Wolf's Essence Chapter 1 - Theo

(Thank you all for your interest in my book. Thank you for your patience with me. My goal is to post a new chapter every week. Here is chapter 1. Enjoy)

The loud electric DING of a text alert interrupted a fairly decent dream and forced me away. Using my hand to shield my face from the sunlight seeping through the blinds, I groaned as I turned over, pulling my pillow over my face. “It's too early, sun. Go back to sleep. You too, phone,” I even went the extra mile and pulled the blankets up over my head. I was, like many others, NOT a morning person, and had a very comforting relationship with my bed. I hated leaving its warm loving embrace every morning just to be assaulted by the frigid air of my apartment. So, I decided to force myself back to sleep.

Instead, I heard my phone give another ding, as if it knew what I was trying to do. I groaned again as I threw off my covers and was instantly pelted by the 69 degree air in my room. I instantly grew frustrated that the morning had come so fast and my phone clamored for my attention and pulled me away into the waking world. I had no idea why I could never remember to put the little monster on silent before I went to sleep. Rubbing my eyes with one hand, I yawned as I reached for my phone with the other.

                                         Happy Birthday Sweetie!

                                       Love you! See you at 11:00!

                                                  -Love Mom

                                            Happy Birthday !

                                              Love ya, Son!

                                    Wow, 27. I can't believe it!

                                        Where did the time go?

                                        Hope to see you at 11.

                                       Your mother is making

                                          your favorite cake.

                                                   -Dad

I smiled at my parent's messages, they somehow always helped me have a better day. I looked at the date on my phone. June 9th. I couldn't believe that it had been 21 years since my birth parents passed away. Harold and Lidia had been kind enough to adopt me into their little family and I had referred to them as Mom and Dad all my life. When I turned nine they had explained that they had been really good friends with my parents while growing up, and that they had been visiting my family the day my birth parents had died. Not having any other close living relatives, they took me in and did their best to raise me, and I have to admit, they did a pretty damn good job. They taught me the usual; that helping people is good and hurting people was bad. I'm pretty sure that's the reason that I got a job as a firefighter, where I do my best to help others as often as I can. I know children often grow annoyed with their parents after a certain age, but I didn't. In fact, my parents are my best friends. Sure, I had other friends that I went to the bar with and did stupid stuff with after or even during work. But no one could measure up to my parents and their magical humor, they always seemed to buzz with energy.

They told me that I had been in the same accident with my parents and had been extremely lucky. I had hit my head when the car had flipped, which caused severe memory loss of that day and everything before, but thankfully that was all. But if I was being completely honest, I did have one memory but I doubted it was even related. All I could vaguely remember was a massive gray dog, with bright blue eyes, snarling in my face. But I knew it was most likely some nightmare I had had at some point.

I looked at the clock on the wall and jumped to my feet. 10:30 am. I only had a half hour to get dressed and make the fifteen minute drive to my mom and dad's house. I rushed to the closet and began pulling out fresh clothes. As I turned to the bathroom I paused. My head turned to the window and I found myself gazing out at the distant mountains.

I was only 6 when I had come to Madison, Maine, to live with my parents, and I had been here ever since. But every day, since my 21st birthday, I've had this strange feeling as if something were pulling me toward something. It was almost as if I had an invisible rope that had been tied to my chest, tugging at me ever so slightly, and no matter which direction I turned it always seemed to pull me in one direction. West. I never knew what it was that was pulling me, driving my inner compass. But today it felt stronger than it ever had, and I had a strange feeling that I would soon find some answers.

Unable to shake the feeling, I did my best to get ready. Taking no more than a five minute shower and five minutes to get dressed, do my hair and brush my teeth. I grabbed the medallion from my nightstand, smiling at the gift my birth mother had given me on the last day of her life, before I locked my door and ran to the car.

My phone dinged again as I stepped outside. I read the message quickly as I opened the door to my car.

                                                   Hey slut,

                                     I can’t make it to the party,

                                        I got called into work.

                                   That stupid bitch called out.

                                                   AGAIN!

                                 I’m gonna chew her ass out.

                                Anyway, sorry I can’t make it.

                                                 Love you!

                                                  -Meow

My heart dropped as I read the message, but I couldn’t fight the smile at the end. My best friend, Catherine Childress, always cracked feline jokes, due to her nickname being Cat. We had known each other for as long as I could remember, and I always loved spending time with her at any chance I could.

This one time, my evil ex-boyfriend, Jared, had gotten himself extremely drunk and was being physically abusive toward me. Thank god Cat had been there. She didn’t hesitate to grab him off of me and threw him out the door, hard enough for him to hit his head on the opposing wall. She locked the door and shoved a wooden spoon into the door, so he couldn’t open it back up after unlocking it with his key. She called the police, and within an hour we had changed all the locks, with my landlord's approval.

Cat had always been there for me, through thick and thin. So, of course I was sad that she wasn’t going to make it to my parent’s today for my birthday, all because of her stupid co-worker Jernee. Just her name said a lot about her, and her “I’m trying to balance my chakras” ways.

I quickly sent my reply back.

                                                              ME:

                                                     No problem.

                                                     I’ll miss you.

                                             I’m surprised she still

                                                     works there.

                                                  Talk to you later.

I put my phone in my pocket and started the engine, turned on my radio and began my 15 minute drive.

I couldn't believe it. 10:59 am, and I was pulling into my parents driveway, their light pink and white brick house greeting me like an old friend. My parents weren't crazy strict about being a couple minutes late, but my father had always taught me “if something really matters to you, prove it by being on time”. Wise words from a wise man.

I smiled as I got out of my creaking car and saw my mom come trotting outside with her arms wide open, as if she were hugging me the entirety of the 30 feet she walked to actually wrap her arms around me. Closing my door I walked to her with a smile and hugged her tight, having to lean down slightly to match her 5’7” height. The familiar tingling sensation her hugs gave me flowed through my body.

“Happy Birthday, sweetie!” She said as we finished the hug. “Your father is inside putting the candles on the cake.”

“Is he seriously putting twenty-seven candles on it this year,” I asked as we made our way toward the door. My mother stifled a giggle as she nodded her head. I rolled my eyes, showing my amusement. “What’s he gonna do when I'm forty?”

My mother shrugged as I opened the door for her. “He’ll probably put forty candles on it.” We shared a laugh as we walked into the kitchen to see my dad leaning over the cake placing the last candle.

"Voila!” My dad shouted, waving his hands over his masterpiece of candles laid out in the number 27 on my cake. “Happy Birthday, son!” He said as he gave me a tight hug. Just like mom, his hugs sent tingles throughout my body. My parents always gave the best hugs.

After pulling away I eyed the cake. My mother had done the baking and glazing of the chocolate cake with marshmallow and graham cracker toppings. She knew I loved smores and always made a s'mores cake for me every year. “Thanks mom, it looks great,” I said, giving her another hug. My dad cleared his throat, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him, “and thank you, pops! You're obviously very skilled with numbers.” He swatted me with a towel from the counter and we all shared a laugh.

“Where’s Cat,” mom asked. “I thought she said she would be joining us.”

I lifted my lip in dissatisfaction, “Yeah, she was supposed to. But she got called into work because someone called out.”

“That Jernee girl again,” Pop asked.

I nodded, “Yeah. Who even names their kid Journey and doesn’t even spell it properly? I haven’t met the girl and I already can’t stand her.”

“I wish I could say that we all have her misunderstood,” mom said with a roll of her eyes. “But I met her the other day when I took Cat a Starbucks. I’ll just say that with the amount of times she looks to have bleached her hair, I think the chemicals seeped into Jernee’s brain.”

Dad did his best to bury his face in that towel he still held, obviously trying to hide his laughter. Mom did her best to stay serious, but eventually lost hold of herself and we all started laughing once again.

“So,” my father began once he had gained enough control of himself to speak. “Have you given any thought into what you want for your gift this year?” I shrugged.

“To be honest, no. I've had my mind on other things.” I started thinking about the strange pull to the west. I can't believe I had forgotten about what I wanted this year for my birthday. It was a yearly tradition; every year on my birthday I could ask for one single gift, no matter what, and my parents would do what they could to deliver it. There was only one rule, I couldn't ask for anything that they obviously couldn’t afford. For instance, no asking for a $50,000 sports car, or a house. But, every year, the price limit I was allowed would go up a little bit, and this year it was required to stay under $8,000, which was much more than anyone could ask for. I had offered to say no to a gift a couple years back, even suggested I do the same for them on their birthdays, but they insisted that it was for me and me only. But that didn't stop me from buying my mom a new car, or a guest house out back by their pool, which dad obviously turned into his own “Man Cave''. My birth parents had set aside a good bit of money for me before I was born, and after they passed that money had increased nearly exponentially, but I promised myself I would never touch that money for anything except dire needs. Thankfully, my firefighting job paid extremely well, allowing me to spoil my parents and still have plenty to live on and have a pretty good amount of savings set aside.

“What about that new game system that's coming out,” dad asked. “The Say Gastion 5?”

I chuckled, “you mean the Playstation 5? Yeah, but I barely play video games anymore. I've been tempted to sell my current system.”

“Okay,” mom pondered, “what about a down payment on a new car? You've been driving that old creaking machine since you were nineteen. I'm surprised you've managed to keep it working this long. I think it's time for a change.”

I held up a finger, gesturing to her in a semi-serious manner. “How dare you even think about making me replace Carl. He's a good car. Sure he's an old man now, but he gets me from place to place. I'm going to keep that old rust bucket alive for as long as I can.” I gave her a smile to make sure she knew that I wasn't upset, and was just giving her a hard time.

She pursed her lips together as she put her hands on her hips and shrugged. “Well, I guess you better think about it over lunch and cake. I've had a pot-roast going since yesterday in the croc-pot, it should be done now.”

Dad put a hand to his middle, which was beginning to bulge over his belt a little more every day, it seemed. “Great, I'm starving.”

An hour later, I sat back in my chair, pushing an empty plate away from me. “Thanks, Mom. That was delicious.” I stated before taking my last sip of milk I had gotten with the cake. “You seriously need to teach me how to cook a roast like that, and this cake, no one ever makes it like you do.”

“Well that you, sweetie,” my mother said, her face beaming with pride.

I took my dishes to the sink and gave them a quick wash. Using the good manners I had been raised with, I was sure to grab the rest of the dirty dishes and cleaned those too. Once finished, I began a slow walk around the dining and living rooms to take a look at all the pictures we had taken over the years. I smiled as memories came back to me of us on the beach burying my dad in sand up to his head when I was ten. Memories of my father and I building my first tree house in the backyard when I was twelve. And even memories of us in New York when he had gone up to see the musical Shrek when I was fifteen, even though we had missed the show time and instead ended up getting pictures in front of the big brass bull, and many other statues in the city. These walls held wonderful stories of my childhood. Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of times that I had misbehaved and was disciplined accordingly, and many more of me crying over the death of my birth parents. But in the end, everything brightened with each passing day.

I paused at the book shelf that was placed just at the edge of the living room before the carpet floor turned into kitchen tile. I smiled as I read the titles of the last story book my parents had read to me as a kid, the first book I read by myself, and even the dictionary I had used to memorize words for school spelling tests. That was when I noticed it.

A  black booklet with a blank spine sat in the center of the bookshelf, standing out amongst all the rest of the books. I removed it and began flipping through the pages. It was a scrapbook, full of pictures of my mother and father. The first one was of them at a carnival. They sat on a bench on a Ferris Wheel, my father's arm wrapped over my mother, his free hand holding up the camera taking a picture of himself and of my mother, as she used her hands to shield her face and her extreme laughter. The next was of them on a dock leaning against a wooden railing and hugging each other, my father taking the new selfie from above. Another was one someone had taken of them walking the beach hand in hand with a gorgeous orange and yellow sunset. One of my mother leaning out from behind a tree and laughing, I assumed my father had been the one taking it. Another, someone had taken a side view of my father on his knee holding a ring to my stunned mother. Another of my mother in a wedding gown and father in a tux as they stood on a wooden balcony, the walls of the building looked somewhat familiar to me for some reason.

I flipped through quickly, page after page was the two of them living their lives, laughing and smiling together. I couldn't believe that I had lived in this house for fourteen years and had never seen this booklet. I was about to take it to the table and ask about it, but as I closed the cover a picture fell from the back page and landed face down on the ground. As I leaned down to pick it up my heart skipped, and I paused as I read the words written on the back.

                                   "From Morgan, Hector, and Theo.

                                      2790 N. Cedar Falls, Wyoming"

I couldn't believe what I was reading. Mine and my birth parent’s names. I couldn't help but wonder what was on the other side. It could've been a postcard but it didn't look like any I had ever seen. Maybe a birthday card for one of my foster parents? I took a deep breath before slowly turning the card over in my hand. As my eyes met the front my heart instantly filled with a mixture of surprise, excitement, and sorrow.

This was a picture of me, I was no older than five or six. But that wasn’t what had caused the mixture of emotions. It was the fact that in this picture I stood right next to a beautiful glistening lake with a waterfall pouring into it a little ways in the background. And directly behind me….. stood my birth parents. Together we stood in front of a beautiful log cabin styled home.

I was in awe. I had been 6 years old the last time I had seen them, and I couldn’t even remember them properly. Now, here I was, 21 years later looking at a picture of their happy faces smiling up at me. My birth mother had an arm draped over my shoulder, holding me close to her and my birth father. He had his arm wrapped around her back with his hand on her hip, his other hand resting on my left shoulder which barely came up to his waist. I absentmindedly fondled the medallion hanging around my neck, tears came to my eyes while I gazed down at how happy we looked, together.

Without removing my eyes from the picture, I put the booklet back on the shelf and walked to the table. “What ya got there, son?” My father asked as I sat down across from him.

“Sweetie, why are you crying,” my mother put her hand on my forearm. Without saying a word, I carefully laid the picture down where they could see it, feeling that if I dropped it too fast it would shatter like glass.

“My… birth parents.” The words came out of me like a whisper, barely audible. There was a long pause, silence filled the room for what felt like minutes, before my father spoke.

“Oh son, I'm so s-"

“Why have I never seen this picture before?” I asked softly, just loud enough that I cut him short. The two of them shared a look of concern before my mother answered.

“This picture,” she began as she pulled it to her, “it was taken three weeks before the accident. They sent it to us in hopes that we'd come to visit, after having not seen each other since you were born.”

“They lived in a town called Cedar Falls,” my dad added. “It's in Northern Wyoming, it's a little ways North of Old Faithful. They had lived there for years. It's not a big town, barely over nine hundred people. But, it was their home, and…. It's where you were born.”

“Why have you never taken me back there? Why have we never gone back to visit the house? Don't you think I would've liked to have known the town I grew up in?” My head was spinning with so many questions. What was the town like? What were the people like? What was the house like? Does anyone live there now? I felt so frustrated that this had never been a conversation in my past. Why had I never thought to ask?

My father shrugged as he clasped his hands together on the table. “Well, it's fairly dangerous. Many large wolves, bears, bison, and other wildlife live around the area and people get attacked quite often.”

I scoffed. “Big deal. People get attacked by wild animals all around the world. We live in a town that sits right next to the ocean.” I gestured with my arm for emphasis. “We regularly go to the beach. Just last week someone was stung by a jellyfish. Three weeks before that, someone was bit by a shark. We have a regular chance of being hit with a hurricane or Tsunami. I doubt that this town is any more dangerous than it is here.”

My mother's eyes were now growing red with tears of her own. She gave a sigh. “Being that it's where your parents died, we thought it would be too hard for you.”

“That's not your decision to make.” I was growing more than frustrated at this point. No, I was getting close to being pissed off. “I understand that after taking me in after my parents died, you want to do everything you can to protect me. But I'm 27 years old now. I am entitled to know where I'm from. Were you just going to keep this from me my entire life?”

My father looked down at his hands, the guilt noticeable on his face. “We didn't know how to tell you.”

“All you had to do was try, dad. Just try to tell-"

“We were afraid you would try to run away!” My mother hollered, interrupting me with tears now streaming down her face. “W-we were afraid that… that once we told you.. y-you would try to r-run away and go there. That you w-would never want to come back. W-we were afraid you would h-hate us.”

I felt as if I were being slapped back into reality. Here was a grown woman who had taken care of me for most of my life, a woman who showed me love and compassion, who taught me right from wrong, crying. I then realized she wasn't crying because I was angry with her and my dad. She was most likely crying because she felt as though she were living a nightmare, a nightmare in which I would leave and never want to see them again. I watched my father take her hand in his and give her a caring look, but no smile, doing his best to bring her comfort.

It was then I noticed how hard I was gripping the table, my anger was getting the best of me. I let go and stood. I began pacing back and forth, taking several deep breaths as I thought of what I would do if I were in their position. I wouldn't want to see my child go through the pain of seeing the place where their birth parents had died. I would 100% fear them wanting to leave after telling them about where they had grown up but never went to visit.

Once I had calmed down enough, I took a deep breath and sat back down. I wiped another tear from my cheek and I gave a sniffle. I reached out, taking my mother's right hand into my left and my father's left hand into my right. Giving them both a firm squeeze I looked into their eyes.

“Look, I'm sorry I got upset. I understand why you didn't tell me,” I began, giving another sniffle as another tear rolled down my cheek. “I understand why you feared telling me. But you two are my parents. You two took me in when I had no one else. Mom, you were always the one that took care of me when I was sick, making me soup and keeping me company in the night. Dad, you taught me how to play catch. You took me to my first baseball game and taught me to drive. You two have been there my entire life. Sure, we bickered and yelled, and still do sometimes. But that's what families do. You two are my parents. I could never hate you. I love you both too damn much.”

My mother burst into tears, covering her face with her left hand. As I let go, my father took my mother in his arms and held her tight as she cried into his chest. I took this time to pull the picture back to me and peer down into the face of my younger self. I wiped the tears off my cheek one more time as I looked back at the old log cabin. I didn't know how or why, but I knew that wherever this house was I NEEDED to go there, and soon. I couldn't explain it, but I knew that this place was where I was being pulled to. I needed to visit my old home.

When my mother was finally able to hold herself together, she took my hand again and gave me a teary-eyed smile. “We love you too, sweetie.”

My dad nodded, “we promise, from now on, we'll tell you everything you want to know.”

“I know you love me.” I said with a smile to them both, before sliding the picture over to them with an expression as if to say I was sorry for what I was about to ask. “I'm sure I'll have more questions in the future. However, about the tradition. I know what I want for my birthday now. What would you two say to a Family Summer Vacation?”