Salad Days: 'Cooshie'

     “Coooooshie! Common Cooshie, let’s go!” said Mint all giddy as she grabbed Drew by the arm and tugged him along, like a reluctant dog that didn’t want to go out for a walk. But her sunny demeanor always could persuade Drew to do anything that she asked, especially when Mint called him by his pet name.
     “I don’t know, Mint…” said Drew hesitantly, despite that he was presently walking alongside. It was Saturday and they were set to meet up with Ash, Tony, Autumn, Ren, and Ren’s older brother, Art. Earlier in the week, the girls thought it would be fun to go into town and mull around the mall. Ren had already talked to Art and arranged for him to provide the ride, being their personal chauffer as it were. Originally it was supposed to be only the girls, but apparently Antonio wormed his way into the planned trip, much to Ash’s displeasure. It’s not that Tony was a pompous prick or of such similar ilk. On the contrary, he could be quite the comical riot. Mint and Drew both thought he was hilarious. Ash just happened to classify her brother as, in so many words, “an annoying l’il spaz”. So since Tony was tagging along, Mint asked if Drew could come as well.
     Drew, however, wasn’t so enthused as Mint. Rather, he was more anxious if anything about the situation. He really did like the whole lot of them, but Drew’s problem was that he was very shy. He had a hard time belonging to any circle of friends, not because Drew was unwanted, but because he was so standoffish. It took an extrovert like Mint to draw the introverted Drew out of his shell. He couldn’t explain why, but Mint gave him a comfort like no one else. She had ever since the first day they met those years ago.

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     Drew was alone as he sat on the swing set with downcast eyes, occasionally kicking at the dirt with his little shoes. The park was quite a walk from the house, especially far for a young boy, but he needed the space to sort himself out. A lot had happened in the last few weeks, things that he needed time to take in. The move alone was such a huge change, being uprooted from his small, countryside home in Ireland and taken to the States. But this was only second to the other series of events that took place before their voyage across the Atlantic.
     You see, as far back as the boy could remember, his folks had told him bedtime stories about the Little People and the other supernaturals from the world within our world, the realm of the fey. Amongst these fantastic fairytale creatures was the often-feared Cu Sidhe: an enormous phantom hound with deep green, shaggy fur and a long, curled tail. The terrifying bark of the Cu Sidhe could be heard as far as the sea and was a dreadful omen. As the tale goes, the Cu Sidhe would emerge from a magical mound in the earth on certain nights to carry away any unwary woman who might be about or had not been locked up by their father or husband. But that was just it; these were only bedtime stories. Or at least that’s what Drew had thought.
     One foggy night, as Drew lay in his bed, he heard the forlorn sound of a dog howl echo across the fields nearby. He was asleep, but something inside was slowly awakening. Drew writhed in his sheets, whimpering as someone having a nightmare. The howl echoed a second time, seemingly louder to him than the first. Half asleep now, he felt a sick wrenching in the pit of his stomach. At first it was near nauseating, then it became a biting, gnawing, clawing sensation that was trying to tear itself out. For a third time the howl echoed, but with a maddening reverberation that seemed to ricochet across every corner of Drew’s child mind, growing louder and louder. Brought beyond the threshold of pain he screamed through the tears that streamed down his face, as if to drown out the hellish sound.
     “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH…!” It was a boy’s shrill shriek at first. “…HHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRR…!” Then it became guttural heave, like a violent vomit. “…RRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUU!” And it ended in a haunting howl, like the very one that had emanated from the fog. Not a moment later, his father broke through the door of Drew’s room, splintering the wood around the latch. Poor Drew huddled in the corner of the room crying as he futilely tried to cover his newfound pair of dog-ears and tail. His mother spent the rest of the night rocking Drew back and forth while his father stood guard, keeping vigilant watch of the front door with a large shotgun in a cold, white-knuckled grip. A strange iron medallion was also strung around his hand, like one would with a crucifix on a string of rosary. Drew caught a glimpse of it for a moment when his head wasn’t buried in his mother’s tear-soaked chest.
     In the morning, when it was deemed safe to go outside, Drew’s father decided it was time to show him something secret. Together they walked into the field, still drenched in the morning dew. They went farther than Drew had ever been allowed to go before and finally his father paused when they came upon a small hill. There was nothing outstanding about it save for a simple, little wood cross on the top of the mound.
     “This is where yer sister is buried,” Mr. O’ Shire said in a solemn tone before he went silent. A sister? Drew was never told about a sister. After a long silence, his father spoke again. “She wasn’t so much as a year old when she died. ‘Crib death’, Dr. Callaghan called it.” Drew could hear a waver in his father’s voice, which had always been so strong. “T’was that evenin’, after she’d been laid in tha earth, tha we heard tha dag’s mournful call. There was mist that night, too. But when yer grievin’ mother peered out tha window, she saw a l’il babe had been left outside our door. Oh, how her face lit up! Just like when she held our l’il girl for tha first time. An’ I soon came ta love ‘im… love you, too.”
     “But…but Da, I don’t understand…” said Drew. Mr. O’ Shire knelt down, meeting Drew’s gaze and put a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder.
     “I don’t rightly understand it either me boyo, but I have a guess. You remember tha stories, right? About tha Cu Sidhe an’ tha L’il People?” he asked. Drew nodded; fearing what words his father would soon speak. “It’s hard ta figure how they think. They’re a strange lot, they are. But wha I do figure is that this hill is special ta them, at least to tha Cu Sidhe. An’ after our wee one died, tha dag gave you ta us. But know that neither yer mother or I care where you came from.”
     “So…so I’m not a *hic!*… not a real *hic!*…,” Drew hiccupped until he started to sob. Mr. O’ Shire gave his boy a strong hug, gently patting him as he shivered from crying.
     “Oh no, no, no…” he said with a consoling warmth. “Of course yer a real person! Whether fey folk or human, yer still me boyo.” Drew was still shaking. “There, there. It’s alright, son.” After Drew had calmed down, the two went back home. His parents decided that it wasn’t safe for them to stay another night, fearing that the Cu Sidhe might be aiming to take him back. The only sure solution they could figure was to leave Ireland. This, of course, was no easy feat. Quickly they packed and only what was necessary, leaving the rest to be sent for later by relatives. Even so, where would they go? There was no extended family living elsewhere, outside the country.
     That’s when something unexplainable happened. There was a knocking at the door. First Mr. O’ Shire checked out the window, but no one was there. Cautiously, he cracked the front door open with shotgun in hand. Still nothing. For a few minutes he stood outside, his gaze searching across the landscape, but not a soul could be seen. As he turned to go back inside, he discovered an envelope had been nailed to the front of the door. In it were three tickets for a ship leaving that very evening bound for America as well as a lengthy, handwritten letter. Whoever wrote it gave clear instructions on where to go upon their arrival, directions that led to a particular town, Wormwood, which promised to prove a safe haven for Drew. Of course Mr. O’ Shire was wary, but noticed that the nail was iron. Iron was the very bane of all fey folk. While unsure of this gift-giver’s intentions, it was decidedly not from the Little People and therefore would have to be trustworthy enough. They had no other options.
     That night, Drew’s family boarded the ship, toting their luggage alongside with the other passengers. Drew wore a large cap wrapped with a scarf to conceal his canine ears and a jacket, one oversized for a boy his age, to cover the tail. With one final bellow of the boat’s horn, the ship left port. They stood by the railing of the deck, watching the emerald isle fade from view. Watching home fade from view. And whether or not it was Drew’s imagination he would never know, but he thought he heard the faint call of the Cu Sidhe across the waters. It was like a sad farewell and inside his heart ached a little.
     Time passed and the O’ Shires were now newborn Americans. The family had settled in a small home by the woods in Wormwood, albeit the surrounding neighborhood itself was rather poor and a bit rundown. This was quite different from their life in the countryside, where the nearest neighbors were miles away, but the bit of wilderness in their backyard made things seem a little like home. Drew’s father had even built a treehouse for him. Though he wasn’t a carpenter by any means, it wasn’t half bad. “An American kid is supposed to have a treehouse,” Mr. O’ Shire had said with a smile when he started building. They made a weekend of it right after they had moved in. Drew was his little assistant, handing him tools and the shorter boards of wood while Mrs. O’ Shire spent the time making the house a home.
     These days, however, Mr. O’ Shire spent most of his time working long hours at the factory in a neighboring town, leaving before dawn and coming home sometimes as late as midnight. Except for the next weekend, Drew never saw his father during those days between. But Drew kept pretty busy that first full week, helping his mother around the house, spending time in the new treehouse or out in the woods, and going out a little into the neighborhood itself, though Drew kept very wary. Always he wore the cap, scarf, and jacket to hide his unique features whenever he did venture outside.
     It was during one such little excursion that Drew made his first friends, which were three homeless mutts that wandered around the neighborhood. He had brought some food from home in his jacket pocket, which he fed to the dogs. They seemed tame enough to Drew and, of course, followed him home. Since they were strays, his mother didn’t want them in the house, but she was fine with Drew playing behind the house or in the woods with them. She knew having a little companionship would do him some good. After a few days, Drew felt comfortable enough to play outside with the dogs without hiding his ears and tail. They made him feel more at ease with what he was and Drew felt a sort of kinship with the dogs, like he could be part of the pack. It wasn’t just Drew’s imagination, either. Mrs. O’ Shire noticed that the dogs treated him differently. The two boys liked to chase, play, and wrestle with him while the girl dotted on Drew, like a mother dog might with her pup. Soon Drew wanted to give them names, so with the help of his mother they chose: Cu Chulainn, Tim Finnegan, and Rose.
     The second weekend arrived, allowing Mr. O’ Shire to spend Saturday with the family. It had been a tough first week, but he was doing well and had a good grasp on the work. Mr. O’ Shire spent the later part of the morning fixing the shingles on the roof while Drew helped his mother prepare lunch. Afterwards, they related what had happened over the week as they sat around the table eating.
     “So tha work’s been good, I trust?” asked Mrs. O’ Shire as she began serving the food onto their plates.
     “Oh aye, Mary, tha factory’s been good ta me,” answered Mr. O’ Shire as he helped himself to a baked potato and a slice of beef. “Tha hours are long, but I can’t complain. We ‘specially need tha money right now.”
     “I could help, Da. Maybe I could come ta work with ya,” Drew chimed in. Mr. O’ Shire smirked and chuckled.
     “Oh, I don’t think so, young man,” said Mrs. O’ Shire. “Yer too young fer the factory. Besides, you’ve got schoolin’.”
     “Yer mother’s right,” agreed Mr. O’ Shire. “We want ya ta get an education, get yerself a good job. Somethin’ better than workin’ at tha factory.”
     “Yeah, okay. So Ma, when will start lessons?” Drew asked.
     “Sorry, hon, but yer too big fer homeschoolin’ now. Ya will be goin’ to tha school here at Wormwood,” she replied. Before she became Mrs. O’ Shire, Mary had been a grade school teacher. Up until this point in time, she had been Drew’s personal tutor. But Mrs. O’ Shire had taught her son all she could and it was now up to the schools to continue where she left off. “Besides, ya need ta make some friends other than those dags.”
     “Dags?” Mr. O’ Shire asked.
     “Oh aye, dags. Three of ‘em. Drew brought the lot home. They’re local strays, but seem tame. They’ve taken quite a likin’ ta him…” Drew’s parents continued their conversation as he sat quietly, picking at his plate. The knot in his stomach made it difficult to finish his food.
     “Can I be excused?” Drew asked timidly.
     “Hmmm? Oh, yes of course, darlin’. Just put yer dishes by tha sink,” replied his mother. “So anyway…” Drew’s parents resumed talking, as he did like his mother asked, then went outside after grabbing some clothes. The three homeless dogs were lying under the shade of the treehouse, but perked up as soon as they caught sight of Drew.
     “Sorry guys, not today,” Drew said apologetically as he finished wrapping the scarf around his cap. The dogs looked disappointed and laid down their heads, giving him big doe eyes. He felt bad for letting them down, but he needed to be alone right now. As Drew walked through the neighborhood, anxious thoughts loomed over him like a dark cloud. School? How could he go to school now? Drew’s parents said things would be fine here, but how could they? He wasn’t normal. The other kids would most certainly laugh and likely pull on his tail, tug his ears, throw sticks, and other cruelties of the like. And the names. What kind of names would they call him? “Rover”? “Dumb Dog”? “Fleabag”? Fleabag. The kids that didn’t yank his tail or ears probably wouldn’t even come near Drew for fear they’d catch fleas or maybe ringworm. He’d be treated like a dirty, diseased animal for sure he thought as the tears started to well up. By chance, Drew had walked to an empty park and took a seat on the swing set. He took a few minutes to wipe his eyes and calm down.
     “Hi!” Startled, Drew nearly fell out of his seat. He turned to see a girl just about his own age standing by the swings.
     “Um, hi…” he replied meekly.
     “Can I sit there?” she asked, indicating the swing next to him.
     “O-okay…” said Drew, shyly. She took the seat, smiling as she gazed across the park with the most remarkable, clear blue eyes. That’s when he noticed it: she had a tail and ears just like his own. What was wrong with this girl? Didn’t she know it was weird to have these feral features? Why didn’t she hide them? That’s when she caught him staring.
     “Have you been crying?” she asked.
     “No! ‘Course not!” Drew retorted defensively as he wiped his eyes again. He could feel the warmth from his face as it flushed. That made him feel even worse. All he wanted was to simply disappear or withdraw into a shell like a snail. But she sat there quietly, perhaps realizing the accidental embarrassment. A couple minutes passed.
     “My name’s Mint,” she greeted in a kind voice. Drew paused as he looked at her curiously.
     “Drew,” he responded.
     “I haven’t seen you before. Are you from around here?” she inquired.
     “No,” he responded. Drew wondered why she cared.
     “Are you visiting?” she asked.
     “No,” he responded again. Mint was getting a little annoyed by the simple, one-word answers she was getting. Then it was Mint’s turn to give Drew a curious look.
     “What’s with all the clothes, anyway?” she asked.
     “They’re just clothes,” he said a bit nervously.
     “Hey!” Mint exclaimed excitedly. Wide-eyed, she was looking at something behind Drew. He twisted in his seat to look, then his heart jumped up into his throat. His tail was poking out from under the jacket. Quickly, he tucked it back in. “Hey! No, wait! Let me see it! Do you have ears, too?” she asked.
     “No!” he remarked, both to her question and to her prying hands as they tried to pull his tail out. Drew jumped up from the swing and jerked around as Mint kept grasping for the tail. “Hey! Hey, stop that!” he exclaimed.
     “C’mon! I just want to see. Why are you hiding it?” Mint asked. Her hands were relentless and he was getting more and more upset as they struggled. Then, like a scared animal that’s been cornered, Drew struck out.
     “I said ‘NO’!” he yelled. It took him a second to realize that he had pushed her down. In the fall, she had managed to pull off the scarf and cap. His dog ears were showing, but he didn’t seem to notice. All he could do was look in shock at Mint on the ground. Those pretty blue eyes were now streaming with tears. Mint’s knee was scraped, bleeding, but she didn’t look at her knee. She was looking straight at him.
     “You meanie!” she cried. “I was only being nice! I just wanted to see, is all. I just wanted to see if you were like me.” Drew stood there, stunned. “I thought maybe we could be friends,” she sniffled. Drew felt absolutely horrible. He didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident, a reflex. Still, he couldn’t help but feeling the way he did. Gradually Mint’s crying debated into sniffles. Then, Drew got down on his knees next to her. His ears were lowered, like a dog filled with shame.
     “Yer tha first person to be nice ta me, tha first person I’ve met like me… and I… I…” Drew stuttered. Mint could see his honesty. “An’ now you hate me, just like the others will.” She could tell he was getting upset. “I just want to go home! I just want things to be the way they were! Why couldn’t I be normal?” Before he could go on any further, Mint wrapped her arms around Drew in a tight hug. A sudden sense of peace seemed to wash over him. In that instance, all his fears and hurt were forgotten. It was a comfort he had never felt before.
     “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so pushy,” consoled Mint. She let go and they looked at each other. Mint was smiling now with a look of tenderness. “We can still be friends if you want.” Hearing this, Drew flung his arms around her. He hadn’t dared hope to hear those words. Afterwards, they sat down on the park grass together, getting to know one another.
     “My family and I are werewolves,” Mint began.
     “Werewolves? Is that what they call American Cu Sidhe?” Drew asked.
     “Huh?” Mint replied, puzzled. Obviously she didn’t understand.
     “Cu Sidhe… like ‘Cooshie’,” Drew tried to explain. He expected her to say something, but instead she just stared at him as a smile slowly grew across her face. It made Drew feel a little uneasy. “…What?”
     “Cooshie!” Mint exclaimed, delighted by the newfound, cute word. Impulsively she hugged him. The nuzzling, however, was a bit too much for Drew.
     “H-Hey! Cut that out!” he stammered. Drew’s face blushed beet red.
     “Mmmmm… Cooshie.”

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     “Cooshie! Hey, have you been listening, Drew?” Mint asked.
     “Hmmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. I had a little case of nostalgia for a minute there,” he answered.
     “I was just saying that we’ll be there soon,” said Mint, smiling. As they walked, Drew couldn’t move his gaze from Mint’s blue eyes. Remarkable as ever, he thought. Soon enough, Mint noticed.
     “Is something wrong?” she asked. Drew blushed slightly.
     “No, nothing at all,” he replied. Drew grabbed Mint, her arm in his, and quickened their pace. “Come on, we don’t want to keep them waiting.”

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