Holly Ch. 04

Holly glances over at her as he chops the chives and parsley. "Hope they were worth it," he replies.

"Oh, I couldn't have missed it. They were like my parents, finally tying the knot, haha."

"Parents? How is that?" He's determined to figure out her story. She seems fictitious, despite her wide, honest eyes. He's known people like that before, who make everything up for no good reason. He hopes the story of her past hangs together. Holly prefers non-fiction, a good biography to a fantastical tale.

"My priest growing up was like a dad to me... and a few hundred other kids. I think we did have a special bond, though. The bride was the nun who looked after us in the dorm where I lived. They got married."

"To each other? Even I know that's against the rules," he says dryly.

"Yes and no. The vows aren't for everybody and not always for a person's whole life. They were in love for years and years, then finally decided they wanted to be married to each other instead of God. The Church lets people out of their vows and they don't get excommunicated, but they do have to be honest about it. I mean, really, if they said, 'Sign up for this when you're twenty and if you ever change your mind you go to Hell," there would be very few takers."

Holly sips his wine. It's full-bodied and paints a strange memory tapestry on his tongue like it's full of clues. It's also tasty and going to his head in a way that feels more psychoactive than the occasional beer he has to be social. "Do you think they ever... like, before?" he asks.

"Holly! They are like my parents!" she exclaims, pretending to be scandalized. He chuckles and apologizes for grossing her out. "No, I wondered about that, too, and this may sound naive, but I don't think they ever did. They both love God too much to cheat on him. I think they talked about it, went to meet with the bishop together, and he wished them well. They weren't kids."

"Are they happy now?"

"Yeah, they're perfect together. They're vagabonds now, traveling around in a cool RV. Still very Catholic, but, you know, like hippie Catholic."

"I like stories like that. Real love stories," he says.

"What about you?" she asks.

"Me?"

"Yeah, were you here for the last ice storm?"

"Oh, right... I thought you meant... nevermind. I had just moved up here from Florida."

"Oh, no! You must have regretted leaving the sunshine for this," she says. The wind howls past the window to underline her point.

"Nah, I fell in love with this landscape. I knew this was where I had to be... but I did have my doubts I'd survive the winter. I was used to crazy storms, but this was a whole new kind of destruction. Quieter. Hey, have you got flashlights and stuff in case this gets bad?"

"I don't think I have flashlights. That's so stupid. I have candles, we have emergency water in the pantry there and food. Cigarettes to ration... We won't really know if my panels are working right until tomorrow night. There's enough power stored up. I'm not worried. Is that crazy?" she asks.

"Not crazy, no. You're in good with the man upstairs."

She pivots on her metal foot to look directly at him. Now she does have a wounded look. He realizes she thinks he's mocking her. He hastily wipes his hands and takes her thin arm. "Hey, I wasn't making fun of ya. I admire you too much, really, I do."

She searches his face all over before giving him her angelic smile. "I believe you. It's just that a lot of people I meet think I'm a freak. I'm too liberal for most Christians and my faith freaks out secular people. I guess I've come to expect it." She looks away and down at the mountain of chopped potatoes. "Oh, shit. We'll need a bigger pot. And more parsley, too. I eat a lot of it because my liver likes it."

Holly sips his red wine. He's not sure his liver likes it, but his mouth does. His big mouth. Their first night truly talking and he almost hurt her. He realizes that just because she makes him feel comfortable doesn't mean he should get familiar. He doesn't know her. But why does he feel like he does?

MK finishes the potatoes just as he'd described his preference and with a splash of heavy cream. The rhythm of their conversation hasn't quite recovered. He catches her leaning on the counter and thinks she must be exhausted by this hour. When he looks closer, he realizes she's in pain and trying to hide it.

"Do you wanna sit down? Just tell me what to do and I'll do the rest," he asks full of concern for his girl.

"Okay, I'll take you up on that this time. Thanks. Don't spoil me, though," she warns him. She limps over to the chair by the fire, white as a sheet.

* * * * *

It's not her back, as it usually is. It's in the front to one side, deep, and like a tightening fist. 'Do omegas even have an appendix?' she thinks. She'd been living in a beta's body since the accident, or at least that's what she imagines it must be like, with its annoying period pains and numbed twinges of sexual interest. This was omega ovulation pain from an organ that just woke up starving and cranky as a hibernating bear.

She glances at the man across the kitchen. Yes, he was beautiful, but she must be truly desperate for this to happen after standing near him for a short time. She exhales through gritted teeth. She'd done this to herself. There were a lot of reasons to choose him to be her tenant, but maybe her body had made the choice and tricked her into thinking it had been a rational decision.

She tries to imagine someone else-a nice woman or gay man-and the thought just disappoints her. No, she'd wanted more than a respectful renter. She'd known what he was from the get-go, just decided it was none of her business and not her concern. She wanted her body back, to feel like herself again, but living with an alpha did complicate matters. That, though, assumes he could feel the same way about her and he probably doesn't. Holly is just a very kind person.

"What should I do now?" he asks.

She raises her head and composes her face. "The chicken needs a little more time in the oven. You could slice the bread while we wait... did I buy bread?"

"Yeah, I put it over here. Looks really good."

She gives him a weak smile. "Squeeze it?"

"What?" he laughs.

"Like this," she says and flexes her fingers. He looks at her curiously but does what she asks. It crackles.

"Mmm. That's the sound of good bread. I love that," she says. "Go ahead and slice all of it-what we don't eat I'll feed my birds, poor little frozen things."

He slices the handmade loaf into fat pieces to soak up the juices. He finds a dish with "Give us this day..." painted on it to bring it to the table.

"Now what?"

"Hm. We can see about finishing this bastard." She explains to him how to saute the mushrooms in butter, then to take some more butter and mash it with flour. He's said he doesn't cook, but he's good with his hands and seems to enjoy it so far. This must be nothing compared to the precision work he normally does. He has no trouble finding things in her kitchen without being told, which is good because she's in enough distress to have trouble expressing "right" or "left."

"Do you see those silicone oven gloves? If you could please take the pot from the oven and put it back on the stove, I'd be very grateful."

"Course I will. Damn! That's as heavy as you! Just out of curiosity, what would you have done if I weren't here?" he asks.

'I wouldn't have made it,' she thinks. "I guess I'd cook it on the stove, but that's not the proper technique. Oh, here..." She rises to hobble to the freezer. "These go in the recipe, but if you think it's too much we can leave them out."

"No, a thing worth doing is worth doing properly. I trust ya."

"Okay, let's see what happened to this." When she removes the lid it's like looking at the picture. MK stirs in the butter and mushrooms, drops in the frozen pearl onions, and adds two more sprigs of thyme. She lights a low flame under it. "Ten minutes," she smiles. She puts the potatoes in the warm oven. Culinary failures didn't usually happen to her, but she takes them especially hard; being ill and not able to eat much has only increased her emotional attachment to good food. To end up trashing this would send her to bed for a long spell.

She sets their places with table linens and the two settings of good silverware she owns. Now if only she weren't in pain... "Does pot smoke bother you?" she asks.

He sputters a laugh. "I don't think so, no."

"I have some medical stuff for when I need it. It's a little cold to step outside, so, if you don't mind..."

"Please. You look like you're hurtin' if you don't mind my saying so."

"Yeah, but this will help. Want some?"

* * * * *

MK lights the joint. The marijuana fragrance blends nicely with those of the savory dish and wood fire. It's the kind of scent you hope will linger in your clothes. Holly's declined to partake but likes the look of her smoking. She does it with a certain panache, like old Hollywood. Not for the first time, he has the spooky feeling that maybe she's a lot older than he thinks.

"How old are you?" he asks. "I don't think you said."

"I'm 40, but the years have not been kind," she says with no bitterness. "I must look older, but my voice stays like a kid's," she says, coughing.

"No, I thought maybe you look a lot younger than you are."

"Why would you think that?"

"Just an impression I get sometimes. Like you belong in a different era." And that she's motherly towards him, which he likes. He thought it was an omega thing, the way some animals naturally mother even inanimate objects. What if it was just that she's older than him and he seems young to her with his not so grown-up life?

"That would explain why I have so much trouble with this one," she chuckles. She stretches attractively and yawns. "I think we can eat now." The pain has melted away and a little normal color has returned to her complexion. "Taste it and see what it needs."

Holly slurps a spoonful of the maroon braising liquid. "Fuck."

"Maybe it needs salt."

"Don't do anything to it. It's perfect."

He's not lying. He does keep to himself that he tastes something coppery, but maybe that's just what happens to Burgundy as the alcohol cooks off and it combines with animal fats.

MK plates their meal in shallow bowls. She chooses the two most photogenic pieces for him and arranges them on a soft bed of potatoes with vegetables around the edges and a ladleful of oily juice.

They sit down to eat by the fire at the end of the long table.

"Should we say grace?" Holly asks.

"Oh. Would you want to? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Sure. Whatever you normally say."

When she reaches across the table for his hand, he wonders if he didn't know this was part of it and wanted to touch her again.

MK says the table blessing he's heard before and then:

"May those who love us, love us.

And those that don't love us,

May God turn their hearts.

And if He doesn't turn their hearts,

May he turn their ankles,

So we'll know them by their limping. Amen."

She makes the sign of the cross.

"I like that sassy part," he says.

"Haha. Irish nuns..." She pulls her cool hand away. "Now, please eat! You must be hungry by now." It's later than she'd estimated, but not obnoxiously so and looks well worth the wait. They dig in. His knife glides through the thigh like a scalpel. The meat is tenderized and stained pink inside from the wine but retains the sensuous texture that feels good on the gums and teeth.

"Do you know that French restaurant in town? The one in the old brick house?" he asks.

"Ooh, yes. I've been meaning to try that. Have you been there?"

"Once. I took my girlfriend for her birthday. It's got a nice atmosphere inside. I think they imported the servers, too-they don't seem like they're from around here. I think they forgot the food part, though. It was nothing like this. I could drink a glass of this stuff."

"Ah," she says and rises to grab the remaining wine, though he was talking about the saturated bread. "You helped a lot. Thank you for not destroying my beautiful mushrooms. I like it when they seem like meat."

"I liked doing it. Maybe you'll let me try to cook for you next time, you know, return the favor," he says.

"Okay. Um, we didn't talk about this the other night, but you know you can bring your girlfriend here, right? I don't have rules about overnight guests if you know them well. You don't have to worry about offending me."

Holly is lost for a moment. His mention of a girlfriend was irrelevant to his anecdote. He doesn't realize at first where she got the idea he's with someone. And she simply can't remain under that impression.

"No, no!" he replies too emphatically. "That was years ago. I'm not seeing anyone."

In a way she didn't scrutinize him during his interview just two nights ago, she does now. Her eyes are fixed on him in an unnerving way. Just when he begins to think she's an open book, she shows him she can be uniquely hard to read.

"Why?" she asks in a neutral tone. If Holly had a bigger ego he'd take her sincere question as a compliment. There is a long pause as he considers how to respond.

'Should I just tell her?' he thinks. 'Way to ruin a lovely evening.'

"Well," he begins, "You know how sometimes what we really want isn't what's right, so we try to... I mean... we can't..."

"Hollis, I spent the morning at Mass. Like, 80 percent of that is about avoiding things we want that aren't right," she says kindly.

"What's the other 20 percent for?" he asks.

"Being with God... and our fellow man." She rolls her eyes at that. It's cute to him. "I love communion, but the fellowship can be exhausting," she explains. "People feel like they have to make an extra point to talk to me because of my affliction and that I'm all alone," she says with a smirk. "Bless their hearts."

They return to their stew. Hollis takes a sip of the wine she's just poured him. It's chewier at the bottom of the bottle and he imagines he tastes good soil and warm summer rain.

"Do you pick the wrong people to date?" she asks.

"In a way, yeah. Allison wouldn't really have been 'wrong' for anybody... but she's beta. And not the kind with a thing for alphas. She just wanted me to be normal. That wasn't so hard to do, but I couldn't really feel more than friendship for her. It started to feel wrong to share her bed... like it was unnatural, sleepin' with my sister or something. Sorry!"

"For what?"

"For saying things you don't wanna know about... and for not telling you sooner. Now you're kinda stuck with me until this storm passes and I don't want you to be scared of me."

And there it is. Hollis supposes that ruining things now is better than later. If she has a problem with him being alpha, living with her for months before she finds out would be worse. He hates the pained look around her eyes and delicate red mouth. "I'm sorry," he says again when she winces.

"No, it's not anything you said. It's just omega pains-menstrual pains! Cramps."

"Ouch. It doesn't seem fair you have to deal with that, too."

She inhales and exhales slowly, eyes closed. "No, it's not fair that I just lied to you after you were honest with me. I don't even know why I'd do that. I'm omega. I didn't tell you because I didn't think it would come up. Plus, I know I don't seem like one and didn't want you to think I was one of those wannabes that just decides they're A/o one day."

"You seem exactly like an omega to me."

"Really? How could you tell?" Her pained look shifts to a curious squint.

"I should have guessed when I saw your house. It's just how an omega would have it. You like to be alone, but you care about people. You love nature and animals, but out there. You like to be inside, you like small spaces, except for the kitchen, but that's because food makes you feel safe; you like to feel safe, but only from people, you're not afraid of anything else. And you liked me."

"Is that all?" she laughs.

"You're beautiful."

She appears too preoccupied with another idea to be affected by the comment on her looks. "That's how I could tell with you. It was because you're beautiful. Here, I'll get you some more." She takes his plate and strides smoothly around the kitchen island. 'That must be her real walk,' he thinks.

When she returns, he asks, "What about you? Why aren't you bonded to someone by now?"

MK sets another portion before him, generous but not overwhelming. She seems to intuit his appetite, even if hers has disappeared; she has only a polite plate to eat with him.

"Why have I not made the Unbreakable Bond, you mean? I think it's that when I was little I dreamed of a big, happy family. I'd be this perfect mother, with beautiful children and Prince Charming for a husband," she chuckles. "Hope you can forgive me."

"Well, you were a kid. If you were waiting on Prince Charming now, I'd be very surprised."

"Yeah, I know, right? So when I presented and was definitely omega, they explained to me what that meant. They tried to explain bonding to me, and I think they managed to scare the hell out of me. I was sure I'd end up bound to the wrong person. Plus, almost overnight, I went from dreaming of my perfect grown-up life in the future to needing to breed right then. I worried maybe I wouldn't be a good mother because I never had one.

"For some people, their dreams are like blueprints for what to do. Those success stories where people pursue what they always wanted and make it a reality...I sort of knew my dreams were just a happy place to go in my mind and maybe it was better not to interfere with that if I needed it so much. I mean, no one plans to have an unhappy family life, but from what I've read and seen on TV, lots of people do. What if I didn't like my kids? What if my alpha and I wished we hadn't bonded? These are the reasons I avoided alphas my whole life."

To Holly, it made sense, even as it sounded more ridiculous than his reasons when said aloud. "Can I ask you a personal question?" he asks.

"I bet I know what it is. Go on," she says with an easy smile.

"Are you... have you ever been with anyone?"

"You mean, am I a virgin? No, I've had dating relationships with beta men. Most Catholics screw up on that one. It's not that the sex was anything I needed... in heat, sex with betas just makes it worse, so I've read, it was that I wanted to feel normal. In your 20s and 30s, dating is what's normal and it always made me feel better at the beginning when someone wanted to be with me. At the beginning of things..."

"But it wasn't right."

"No. I'm submissive, as omegas are. I don't know if that makes betas lose respect for me after a while or if they pick me because they think they can bully me. Anyway, I gave up on all that a few years ago. These so-called relationships were taking a toll on me. I confessed my sins and had a long talk with God. I repented and said I was sorry for doing something I knew to be wrong... repeatedly. I made a vow that I would stop pretending like I honestly thought I was going to marry any of the betas I slept with and that the next time it would be done properly in the way God commands."

"You mean marriage," Holly surmises.

"Well, that or at least the bond there first. He did create me to be omega. I think perhaps denying that is its own kind of sin. It certainly made me as miserable as sin does. That's why we try to avoid sin-they're just human tendencies that begin to make people sick after a while. I don't judge other people or think about how they will be judged, but it does seem like this Tinder world has got to be very damaging, like people think they're free when they're just hurting themselves. I really do think, for me, it has to be for love at this point. Sorry... I realize I don't know about you, how you live your personal life..."