; she didn’t sound her ripe age of ninety-eight.
Since Ethel’s fated mate had been a shifter, she might have a longer lifespan.
Then again, Anabelle herself should still have been alive.
“Come in and tell me if you think aliens would have purple or sparkly pink vulvas.”
I gave her question serious consideration. Her favorite ship was from an old TV show about a human and alien couple that defied gender, and I learned that true fandom love never goes away. “I’d vote for neon green, actually. Why would they have the same parts as us in the first place?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Let the old lady have her fun. If you want, I can make you a cock-shaped one next time. You could use it as a paperweight.”
“It would add an artistic touch to my bookshelf, definitely.” I approached closer, admiring her work.
She’d been baking and decorating for a fair portion of her life, and the skill must have translated into sculpting and painting because the clay creations were remarkable.
Or maybe I just knew nothing about vulvas.
“Excellent!” She put her paintbrush down and turned to me. “Have you been sleeping at all? You look like the father of newborn triplets that scream all night.”
“I’m fine.”
“You can carry groceries in the bags under your eyes, Lo-lo.”
I chuckled. “You look great, though.”
“It’s the weed Marissa smuggled in. We baked the best muffins last night. I slept like a baby.” She cackled and dipped her brush in more paint. “How’s your love life lately? Is that why you look miserable?”
“Everyone says I’m always happy and smiling.” I pulled up a chair and sat next to her, hooking my ankles on the legs.
“Yes, but I can tell when you’re faking positivity.” She added colorful swirls to her sculpture, then gave me a deadpan stare. Ethel knew me well.
“I don’t have time for a relationship. You know this.” Not to mention I’d been hurt by a cheating asshole and was not ready to go through that again.
“Ah, then a good lay?”
“Ethel!” I buried my face in my hands and groaned.
“Maybe a cryptid fella, huh? Your great aunt was gorgeous in snake form when she shifted.” She released a dreamy sigh. “Ah, how I miss my dear Anabelle and the things she could do with her tongue.”
“That’s it. I’m leaving.” I shot to my feet.
Ethel cackled. “Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, you need to get laid, darling.”
I snorted. “You sound like Sophia.”
“She’s a smart girl. Too bad you’re not into intelligent women.” Ethel smacked her lips, rearranging her sculptures. “Although I can understand. I had my fair share of—”
“Please don’t.” I shook my head but couldn’t stop grinning. I loved seeing Ethel so energetic. She had her good and bad days, and today was the former.
“You don’t have to marry right away. Live a little. Experiment; have fun. You’re so young. Don’t waste your youth on serious stuff.” She waved her hand in the air as if the entire world was what she’d meant. Fair point.
She wanted me to be like my old self—the Milo from before Anabelle’s passing and finding out my boyfriend cheated on me a week after. “Okay. I will try to be more open to some mindless fun.”
“That’s my boy. But be safe too. I mean, you may not need condoms if you date a cryptid, but—”
“We’re done here. I’ll make you fresh tea. Dear gods, help me,” I mumbled the last part and marched out of the room. Her witchy cackle followed me through the door.
Ethel was right, as always. I had thrown myself into endless tasks over the past year, only indulging in a fuck here and there with a tourist I’d never see again.
I’d use condoms even with cryptids, despite their immunity to catching and spreading human diseases and infections.
My great aunts raised a disaster, but a well-informed one.
The murals on the walls, painted by someone with immense talent, added joy to the corridor where I paused to look through the window and onto the vast, colorful gardens below.
Mrs. Patton’s sensible click-clacking heels announced her presence before she spoke.
“Mr. Tobitt, may I have a word with you?” She stopped by my side and patted the tight bun of brown hair at the top of her head.
I stayed close to the wall as if I were about to faint and needed the support. “Of course. I came as soon as I got your message. Is everything okay? Is Ethel good? Did she say anything?” How’s her health?
The director smiled softly. “Yes, Ethel is fine and has no complaints. We had some families raise concerns about Ethel’s involvement in the art circle and rumors about special ingredients for the baking evening, but in the end, the residents are happy and safe.
” She tapped her notebook—a worn leather-bound contraption packed with scraps of paper, the whimsical item so different from her serious demeanor.
“That’s not what I wanted to talk about.
I’ll get to the point. Will you still be paying for the extra amenities for Ethel?
You know her pension and savings cover the basics, but things like excursions and equine therapy cost extra.
I’m just making sure, since you’re behind on this month’s payment. ”
My stomach dropped. I was such an asshole. “Shit. Am I? I thought I set the transfer to go automatically.”
“It was declined.”
“Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
“You can skip this one and resume next month.” Her voice was kind and devoid of judgement.
“No, no I’ll get the amount you need by tomorrow. Some other payments must have gone through and sucked all the money. I’ll deal with this. I promise.”
“That’s fine. Everything will stay as is now, and you have until the end of the week. Would that work?”
“Yes, thank you. I need to get some tea. For Ethel. Excuse me.” I marched down the corridor to the communal area.
Ethel had raised me as her own, and I couldn’t even pay for her activities at the nursing home.
I’d be reviewing my finances and the cafe revenue yet again until I figured out what I could improve.
Author's notes:
I love writing Ethel! I was kicking my feet, giggling when I sat down and hammered out the beginning of this chapter. Sophia, I’ll know when you read this cause you’ll message me in capital letters! Heheeee. This character appeared to me fully fledged as YOU. So I had to do eeeet!