Chapter 4
I feel like I’ve been asleep for days. My mouth is as dry as a piece of cotton. I feel like I’ve been drugged, thoughts slip through my mind before I can identify them. A thousand thoughts buzzing in my head like angry bees, I want to swat them away but I can’t move. My body feels sluggish. The voices whisper to me, like a room full of people talking at once. I can’t understand any of them, but they press in on me, unseen hands pull at me. I try to scream, to tell them to stop but I can’t make any noise. I try to move but I can’t. The man in white reaches for me but dissipates as my dream dissolves into a wakeful reality. I feel myself being pulled away from him. At last I manage to open my eyes.
Everything around me is blurry, and I blink several times before the world comes into focus properly.
I’m on a large bed in an unfamiliar room.
It appears to be a sleigh bed, made of some kind of very dark wood. There’s not a lot else in this room besides the bed. Two night tables sit on each side. Two lamps hang from the ceiling down low near the head of the bed just above the night stands. There is a full length oval mirror standing in one corner. At the foot of the bed is some sort of chest or trunk. There is a blanket folded on top. Two sets of double doors hide the closets. I imagine them to be quite large, because there are neither dressers nor any other furnishing to store clothing in this room. The room is painted in a shade slightly darker than eggshell. The color makes me think of banana pudding for whatever reason and that makes my stomach rumble, reminding me that I haven’t had supper yet and I’m starving.
I hear Doyle’s footsteps sounding in the hall and my pulse speeds up, my memory of our last conversation flooding back over me.
He had been talking about his ‘condition’ which made him unable to go out in the sun.
“You’re a vampire.” I had joked and he had turned to me with an almost deadly look and congratulated me on my diagnosis and very politely told me I wasn’t as dumb as he thought.
And that… I believe… is when I passed out.
In retrospect I’ve noticed I’ve been passing out a lot lately. I think to myself as I feel myself coming back into full consciousness. I wonder if this is a new thing or if it is something that I lived with. Or if it was just the shock over Doyle’s unnerving behavior, I can’t tell.
Fear climbs from the pit of my stomach and up into my throat, as the footsteps get ever nearer. I think my heart will stop when he pops into the room.
“Hello there, beautiful lady! Awake now?” He says pleasantly, his voice showing a hint of accent. He smiles seductively as he walks toward me. I know I surely must be looking at him like I’ve seen a ghost but he doesn’t seem to notice. I wait for him to turn into a bat but when that doesn’t happen I wonder if it was all a joke. Perhaps it was all in my imagination since nothing seems to be amiss.
I notice that he has changed clothes and is now wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants and a muted blue polo shirt and a pair of dark brown leather casual oxfords. It feels a little weird seeing him in ‘normal’ clothes since I’ve only seen him in dress slacks, long sleeved shirts and ties. For a second I feel almost scandalized by this lack of formality. I hardly know him and seeing him minus his ‘doctor garb’ is almost like seeing him barely clothed. He sits down on the bed beside me and I stiffen as I feel the bed shift under his weight. This doesn’t feel right. None of it is right.
“So, feeling better?”
I nod but am unable to make the slightest bit of noise.
“I’m sorry; I suppose I pushed you too hard. I should have insisted that you come straight up to bed, but you seemed so excited about seeing the house and I had hoped it would help you remember something.” He dropped his eyes and traced the pattern on the comforter with his fingertip. “I’ve ordered from that Thai place you like so much. Just some soup and some of those spring rolls you are so fond of. Do you think you could eat?”
I am starving but suddenly the thought of food makes my stomach heave. I shake my head weakly.
“You must keep your strength up. Just try some of the chicken soup then.”
I don’t say anything. My mouth tastes bitter and I feel like I’m going to urp. But he stares at me with those weird blue eyes so I ask him if he feels like eating some soup.
Or does he only drink blood? My mind whispers and I swallow back another wave of nausea.
I knew this whole thing was too good to be true. The beautiful devoted doctor husband, the house over looking the city… if it seems too good to be true it probably is. Case in point- he’s sitting on the bed with me. Probably been lounging in his coffin while I’ve been sleeping off my… whatever… I wonder if I have bite marks on my neck.
“I suppose I could eat.” He says offhandedly. “I do like those egg rolls quite a bit.” He stands and stretches to his full height. He seems to tower over me. “I’ll go down and bring something up to you. Quick as a jiff.”
I try to gather my thoughts before he returns. Surely, that was just a joke. Maybe I just passed out before the ‘I’m kidding - hahahahaha’ part… I mean… there’s no such thing. Right?
I feel unsteady on my feet and find my way to the window. The city sparkles below me. I wonder if I could climb out this window and survive… if I ever need to. There’s a tiny bit of grass before a sheer drop off.
I hear footsteps again and turn only to see a shadow dart by the door.
Now the house is haunted. Great! My husband is a vampire; there are ghosts in the hall. What next? I eye a closet door nervously and wonder if the boogie man is in there. I raise a shaky hand to my head to feel if I have a fever. I don’t but I’m pretty sure I’m losing my marbles.
I return to bed just as my vampire husband enters the room with a tray.
“I think I put it in the microwave for too long.” He says as he puts the tray down on the bedside table. He picks an egg roll up in his long fingers and holds it out to me. “Have one while the soup cools. It’s boiling,”
I take it from him and look at it like it could be poison. What am I supposed to do? Throw it in his face and run for the door? I wouldn’t make it out. This place is straight down. This is stupid. My husband is not a vampire. My house is not haunted. I have amnesia. Not an everyday occurrence but it could happen. I’m just letting the drugs and my imagination take control.
I hold the egg roll to the point of embarrassment. He’s watching me in expectation with one eyebrow arched up.
He thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am.
I take a deep breath and bite into it and am surprised at how good it tastes. He sits beside me and stretches out gingerly as if he’s afraid the bed would break if he moves too carelessly.
“What time is it?” I ask him trying my best to seem normal.
He pulls his iPhone out of one of the various pockets and checks it.
“Oh, it’s very early. It’s not even midnight yet.” He lies back on the bed and lets out an exhausted sigh. Guilt twinges me. I know he must be exhausted.
“Midnight.” I squeak and try not to choke on my egg roll. ‘That’s early?”
“For us it is. Night people that we are.” He rolls onto his side beside me and props up on his elbow to look at me. He is so handsome, it is unnerving for him to look at me this way.
“Because of your condition.” I manage before I choke and he leans back and hands me a Styrofoam cup with a straw. I look at it and wonder what’s inside but I’m afraid of what he might say.
“Sweet tea.” He answers my unasked question. “With enough sugar to send you into a diabetic coma. Just like you like it.” He laughs and watches me drink it until he suddenly remembers our prior conversation and picks it back up. “Yes, because of my condition.”
I take a swig of my sweet tea as if it would bolster my courage.
“How does that work exactly?” I ask and he shrugs.
“Albinism?” He picks another egg roll out and hands it over and I almost choke again.
“What?” I ask just to be sure. “You have what?”
“Albinism.” He repeats and relief runs through me.
He starts to say something else but I interrupt him.
“Albinism.” I say- “Did you say albinism?” I stammer. He can’t be albino. Aren’t they like sickly white with white hair and red eyes…
Red eyes.
Ohhhh…
I’m an idiot.
“Yes. Surely you know what that is.” He cocks his head to one side and gives me a knowing look. “I mean, you didn’t think I was actually a vampire did you?”
What? A vampire? Heck no! I laugh nervously and wave my hand at him and tell him I was just making a joke. He gives me that same look- like he knows I’m lying and it hurts his feelings a little.
That was exactly what I thought.
He holds up his phone so the blank screen can show his reflection. “See? Here’s my reflection. I don’t sleep in a coffin. I can’t turn into a bat. I don’t sparkle, suck blood or fight werewolves. Yes, I can go in the sun but not without sleeves and lots of sun block. Otherwise, I would blister within a few minutes. I actually don’t prefer it. It makes me nauseated. I work third shift just because it’s easier. Oh, and yes a stake through the heart will probably kill me. But it would probably kill you too.” He looks at me with a sly smile. “It’s okay; it’s not the first time someone’s called me a vampire.” His voice is almost a whisper but it conveys an underlying disappointment in my assumptions. “I’ve—had to live with that sort of teasing my whole life. I’m—I’m used to it. Really.”
What he doesn’t say is “But not from you.” I can hear it in his voice. Someone else might be able to say that without it hurting him but not the woman he had slept in a chair beside for the last month. Not from his wife.
He laughs, but I don’t find any of it funny right now. “Look. It’s rare, but other than that I’m normal.” He grins. “Mortal.”
I feel like a slug. If there were a rug, I could crawl under it.
“An albino with a wife who has amnesia.” He laughs at the absurdity that has become our lives.
“Aren’t we a pair?” He comments as he hands me the mug with the soup inside and I drink it because I don’t know what else to say.
“Feeling better now?”
“Sort of.” I breathe in relief. Albinism. Okay I can handle this. Much better that the undead alternative. “Could you tell me about it then?” I offer and he seems satisfied.
“Well I have oculocutaneous albinism and photo phobia. Which is why I don’t like the sun so much. It’s not that I can’t go out in the sun. I have to take precautions or else I’ll fry, and I have to wear sunglasses in bright light. Which is why I prefer working at night…My vision is pretty good though- which is a medical oddity in itself. Most people like me are very nearly blind.”
I sip the soup thoughtfully and try not to look at him as he continues. I feel like such a fool.
“In the summer, I don’t go out much here. If it were a cooler climate I probably would but Tennessee is hot in the summer time. I have to wear long sleeves and a hat and sunglasses. People always ask me questions. In the winter it is not so bad. It does get cold here in the winter and people don’t pester me about my choice of attire.”
“So why did you come to Tennessee? Why not go someplace where you could have a more normal life?” Like Alaska. Don’t they have night for like six months or something? I place the soup on the bedside table and look over at him and he puts his hand over mine then brings it to his lips.
“Because my dear. Tennessee was where you were.”
My heart melts. Right then. I can feel it running all over my bed. Right in that moment, I know I could very well fall in love with this man.
The fuzzy feeling remains until the soup is finished and the stack of egg rolls is nothing but flaky crumbs stuck to the plate.
I yawn and he reluctantly sits up.
“I think it’s time to get you ready for bed.”
Bed.
With him. This stranger. My husband.
I suddenly feel very awkward. My stomach twists itself into knots.
“Come, I will show you where you keep your things.”
He pulls me from the bed and strides across the room. He flings open the left closet door revealing a massive walk in closet.
He looks back at me and then holds out his hands in a ta-da gesture. “Here’s where you keep all your things.” He says proudly but then looks at me unsurely. “As to the exact location of your sleeping clothes… I have no idea.” He looks back at the closet hopelessly then back at me and his expression lights up. “You could always sleep nude.”
I feel the heat in my face and he apologizes for being so crude.
We stand there awkwardly. Well, at least I do. He doesn’t have any reason to feel awkward. To him, I’m the same woman he married. He knows everything about me. He’s completely comfortable with me.
But to me – he’s a first date. Maybe not even a first date. I’ve only just seen him in his casual clothes for the first time just a few minutes earlier. I’m not ready to sleep with him in the nude. I’m not ready to sleep in the same bed with him, clothed, unclothed or otherwise.
I twist my hands in embarrassment and he finally gets the hint.
“Oh, well, I’ll leave you alone.” He says and pushes a door open to the left of me. “There’s the restroom. You can… whatever. I think I’ll go for a swim.”
He leans close to me, but stops. “May I kiss you?”
I chew my lip but nod. As nervous as he makes me, my mind continually reminds me that he’s my husband. He slept in a chair by my bed for a month not knowing if I would live or die. I could at least let him kiss me.
He gives me a quick peck on the cheek and then goes to retrieve a towel.
“I want you in bed within 30 minutes.” He mock orders me. “You need your rest.”
I salute. “Yes sir!” I play along and he saunters out of the room.
“Just call out if you need anything.” He looks over his shoulder and gives me a smile. “What is that you country girls say? Just holler?”
Just holler. That sounds so familiar.
I say okay and step into the closet. I run my fingers over clothes I’ve never seen. I open up several drawers until I find what looks to be lingerie. I hold the frilly, lacy things up to the light and my face turns red and my stomach twists in apprehension. Finally I find a pair of too short knit shorts and a v neck tee shirt but it is the most decent thing in the sleepwear department.
I dig my toothbrush out of my travel bag and ready myself for bed. When I finally climb under the covers my eyes are drooping and I feel like I’ve climbed a mountain.
The sheets are crisp and clean; like it hasn’t been slept in for a while. I wonder when Doyle slept here last. I had asked him to come home last night and get some rest but I wonder if he slept somewhere else besides our bed. I yawn and decide it is not too bad; the bed is comfortable and I fall asleep almost instantly.
I doze in and out and float on dreams until I feel a presence near me. I turn to see Doyle moving the pillow.
He is wearing a pair of blue flannel pajama pants and a white tee shirt. Even in his sleeping clothes he looks great. I wonder what on Earth I’m doing with a man like this.
“Don’t worry honey. I’ll sleep on the couch. I know you’re not comfortable…”
But despite my earlier worries, I don’t want him to go.
I grab his arm.
“No. Stay. I need you… to be close to me.” I stammer not really able to give words to how I feel. Perhaps not completely comprehending how I feel. Somewhere inside me are all the memories of our lives together. I can almost
feel them but not quite.
Reluctantly or not quite as reluctantly as he acts, he pulls the covers back and crawls in beside me. He clicks the lights off as I lay huddled in my far corner, my back to him.
He sighs, and I know what he means. This doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel natural. I don’t remember with my mind but it seems my body remembers being close to my husband’s body. I turn to face him.
“How do we sleep, usually?” I ask him.
I can hear the playfulness in his voice. “Nude usually.”
I fling my arm at him in the darkness and he laughs. “What? We do!”
“Well.” I can feel my embarrassment in my face. “It ain’t gonna happen tonight!” I growl and he laughs again. I like the sound of his laughter, though; it makes me feel like there’s something good still left in my otherwise screwed up life.
“Turn your back to me.” He instructs me and then spoons behind me. I can feel his warmth through my thin tee shirt. He puts one arm under my head and the other he drapes across my waist, just at my hips. “This.” He whispers in my ear. “Is how we usually start off.”
And where do we end up? I wonder to myself as a small shiver runs up my spine.
I feel him comb my hair away from my neck and I feel his breath as he whispers.
“I won’t rush you. You are safe with me. Not until you are ready. You will ask when you’re ready. Not until then.”
I smile to myself drowsily and an errant thought passes through my consciousness before I sleep.
A vampire has to be invited in you know.
I push the thought away as so much silliness.
“Go to sleep honey.” He purrs from behind me and pulls me closer to his body. For a second, I doubt that will ever happen but I slip into darkness nonetheless.
The Life I Left Behind Page 5
