The Worst Kind of Wonderful

Chapter SIXTEEN

✖️The Worst Kind of Wonderful✖️

"We are our choices."

- Jean-Paul Sartre

Chapter Sixteen~

I had heard and told the story countless times but as the same words left my mouth in the same way they always had I felt a certain warmth crawl up my throat. I was not alone in the battle of my decision. Though Christine was a work of fiction I felt a certain kinship that once formed set off a spark in my chest. Her story was a warning; choosing your second best is never going to be enough, I had the choice and it was up to me to make it right.

"Harper, it's time to go," Andrea's voice was prominent in the contemplative softness between Harper, Christine and I.

"Already?" A child's voice sang out from beside me. I was almost surprised at her youth in that moment after hearing her interpretation of a story I had never gotten much more than a moment of entertainment from at her age.

"Yeah tiny monster. Time to go, your uncle and I were going to take you to The Cafe for some chocolate cake. How's that sound?" My sister smiled and mouthed a thank you to me for watching Harper.

Instead of responding in her typical expressive way (especially regarding something as important as chocolate cake) she turned to me and with hopeful eyes asked if I'd read to her again sometime.

"Yeah, of course monkey, any time." I provided a smile which was returned with a gap toothed one of her own.

~*~

After Harper and Andrea had left my parents had arrived and not a moment later I found myself sat down at the kitchen table facing their unspoken worry. Annabelle hung in the background still and observant like a looming portrait emitting her own breed of frighteningly still nerves. My mother poured a packet of sweetener into coffee as my father stirred a cup of his own, neither of them taking their eyes off of me.

"Alright," I broke the silence. "You guys won't start this intervention and it can't end until it starts so here goes." My eyes flickered over to Annabelle and back to the waiting figures across the table. "Stress." I stated simply.

"Stress?" My mother echoed, uncertain.

"Everything in my life is forced and hectic right now," I sighed in relief, realizing I could have this conversation without any flat out lies on my part. "I didn't choose to marry Zak, and though I adore him and the pack, it's a lot of pressure. Pressure I'm not sure if I'm ready to take on just yet."

"And that explains your shifting out of cycle?" My father cut in give me a look that showed he wanted to believe me. I felt a pang in my gut at the thought that came next: if they wanted to believe me, I could make them. I was becoming manipulative due to circumstance and that terrified me.

"I don't understand half of what's going on with me lately but Annabelle did some research." I gave Anna a grateful look and she approached the table taking a seat beside me.

"It turns out that in rare cases, under extreme stress, wolves can shift outside of the cycle. It's only been recorded happening a few times but it's a valid explanation considering what Mia's been through lately." Her voice was sturdy and words spoken with such conviction that I almost believed that was the answer to my bizarre shift myself. "I'm sure if we called Doctor Alvi we could at least affirm the possibility." My parents watched one another, speaking silently as I gripped the edge of the table that divided us.

"We'll give her a call. Thank you girls." My father said, his hair a mess and eyes framed with more prominent lines than I had ever seen on him; wrinkles that stretched like roots of concern.