Learning to Communicate

[Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews guys! Please keep reading and reviewing, because I'm still not sure where the story is going. Feel free to input ideas/suggestions, I would love to hear.]

Ch. 2- The Boy from the Shelter

"Gerard! We're here," called Anna. I was in the kitchen, which was practically by the door anyway. I lived in a fairly small apartment. I skirted out to come help her, hitting my hip on the same counter edge I hit it on everyday. "Ouch," I muttered. I rubbed it, taking the dish from her hands. "Why is he making you carry this in? Where's your no-good husband?" I asked. I placed the covered dish on the countertop, scooting the rag I had been using into the sink. Single life was not very glamorous admittedly. I usually ended up eating on the couch, in my bed, or at the bar. I didn't even have a table. My desk I kept clear for two things. I did my art there and...well, um, I often viewed Internet porno there until the wee hours of the morning (and by viewed, you know what I mean).

Mikey appeared, carrying a sack in his arms and almost stumbling over the plant near my door. Something he did everytime he came in. Anna gently set herself down on the couch, already telling Mikey what to do. "Hunny, make sure you take the toast out before you end up crushing it and don't make Gerard reheat the cheese dip when you can do it yourself." He cast a glance at me from behind askew glasses. I just grinned and slipped out of his way, turning on the TV for Anna and giving her the remote. He came back to the kitchen after a minute, only to find Mikey already guiding himself around the tiny alcove with relative ease. Gerard hopped onto a barstool, watching. "Now, why are we here again?" Mikey asked, looking up with one eye from under his sandy looking bangs. He was pulling the foil cover off the casserole.

"I went back to the shelter and adopted one."

"No. You're kidding? Really? Today?"

"Yes today. That's why I thought I should stay here tonight, and plus, it was your idea. I thought you might want to see it," I pointed out, running a finger down the side of the tiny salt and pepper shakers I had sitting up there. They were about two inches high and shaped like chess-piece knights.

"Well? Where is it?" he asked impatiently, looking around as though he could somehow miraculously miss another person in this tiny living area. "I stuck him in my room," I said, eyeing my bedroom door. He had been quiet for awhile now. Getting him inside had been a hassel. While I was balancing his books and taking my own stuff from the car, he had stalked a squirrel across half the parking lot. I chased him back towards my end of the complex, holding him by the wrist like a kid. He only smiled in a way that made me wonder if he knew what he was doing. I pulled him to the door and jiggled open the lock. Before I turned around, he was gone again, scooting after a particular leaf. I dumped my stuff off inside and rescued him again.

Mikey was already out of the kitchen before I could follow. He pushed open my door, peering in. I peered over his shoulder with some difficulty since he was so much taller than me. Nothing looked different. Then I saw the tail peeking out from under the bed. Almost as if it had eyes of its own, it dissapeared under the bed as well. Gerard pushed Mikey out of the way, walking over and leaning down. He pulled up the comforter a little. A skinny little hand started sneaking towards his foot. He grabbed it and pulled without apology. Half a boy slid out from under the bed. Mikey squealed a little, jumping back. Francis did the exact same thing, hiding himself uselessly behind Gerard's leg.

"Oh look at him!" he exclaimed, cautiously coming closer. Gerard didn't really look. He felt like he'd seen him all day already. Frankie nipped at Mikey's finger. "Wow....he even has pointy little teeth in the front," Mikey pointed out, drawing his hand away. Frankie tilted his head against Gerard's leg and started rubbing his head against him. He started walking slowly, careful not to step on fingers or tails. Frank reluctantly pulled himself to his feet, but skittered ahead of them once he noticed the open door. Anna screamed from the next room. "Who the hell are you?"

"Francis," said Gerard, coming in after him, Mikey on his heels. Anna was pushing him back by one hand planted firmly in his chest. He adamently leaned forward, sniffing at her arm. "Where did he come from?" she continued, her eyes wide and fixed on the little ears on his head. "Shelter," went Mikey. "I told you I was taking him there. It's a good idea, don't you think? Now he's not here by himself all the time." I sometimes was irrated that they talked like I wasn't even there. This is why they would make good parents. They already acted like my second set.

..::||~*~||::..

We spent the entire meal talking about Frankie, while the subject himself snaked between our legs under the table, sniffing loudly. We cleared off the dishes (well, Mikey did) and then sat out in the living room, pouring over the books I had gotten this afternoon. Anna pulled out the encyclopedia as well, skimming for foxes.

"How much of him is human anyway?" she asked. He was curled up on the other end of the couch. Every now and then he would reach his foot out and touch her, snapping his leg back to himself like he was being sneaky.

"I think...most?" I said, guessing. Mikey tapped the open page he was looking at. "It says here they come with most human skills appropriate of their age, like...." He scanned down. "Dressing themselves, using a bathroom, walking, using utensils to eat, carrying things, sometimes managing simple functions for electronic or kitchen devices." We all stared at each other over that, thinking. "So....he can make you toast in the morning," finished Mikey.

"It says here foxes sleep in a den," Anna read aloud from the book she was looking in.

"Well, I don't have any dens conviently lying around."

"Could he fit in a drawer?" Mikey asked, squinting through his glasses at him. I looked over. Frankie was a tiny thing compared to other men maybe, and kind of even next to me, but he would not fit in a drawer. I shook my head.

I eventually stood up, helping Anna to her feet. I knew they wanted to stay, but I just felt like I had already taken enough of their time. They left the food with me, knowing I would bring back the dishes later. I hugged each good-bye. When the door opened, Frankie bounded over. I thought he had finally just gone to sleep. I held onto his shirt as I waved to them, Frank streching his hands out for the doorframe. He started grunting a little in his efforts. That was the first noise I had heard from him. Mikey turned back just before I closed the door. "Don't worry Gee. I'm sure you're going to learn to communicate in no time." He grinned. "Someone you'll actually like since he won't talk back to you."

I shut the door. Frankie stopped struggling. I still had his shirt gathered in my hand. We were alone together. Two strangers in my house. He was standing really close. "Oh." I let him go and walked back into the living room. He followed, still really close. It was so quiet it was almost unerving. It might have just been him though, the way I could feel him right behind me like a shadow. It made me feel awkward in a way I had not in a long time, ecspecially in my own house where I freely walked around naked, ate cereal out of the box, and chewed my nails and spit them out. Would all of that change now? Was this the end of my privacy? I felt a sudden surge of panic. I hadn't thought about this.

I suddenly felt him. I realized I had stopped walking and was standing in the middle of my tiny living room, staring at the floor. He was pressed up against my back as though he had just kept walking until he found he couldn't. His chin was perched on my shoulder, and when I turned my face to look at him, I found nothing but a furry ear pressed into my cheek. His fingertips appeared around mine, touching my hand. I decided that was a little too creepy for me so I moved again, far away from Frank.

"So...." I started, filling the empty space with something besides silence. His ear twitched at me. "You're a fox. Did you know a group of foxes is called a skulk?" He did not look very impressed with my skulking knowledge. "You also dig little tunnels between your dens so you can be cozy in winter." All of this I had read today. He promptly sat down and started stratching his ears meticulously. I was such a loser. Not even my pet wanted to listen to me.

..::||~*~||::..

"There. Ta fuckin' da," I said, looking over at him. He smiled. Probably because we had eaten a whole bag of peanut butter cups between us. He had greeny eyes. Kind of like mine were at times. I had spent the last few hours making Frankie his own den to sleep in.

I had gone down to my storage unit and pulled out a plastic kiddie pool that had no application really. I searched around until I found an old beach umbrella, its' stand, and an old rug. I decided that the only plausible place to put his new home was my room, near the corner with nothing in it. He followed, slinking under the bed and popping his nose out the other side so he could watch. I placed the pool where I wanted it, the umbrella stand in the middle. It was pretty flat, weighted down well. I expertly cut a hole in the center of the rug and fitted it over the stand, laying it down in the kiddie pool. Perfect fit almost, the circular edge of the rug just running up the sides of the pool. It was a good bottom.

I put the umbrella on its lowest peg and set it in the stand. I hung maybe a few feet above the pool. About thigh high. I went to the hall closet. I had old pillows in there, shredded up sheets I had never gotten rid of, and blankets that never got used. I tossed them into the pool, forming them around the umbrella stand, making a nest out of them. Mikey and I used to do it as kids, build forts or make nests out of blankets on the beds. As a finishing touch, I threw an old, heavy comforter blanket over it as a cover. He could hide in it and be perfectly comfortable. For not knowing anything about animals, I was pretty impressed with my den-making skills. Now, one last thing. I looked at Frank.

He was creeping close on his knees, dragging himself to me bit by bit. I lifted the blanket. "In," I said. He only cocked his head. I pointed. "Go in, you'll like it." I reached for his arm and came down level with him. "You go in, sleep, you know, be normal." He only fell over to sit on his hip. I sighed. "Fine. Stay there. I'm getting ready for bed," I informed him. I set about my nightly routine of raking a comb through my hair, undressing and throwing on an old pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, and getting my glass of water from the kitchen. Upon my return, the only thing left of Frankie was his tail sticking out from the blanket canopy of the kidding pool. I smiled. At least I had done something good so far.

I rolled into bed. I had a double bed, large enough for my tossing and turning. And completely pointless since I was always by myself. It had been an extremely long time since another person had slept here. Even longer since anyone had slept there regularly other than me. I rubbed my eyes, glancing over at the empty pillow next to me. I used it for slinging my arm around in the middle of the night and sleeping huddled into. I reached up and turned the lamp off without a second thought other than sinking into sleep and waiting for the damned alarm. My days and nights were always the same. Work, sleep, work, sleep. It was pretty much an endless seeming cycle. I had discovered myself sucked into it one day while innocently sitting at work. Since then, I realized how helpless I was to society's Nine-to-Five schedule. I also realized how insignificant I was in the scheme of things as well. After all, would the world end if I did?

I was drifting, the almost inaudible buzz of the digital clock almost a whole sound in the silence of the room. I was stuck in the state of sleep where you weren't quite awake, not quite snoring away your problems for the day yet. It wasn't until I heard the rustling that I even remembered the imposing second presence in my bedroom. I rolled over to look at the den sitting in the corner. Nothing was moving near it that I could see in the half darkness of city households at night. I could still hear the noise though. I sat up on my elbow and looked at the foot of the bed. There was nothing there but a pair of ears. I sat up again and rubbed my eyes, and when I looked again, the ears had been joined by a pair of eyes watching me over the edge of the bed.

"Uh..." He had escaped his bed obvisously. What to do about it I had no idea. Did I put him back in? I wondered what kind of damage he could do left to roam about the room during the night. I was fairly sure something would go missing or get destroyed. Maybe not. It was a chance I didn't want to take though. It was possible he could get out of my room completely too, then the rest of the apartment would be at his mercy.

I did not have to think about it too long before he start crawling up the bed. "Oh no, no,no....Go back to your own bed," I said in vain, pulling the covers away from him. He only followed, sliding closer on his stomach. "Beeeed," I said, pointing to his make-shift home. "B-E-D. Go to your oooooown." His face lit up in a smile and before I could stop him, he lunged forward and licked my face. "Oh man," I whined, rubbing the spot. I wasn't...digusted, but it was not making me feel very comfortable. I looked over at Frankie as he pulled himself in towards the pillows, starting to nose himself under the covers.

"No!" I slapped down the sheets. He pulled back, startled. "Get out!" I yelled. I was not communicating very well. He only stayed where he was, swaying gently back and forth. We sat there while the minutes ticked by, him swaying boredly and me wondering when he would leave. The more I wondered, the less he moved. He finally stopped all together, his ears drooping to the sides and his cheek nuzzling the bed where he lay. I waited. His chest rose and fell evenly, and his breathing became slow and soft sounding. He had fallen asleep.

Mikey used to have a dog who slept on the foot of his bed. This was like the same thing, right? I layed back, all too concious of the humanesque body next to mine (well, more near my leg). It was the same in the sense this was my pet. Maybe, even though he was half animal, he had a genuine need not to be by himself. Maybe it was because of the animal half. I glanced at the red numbers of the clock again. I don't think it mattered, actually.

Neither animal nor human really wanted to be alone.