Written 8/17/10 - 8/18/10. Typed and published 10/17/10-10/18/10.
I lived with Lester Lowe for one and a half years before I found out his secret. I should say I was married to him for that time; I moved in on our wedding night, after the ceremony.
Now that I know about it, I just can't imagine how it was kept hidden from me all that time. It seemed so obvious to me, but I could see how no one else would know.
I swore to him that I'd never tell anyone; I said that if I did ever tell the secret to someone that he'd be allowed to, well ... eat me. He looked slightly upset but shook his head. He told me that wouldn't be necessary - how could he kill me? That brought a second question from me.
"Why haven't you ... eaten ... me already?"
"You're my wife," he replied, horrified, "I would never hurt you."
"Not intentionally," I said, "But ... I mean, why did I JUST see you as ...?"
He sighed, thinking it over. "I've always left at night before ..." He then cleared his throat. "I made sure I couldn't hurt you."
"Then what was different this time? Did I stay up too late?"
"No. I didn't leave in time, I guess."
"... then ... you knew."
"You know when you're going to turn."
"What do you ...?"
"How long have you been a ... " I couldn't even finish my sentence.
"Since before we were married."
I exhaled sharply. "And you knew about it then."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was figuring out how to." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I couldn't find a way..."
"Did you think of how I'd react?"
"That's why I was afraid."
I couldn't help but feel responsible for him having to hide his secret for so long.
"I didn't want you to be scared. I didn't want ..."
I leaned forward and kissed the side of his face. I pulled back, "I wouldn't .. leave you."
He looked slightly relieved, but still anxious.
"You don't think ..."
"I'm not a monster."
"Did I ever say you were?" I reached out and touched his jaw. "You're still the man I married - to werewolf or ... not, you know?"
There was no smile or laugh. He stared at me; it seemed like he was trying to figure out something, trying to understand. It frightened me a little.
He looked at me like how an animal looks at another, stranger creature, trying to know how the other lives, thinks, acts. It was like he really was some other being - an alien species disguised as a human. But he WAS human, born and raised. He was not born a wolf; whatever happened to change him was in the past, before I married him. It was nothing. Though it plagued him, a grotesque side of himself that he'd rather not face, it was part of him - half his identity. I would never let him ignore that side, forget about it, hate it. I loved this half of him, the boring reverend of Tarker's Mills for whom I had a strange attraction to since I was little; if I loved him then, I could certainly learn to love the other half.
I just hoped he could too.