Endure by Carrie Jones

breathes deeply for a second, sits back on one of the built-in benches, and says, “Where the hell were you, Betty?”
    She meets his eyes and lies without twitching. “I don’t remember.”
    There’s a pause. The sounds of the boat’s motor fade.
    “Nothing?” he asks.
    She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just came to in the harbor, naked as the day as I was born.”
    “And you?” he asks me.
    “Zara had a hunch,” Betty says. “She’s like that. Cop gut on that one. She’s all instincts.”
    Keith shuts the door of the ambulance, closing out the cold, and gives Betty his own straight-on glare. His buzz cut is covered by a knit hat, but he has the attitude of a guy who has had enough. He says, “You are going to tell me and you are going to tell me right now, Betty White.”
    “Tell you what?” she asks, all innocent, crossing her arms in front of her.
    “You’re the damn tiger, aren’t you?” he says. He actually points his finger at her.
    “Why would you think that?”
    “Because I’m a hamster.”
    He says it so deadpan that I don’t know what to think. I have no idea if he’s kidding or not, and neither does Gram, I don’t think, because she snatches his sleeve and barks out, “Don’t you mock me.”
    “Just tell me you aren’t the one making all the kids go missing.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.
    “You know that’s not me,” she snaps back. “I was with you when that call on the Sumner bus came in.”
    You can tell that she wants to call him an idiot, but she’s holding back. Keith’s focus seems to turn inward. The “accident” was really a pixie attack on a bus full of Sumner High School band kids. It was a blood bath.
    “You’re right,” Keith finally says. “But I still think you’re that tiger.”
    “You’re crazy,” Betty retorts, adjusting her blanket. “Zara, tell the man he’s crazy.”
    “You’re crazy,” I say in a computerized, flat voice that hopefully shows I’m not supporting either side.
    “I don’t think so.” He hands Betty another blanket. “You were standing out there buck naked in the cold. Your core temperature is still in normal range when you should be hypothermic. Your feet should be blue. You have been missing for days. You should have frostbite. Yet you’re only shivering and only a tiny bit. That’s not normal human behavior.”
    “So you think I’m a tiger.”
    “No, I know you’re a tiger.”
    “And how do you know that, Mr. Delusional?” Betty asks.
    He opens the ambulance door and points up at a telephone pole. “There’s a camera there now, Betty. Josie monitors it at dispatch. It caught you turning back.”
    “Crap,” Betty says, noticeably upset, which is unusual for her, but what’s also unusual is how calm and accepting Keith is being, given the fact that his partner is a human who morphs into a large feline. Props to him. He’s not even batting an eyelash.
    “It’s okay, Gram,” I say, trying to soothe her by petting her knee. “It’s just Josie and Keith. They’re your friends. They won’t tell anyone they saw you.”
    I fix Keith with a death glare, which hopefully conveys how I will kill him if he loses his mellow about this and tells.
    “Ah, I know that, Zara. I’m not worried about that.” She puts her head in her hands.
    “Then what are you worried about?” Keith asks.
    “That everyone saw me naked.”
    Keith mutters a curse and shuts the ambulance door, shaking his head like she’s nuts, which maybe she is. Maybe we all are, but when Betty lifts up her head and starts laughing, Keith and I start laughing too.
    Betty takes a long shower and I order pizza, which we gulp down in two bites. It’s so good to have her back, even if her eyes are haunted and she seems older, more fragile.
    “Why didn’t you come back, Gram?” I whisper. We’re sitting together on the couch, an empty pizza box in front of us.
    Tears form at the edge of her eyes. After a few moments she turns and looks