Bears Moved In

Ann Zeddies

 

 

AUREN CAPELLI, SCROLLING THROUGH SUMMER apartment rentals ads, snapped to attention when his roommate Drew, called out “Yo, there’s a moving truck in front of that house next door.”

He dropped his phone into the cushions of the couch, and Ashley, his other roommate rushed to the window sill before he could; he was forced to peer around their heads and shoulders to see the latest development about the local mystery.

He glimpsed a squad of movers, unloading a full-sized semi. They emerged with an endless series of boxes from the truck’s depths, then an eclectic collection of furniture in at least three distinct styles. Then the movers banded together to drag out exercise equipment. Contrary to all logic, they hauled the gear precariously up the rear exterior stairs and up to the third floor.

“Look at the different types of machines,” Drew said, craning his neck to watch, though once the equipment was safely transferred without anyone falling off the steps, he lost interest.

“Lucky you’re moving out,” he told Auren, “I bet all that stuff will make a terrible din when they turn it on.”

“I suppose…”

Auren wandered back to the couch, and Drew plopped down next to Auren to lace up his cross-trainer shoes. Moments like these both enticed and repelled Auren. He enjoyed the smell of Drew’s sweat and Axe, the proximity to his bare shoulder. All that coiled muscle right next to him. Drew was everything Auren felt he was supposed to want, with the additional spice of presumptive straightness.

“Well, you have two weeks to figure out where you want to live this summer,” Ashley said. “Just let me know if you find another place. My cousin and his friends could use your room.”

Drew smacked Auren on the shoulder and jumped to his feet. “Sure you don’t want to come with us to the gym? I have the membership till the end of the month. I can still get you in free as my guest.”

“No thanks.”

“All the guys on Grindr are ripped.” Drew lifted up his shirt to show his abs.

“How do you know about Grindr?” Auren asked.

“I’m very aware—”

“Thanks, but the gym is just not my thing.” Auren found working out only made him feel lonelier than ever, even when the place was crowded with sweaty, grunting men. His roommates might not believe it, but Auren liked exercise, being flushed, out of breath—when he was a kid, Auren snuck out at night sometimes to run across the nearby golf course, deserted at that hour, and surrounding thickets. He jumped walls, climbed trees, and felt strong, powerful, invulnerable, in the magical cloak of night. But the gym seemed like a performance he had never rehearsed for. Truth was, ever since he was a kid, he felt his chunky frame embarrassed him, and the golden hairs that sprang up all over his chest and arms and legs only made him feel even more like an outsider. His high school gym teacher once referred to him as a cryptid.

Drew picked up his gym bag and smart phone headed out the door.

Ashley called out to him to “Always swipe right!”

Auren laughed. “Should we be placing bets when Drew comes out as bi?”

She shrugged. “Let’s not change the subject away from you. What about that guy you used to go out with?” she asked. “Jack? Or Zack? He seemed like he was connected. Maybe he could hook you up with someone who needs a roommate for the summer.”

“We don’t talk much.” Auren would rather even go back to his parents than rely on Zack for help. But he wasn’t about to explain that to Ashley.

A horn honked outside.

“My ride’s here—gotta go.” She left in a swirl of blonde ponytail and cute athletic skirt.

Drew relaxed into the musty old couch, grateful for the silence. An interrogative mew announced that his cat, Bear, was emerging from his hiding place behind the couch. Bear glared suspiciously at the door to make sure the other humans were gone, then trotted over and plumped his considerable weight into Auren’s lap.

“Meh,” the cat commented.

Auren stroked Bear’s fluffy fur.

“Me too, Bear,” he sighed.

He’d lived in this shabby condo just off the bus line with Drew and Ashley for the last two years. This summer, they both had other plans, and because Auren couldn’t afford the rent on his own, his friends were subletting their rooms to Ashley’s cousin and his friends. Summertime had become the beginning of the end.

From his bedroom window, Auren had often gazed at the topmost gables of the old house next door. It was a Victorian edifice, three stories high, cluttered with spires and gingerbread. An architectural monstrosity, it still seemed attractive to Auren after his years spent in dingy, cheaply-built student housing. He wished he could magically transport himself and his belongings down the block, to reappear in a hidden nook in the old house. The place had stood empty for some time. No one seemed to know who was the property manager.

Now he felt punched in the gut that someone else had found a way to rent the mystery house.

His parents would have been happy to have him move back home. He could have lived with them all through college, and let them pay for everything. But he couldn’t tolerate the numbing vapor of faint hope and perpetual disappointment that wafted toward him every time he made a choice that wasn’t their favorite.

Being gay wasn’t the problem; it was never any secret. His parents had never paid attention to his dating life, or lack of one, until after he graduated from high school and briefly joined a student group on campus, met people, and brought a date home. There was a brief flurry of interest and support from his parents over his newly activated gay identity. His father the surgeon and his mother the bank manager got along famously with Zack, an aspiring entrepreneur. Clearly, they hoped he would be a good influence—that Auren would finally choose a lane, get some direction, lose weight, join a gym, maybe make some cool friends who owned art galleries or did CrossFit. But when he showed no signs of turning into anyone different from his usual self, his parents once again gazed at Drew sadly, as if he was a home improvement project that never quite worked out.

Zack had never really broken up with him. They had just parted company after an awkward evening—a drinks party with faculty and graduate students at the business school. Zack had dressed to impress, and Auren felt happy to be with someone so sharp and confident. Then Zack gate-crashed a group gathered around a celebrity professor. He never even introduced Auren, and the circle eventually closed up, including Zack, leaving Auren to contemplate his tonic and lime while trying to make small talk with a girlfriend who was similarly excluded.

After the party, Auren made a rare attempt to reach Zack’s heart. “I felt like you ditched me to impress someone more important. It made me feel disrespected,” Auren told him.

Zack groaned—for a moment, Aurel feared his boyfriend was going to stop the car in the middle of the road and ask him to get out. “Listen, it’s a tough world. If you want respect, you have to go out and get it. I saw an opportunity and grabbed it. If you can’t keep up, that’s on you.”

Auren texted him the next day. No reply. After a couple of weeks, he saw Zack sitting with someone new in the front row of the lecture section they both attended. Auren caught up with him in the hall afterward.

“Does this mean we broke up?” Auren asked Zack.

Zack shook his head without meeting Auren’s eyes. “Dude, we were never a thing.”

“Apparently being gay is one of the many things I don’t do right,” he told Bear.

The cat purred and sank prickly claws into Auren’s thigh muscle.

“Ouch! Stop that. And the worst part of it is…my parents, my roommates, even my stupid ex- (we were a couple, Zack, no matter what you think)…I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

He held the cat up so Bear seemed to stand on his hind legs. Auren made him march to and fro.

“Look, it’s Puss in Boots, he’s Puss in Boots! Oh, Bear, why can’t you don your magic boots and grant me my wish? Just find me somewhere I can fit in.”

The cat gave an angry huff, wriggled out of his grasp and jumped to the floor, where he washed himself thoroughly, as if disdainful for Auren’s nonsense.

“And my best friend is a cat,” Auren said gloomily. “How sick is that?”

 

 

THE NEXT WEEK WAS CHAOTIC. Drew and Ashley sorted through their possessions, leaving stacks and heaps all over the living space, waiting to be bagged and trashed, or boxed for moving. Auren found it hard to settle down to the task of finding somewhere else to live. Whenever he shut himself in his room with the laptop to search, someone would pound on the door, asking for his help in moving furniture or question him about a missing bill.

The roommates cleaned the refrigerator—Finally! Auren thought—and piled the trash bags on top of the dumpster already full of discards. The next morning, trash was strewn around the woodsy strip behind the condos. Ashley declined to wear rubber gloves and assist, and Auren refused outright, so Drew had to clean it up himself.

“Auren, you’d better make sure the dumpster lid is shut tight,” Drew declared when he returned inside, as if the problem wasn’t of his own making. “And tell the kids they’d better watch out too, when they get here. I saw the apartment manager out back, and he says a bunch of buildings in the area have had problems. He thinks it’s a bear invasion.”

Auren scoffed. “Probably just a dog off the leash. Anyway, I won’t be here to tell Ashley’s cousin what to do with his trash. I’m leaving.”

“Really? Where are you going?”

But Auren hadn’t worked that out yet.

When he brought out another bag of trash, Auren looked around the concrete pad behind the parking lot, where the dumpsters stood, surrounded by a chain-link fence. The fence had a gate, but it was almost always left ajar. It was a nuisance to unlock while carrying anything bulky. The dumpster served both the condos and the house next door. Auren noticed that apparently there were people in there, because they had dumped some detritus—packing materials and such. He also noticed footprints in a damp patch at the pad’s edge. They were blurry and hard to read, but he discerned a five-toed pad far too big for a raccoon. The tracks would have been big for a dog, too, unless someone had a Hound of the Baskervilles running around loose. Auren still didn’t believe it was a bear, but he was extra careful not to let his Bear out at night.

Drew and Ashley didn’t make that easy. They and their friends were constantly in and out the doors, banging them open, slamming them shut, propping them ajar for greater ease in moving boxes. Auren took refuge from the chaos in his room, where he tried to do a little packing of his own. He tried to keep Bear with him, but the cat was adept at escape maneuvers.

One evening, when welcome silence hinted that Drew and Ashley had gone out, Auren ventured out to find that they had left the back door ajar. Bear was nowhere to be found. Auren searched the apartment, but there was no sign of him. He stuck his head out the back door and called, but Bear didn’t come running. With a knot of anxiety in his stomach, Auren walked out the back door, looking from side to side into the shadows and calling.

Bear sometimes escaped briefly to stalk birds or mice in the yard, but he always came back. Auren worried that the commotion in the house drove him away for real this time. Auren still didn’t believe in bears, but there were all kinds of creatures in the strip behind the condos: stray dogs, raccoons, maybe even coyotes.

Auren heard a mew near the dumpsters.

Relief flooded him, only to be displaced by terror. The mew became a high-pitched yowling and wailing, a cat in distress. Worse still, the cat noises were answered by low-toned snarling and growling, and the clanking of something big rattling the fence. Auren pictured the worst—Bear attacked by a big stray dog, possibly rabid.

“Come, Bear,” he cried. “Come, kitty!”

He didn’t want to go near this situation, but he forged on into the semi-darkness. The reality was worse than he’d imagined. Bear huddled on the far side of the fence, his tail and fur fluffed out to twice his normal size. He was wailing and stabbing with an extended paw at a massive dark shape that seemed to have him trapped.

“Come, Bear! Come, kitty, kitty, kitty!”

Auren knew the cat could climb the fence and come to him. Perhaps he was too terrified to turn his back on the creature menacing him. It bore furry bulk, round ears, massive paws and big white teeth like on no dog he had ever seen.

“Oh my god, oh my god, it is a bear,” Auren muttered.

Yet it didn’t attack the cat, or Auren. As he approached, the bear jerked backward, releasing a cry of what sounded like pain. Auren realized why it wasn’t moving. One paw was stuck in the chain-link. The bear yanked again at its tethered paw and whined. It no longer sounded threatening, but Auren was no less terrified. The cat shrank farther into the corner and yowled. Clearly, Bear was not going to save himself, but was insistent that Auren should save him instead. But Auren didn’t know how. Call Animal Control? Who knew what could happen by the time they showed up—if they ever did.

If he cut the fence and freed the bear, maybe it would run away.

Bolt cutters, Auren thought.

But where would he get them?

Drew probably had some.

Auren was dashing back toward the house even while telling himself this was a crazy idea. The bear, set free, would probably eat both him and his cat.

He discovered that Drew had already emptied his closet. Auren tore open box after box in search of tools. Rifling through a mess of cables, rope, plastic containers of nails and screws, pliers, and a hammer, finally he found wire cutters. Thank you, Drew, for once, he thought.

“I’m coming, Bear,” he called, returning outside.

Then, he slowed down.

What kind of insanity was he contemplating? What if the bear went after him as soon as it was free?

He took a deep breath. With any luck, the bear would run. Or maybe he and his cat could make it to the back door before the bear came around the fence.

Auren reached toward that killer paw, his hand nearly brushing it as he cut the first wire. That wasn’t quite enough. He had to wrestle the cutters through link after link before the opening was big enough for the creature to jerk its paw free.

The bear bellowed, Bear wailed, and Auren yelled simultaneously.

There was a thunderous crashing in the underbrush. The bear fled into the night.

“Bear, come!” he cried again.

The cat crouched in place and mewed.

Auren realized he was going to have to go and get Bear. The last thing he wanted to do was take even one more step toward the direction the bear went, but he forced himself to. He reached out for the cat, but Bear moved backwards, away, tail lashing.

“Rowrrr,” Bear said in an almost conversational manner this time, poking with his paw at something on the ground.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what is it now?” Auren said. “Get in the house before you get us both killed.”

He bent down cautiously, hoping to seize Bear before he could flee. Something glinted under the cat’s paw. A big key, old-fashioned in shape, its brass dark with patina.

“Huh. Someone probably didn’t mean to throw this away.” Auren picked it up and stuck it in his pocket. “Now will you come here?”

The cat scrambled into Auren’s arms as if he had always had that in mind.

Auren’s legs shook as he hurried inside, and slammed and locked the door, good and tight this time.

In the morning, when the frightening encounter seemed far away and even kind of funny, he examined the key.

It was substantial and old, and looked like a real key, not some decorative imitation. He wondered if it might belong to the new neighbors, perhaps thrown out accidentally with the trash, or dropped in the confusion of the moving. Maybe someone in the house would recognize it, and be grateful to get it back. And giving the key back might gain Auren a look inside the place he found so intriguing.

He checked the view at his window frequently, hoping for a glimpse of the new tenants. Around suppertime, two cars appeared in the driveway—an intimidating black Navigator and a sporty crossover. He waited a decent time after the supper hour, and then, in the early evening, knocked on the front door.

The man who answered was not much taller than Auren, but he was an impressive presence, his chest broad and his belly substantial. His shining dark hair was combed in luxuriant waves, and his black beard curled magnificently. He wore a fine cotton sweater, a procession of bears knitted into the pattern, and elegant leather slippers. He bore the air of someone ready for well-deserved relaxation after a productive day.

“Hello, I hope I’m not intruding,” Auren said. “I’m your next-door neighbor, and—”

“How delightful,” the man said. “Please, come in. So kind of you to make a visit so early in our stay here. Very courteous! And welcome!”

Auren looked around with interest. The kitchen was cozy, but rather small. The house must have been renovated. He imagined this might once have been a front sitting room. It didn’t seem large enough to be the original dining area for such an expansive residence.

Auren perched on the chair the man offered. It didn’t seem quite wide enough, or tall enough. He had to sit up straight to keep his balance.

“I was just making a cup of tea for myself,” the man said. “Will you have tea? Do you like chai?”

“Sure, thank you.”

“But I am remiss! I haven’t introduced myself! I am Chandrakant Asvala. Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Auren Capelli.”

They shook hands. Mr. Asvala’s hand was warm and plump, but firm.

The man turned to put the kettle on, and Auren resumed staring around the room. Even in the dining area, one whole wall was filled with bookshelves. Mr. Asvala had literary tastes. Tastefully bound classics. Auren noticed a well-worn copy of Goedel, Escher, Bach, and a shelf full of newer volumes about artificial intelligence.

“I see you have a lot of books about AI,” Auren said. “If you don’t mind my asking, is that a professional interest?”

“Yes, indeed. I work in design for a robotics firm. And you, Auren—if I may call you that?”

“Oh, sure.”

“And you must say Chandra. It means “the moon.” My full name is Chandrakant—beloved of the moon is the meaning, but it is just a name in these modern times.”

Interesting, Auren thought. But he had trouble thinking of this impressive person as anything other than Mr. Asvala.

“Are you a student? What are your interests?”

“I’m just a business major at State right now. I’m doing a minor in history, though.”

“Really?” Mr. Asvala brought a tea-tray to the table and sat, regarding Auren with an expression that seemed interested and sympathetic. “What period is your specialty?”

“It’s really just a hobby.” Auren focused on his mug of spiced, milky tea. “More of a fantasy, really. I just like to read about other places, other times. Times when people weren’t so—so confined, I guess. So wrapped up in little cubicles, and tied down to some little group of friends who all think alike. Just when there was more room in the world.” He laughed and shook his head. “I suppose it’s just a form of escapism. A friend once told me history was dead.”

“No, I can’t agree at all,” Mr. Asvala said. “I think you are very wise to know yourself this early in life. You understand that you were meant for a larger world. This is wisdom.”

They went on talking about Auren’s plans, and he found himself saying things he had never acknowledged even to himself. Chandra seemed to find everything he said interesting and worthwhile. At times, Auren wondered if Chandra was flirting with him, but dismissed the idea. The man was just naturally charming, he thought.

Suddenly he realized that it was dark, and had been for a while. Fearful of overstaying his welcome, he was about to make his excuses and leave, but Chandra leaned toward him with one more question.

“Forgive my curiosity, but you have spoken of friends, but not of one special friend. Is there no one with whom you share such intriguing conversations as we have had tonight?”

Auren stared at the tabletop for several moments. “Not at the moment. Someone I thought was just that decided we had little in common.” It hurt to get the words out, but it also felt surprisingly good to articulate what happened. “He was probably right. He was the kind of guy who always had a goal in mind. I guess I’m not like that. I like doing things just because, you know, I like doing them.”

“Doing things for their own sake,” Chandra said.

“Something like that. Or maybe I’m just lazy. I don’t know why he wanted to be with me anyway.” Auren laughed, trying to shrug the topic off and retreat to safer ground.

“Perhaps he was drawn to you for that very reason,” Chandra said.

He looked kindly at Auren, and Auren felt his cheeks redden. “Because you enjoyed his company without judging him. But people who judge themselves harshly can never stop for long. So he became uncomfortable and had to leave. Perhaps it was his failure, and not yours.”

Auren didn’t know what to say. His silence felt uncomforable, although Chandra seemed perfectly at ease with the pause. “I’ve imposed on you too long. I should go. I’m sorry—I just go off on tangents. That’s what my roommates say, at least. Story of my life.” He sighed.

Mr. Asvala stood up, and Auren thought he was standing to usher his guest out. Mr. Asvala was beside his chair, so close it became awkward for Auren to get up.

“I cannot agree with your friends,” he said. “You seem to me a young man of great potential, who perhaps needs just a bit of guidance to find his way. Perhaps I might be of assistance in that regard. Allow me?”

Auren took his hand, stood, and found himself chest-to-chest with the other man, the dark curls of the magnificent beard tickling his cheek.

Mr. Asvala bent toward him. Auren felt his warm, spicy breath, and the full, parted lips inches away. There was no doubt of what was happening. Auren almost panicked.

A chubby but surprisingly powerful arm slipped around his waist. He leaned into Mr. Asvala’s robust warmth with a surge of desire that took him by surprise. It was like hot cocoa with a shot, comforting and intoxicating at once. He managed to stammer some word of assent as Mr. Asvala guided him not toward the front door, but to an open, welcoming inner door.

When Auren opened his eyes, the room was filled with light. He was alone in a strange bed. Disoriented, he tried to sit up, and found himself tangled in quilts, sheets, embroidered pillows and coverlets. He tried to thrash his legs free and hit his head on an elaborately carved headboard. The bed seemed too cramped for him to stretch out his arms and throw off the covers. He tried to roll over, and fell over the side. He landed hard, still swathed in blankets.

The room felt like a cave, with a coved ceiling and narrow windows. The bed stood high off the floor on claw-footed legs of highly polished old wood. The room was crowded full of curios—antique chests, porcelain objects displayed on shelves—all things he might like to explore, if he wasn’t so abuzz with anxiety. He was naked. He looked around wildly for his clothes. They lay folded neatly on a footstool at the foot of the bed. Auren dragged them on hastily and escaped the claustrophobic bedroom to find himself in the kitchen.

Chandrakant Asvala sat at the table, drinking tea and reading a newspaper. The table held scones, a teapot, a jug of milk, and a pot of honey. An extra place was set for Auren.

“My dear boy, how delightful to see you this morning,” Chandra said.

Auren didn’t feel delightful. His teeth were not brushed, and neither was his hair.

Chandra smiled broadly, waving Auren toward the table. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ve prepared some breakfast for you—spiced porridge, my favorite dish. My mother used to make it for me on Saturdays.”

“I can’t—really, I don’t want to take any more of your time,” Auren said. He felt he was babbling.

“Nonsense! Sit down.”

Auren sat, but he could not make himself comfortable. The narrow, rush-bottomed chair creaked under his precariously balanced weight.

Chandra poured tea for them and served porridge with a flourish.

Reluctantly, Auren picked up the heavy silver spoon. His mind had gone blank. He did not know what people said in these situations. He popped a full spoon of porridge into his mouth to cover his confusion. Thermal heat burned his tongue. Chilies and curry fumed up his nose. Tears sprang from his eyes. He sneezed uncontrollably and recoiled, grasping for a drink, a napkin, anything to smother the explosion he felt rising in his throat. The chair tipped backwards and splintered apart, throwing him to the floor for the second time that morning.

Chandra reached out to help him up, but Auren scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door.

Too embarrassed and confused to form complete sentences, he couldn’t even offer an apology.

“Stay—have some tea!” Chandra called after him. “Let me get you water. I did not realize I had prepared this too spicy for you.”

“I’m sorry—I can’t—I just remembered—my cat—”

Auren jumped over the threshold and didn’t stop until he reached his own door. Panting, he flung himself into the safety of the apartment, slamming and locking the door behind him. After the opulence of Mr. Asvala’s rooms, the place looked extra shabby, a wasteland of half-filled cartons and dust bunnies, but Auren didn’t care. He poured a glass of cold water to soothe his stinging throat. Bear darted toward him, yowling displeasure at this extended absence.

“Oh, Bear, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be away so long. I won’t do it again, I promise. Are you all right?”

He sat down. Bear jumped into his lap. He diligently sniffed Auren, as if trying to determine what he’d been up to, then settled down, purring. Auren was surprised to be forgiven so quickly. Usually Bear snubbed him for an hour after such a dereliction. Auren calmed himself, stroking Bear’s plushy fur and telling him about his adventures. Bear blinked wisely, as if he knew all about them.

“Now, I really have to do something about finding a new apartment,” Auren said. Standing up to get his laptop, he felt something hard in his back pocket. The key.

“I’m such an idiot. I never even asked him about it.”

Later that afternoon, after more packing, he made a few calls. The most promising places were already filled, and his second choices didn’t pick up, or said they would call back, but didn’t. Worry burned in his chest.

As twilight dimmed the windows, he felt more and more restless. He couldn’t sit still and focus on ads and listings. He paced around the room. In the absence of roommates, with no one to ask for an explanation, old habits called to him. Out in the dark, he didn’t need an identity. No one would expect an apology. Bear followed him to the door, but he pushed the cat back.

“No, Bear, you stay here. You know what happened last time you were out.”

“Mmmph,” Bear said disapprovingly.

Stepping out into the night, Auren felt the familiar excitement. He slipped like a wild thing through the overgrown bushes that separated the condo from the house next door, the branches brushing his face, the breeze toying with his hair. He meant to veer toward the alley on the far side of the block, but the dark bulk of the house looming against evening clouds brought him to a standstill.

The key still weighted his pocket. There was a faint glow of light behind the curtains on the first floor. The upper stories were dark and still.

With only a few steps, Auren could find himself climbing those tempting back stairs to the mysterious third floor.

Knowing just how stupid this might turn out to be, he felt for the key in his pocket and set foot softly on the first tread.

He moved stealthily. At the landing he paused. The moon stared at him, seeming almost level with his eyes. He saw over roofs and empty streets. The sense of height was exhilarating. It would be fun to live up here, he thought, and enjoy this commanding view.

The darkened windows showed no sign of life. He continued to the top. He didn’t see any signs warning of security measures, and when he looked in the windows, he saw nothing, no little lights blinking. He tried the doorknob, cautiously, wondering how fast he could get back down the stairs if a warning sounded. To his amazement, the latch clicked, and the door swung open. He needn’t even try the key.

His heart pounding, Auren knocked softly on the edge of the door. “Hello? Anybody home?”

There was no answer. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Using his phone for light, he looked around like an explorer examining a newly-discovered cave. The large room was set up as a bedroom. The occupant had not yet finished moving in. An enormous super-king size bed took up most of the space to the right of the door, under a set of windows. On the other side, the matching window was partially blocked by stacks of boxes and an immense and complicated exercise machine whose iron arms loomed like some kind of torture device. French doors stood open into an adjoining space.

Drawn by his curiosity, Auren tiptoed into the deeper shade within. His little light showed a desk on the left, with a large adjustable desk chair. Auren sat down, and felt dwarfed. His feel barely touched the floor. The high ergonomic back stretched up above his head. He shone his light on the wall above, illuminating a gallery of framed photos, award certificates, and shadow boxes containing medals and jerseys.

The photos showed a ferocious-looking man, with a thick dark beard, grinning beside even larger men, or clasping hands with them, with a paw the size of a ham.

Auren’s mouth felt dry. If this was who lived here, maybe he should leave right now.

He peered closer at the certificates. Apparently this giant’s name was Grysz Medved. Auren didn’t even know how to pronounce that.

Even though Auren knew he should get out, he couldn’t leave without sating his curiosity. He slid down and moved to the next room, careful to tread softly and not bump into anything, finding his way around more boxes, into the kitchen. The appliances were super-sized, the counters high. He felt like a child in a giant’s kitchen. The stainless-steel refrigerator gleamed like a monument, daring him to peek inside.

Besides several six-packs of Duchy beer and a bowl, the cavernous interior was disappointingly bare. Curious, he reached for the bowl, stoneware and the size of a soup tureen, covered with plastic wrap. Auren hefted it in his arms and carried it to the counter, hoping it might be a delicious dessert. He peeled back the plastic and sniffed. Not a promising scent. The fridge’s light revealed a pale, smooth mass that could be pudding or cream. With two fingers, he scooped out a portion and popped it into his mouth, prepared to dash to the sink and spit if necessary. Not horrible, but not the treat he had hoped for. It tasted faintly of berries and nuts, but the main flavor was some kind of bland protein powder. The temperature was cold, the texture clammy. Auren resealed the plastic and pushed the bowl back onto the shelf.

“Okay, that’s enough—now we’ll go,” he assured himself.

Then he felt the vibration of heavy footsteps coming upstairs. He froze for a moment in panic. He couldn’t tell if the footsteps were approaching by the back stairs he had climbed, or the interior stairway. He decided to flee the way he had come in rather than blunder through the interior darkness and possibly get trapped in a narrow hallway. But no sooner had he hurried into the bedroom than he realized the footsteps were indeed climbing the exterior stairs. He looked around wildly for a hiding place. There were no closets that he could see. The boxes were jammed too tightly against the wall, leaving no space for cover. With effort, he lifted the immense bed cover to see if he could hide under there, but it was a platform frame.

The steps were at the door.

Auren dove beneath the covers just as the door opened. He found himself engulfed in a vast duvet and a heap of pillows. He flattened himself into the mattress and prayed no one would ping his phone.

The door slammed shut. A light snapped on.

He dared glance from beneath the edge of the duvet, and saw a massive pair of brawny legs passing by. Footsteps thumped out into the kitchen. The refrigerator opened and closed. A beer can popped open. After a brief pause, another can cracked. Water ran. A toilet flushed.

Auren was thinking about making a dash for the door, but the footsteps returned.

Clothing hit the floor. Boots landed into a corner. There was a massive sigh and yawn, and the light went out. The mattress rocked with the weight of its owner throwing himself onto the bed.

Auren’s heart was pounding so hard he was afraid it would shake the bed. He sensed those giant limbs settling themselves just inches away. Body heat radiated through the covers, and a scent came with it, a musky, powerful aroma that was not unpleasant, but tickled his nose and made him tingle with apprehension. Such wildness was unpredictable, dangerous. Terrified that he would sneeze, Auren hugged the edge of the bed and prayed the other occupant would not roll over.

He caught himself almost wanting to be discovered, to be captured in those massive paws. And then what? He breathed silently through his mouth, willing the disturbing images away.

Mr. Medved of the unpronounceable name thrashed about briefly, perilously close to flinging an arm over Auren.

Auren’s heart leapt into his own mouth.

The oblivious bedmate settled into a comfortable position and relaxed. His breathing slowed, and he began to snore lightly.

Auren moved a fraction closer to the mattress edge, froze again, waited. There was no reaction from the other side of the bed. He repeated the process a couple of times, until he had one foot extended toward the floor. With breath held and fists clenched, he slid out of the bed, crossed the shadows that lay between him and the door, turned the handle as quietly as he could and burst out into the moonlight. He didn’t look behind or slow down until his feet touched the ground, and he ran faster than he would have believed he could, to the safety of his back door.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he gasped. “I thought I was going to die.”

He checked the view cautiously from the corner of his window, as if someone might be looking back at him. But no lights went on next door. There were no shouts of discovery. Everything was quiet.

Auren scooped Bear up and held him under his chin. “I was so scared,” he said. “That must have been the craziest thing I ever did. Even crazier than last night. I am losing my mind. Bad enough that I’ll probably end up living with my parents. What if they had to come and bail me out after I got cuffed and hauled away for trespassing?”

But once his heart stopped thumping, a smile stole across his face.

“I got away with it, though. It was really kind of an adventure. It was wild. And if the police come around—well, I’ve been here all night with my cat. Wasn’t I, Bear? You’d testify for me, wouldn’t you?”

Bear struggled free and jumped down. “Nawrr,” he said grumpily.

Auren thought that if a cat could have shrugged, he would have.

Auren slept uneasily, buffeted by dreams of escaping from dark spaces into wild forests full of unseen life, dreams in which his body burst its bonds and ran through the night unhampered, dreams of massive paws and thick furred limbs, of wrestling, tumbling, pressing close, of snuffling and tasting, of heady scents of musk and honey. He woke up tangled in his blankets, sweaty and disheveled.

Taking a quick shower to clear his head, he knew what he had to do: finish packing, then make a last-ditch effort to find another apartment. If nothing turned up in the next day, Auren would have to bite the bullet and call his parents. Even that seemed better than waiting for Drew’s junior cousin and friends to arrive.

One final loose end remained.

“This key,” he said, waving it at Bear. “This is what got me into all this trouble. It got me thinking about that house next door. It’s all your fault, you know.”

Bear stared at him meaningfully, his pupils wide and dark.

“I’m going to return it for sure this time, and then I can forget this whole thing forever. I won’t be gone long this time—I promise.”

He watched from the front window until the burly, confident form of Chandrakant Asvala strode down the driveway, got in his car, and departed. Only then Auren dared walk past the front entrance of the house and around to the far side. As he hoped, Auren found the entrance to the only apartment he had not yet visited. A short flight of steps led to a second-floor porch and a door with a mailbox beside it, neatly labeled ART BRUNO.

Auren pressed the antique brass doorbell, half-hoping no one would respond. Then he could put the key in the mailbox and return to his own mundane problems. He tried to repress the thought that he might, instead, try the key in the lock, and if it fit, walk in. But that possibility was deferred as he heard steps, the rattle of the knob, and the door opened.

The powerful, well-proportioned man before him filled the door frame perfectly.

“Mr. Bruno,” Auren blurted. “I’ve just come to—”

“To ask about the carriage house?” the man said. “Listen, I’m just about to have breakfast, so—”

“I’m very sorry.” Auren hastily reached for the key. “I won’t take up your time, then.”

Before he could take it from his pocket, the man stood aside and gestured for him to enter. “Not at all,” he said. “I was about to say, ‘Come on in and sit down’. We can talk about it over coffee.”

Brushing past him through the doorway, Auren felt the other man looking him over. Mr. Bruno’s smile widened appreciatively, as if he liked what he saw.

Auren felt himself blushing. He wasn’t used to such looks.

With a hand on his back, Mr. Bruno guided him to a seat at a cheerful kitchen table. The chair he offered was a generously built captain’s chair, the polish gleaming but mellow, the wide seat cushioned. Substantial and comfortable, it suited Auren perfectly.

“Have you eaten?”

“No, but—”

Mr. Bruno held up a hand to stop Auren’s protests. “Can’t make good decisions on an empty stomach.”

He handed Auren a bowl of oatmeal to match his own. He poured coffee and gave his own cup a warm-up. “There you go. Help yourself to brown sugar, cream, raisins—however you like it.”

The bowl steamed appetizingly. Auren poured cream and watched it swirl through the coffee’s perfect shade of darkness. He knew this was all a mistake, but after all, why not find something good out of a misunderstanding? He stirred melting brown sugar into the steel-cut oats and tasted them. With a chaser of hot coffee, they warmed him to his core.

Mr. Bruno nodded approvingly. “That’s better. Now we can talk.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bruno. This is really good. But—”

The other man laughed. “Please, call me Art. Just how old do you think I am?”

Auren blushed again.

“You’re the next-door neighbor, aren’t you?” Mr. Bruno...Art extended his hand across the table.

For a moment, Auren paused before shaking it. A neat white bandage wrapped the knuckles.

Mr. Bruno saw him hesitate. “Oh, this is nothing. I had a run-in with some wire fence the other day. It’s just about healed up now. I forgot all about it.”

The man’s handshake, enveloped Auren’s hand in a strong grip that tested his own.

“I’m Auren. Auren Capelli.”

“Nice to meet you. So, does this mean you’re looking for a change of residence?”

“I am, actually. But—?”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? We put out the word that we need a tenant for the carriage house in the back.”

“Carriage house?” Auren hoped he didn’t look too stupid. He had never noticed there was a carriage house. He’d assumed it was just a garage.

“Yes, and it’s important to us to find someone who fits in.”

“Us?” Auren heard himself repeat, but couldn’t stop.

“Yes, Chandra, Grish, and I have shared space for years now. We find we get along very agreeably, so we’d like whoever moves in to be the same.”

“And you think—you think I might—”

“I think you could be just the right person.”

Something about Art’s big, easygoing grin made Auren feel so comfortable. He still didn’t understand how this could possibly be happening, but he didn’t want to do anything to mess up the impression.

Still, he thought of his confused exit from Chandra’s apartment, and worried about what Art would think if that came up.

“What about the others?” he said awkwardly. “Is that going to be all right with them?”

Bruno smiled. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to have you. I think you already met Chandra. He spoke of having tea with ‘that nice young man from next door.’ He said you were a young man of great potential, but he was disappointed that you had to leave so suddenly. He’ll be delighted to see you again.”

“But what about the other one, on the third floor? Mr. Medved?”

“Oh, you met him too?”

“No, not really. Just saw him in passing. But he’s, um, intimidating.”

Bruno laughed heartily, white teeth gleaming in his neatly-trimmed, brown beard. “Grish is a teddy bear when you get to know him. He’ll be glad to have the place occupied. He says he’s heard some prowlers recently.”

Auren’s cheeks flushed, but Art’s eyes were twinkling. He put a hand on Auren’s shoulder.

“If you’ve had enough coffee, why don’t we walk over to look at the carriage house and see if it suits you?”

“I’d love to.”

“Now, where did I put that key?” Art mused. His gaze landed on the key rack by the door. He put his hand in his pocket. He frowned, uttering a little growl of puzzlement.

Oh my god, I never told him, Auren thought. Why do I keep forgetting?

“Actually, I came to see you about this.” Auren held out the key. “I found it by the dumpster. I wondered if someone had thrown it out by accident.”

“That’s it,” Art said. “It must have fallen out of my pocket. You certainly have a talent for being in the right place at the right time.” He made no effort to take the key. “Keep it—that’s yours now. If you like the place.” He cuffed Auren’s shoulder in a friendly way, and let his hand rest there again.

But Auren had one last question. He hated to ask, for fear the answer would be ‘No’, but he had to know. “Is the rental pet-friendly? I have this cat named Bear. He’s been with me forever, and he’s the best cat. I promise he never does any damage.”

Art laughed again. “No problem. Us Bears have to stick together!”

His hand still on Auren’s shoulder, Art guided him out the door and across the back yard toward the small dwelling behind the big house. The sun shone, and the grass smelled fresh and green.

Auren felt the warmth of Art’s touch like the sun on his shoulder, shooting down his spine like fire. He never wanted Art to let go. For the first time since he could remember, Auren felt that everything was just right.