by R. M. Webb
Nor is it awkward right now with all of us just sitting in silence, wishing someone would say something. I’ve always been the conversational glue between the three of us. Without me, Max and Mia just kind of stumble around each other. But I don’t feel like talking right now. What I want to do is stand up and run away. Push through those doors, free myself from this situation and never look back. This is what happens when you let someone in. They start messing things up.
I stand up after sitting for all of thirty seconds, glaring at Mia. The chair is too heavy and kind of bumps and scrapes along behind me. Both Max and Mia jump. “I’m going to go get my coffee.”
Without waiting for a reply, I turn on my heel and head up to place my order with Mr. Sexy Coffee Man who’s watching Mia with Max with no small amount of disappointment.
Well that’s funny.
He’s just as interested in her as she is in him. Of course, he gets to know her name, since he has to ask her for it each time she places an order. If I wasn’t so mad at her right now, I’d be more than excited to tell her when I sat back down. As it stands, I might keep this interesting little tid-bit to myself.
“House blend? Black?” Mr. Sexy Coffee Man asks me when I reach the counter. He really is good looking. I can see why Mia likes him. Although the whole barista thing puts me off a little even though I know it shouldn’t. He seems old enough for a real job. Of course, who am I to judge? I’m old enough for a real job, too.
“Actually,” I say, studying the menu, “I’m in the mood for something a little more exotic today.”
He pulls his lips down and his eyebrows up in a surprised frown. “You don’t say.”
“I do say.”
Actually, I hate all the fluffy coffee drinks most people come here to buy. I wish everyone would just wake up and admit that they like coffee flavored milkshakes and not actual coffee. Regardless, I’m not eager to return to the table. Not in the least. My standard black coffee takes all of one minute to end up in my hands. I order something blended and sweet and covered in whipped cream and wait at the counter while Mr. Sexy Coffee Man buzzes around putting it together.
It doesn’t take him nearly as long to make as I’d like. I offer him a smile when he hands over my drink and his eyes flit over to Mia before he looks back to me and offers me a smile in return. Those two really would be cute together. Mia and the coffee man.
I steel myself and head back to Mia and Max, two people who are definitely not cute together. Biting my straw between my teeth to keep everything I want to say from coming out of my mouth, I take my seat and try not to snarl. There’s nothing wrong with Max. He’s really very sweet. And he really does … did? I’m not sure … love me very much. And let’s be honest. I loved him very much back. I just … forever’s a really long time. And I’m not in the market to have my heart broken.
“Look. I can tell you’re not exactly thrilled to see me.” My heart trips a little at the hurt in Max’s voice. “But Mia said you needed my help and …” Well that solidifies the whole did versus does question. Max is still in love with me. At least enough to want to come to my rescue.
Again, I don’t know what to say. It’s a strange feeling, being caught up short like this. “I’m fine, Max.” I can’t quite meet his eyes when I say it.
This whole reunion clearly isn’t going according to Mia’s plan but I’m not really sure how else she saw it playing out. I can’t believe she didn’t cancel on him after our discussion this morning. “Rachel,” she begins and I glare at her again. This is unforgivable, but it must really be important to her because she continues. “You’re not fine.”
I have no response other than a childish ‘am too,’ so I stick my straw in my mouth and suck down the sickly sweet concoction I ordered. How do people actually like this? Mia takes my silence as acquiescence and barrels forward with what’s quite clearly a planned speech. She talks about my lack of money. About how it’s clear I’m losing weight. She mentions how surprised she was to find me cooking an entire breakfast this morning and I consider telling her that I’d bought it in preparation for my celebratory ‘starting my own business breakfast’ but decide that it’d only be fuel to her fire. She talks about weeks of Ramen for dinner and resumes that go unanswered. “And on top of all that, the agency hasn’t had a job for you in a week. I’m really worried about you.”
I can’t argue with a single thing she said and, to make matters worse, tears sting my eyes because the truth is, I’m really on the edge of being in trouble. Money is tight, and I’m running out of options. The temp jobs pay better than a fast food job, but only when there’s a job for me to go to. The thought of the last four years slaving away at my business degree culminating in me donning a McDonald’s uniform does nothing to wash away the tears threatening to loose themselves on the conversation. I take another long drink of my coffee and that relaxes the tension in my throat and the tears recede just a bit.
“Is that all true, Rachel?” Max’s voice is quiet, filled with concern. His fingers twitch and I think it’s because he wants to touch me. But I don’t want him to touch me because then I really might lose it. The familiar feel of his skin on mine, the memories of our fingers intertwined as we held each other close and watched TV or walked hand in hand through the city at night. Max always shared my love of twilight falling on the city.
“She’s making it sound much worse than it is.” I manage all of that without so much as a crack in my calm exterior and if either of them noticed how close I was to tears just a second ago, they have the grace not to mention it.
I can’t imagine either of them missed the tears.
They’re both too good for me.
Especially because I know the only way I’m getting out of here is by making a scene. They’ve showed such grace and restraint and genuine concern for my well-being and I’m going to reward them by throwing it in their face and running away. Because love isn’t a good thing. If I let these people love me this much and if I let myself love them this much in return, we’re all going to end up hurt and broken because of it.
“Maybe I am making it worse than it actually is,” says Mia, making it nearly impossible for me to blow up and walk away like I want to.
Everything’s balanced in this moment. Waiting on my reaction. Do I give in to my petty desire to lash out or do I soften myself and show how vulnerable I am? That word, right there. Vulnerable. It ties so disgustingly to weak. I’m not weak. I’m fine.
I sigh. “Look, you guys are great for worrying about me, but really, I’m going to be ok.” I catch each of their eyes and do my best to look like I’m telling the truth. And then I stand up and I realize that I’m angry. Angry at Mia for making me feel vulnerable. Angry at Max for showing up and pretending he cares. Angry that I wasted my waning money on this disgusting coffee. I want out of here and out of here now.
But there’s one thing I have to do first. I march up to the barista who’s leaning on the counter making sad eyes at Mia and ask him his name. He’s surprised, but he gives it to me.
“Mia?” I call out across the crowded coffee shop. “Mr. Sexy Coffee Man’s name is Elijah.” I watch Mia’s face turn crimson and a couple other customers cover their giggles with their hands before I turn on my heel and march out the door.
Chapter 6
Serves her right. How dare she confront me like that? Set me up and ambush me? If she’s utterly mortified and doesn’t know how to handle knowing Mr. Sexy Coffee Man’s name then she totally deserves it. And if Max is embarrassed to be seen with her while the whole coffee shop giggles, well then it serves him right, too.
I don’t even know where I’m going. I’ve got hours before twilight, that time when the sun hovers over the skyline, setting the city on fire just before it puts itself to bed. That’s when I want to head to Club Diablo. It’s my favorite time of day and it only seems fitting that I look for my vampire during my favorite time of day. Plus, it’ll give me enough daylight to make my way there, but darkne
ss will fall shortly after I arrive. Perfect. I want everything to be perfect when I find him, when I ask him to make me a vampire so I can feel like this for all the rest of my days.
I wander the city, oscillating between fuming over Mia’s betrayal and starting to feel just the teeniest bit bad for what I did to her. She’s so sweet and kind of introverted. The scene I left her in is very close to being her worst nightmare.
No. I’m not ready to forgive her. The mere fact that she doesn’t believe that I’m ok, the mere fact that she’s worried about me … oh, I don’t have words for it! Of course I’m ok! I’m always ok. I can take care of myself. I don’t need her trying to take care of me and I certainly don’t need Max trying to take care of me. Those two can just go take care of each other for all I care.
Well, now, that just sounds funny. Really childish and really funny. Laughter takes over me and I stop stomping around the sidewalks to clutch onto the back edge of a bench while I lose myself to a bout of hiccupping laughter. I’ve got to look half insane but no one pays me any attention. One more reason to love the city. Where else would an entire river of pedestrians side-step a crazy young woman half-laughing, half-crying while holding onto a bench for dear life?
That’s right. I’m crying. My laughter is giving way to the tears that have been building up ever since last night. Of course, the moment I don’t think I can hold them back any longer is right now, while I’m out here where everyone can see and I can make a spectacle of myself. Somehow, I manage to sit down on the bench and I put my head in my hands and work hard on biting back the tears. Now is not the time for drama and self-pity.
I can look at all the scary things later, when I’m alone, when I’m ready to face them. But now? While I’m in public? No thank you. I’m stronger than that.
Thank goodness the moment’s passing. It’s like the tears were carried away by the people who were near me when they started. Their apathy inadvertently lends me strength. If just one of them had stopped to ask me if I was alright, I might have crumbled. But no one did. And so I’m fine.
You’re gonna feel different for a few days. The vampire’s words echo through my mind, weaving themselves into all the emotion I’m fighting.
In all this craziness, cooking breakfast, getting myself ready, discovering Mia’s ambush, I’d forgotten to take advantage of all the different I’m supposed to be feeling. I have hours yet until I want to be at what used to be Club Diablo. What better place to spend those hours than right here? For the first time since I sat down, I take in my surroundings. Somehow, I’d managed to get myself to one of the little wooded spots interspersed throughout the city. My bench sits underneath a series of trees. Sunlight filters through the bright autumn leaves, falling to the cement in a pattern reminiscent of lace. People stride by, each very busy going about living their lives, hurrying from here to there, jabbing fingers into cell phones, striking sharp staccato rhythms with their heels against the pavement.
And here I sit, outside all that. Nowhere to be. No one important. Just a young girl on a bench in the park, wiping away the remnants of her tears. How many girls have sat on this very bench, gathering their thoughts and hiding their tears? In a city like this, I’m sure my story repeats daily. Nothing special about me.
I let my thoughts give way to sensation, pay very little attention to the worries and concerns and what-nows jiggling in my head and just listen. See. Feel. The difference my vampire talked about is glorious. This is life as it was meant to be experienced. It’s like I’ve lived with blinders on my eyes and cotton in my ears, gloves on my hands, for my whole existence. How can I ever go back to living like that?
A cool breeze lifts my hair from my cheek and I snap back to reality. It’s the magic hour. The time when the sun sits on rooftops and lights blink on. I’ve been sitting on my bench for the entire afternoon and if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late getting to Club Diablo.
Late, late, late. My heels dig into the sidewalk, mimicking the sharp staccato of how many unnamed pedestrians that’d passed before me today. Of course I’m only going to be late by my own standards. My self-imposed deadline. The chances of my vampire actually being there - waiting for me - are next to zero. I work my way from the crowded part of the city out towards the warehouse district where the buildings are small and dirty and uniform in the worst way.
There’s broken windows and graffiti and trash caught in the wind rolling down the street. I’m very aware that I’m alone. The crowds have thinned until they dispersed and it’s just little old me all by myself in a part of the city that doesn’t come alive at twilight. In fact, the whole place grows more ominous as shadows lengthen, pooling on the ground and stretching out until they join hands with each other, until the entire area is in shadow.
I slow my pace, suddenly less intent on my destination and more intent on being able to hear anything that might be coming my way. Why aren’t the streets buzzing with traffic here? Just a few blocks back the way I came, the roads and sidewalks are clogged with people. Here? It’s just me and whoever is watching me from the darkened alleys and broken windows that are nothing more than gaping holes in the side of abandoned buildings.
An ever growing part of me wants to give up and go home. To chalk this little adventure up to a bad idea that could have gotten me killed and come back when the light of the sun will illuminate all the dark corners and I can laugh at all the things I thought I saw the way a child laughs at the pile of clothes he thought was a monster once he turns on the light. But just one thought of my vampire’s face, the realization that this might be my chance to learn his name, to ask him questions, to get another dose of the life in his veins and I know I’m strong enough to do this. I am the master of my fate. I will not be ruled by fear.
Up ahead, I see the old building that only last year was an inexplicably popular club. The words Club Diablo scrawl in broken neon bulbs over a door covered in graffiti. Maybe the danger of the area was part of its allure. The club an oasis of safety in the worst part of town. Now? With trash pushed up against its walls and windows broken, the once vibrant building looks just like the other squat warehouses here. Maybe worse because you can still see the remnants of what it used to be hiding underneath what’s it’s become.
I pick my way over a parking block, accidentally dislodging a plastic bag from where it clings to other bits of trash. The wind catches it and fills it and it billows like a balloon, one handle still caught amongst the rubbish. Fear creeps up my back, tiny little explosions of ice along my spine. Goosebumps erupt on my flesh and I shiver in the fading light. When I try the door, I’m almost disappointed to find it unlocked.
The inside of the club is in shambles. I smell urine and vomit and God knows what else hiding amongst the little piles of debris left by the people who camp here at night. Again, I consider leaving, but the last light of the day falls through the windows and stretch long and bright across the floor of Club Diablo. It makes me think of the way the morning sun reached out across my carpet. Makes me think of sausage and eggs and pancakes and icy lips and the sound of rock and the scent of snow in the pines.
I have to do this. I have to try to find him. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I didn’t at least try. I wander further into the large room, picking my way over the trash. The old furniture is still here, luxurious leather sofas defaced by the idiots who hang out here now. Fantastic tables and chairs and a bar that that would look magnificent in the light. I pull my flashlight out of my purse and study the expensive wood before continuing on. Behind the bar is the dance floor and I’m just crossing over it, crossing through the last remnants of waning light reaching through the window, when I hear the front door scrape open.
“Hello?” I can’t stop the word from squeaking through my tightened throat. Even I can hear the hope and the fear in my tremulous voice. I’m such a stupid girl, just like all the stupid girls in the horror movies, the ones who creep through the abandoned house towards the killer, calling out for her friend
s. My heart goes tripping through my chest.
“Hello?” A man’s voice echoes back, perfectly mimicking the hope and fear he’d heard in mine.
Could it be? I close my eyes and listen for the mountains. “Who’s there?”
“Who’s there?” I remember the way his lips had moved with mine last night, forming the words with me as I asked him how he found me. I want to race towards him, to catch a glimpse of that white blonde hair, those broad shoulders. I want to throw myself into his arms and feel the hard muscles of his body press against mine, to offer him my throat and feel the chill of his lips as he bends towards me.
“Rachel.” I jump. The voice is so much closer now. He crossed the entire club without making a sound.
I want to run, that’s for sure. But I’m not sure if I should run towards him or away from him. “Is that you?”
“Depends on whom you’re expecting.”
I need to see him. “Step into the light.”
“Step out of the light.”
My hands are trembling, hell my entire body is trembling. “Look, I’m looking for someone. I don’t know how to describe it, but I’m pretty sure you’re the guy I’m looking for.”
And then he steps into the last ray of sun and I can see how it glints in his hair. It’s him. My vampire.
“Why are you looking for me?” he asks.
“You’re real.”
“Of course I’m real.”
“I thought I dreamed you.” Why would I say that? I know last night wasn’t a dream. Don’t I? I slide my hand into the back pocket of my jeans, hooking one finger around my flashlight.
“Why are you here?”
Because I want to know your name. Because I want more of you. Because today is the first time in my entire life that I’ve felt alive and I want to keep feeling this way. But I don’t say that. It all sounds too desperate. I’d rather sound brave than desperate. “Everyone knows this is where you go to find a vampire. I didn’t think I’d actually find you.”
