One Month Later: February 13, 2022

“Okay, Teresa,” Mama nags me, “I need you to tell me what you think of this.”

“Mama, I told you, I can’t do dresses right now,” I whine, “I need to finish the financial aid application. Besides, the full moon isn’t gonna be here til Wednesday.”

“Teresa, you are a lady in this family, and that means I want you dressed well, do you understand?” she asks, glaring at me as she shoves it in my face.

I roll my eyes as I appraise it. The capped shoulders are a nice touch, especially with the frills on the edges. The color isn’t something I’d go for in my usual outfit, but, well, black and grey isn’t exactly diverse. It’s a nice teal tone, but a bit darker. It works well with the mood of the season. I sigh as I give an approving nod.

“Does that mean yes, dear?” Mama asks.

“Yes, Mama, thank you for the dress,” I reply after a belabored sigh.

“There we go, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asks, “by the way, make sure you don’t report all our income, you know?”

“I know, Mama,” I reply, “just the stuff you pay yourself and pops.”

“There we go, that’s my girl,” she says as she ruffles my hair and begins to walk out of the apartment, “don’t forget it’s work tonight, Teresa.”

“I won’t, Mama!” I reply as I check the time. 3:36 means that I have about fifteen minutes before I’ve got to start changing into my kitchen outfit. I’m on pizza making duty tonight, none of the delivery stuff, Mama doesn’t believe in that on Sundays.

The Restaurant, il Pomodoro, wasn’t exactly bustling this time of day, but in a few hours, it would be, and that meant prepping ingredients. The sauce, especially, Mama was proud of, and while I wasn’t a master of it yet, she had taught me long enough that most people couldn’t tell the difference between our work. So once I’d put the apron and the cap on, into the kitchen it was, making the sauce.

Mama stood next to me, chopping the pepperoni, while I stirred the tomatoes around. Being a front was uncomplicated: we only made one thing, and we did it well: pizza. Lots of cash-only operations and it being a busy and well-operated establishment meant we had plenty of room for dad’s business money on the side to sneak in gradually.

“Mama,” I asked, once I had been stirring for a while, “did you get me other dresses?”

“Yes, Teresa, but I thought you didn’t have time for dresses,” she teased.

“Well, now I got plenty of time to hear about them, I mean, unless you want to talk about pizza instead,” I reply.

“Well, I might return some of them if you don’t like them, but I got you a sundress for later in the year, a shorter red one for if you meet any sweethearts, and a long black one, like the one I showed you. I know you like your black,” she says as she finishes chopping another chain.

“Thank you, Mama,” I say, smiling back, “those are some good options. I appreciate you’re being so calm and supportive about all this.”

“Pshhh, Teresa,” she replies, “it’s nothing, I bought all new clothes for your brothers, of course I’d do the same for my little girl.”

She comes over and pinches my cheeks before bringing out the onions. Soon after she’s got those chopped, the first order of the evening comes in from one of the waiters.

“I’ve got Rob covering for you for making the pizzas tonight, he needs to help out more here,” she says, “you wait tables tonight.”

“You sure, mama?” I ask.

“He’s a little bit less good at it than you, but the assholes coming in here on the Lord’s day deserve their pizza a little worse for the wear. C’mon now, get into your waiter clothes,” she says, pushing me out.

“Wait, mama,” I ask in whispers, “what happens if I, y’now, tonight?”

“There’s my old waitress dress in the closet, put it on if it’s an issue, we’re about the same size, I think,” she replies, “now get ready, young lady.”

I nod as I walk into the closet, lock the door behind me, and turn the light on. I gaze, on one hand, to the button-up shirt and pants that I’ve worn for years, and on the other, towards the dress that somewhere in my heart, I hope I get to wear tonight. But then again, it’s pretty rare to transform three nights early one month in, so I just accept that I’ll be wearing the mens’ clothes tonight.

I walk up to the guy we’ve hired, Luke, and ask, “We got any big reservations, or mostly Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah, there’s one for a party of twelve, but I can’t make the name out…Fish?”

“Ah, I’m sure we’ll figure it out when twelve people walk in the door at the same time, right? No biggie,” I reply, waving my hand as I walk off to grab the notepad and pen.

As I predicted, the first half of the evening is mostly uneventful, if a bit busy. I’m a bit rusty carrying things, so a few close calls with the wine glasses are had, but overall, not too much trouble. I look a few times to check the reservation time, and every time, I see that it’s coming up at 7:45. So, my luck, just as the clock hits 7:40, I feel a rumbling in my gut.

And of course, I see a crowd congregating in the outer doorway, slowly lumbering their way through. The old guy, in a bowler hat, looks kind of familiar, as if I’ve seen him at school before. But then, as I see another silhouette slip through the door, I realize I’ve definitely seen him before.

“Fischer party for 12,” Mr. Fischer says gruffly as I nod.

“Right, uh…” I trail off as I see Ottolina smirking at me from behind him, “I’ll show you to your seats right away.”

I walk as briskly through the corridors of the restaurant as I can without losing them, hoping to God I can be over with this sooner rather than later. I notice, quickly, that the person directly behind me is Ottolina. Lovely.

We soon arrive at the combined booths for the party, and I notice that Ottolina is letting everyone else slide in the booths first, so she can be right next to me. Lovely.

“Welcome to il Pomodoro, I’m Darren, and I’ll be your server tonight,” I say, wincing at my birth name.

I notice Ottolina nearly bursting out laughing, and it keeps all of my strength to keep from responding to her. I turn, instead, to her father, who is burying his mustachio’d face in the menu.

“We’ll start, if you don’t mind, young man, with a bottle of your Sauvignon Blanc,” he says.

“Certainly, sir,” I reply, taking his order down, “any specific brand?”

“Whatever tastes the best, I’m not the one I’m ordering for,” he replies gruffly.

Ottolina scowls in the background, probably hoping her father would remember what he’s obviously ordering for her. Whatever, remember the tip, Teresa, I chide myself.

“Alright, I’ll get that for you. Waters for everyone?” I ask as I make notes on my little pad.

The table seems to nod between themselves, more occupied with looking at the pizza menu than they are looking at me, except for Ottolina, who seems pleasantly surprised I’m not making a scene. I wink at her then walk away, nearly stumbling from the sudden return of the stomachache.

I manage to make it to the kitchen before collapsing, Rob and Mama turning aside from their dough-making to look at me. I begin to say something before I dry-heave on the floor, barely managing to not empty my guts.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s happening?” Rob asks.

“Hold on, sweetpea,” Mama replies, bending down towards me. She looks concerned before she begins to grin as she pinches my ear.

I yelp as I notice, she’s pinching my ear above where it normally is on my head. Crap. I know what that means, and on the night Ottolina is visiting the restaurant as well. I look up at Mama, nodding to signify I understand what’s happening.

As I run out of the room, I hear her call, “I’ll explain to Luke that a cousin of yours is stepping in after you were feeling ill. You know where to find the clothes, just don’t get your puke on them.”

I stumble into the closet and lock the door, stripping out of my outfit, barely making it before I start to feel the rest of the changes taking place. I brace myself against the wall as my legs shorten, forcing me to readjust myself. My hands and feet grow pads, and I gain a little height back as my legs go digitigrade.

I can understand why I passed out the first time, it’s not painful, but definitely weird. I feel my organs churning in my guts, and eventually, fur covering the rest of my body. Finally, my tail comes in, wagging, and…holy fuck, I’m back!