by A. L. Singer
“What?” was all I could say in response. I felt confused and disappointed. Sorin’s voice affected me so deeply; I couldn’t imagine it changing. I didn’t want to.
Sorin leaned against the opposite hallway wall, matching my stance by crossing his arms. “I hear so much more than you do in someone’s voice, Mia,” he continued to explain. “You hear obvious accents; you notice words that may not be used in this region or country. I hear all of that and so much more. My kind can pick up the slightest change in pitch. It takes very little effort for me to learn a language and even the slang used in that area.” He stopped his explanation, looked down at himself, and then back at me. He pushed himself off the wall, uncrossed his arms, and lightly smiled. “We mimic with ease … even a human’s body language or hand gestures.”
I realized my mouth was open in response to everything he’d just said. I pressed my lips together and went to the kitchen for glass of water. I drank it, put the glass in the sink, and then turned and leaned against the sink behind me. Sorin sat on his usual stool across the marble countertop. “So it is like an ability to adapt to your surroundings. … So that you blend with humans?” I was never sure how to phrase my questions or concerns.
“We do not realize we do it most times.” He shrugged. I smiled and shrugged back, but exaggerated the gesture. He grinned and looked amused.
I saw a thought cross his mind, a realization of something. He looked at me, doubt filling his expression. “You changed the subject,” he accused, still playing it over in his mind.
“What?” I responded, trying to sound innocent but knowing I would fail.
His eyes grew larger, and his voice became a little louder. “You did intentionally change the subject. … Just now, outside.” He was surprised once he had confirmed it. “I am impressed … and humbled. That is not an easy feat.”
I gave up on denying it any further. “Yes, I managed to change the subject. It is something I have always been good at. Not as smoothly with my parents, but easily with everyone else.” My voice held no remorse for what I had done.
His expression smoothed it all away. “You can tell me anything, Mia. You know that … don’t you?”
I knew it was true, as unnerving as it was. A part of me felt as if I could confide in him—tell him anything—and he wouldn’t judge me. “I am feeling so unlike myself, Sorin. I am usually very in control of my emotions. I can go months without crying. I have always been very independent. Even as a child, I wanted to do everything myself. I only ask for help when I truly need it, and even then it’s hard for me to do.” I took a calming breath, pushing myself to press on. “My mother chose my name—Mia Zoa—it means ‘my life’. I don’t know why out of all the names in the world she chose this one for me. I asked her once, and she simply said she wanted a name for her daughter that stood for strength and independence. Said it in such a way. … Like she was this weak woman who wanted more for her daughter. But my mother was never weak. She always pushed me to be self-sufficient and have confidence in myself. But she never neglected me in any way … just gave me the freedom to learn and grow into who I am today.” My eyes started to water, and I felt annoyed. I fought the tears and reluctantly resumed sharing everything I was feeling. “Only now, I feel like a completely different person. I have become a sobbing, needy basket case. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin.” I looked at the floor and front of me. “I haven’t had a man … in my life … who I—” Words failed me. “My last relationship was back in high school, and I never felt like I couldn’t live without Gavin. Just really loved who he was and who we were together.”
I looked up at Sorin, and my heart skipped a beat. He sat there staring at me, hanging on my every word. “I don’t know what this is … between us. But this is overwhelming for me at times; really most of the time. I desire your presence to the point of … when you were just across the backyard I felt it was too far away from me. I am not used to wanting someone so intensely.” I reemphasized what I’d already shared. My chest tightened, and I whispered, “This isn’t right.”
A mixture of emotions filled his face. “It is okay to want and need someone, Mia. It does not make you weak or insecure. I will stay as long as you want me.” His focus turned to the fridge. “Not much left in there, I assume.” He sounded drained all of a sudden. “I think it is time you go beyond your backyard or front door.” There was definite concern in his voice. “You should call Jennifer tomorrow; I am sure she is worried about you. I convinced her nights ago that I would look after you and keep you safe. That you needed some space for a few days. It appears to have worked. Other than a few phone calls, she has kept her distance. However, it would be a reassuring to Jennifer if you reached out to her before your undisturbed week is up.” He had heard what Jennifer promised me. “You just discarded almost all of your refrigerator, Mia. … Allow me to take you to dinner.” He looked a little hopeful.
I hadn’t left the house since the funeral. It had to be past midnight by now. I looked toward the wall where the clock used to hang, considering bartering dinner out for an immediate trip to the grocery store. I felt putting off any human contact for another day sounded good. I could manage the cashier at checkout, but that was about it. I nervously fidgeted as my stomach growled. “We true humans need things like food, sunlight, and social interaction.” My voice was full of sarcasm. “That is what you’re trying to convey … correct?”
All the stress left his face, and a mischievous grin slowly grew in its place. My pulse quickened, and I became apprehensive. “It is the food I am most concerned about, Mia. I believe your refusal to listen to your body and sate your hunger is beginning to affect mine. As far as social interaction—” His tone turned satiny smooth, and I slowly blinked. “I am not opposed to being the only one that you socially interact with.” He leaned forward on his stool, and I felt blood rush to my face. This was becoming unlike him; it was so forward. “If you wish to continue avoiding the sunlight … Sorin means ‘the sun’. And Mia. …” His eyes slowly slid down my body and returned to my face, slightly glazed. “I could become your personal sun. Cause your skin to warm everyday if you want.” He spoke in that wonderful voice that made my head light, my surroundings a blur.
A part of me felt compelled to close the gap between us. To become lost in the moment and experience what he suggested. He was looking at me in a way that was very similar to the way he had looked while on the phone with Monique. Sorin looked alert, but certainly not in total control of himself. I looked away, knowing it was my only chance of clearing my head. I took a few deep breaths and rubbed my temples.
When I eventually looked up at Sorin he was staring at the marble countertop in front of him, looking very unhappy. About his previous conduct, I assumed. “Sorin?” I said quietly. He kept his focus on the countertop, refusing to look at me. I repeated myself, stepping toward him as I said his name. He was a blur, suddenly on the opposite side of the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” I asked softly.
He looked out the window, his back full of tension. “You are experiencing feelings and emotions you have not felt in years. … And others you have never felt before. It may be hard for you to believe … but it is the same for me.” He paused. “You feel frustrated at not being able to control your emotions … and the thought of needing someone.” He stopped and shifted his position.
“Tell me, Sorin, what’s frustrating you?” I hoped to coax it out of him.
“I feel that I am only complicating your life further. Possibly doing more harm than good, Mia. You did not ask for this … for me.” His voice had filled with guilt. “I feel a constant struggle within me—one I cannot begin to explain to you.” His voice lowered, and his shoulders fell.
I crossed the kitchen and interweaved the fingers of my right hand with the fingers of his left. I lay my head against his upper arm. “Let me decide what I want and need.”
He squeezed my hand in response. “That is just it, Mia. Every night I spend with you … every day
I lay next to you—” His arm flexed against me. “The struggle to allow you to decide what you want becomes more difficult. With little effort, I could persuade you into a new life with me.” He said it with disdain toward himself.
A chill crawled up my spine, and I backed away from him. I’d never felt truly afraid of him, but the thought of his forcing a decision on me—prolonging my life, being forever connected to him through a bond I was incapable of comprehending the depths of—it was too much. It was a decision I was nowhere near ready to make, and anxiety spread through me.
I stepped away from him, protectively crossing my arms over my upper body. My voice shook. “You would do that … decide my future for me?” I shook my head slowly in disbelief.
He turned to face me, pure anguish in his eyes. “I feel I chose your path for you years ago.” His voice was a rough whisper.
With that, he turned and walked away.
Chapter 15
I just stood there, frozen and unable to move. My mind screamed for me to stay where I was, but every other part of me ached to follow him. The look in his eyes tore at my heart, and the tone of his voice kept replaying in my head. Sorin did not want to turn me against my will. Yet the desire seemed almost beyond his control. He told me it wouldn’t be in my immediate future. That had given me a sense of peace. It was possible, if not likely, our concepts of time were drastically off. The urge to follow him only grew. I walked slowly to the steps and stopped. I could feel him watching me. I turned to the front room: still dark. Sorin’s eyes caught the smallest reflection of light from the kitchen. A beautiful icy periwinkle looked back at me. I wondered if a part of him knew I wouldn’t have been comfortable lying next to him right now. I lit a candle on the mantel.
He stood, arms crossed tightly, face still full of emotions. I curled up in the corner of the sofa farthest from him, pulling the blanket over myself. Sorin looked down at the blanket and then at me. We both knew it wasn’t being used to keep me warm. I wondered if he could put my mind at ease. Maybe help me understand what he was feeling. “Sorin, talk to me … help me understand.”
He continued to stand, looking at some unimportant place on the wall. “It is hard for me to explain it to you, Mia. The desire to be near you … was something I resisted for years. I had to go to the other side of the world to feel the pull toward you lessen. All the time feeling a part of me was void.” I just sat and listened, afraid if I made a sound he would desist. “Thankfully, year after year passed and … it became bearable. But when your … Gavin was so abruptly taken from you, it took everything I had to stay away and not seek you out.”
I looked down, remembering random moments with Gavin and then the moment when I’d placed flowers on his gravestone. The thoughts of him were bittersweet. Now that years had passed, I realized a part of me still loved him, but it was young love that held no real future. Maybe it always had been, and I’d been deceiving myself by thinking I would have spent the rest of my life with him. The truth was, I really didn’t know for sure. The love was real; the future, tenuous at best. The future always is. I had loved Gavin’s companionship, friendship, and acceptance of who I was. I had missed that these past years, but not beyond what I could endure.
I looked up at Sorin, but he had moved to the corner of the room where the light hardly touched him. I relaxed a little, stretched my legs, and let the blanket simply cover my lap. I propped an elbow on the back of the sofa and rested my head against my hand. I almost asked why this past week had led to a different outcome. But I knew the answer instantly. The pain I’d felt this past week was far beyond anything I felt when I lost Gavin. I was confident it was much different for Sorin this time also. Years ago, it was only my pain he’d felt. This time, he felt his own pain for the loss of my mother, as he’d told me. “And now that you are here with me?” I asked at last, wondering again about the constant struggle inside him.
I could hardly make out his form, but his eyes lifted from the floor and rested on me. “It would be so different if you could feel … farther than this pain you keep yourself enclosed in.” He spoke softly, cautiously. But Sorin’s words still stung. He quickly continued. “I know that the hurt you are feeling is unnecessary.” His voice turned to silk, beautiful and smooth. “I could lessen your pain.” My body eased farther into the cushions, and I gently rested my head on my arm. “I can help you through this, Mia … offer you a new life.” I closed my eyes, and his voice continued to caress my skin. “A new beginning could be yours, if you want it. I understand this is. …” Sorin paused. When he resumed speaking, his voice abruptly changed. “If you could only feel what I do.” It was an alluring plea. “For decades, I have felt incomplete without you.” My chest tightened at the sincerity I could so clearly hear. “Every part of me wants to be near you, wants to protect you. Offer you everything I am and all you could ever want. There is not a request I would deny you.” I opened my eyes. A shade of silver and violet greeted me. “Trust me, Mia … let me in. Tomorrow is a new day. Let us face it together, side by side. Allow me to be there for you whenever you need me. We will greet morning and not worry about the night that follows.”
It sounded so easy—one day at a time. Maybe it was the best approach. “One day at a time?” I finally said aloud. Sorin slowly walked to my side and held out his hand. I knew it represented more than a simple gesture of assistance. It was an agreement. To accept a future, one that currently included him. Without a second thought, I draped my legs over the side of the sofa and took his hand. In that moment, I think we both felt a glimmer of hope. I thought of it as a step to reclaiming my life. I felt like Sorin interpreted it as a possible future with me in it. I kept my hand in his, even after I stood and led him upstairs.
Once back in my room, Sorin decided to take a shower. When he pulled his black suitcase out from under my bed, I mumbled. “You don’t have to hide it under my bed anymore.” He softly smiled. “The dresser in the guest room is empty,” I offered. His small smile faded, and I instantly knew he had misunderstood. He closed his luggage quickly and started for the door, reaching out and taking a pillow from my side of the bed as he passed it. I moved from the bed, intending on stopping him in the doorway. But he had already entered the guest room by the time I crossed into the hallway. He must have increased his pace once he left my room.
I walked into the guest room, feeling bad as soon as I saw his face. He thought I was asking him to leave my room. I made my way to his side and sat on the bed next to his suitcase. “You are not banished,” I teased. “Just your belongings. …I have never shared my personal space with anyone like this before. It is going to take some getting used to.” His face lit up once I corrected the misunderstanding. “Just keep your things in here and use this shower.” He took a small pile of clothes and headed to the bathroom.
I went back to my room and waited for him to return. It was still hours before sunrise, and I thought of questions I had yet to ask him. I looked at the heavy fabric over my windows and decided to cover all the windows in the house. That way, Sorin could walk freely, despite time of day. I was daydreaming of colors and textures to cover the windows with to block out the sunlight when he quickly entered the room. He lit all the candles. When the bedroom light shut off and changed to candlelight I pulled the comforter back for him. Sorin joined me in bed, tucking his hands behind his head.
I rolled to my right side and curled against him. “You’re so warm.” I blurted out. I instantly felt silly at the obvious observation. “I mean you are never cold, just cool. But right now you feel really warm.” I felt a little better after explaining.
“You put anything in hot water and it warms,” he teased.
I rested my left arm on his chest and started to inquire about the rules of sunlight. “Do you have to stay totally out of the sun?” I asked. “What happens if you do go out in the sunlight?” I was really just wondering out loud.
He untucked his left arm and delicately touched my bare arm that lay across him. �
�Do you want a detailed explanation or the shortened version?” His voice was light, warning me it was complicated, maybe even gory.
“I want to know everything … you are offering your lifestyle as an option for my future.” I felt like I should learn everything I could about vampirism. So he explained in detail all there was to know. As he spoke his fingers caressed my arm, hand, and fingertips. Every word he said intrigued me. As long as vampires stayed out of direct sunlight they aged extremely slowly. Something about the body’s reaction to the sun. I thought it sounded similar to photosynthesis. His fingertips studied the lines of my palm, and it relaxed me further. I continued to listen to his voice, low and smooth. I remembered the first day I met him and was sure it was early evening when I passed out. It had rained that day, with minimal sun throughout the daylight hours. “But on very cloudy days?” I asked, checking my reasoning.
“We can walk in the sun anytime we choose.” Sorin’s tone clearly insinuated it wasn’t without cost.
“But?” I pressed.
He hesitated, and I took his hand, resting it against my cheek. He explained further, but his skin touching mine just made the words seem far away. Avoiding the sun all together was best. The stronger the sun, the more drastically vampires’ blood reacted. They would age drastically as their bodies made up for the exposure they had been deprived of, and it was painful. For a young vampire, pure agony and a loss of years was the worst that could happen. For a vampire who had been a part of this world for more than a normal lifetime, it would possibly mean death possibly. Sorin reached up and released the drape near his head, and I did the same on my side. We lay for a while and watched the roses dance on the ceiling.
“So … dinner tomorrow night … Italian?” His voice sought approval on choice of cuisine.
“I grew up on Italian.” I lightly smiled and then added flatly, “It better be authentic.”
