Uncle Vampire

by Grant, Cynthia D.

  “Don’t mess around with that,” Uncle Toddy said. “It says right on it—”

  “—to call a technician. Yes, I can read.” Papa lost his balance and landed on his butt, and Richie laughed. Papa snarled: “You think that’s funny?” Richie said: “I’m laughing with you, not at you.” Papa said, “I’m not laughing!”

  Honey sensed the life raft drifting into dangerous waters.

  “Papa, there’s news on the radio,” she said. “I’ll go get mine. You can use it.”

  “That’s swell,” Papa said, “but the picture is terrible.”

  She shriveled like a whipped dog. Don’t hurt me.

  “She was just trying to help!” Richie threw down his fork.

  “Relax, everybody.” Uncle Toddy’s voice was smooth. “I slave all day over a hot microwave. The least you people can do is have the decency to eat this delicious dinner. Come sit down, Bill.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

  Mama sighed. And because the TV set wasn’t filling the room with sports scores or weather reports, her sigh exploded in the silence.

  I realized I’d heard that sigh all my life, as constant and familiar as my own breathing. It is the wind in the tree outside my bedroom window. A wind full of rain and storms.

  “Mmm,” Honey said, “the chicken looks fabulous.”

  What a trooper she is! That kid’s got spunk! Sharks are circling the life raft and she’s looking on the bright side, which happens to be the sun reflecting off their teeth.

  “It smells delicious, Uncle Toddy.” She held out her plate.

  I asked Richie how things were going at school.

  He snorted and rolled his eyes.

  Meanwhile, Papa was playing with the TV set. “Goddamn thing, it’s only three years old. You pay a lot of money and what do you get? Junk.”

  Uncle Toddy said, “Didn’t you get the extended warranty?”

  Papa loomed up beside the table like a whale. There he blows. “That’s the thing that really pisses me off! You’re standing there, ready to buy the damn thing, and the salesman says, ‘Do you want the extended warranty?’ And of course that’s fifty bucks extra. But he knows and you know that the thing’s going to break down. That’s the only guarantee you’re going to get. It’s going to break down, as soon as you get home, if you don’t pay the fifty bucks extra. I mean what’s happening to this country? What’s happened to our pride? Let’s just come right out and admit it: The whole damn thing is going down the tubes!”

  When the TV is working, there’s little conversation. If you start to talk, Papa says: “Wait, I want to hear this.”

  We didn’t always have the TV on during dinner. It began four, maybe five years ago, during some kind of international crisis, a war or hostages or something. Papa was furious and had to watch every minute. He kind of liked it; it took his mind off his problems. And then it got to be a habit, with various newscasters our nightly dinner guests.

  “Bill,” Uncle Toddy drawled, “your dinner’s getting frozen.”

  “In a minute,” Papa called from the den. We could hear him yanking open the file cabinet drawers. Later, Honey would go in there and clean up his mess. Look, Papa: The elves were here again!

  “Honey,” Mama said, “Bradley called this afternoon. I forgot to tell you. He wants you to call him tonight.”

  “Okay, Mama.” She was wolfing down her dinner as if she hadn’t eaten for a week. Maybe she hadn’t. She’s looking shabby lately. Her lips are dry and cracked.

  I looked around the table and really saw my family. When the TV’s on, we hide in the noise. The silence shone on us like a spotlight, stripping us of our shadows.

  Mama was beautiful but dry and brittle, like a flower pressed in a book long ago.

  My brother was the color of the milk he wasn’t drinking. His skin was waxy. He was picking the skin off his chicken.

  Uncle Toddy was a beacon of health. His body was tough and slender. He’s been lifting weights; he’s been working out. At night his barbells thump the floor.

  Honey’s neck had been chewed like the bones on her plate. Her blouse clearly framed the hickeys, red mouths crying out. But nobody said: By the way, have you been dating a werewolf lately? Mama asked Honey about a basketball game. Honey poured on the pep: That game was so great! Richie’s eyes rolled until his sockets were white, as if he were blind, which is what he wishes.

  I saw everything clearly, an eye in the sky, as objective as God, and as far away.

  My father gave up on finding the warranty, or forgot what he was looking for, and came back to the table. He seemed to notice the bruises on Honey’s neck, and I thought: This is it!

  But he sat down and ate his dinner. If Honey came to the table with an axe in her head, would he say, “Hon, your part is crooked”?

  Looking around the table I almost laughed. You laugh or you cry until your guts pour out and you’re inside out and the pain of it kills you. What a family! We’re afraid that if we open our mouths the truth will jump out and ignite the air and the house will burst into flames. Instead, it smolders.

  I wondered about those bruises on Honey’s neck. There were two possibilities: Bradley Curtis or Uncle Vampire. If Uncle Toddy had attacked her, Honey’s scream would have awakened me. Unless I was too exhausted. I can’t stay awake every minute of my life.

  “And there’s cobbler for dessert,” my uncle announced.

  My mother looked at him as if he’d burst into song. It took a minute for her brain to decode the message. She lives in her head, not in this house.

  Then she perked up and described her day, in detail. We were with her as she curled and mascaraed each lash; as she toured the produce aisle at the supermarket and personally selected each banana.

  Papa tossed Uncle Toddy the brochure for the cruise. “You see this? It shows the ship and the island.”

  Uncle Toddy examined the colorful pamphlet. It was full of photographs of people swimming, fishing, waterskiing, smiling.

  “They say the food on these cruises is unbelievable,” Uncle Toddy said. “You better figure on gaining five pounds.”

  “It better be good, at these prices,” Papa said.

  Honey looked at the brochure too, but Richie didn’t take it.

  Papa was talking about the trip. I was having trouble listening. Something about the words frightened me away.

  “—for a week, but I figured it would take her that long to relax.”

  “Stay as long as you like,” Uncle Toddy said.

  “How long are you going to be gone?” I asked.

  “Two weeks,” Papa said. “Weren’t you listening?”

  “Two weeks?”

  “Don’t worry,” Uncle Toddy said. “We’ll be fine.”

  I started to speak, but Honey cut me off and blabbed some more about the fabulous dinner. Uncle Toddy ate up every word.

  He will drink my blood, drink every drop. It is never enough, he is always thirsty. When they return from their trip, it will be too late to save me. I’ll be nothing but bones and hair.

  After dessert Honey went into the den and picked up the files lying on the floor. Uncle Toddy said he’d see about the TV set tomorrow.

  “It might be cheaper to get a new one,” he said.

  “Whatever,” Papa said, reading the newspaper.

  I did the dishes. Then I went upstairs to the bathroom and locked the door. The white tile was so bright it burned my eyes. A shining clean mirror covered one wall. I turned on the radio Richie keeps in there. Wherever he is, he has to have noise. Silence can be scary; you can hear your heart beating, you can hear what your mind is thinking. You think about stuff that makes you sad, like hungry dogs lost on city streets, and kids who get abused and they’re crying and crying. There’s no use thinking about things you can’t fix, so it’s better not to have those pictures in your mind. I pray to God. I say, Dear God, why do you let this bad stuff happen? Grammy says it’s not His fault; that the devil is strong because l
ots of people give him their power. They choose evil over good, and wrong over right. But little children get hurt, and they never had a choice. They come into this world and get hit in the face, and it makes me sick. It makes me wish I wasn’t alive. Especially when I’m down. So if you put on the radio sometimes it helps drown out the sad thoughts in your mind.

  I opened the medicine cabinet and took out the scissors. My bangs needed trimming. I snipped and snipped. The next thing I knew, I had cut off half my hair. A golden flag was lying on the floor. The girl in the mirror smiled calmly at me. The hair on one side of her head was long; on the other side, it was stubble.

  Once that was done I had to keep cutting, because you can’t go around split down the middle. The hair slid from the scissors and fell to the floor. My white scalp gleamed through the bristles.

  The radio cheered me up. The deejay chattered. The stuff he said was supposed to be funny. Listening, I thought: I take life too seriously. Everything changes. Hair grows back. I kept snipping and snipping. My hair was so thick. It hadn’t been cut since I was little. I felt light and free. My head turned easily from side to side. Framed in the mirror I saw someone new, a solitary seed breaking through the ground.

  Honey was going to kill me.

  Her reaction was almost comical. She stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as if I were a monster from hell.

  “I can’t believe this! How could you do this?” She reacted just as I’d expected. Honey is always the star of the show. The rest of us are scenery. “You’re insane. Why didn’t you just cut off your head and make everybody happy? You’re such a freak!”

  “Oh, go hide in your piano.”

  “I don’t want to be seen with you! This is so embarrassing! You might as well wear a clown costume to school!”

  “Fine. Can I borrow your cheerleading outfit?”

  “You’re out of control. You’ve gone over the edge. I mean, look at you!”

  “Did you hear what they said at the table tonight? They’re going away for two weeks!”

  “So?”

  “So look at your neck! He’s drinking our blood! He’s going to kill us!”

  Honey laughed harshly. “Keep that up and they’ll put you away.”

  “Where did the marks come from?”

  “Duhhh. Let me think. Let’s see if we can figure it out.”

  “Bradley did that?”

  “As if you didn’t know. You’re jealous because he loves me. Nobody loves you. You’re such a pervert. It’s disgusting.”

  She sounded vicious. She didn’t sound like Honey.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Who’s who?”

  “You’re not acting like you. You’re acting like someone else.”

  “Oh, God.” She smirked. She shook her head. “You’re as crazy as they say you are.”

  “Who says I’m crazy?”

  “Everybody does! Just take a good look in the mirror!”

  Richie knocked at the door.

  “Just a minute, Rich.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll go downstairs.”

  “Richie, wait.” I stuck my head out the door.

  He came back down the hall, his eyes wide with amazement. He said, “Man, when you go, you go all the way.”

  “Does it look too awful?”

  “Not exactly.” He grinned. “But I want to be there when you show the folks. We better have an ambulance standing by.”

  “They like my hair better than me,” I said.

  “They’ll probably keep your hair and kick you out.”

  “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.” I closed the door. “He doesn’t think it looks bad,” I told Honey.

  “He’s your brother. What did you expect him to say? If you wanted to change it, you should’ve gone to a salon. It looks like you cut it with your teeth,” Honey said.

  When I came into the living room Richie was hanging around, waiting for the show to start. My mother saw me, stood up, and put her hands to her heart, like a heroine in a horror movie.

  “My God!” she cried. “What have you done to yourself?”

  My father put down his newspaper. “Jesus Christ! Have you lost you mind?”

  “No.”

  “You look like hell. I can’t believe you’d do this. Are the other kids cutting their hair? Is that it? I thought you were a leader, not a follower, Carolyn.” My father was as furious as if I’d cut off his hair. Uncle Toddy stared at me but didn’t speak.

  “I just felt like cutting it.”

  “Oh, Carolyn,” Mama sighed. “Why would you want to make yourself look ugly?”

  “I don’t look ugly.” I hoped I looked hideous. I hoped they would turn away and leave me alone.

  “You can’t go to school like that,” Mama said. “You’ll have to wear something on your head.”

  “I’ve got a Dodgers hat she can use.”

  “Be quiet, Rich. This isn’t funny,” Papa said. “I’m disappointed in you, Carolyn. I didn’t think you were so stupid. You’ve ruined yourself. You look terrible.”

  My uncle said, “I think she looks beautiful.”

  14

  The hair on my head is long and golden. It drips down the stairs like gasoline, trickling into every room, then down into the cellar.

  “Such beautiful hair,” my uncle whispers.

  It’s a snare, a thicket. Bats get in it. They get caught in your hair and you can’t get them out.

  “Cut it out, Richie.”

  He’s laughing at me. He says, “Why didn’t you just cut off your head? What are you trying to tell me?”

  Why not? I thought. I should cut off my head. Everything would be so quiet.

  “What an actress! Such a prima donna!” Honey’s voice is rough. She’s tired of me. “Get lost,” she tells me. “Get a life.”

  “No, don’t go. Don’t leave me,” I beg.

  You know I can’t live without you.

  My uncle loves me. Even though I’m crazy. My parents hate me. They are so disappointed. I am ruining the portrait of our perfect family. They wish Richie and I would go away. They wish I would be like Honey. A good girl always obeys adults. No matter how nuts they are.

  It’s enough to drive a person crazy.

  I’m lost in the forest, in the middle of the night, with a handful of bread crumbs to eat when I get hungry, or to mark my path, so I can find my way out.

  I’m starving.

  Honey says: “Don’t let it smell the yeast on your breath. It feeds on living things.”

  I know what she means. I’ve seen the beast. He tails me like a shadow. Can you see him? There, in the corner of your eye? He rushes toward you—

  Grab the knife beneath your pillow, it’s a butcher knife now, long and gleaming. Swing at the thing with all your might, chopping, hacking, slashing off an arm. Slash off the other arm. Blood pours out.

  But the thing keeps coming. Chasing you.

  Turn and slash, the knife blade flashes; no head, no legs. You can’t escape. A bloody stump now, the thing keeps coming. It knows where you’re hiding. It finds you.

  Honey waves a white flag out the window. No, it’s the banner of her moonlit hair. She leans out too far, her legs fly up. I try to grab her, she slips through my fingers. She plunges down. The ground inhales her.

  “Wake up,” Maggie says. “You’re having a dream.”

  “How can you tell if it’s a dream?” I ask her.

  Maggie taps a pointer on the blackboard. “There are two ways to tell if you’re dead or dreaming. I’ve written them on the blackboard so you can copy them down.”

  I take out my journal and a pen. “I’m ready.”

  “If you’re dreaming, you can wake up and make toast,” Maggie says. “But if you’re dead, you can’t taste it.”

  I try to follow what she’s saying. Smoke fills my nose.

  “That’s because the house is burning.” My uncle’s voice is like a finger in my ear. He startles me so badly I jump out of m
y skin and am beside myself. I pull myself together, trembling.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “I’m always around.” He buffs his silver claws on his cape.

  My closed bedroom door is outlined in pulsing light. “Don’t open that,” he says.

  I fling open the door. Every room downstairs is orange, blazing. I see that my long golden hair is the fuse. It clears the top step of the stairs and crackles toward me.

  “Don’t be scared. You won’t get hurt.” He licks his lips. He’s hungry.

  I say: “If you touch me, I’ll kill you.”

  “You can’t,” he says. “We’re already dead.”

  I run to the window and crash through the glass. My uncle lunges for me and misses. I’m falling through darkness in a shower of slivers.

  “Catch me, Grammy!”

  She looks up and sees me, her face lit like the moon. She reaches out her frail arms. They’re trembling. “I’ll try,” she cries, “but I’m an old lady.”

  Hurtling through darkness, I realize in that instant that if I land on my grandmother, I will kill her.

  15

  Nancy said, “You need to talk to someone.”

  We were standing outside the gym after school. She had brought along Bradley Curtis for backup.

  “Talk to who?” I said.

  They studied the ground. If they had looked in my eyes, they would’ve seen me there, hiding. I have abandoned my feet, my fingers, my body. I am watching from the top floor. The house is blazing.

  “A doctor or someone. Maybe Ms. Johnson. It just seems like you’re not happy or something.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You seem so different.”

  “My hair, you mean.”

  “Yeah!” Bradley said, then grimaced. He hadn’t meant to shout. He’s uncomfortable with me when Honey’s not around.

  “People like my hair.” Oddly, this was true. At first people were shocked, but later that week other girls came to school with their hair chopped off. When you’re popular, people think you know what you’re doing.

  “It’s not just your hair; it’s everything,” Nancy said.

  Some people went by. We all said hi, smiled and said hi hi hi hi hi.