Wolf attends his weekly meeting, and speaks for a change.
tw: mild discussion of alcoholism
“Does anybody else want to speak?”
Wolf felt the pointed gazes drilling into him even before he lifted his head.
Frankly he’d have been glad to just be allowed to stand up and leave these stupid folding chairs behind, and get back to work, maybe swipe a donut on his way out.
He looked up, and met the eyes of Dave, sitting across the room, arms folded across his chest, staring at him defiantly. Wolf tilted his head slightly, a silent plea to let him just have a chat later. Dave seemed unrelenting, staring at him out of unwavering blue eyes. Dave could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Wolf told him this frequently. But the two of them were like a rock and the tide, stubborn and wilful and relentless, even when they were in opposition, neither one ready to give up. Only sometimes, Dave had to win. The rock had to crumble into the sea, and swallow his damn pride. That was how the whole thing worked.
Wolf flicked his hand up for a moment.
The leader looked at him in surprise, before glancing across to Dave, who gave him a reassuring nod. He hardly ever spoke. For most of the group they barely knew what he sounded like.
“Hi. My name is Wolfgang.”
“Hi Wolfgang.” The polite, but surprised murmur came back.
“I’ve been sober for 4 years.”
4 years, 2 months, 2 days, to be exact. He liked to be exact.
Wolf was glaring at Dave across the circle, as if he was already waiting for the sign that he had said enough and didn’t need to add any more. The other man was unrelenting.
“Work has been stressful lately.” Wolf tried to block out everybody else, and speak as if he was speaking directly to Dave. He’d have much rather done it that way, frankly. Dave obviously thought differently, that he needed to say it, or something. They went through this dance, occasionally.
“Summer was busy, obviously,” he shrugged (figuring that half of the people here knew where he worked anyway, and if they didn’t then it was none of their business), “And Autumn is always one of our worst seasons. Loads of bookings, loads of people trying to visit.” Not that he really dealt with bookings, other than to try and look into any prospective guests who he might have to worry about.
But he was less worried about the guests right now, than who else might be out there. Something was wrong and it went way beyond the risk of double-booking a dinner table during the peak season. It wasn’t as though he could share that here.
“We’ve also had some trouble lately. You know how it is. Demon attack. People get wound up. They want someone to blame.”
Unfortunately, it would be easy for that blame to fall on the Inn. Only he knew that they might be right, and he was never going to share that with anyone else. Maybe someone already did blame the Inn, maybe that was why somebody wanted Snow hurt.
“It’s a lot.” He shrugged. “But I’ve been ok.”
That was what mattered, right? That was why he had to come here once a week, every week, since he had come to Swynlake. To tell these people he was ok, and to listen to them and their ups and downs. And he hadn’t wanted to take a drink, he hadn’t felt that longing for oblivion that only led him into trouble, He was too busy for that, he couldn’t afford to drop the ball.
Wolf fell into silence, and could feel the pregnant wait as people tried to see if he would say anything else.
Finally, they decided nothing more was coming.
“Well, thank you Wolfgang, for sharing that.”
In fairness it was more than he usually shared.
The meeting ended, there was the interminable scrape of chairs against the floor and people started their chatting. Wolf stood up, towering over most of the assembled. The werewolf grabbed a donut from the end of the little trestle table, and made for the door, only to find Dave waiting for him.
The other guy beckoned with his head, as he pulled on a battered leather jacket.
They walked in silence, for a while. Wolf tore chunks off his donut and ate them slowly. Dave said nothing. It was why they got on so well; Dave knew when to be quiet. Both of them liked that about the other.
The two strolled around to the park, listening to the trickle of water in the fountain, a few birds singing their evening song. “So how bad is it really?”
As always, Dave managed to ask it a second before Wolf would have expected him to break the silence. It was unbalancing, it always threw him off (he suspected it was the point). For a few seconds there was no sound except for the crunch of their feet against gravel. “I … feel like,” Wolf began stiltedly. It was like using a muscle he never worked, trying to talk about these things he tried never to talk about. “Like I’m not doing enough.”
Dave glanced at him, but said nothing.
“Things keep happening and I can’t.” Wolf’s voice sounded strangled with the effort of saying it out loud. “I can’t stop them. I can’t control them. If I can’t get it under control, then somebody is going to get hurt.” Someone wanted to threaten Snow. He didn’t know who, or why, or what they were going to do next.
The streets were crawling with werewolves, so it felt. He kept straining his ears, dreading that he would hear a German accent amongst the crowds, some final confirmation that they might be coming for him. Berlin loomed large in his thoughts of late.
But he was helpless to protect the Inn, to protect Snow from whatever was happening.
What was the point of him, if he couldn’t keep people safe, for the Hauntleys? That had been the whole point of him… Wolfgang Amadeus existed to work security for them. He couldn’t really say that to Dave, but… he got the feeling Dave understood enough of it. That was the worst thing, really, having to have someone in his life who understood, who by these terms and conditions had come into his life. In some ways it was lucky that he had Dave, who at least understood, and not someone who couldn’t relate to him at all.
“Wolf…” Dave took a deep breath, pulling one hand out of his jacket pocket to run through his long blonde hair. “I know how important control is for you.” They kept making their way. “It’s a big part of your sobriety. You control your environment, you control your schedule, and that’s all good for you.”
Wolfgang felt that horrible feeling, being seen, being understood, in a way you didn’t want to be. It made him want to squirm away, to hide himself.
“All of that is good for you, I know that. But…” Dave scrunched his face up slightly and he had to pause to try and think through his words. He wasn’t great at those. “You can’t control the whole world, you know? Hell, you live in Swynlake, for god’s sake.”
Wolf gave an acknowledging snort. If he had been anyone else, if he hadn’t needed a crusade, perhaps, this would have been the last place you would recommend for a recovering addict.
“You just gotta focus on… that self control, right? I know you’ve got it. I couldn’t spend all day in a place with alcohol being served. You can’t control the whole world, and you’re going to drive yourself to breaking point if you keep trying. So you just gotta control how you respond to it. Stay healthy, keep making good choices.” Dave trailed off with a heavy sigh. Sobriety sounded really easy when you put it like that, like you just had to say ‘no thanks’ and it wasn’t something that nagged at you, that meant you had to keep choosing what was best for you again and again and again, sometimes a dozen times a day.
“And just … text me, if it’s getting rough, you know?” They went through this part of the conversation frequently, where Dave begged Wolf to just ask for help if he needed it, and Wolf nodded, but no text would actually come. Maybe if he really needed to, then yes, he would ask, but he hadn’t been that bad for a long time.
They walked in silence for another long while, taking a loop around the whole park.
“Hey, so, uh. My youngest turned six last weekend.” Dave spoke again, breaking the silence. Wolf looked up in interest. He didn’t know the kids, but he’d heard about them a lot.
“Let me tell you, you ever want to practise dealing with total uncontrollable chaos? Invite half a class full of six year olds round to your house. I keep finding bits of crayons everywhere.” Dave shook his head. “They didn’t even do any drawing! Where did the crayons come from, Wolf?” Dave laughed, and the corner of Wolf’s mouth twitched.
“You love it.” Wolf reminded him, and Dave smiled happily.
“Yeaaah. But I’m telling you, birthday parties? Woooof. Dude. I wouldn’t mind doing without them.”
Wolf shook his head. No. Dave would always do anything to see his kids smile, no matter how many kids went running and screaming around his house. It had always been something that Wolf (secretly) admired about his sponsor. No matter what struggles he’d had, he’d turned it around for what was important to him.
“So what did you get her?” Wolf asked, thrusting his hands into his pockets as they walked.
“Oh, ok that was its own nightmare. How can a toy store be out of lego, Wolfgang, tell me that-” Dave launched into a retelling of his odyssey to secure a good present. The wind blew gentle, another night passed.
