by K M Smith
No such luck.
Her father caught him first. “Thanks for the lift, there, Andrew. Sure was nice to be greeted so promptly at the airport.”
“Gary! Stop it!” Sharon chided. Sarah stayed put in the kitchen, eavesdropping.
“Hmmph,” Gary replied.
“Hello, Andrew,” chirped Sharon. Through the door came the muffled sounds of clothes brushing against each other and awkward grunts. The inevitable hug, Sarah thought, wincing and polishing a wine glass within an inch of its life.
A few seconds later, Andrew pushed open the kitchen door, but instead of apologizing about abandoning her parents or shouting about Gary’s remark, he simply walked straight to Sarah and embraced her in a deep passionate kiss.
Shocked, then angry, Sarah tried to pull herself out of his grasp. He kissed her harder, held her tighter. It was the first time in two months that she felt like his wife instead of his roommate. It felt good, so she decided to go with it, at least for the moment, kissing him back with equal fervor.
“Sure am thirsty!” Sarah heard her father shout from the living room. This interruption pulled them out of their passionate moment.
Sarah dropped her arms and stepped away from her husband. “We should talk,” she said flatly, looking directly into his eyes. Andrew shrugged and looked at the floor, barely acknowledging her. Sarah leaned back, her hands propped on the counter behind her. “Right,” she huffed, nodding in disgust. She opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and turned to grab her parents’ drinks off the granite counter-top to take them through to her parched and tired family.
Later that evening, after an awkward family meal, which consisted mostly of creaks and squeaks from the chairs and clangs and clatters from the cutlery and dishes, Sarah and Andrew were sitting up in bed. They both had books in their hands, part of their nightly routine. We really are an old married couple already, Sarah thought. Neither spouse was actually reading – there hadn’t been a page turned in ten minutes.
“Andrew,” Sarah began softly, “what happened today?”
Her question was met with several moments’ silence. She wasn’t sure if Andrew was contemplating how to respond or if he was ignoring her now, like he had ignored her parents all night.
Just as she was about to prompt him, he spoke. “I don’t—” several silent beats passed as Andrew smoothed out the covers. “I’m not sure,” was all he managed to say. His voice was uneasy, but Sarah couldn’t read it. Since moving to Albion, he had kept his distance, he was different, and now, acting out like he had… On her side of the bed, Sarah’s throat tensed and her fingers blanched from holding her book so tightly. She forced her tears not to come and swallowed heavily before replying.
“Oh,” she said, without feeling. She knew she should be angry—fierce, fighting, shouting angry – but she didn’t have the energy. So, this is what it’s like to feel numb. Sarah stared straight ahead, not looking at anything. Eventually, she grew weary of this not-fight, this dual-internal struggle they were both obviously engaged in, and she put her book down, turned over and pulled the cord on the lamp, draping her side of the room in darkness. Andrew remained sitting up for a few minutes more, then followed Sarah’s lead, plunging them into total darkness.
Neither spouse slept much. The bed bounced as each tossed and turned, their heavy sighs a melancholy chorus of insomnia. With each rotation and requisite tug of the blanket, Sarah spied the numbers on the clock on her bedside table. What felt like hours each time had only been minutes. This cycle continued until the wee hours of the morning, as Sarah hovered just above sleep, jerking awake at the slightest disturbance. Frustrated but unwilling to give up her side of the bed, Sarah held on until her mind slowed enough to rest and her body soon followed.
Anxiety-filled dreams flooded Sarah’s slumbering mind with disturbing images. Macabre tableaus waited for her behind closed dungeon doors that changed every time she turned. Gruesome and strange, nothing looked as it should and Sarah ran, her nerves frayed and her movements frenzied. Until the final door. Arm outstretched, Sarah approached the large red door at the end of the darkened hallway. The stone floor was cold and damp underfoot. The walls closed in around her the closer she got to the door. One step away, she reached forward but became distracted by a butterfly. Bright blue and flitting behind her ear, it danced along her shoulder. Initially afraid, she warmed to the feathery touch of the creature’s wings as they brushed her skin. She tried to catch it in her hands, but when she did, the insect turned into a rabbit. Curious, Sarah turned toward the rabbit and followed it back the way she had come. It teased her, keeping just out of reach as she chased it down the corridor. The faster she ran, the faster it would hop away. As it reached the end, it hopped into the door and disappeared. Breathless, she panted and goosebumps rose up on her arms and legs. She inspected her limbs, marveling at the way her skin tingled. Frozen in place, she ran her hand down her neck, over her bosom and lower until she found the curve of her hips. Every inch of her skin reacted to the touch and she didn’t want the feeling to end.
“Sarah,” Andrew whispered in her ear. His hands groped her and pulled her close as they moved together, their bodies in time with each other. “Sarah, I’m sorry. I love you so much.” A switch flipped in Sarah and now fully awake, the dream forgotten, she responded hungrily to her husband’s touch. It had been so long, she nearly forgot how well they fit together.
Afterward, with her head on his shoulder, his heart beat a stiff rhythm against her ear. This was no relaxing afterglow. The strain emanating off Andrew cleaved a gulf between them. She rolled over and pretended to sleep, not ready for whatever he would do or say next.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alice
“Mom?”
Sarah blinked and cleared her throat, “Mm?”
“Coffee usually tastes better if you actually pour it,” Alice prodded, after getting her mother’s attention. “Besides, I’m here to talk about me!” Fluttering her eyelashes, she flashed her mom a mischievous grin.
“Ah, yes, my only child, how could I have possibly thought otherwise?” Sarah reached for the French press, pressed the plunger down, and poured two cups of strong, black coffee.
“Actually,” Alice began, then stopped. She blew on her coffee, but it was no longer steaming.
Sarah leaned forward, put her elbows on the table, and lifted her mug to her lips, sipping quietly and returning Alice’s uneasy gaze.
“Wow, okay, I really don’t even know where to begin. I mean, I--I have a lot of questions, and I don’t know how to ask them without you thinking I’m a total freak.” She stretched her hands on the table in front of her and looked pleadingly at her mother.
Sarah smiled a soft, warm smile. That knowing smile was only for Alice. It had been brought out during many mother/daughter question-and-answer sessions over the years. “You know I already think you’re a total freak, so you may as well get on with your questions.” Sarah’s smile became an impish grin, and Alice pulled her hands back toward her, relaxing them along with the rest of her body.
“Funny,” Alice said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Okay,” she started again, puffing out a long, heavy breath to steel her nerves. “So, how do you feel about the supernatural?” The coffee mug in her hand should’ve cracked considering how hard she was squeezing it. She looked away briefly before returning her gaze to her mother’s hands.
Sarah’s hand shook slightly before she set her own cup down. Keeping her hands cradled around the cup, she looked directly at Alice. Sensing her mother’s eyes on her, Alice looked down and waited for Sarah to say something. “Um, I… haven’t given it much thought lately.”
“Oh, okay.” Alice stared blankly at the table while running a finger around the worn rim of her mug.
“Is that it? That’s the big reason for coffee with mom?” Sarah sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. The topic was unexpected, and sounded ridiculous even to Alice. But she had no one el
se to talk to about it. Nothing about the past three weeks made any sense.
Alice brought her eyes up and looked at her mother, then--the look that closes gaps between mothers and daughters the world over. The look that says, “You know I have more to say. I know that you know, and I’ll get there. Just be patient with me.” She paused a moment longer. What am I doing? Why am I talking to her about this? She’s never going to buy this. I don’t buy this. Alice shook her head to get the thoughts back into place and tried explaining again.
“No, mom, of course that’s not it,” Alice conceded softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her right ear. “It’s just, if I tell you what I need to tell you, you’re not going to believe me, and I can’t stand thinking that you might actually think I’ve lost it.” She inhaled deeply and exhaled a sigh, “I don’t know, maybe I have lost it.”
“Alice, sweetheart, just tell me what’s got you so worked up. We can talk about the veracity of it later, just get it out. You’ll feel better, I promise.” Sarah reached across the table and gave her daughter’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “It’ll be alright.”
Alice forced out the breath she had been holding, strengthened her resolve, and said, “I met Adam.”
A flicker of recognition flashed across Sarah’s face. “Adam?”
“Yeah, he’s a vampire, and I think you know him, too.”
CHAPTER NINE
Sarah
Biting her lip and staring at the table, Sarah kept repeating the same words in her head. Adam? Vampire? It was unbelievable. How could Alice believe in such nonsense? Hadn’t she raised her better than that? Yet, she’d also raised her to be strong and speak her mind; being fearful wasn’t in her blood. If Alice thought it to be true, Sarah owed it to her to hear her out.
Alice avoided Sarah’s eyes and ran a nervous finger around the rim of her empty coffee cup. She looked so small. Sarah caught herself analyzing her daughter’s every move and realized she needed to put Alice out of her misery.
“His name’s Adam?” Sarah asked. Her voice shaky and unsure to her own ears.
Alice nodded, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“When you said his name, something lit up inside of me. Something I’ve never felt before.” Turning her head, she cast her eyes down, “certainly not since…” Hands wringing, images flashed through her mind providing her with a fractured tale of the night of her accident: Heavy book-bags weighing her down as she left the building, icy sidewalks underfoot, bright green eyes boring into her soul begging her to be okay. Sarah gasped at the last image, Could that have been Adam?
“It’s okay, mom, we don’t have to talk about it. It was silly of me to bring it up.” Alice grabbed her cup along with her mother’s and stood, taking them to the sink to rinse before placing them in the dishwasher.
“Alice, sit down,” Sarah said softly.
Alice stopped her busywork and returned to the table to sit with her mother.
Butterflies danced in Sarah’s stomach as mother and daughter looked at each other expectantly, searching each other’s faces for a clue, for some hint about what was about to be revealed.
Could it be true? Sarah thought, Could vampires be real?
CHAPTER TEN
Adam
Adam had spent the best part of the last three weeks brooding and trying to figure out what had happened the night he and Alice met at the fraternity house. He never expected to run into her like that. He had always been able to sense her presence before—her pheromones sending their signals and reaching him with their signature scent well before she came near. He never anticipated that Alice might be able to recognize him, even if she didn’t realize that’s what was happening. Something had definitely changed inside her. She reacted more like a vampire than a human—she was able to track his movements, he was no longer able to charm her, and that horrible connection the two had. That must’ve been excruciating for her: the images of Adam and his exploits through the ages. It must’ve been like all the horror and slasher movies rolled into one and shoved directly into her brain. He shuddered at the thought. He’d spent so much time, so much effort, cultivating a relationship with Alice, something healthy—as healthy as secretly meeting with your human offspring, then wiping her mind so she’d never know about it could be—something he felt genuinely good about, and to have it all come crashing down had him rethinking his choices over the last two decades.
Over the span of his long life he’d made mistakes, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive himself for taking Alice’s father away. He’d like to say it was because he was young and new to being a vampire, but that wasn’t it. He was jealous. And angry. And he sought to avenge the woman he loved, no matter the cost. He couldn’t have predicted what his actions that night would’ve led to. He’d had no way of knowing the impact his choices would have. Now, he sat back on his bed and brooded, his thoughts taking him back to the day he saved Sarah.
Winter 1995
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Adam
As soon as the ambulance sped away with a temporarily stabilized Sarah on board, Adam took off to find Andrew. Adam had followed Sarah home enough times to know where their house was, but something told him he’d have more luck finding Andrew perched on a bar stool at Cascarelli’s.
He wasn’t wrong.
The sour stench of alcohol, smoke, and sweat crashed into Adam like a fist to a jaw, knocking him off his stride as he opened the door. Foul! He coughed as he moved through the doorway and into the dark and dank room. The place was heaving; the booths and tables were overflowing with increasingly drunk college kids blowing off steam after finals. At the bar, it was three-deep and standing room only. It made no difference to Adam. He didn’t need a seat or a drink. His only purpose was to find Andrew and… And what? He stopped in the middle of the room. Drunk bar patrons stumbled past, narrowly missing him, as though there were a padded cushion all around him. What would he say to Andrew? What could he say? Tell him that his wife had had a terrible accident and needed vampire blood to survive, so he gladly provided it?
A table of drunk philosophy majors trying to pick up drunk athletes erupted in raucous cackles and squeals next to Adam. Frustrated by the noise, in the bar and in his mind, he gripped the sides of his head. “I can’t hear myself think in here!”
“Then go outside, asshole!” one of the philosophy majors barked, and the table erupted in laughter again.
He flashed a one-fingered salute and turned to leave, but one sloshed young man stood to block Adam’s exit. In no mood to deal with drunken asshole college kids, Adam directed a gust of wind to blow open the door and swirl menacingly around the room. The force knocked the young man off his feet and continued to wreak havoc on their table. Drinks toppled, and Adam stifled a laugh as the tableful of drunken partiers jumped to avoid the foamy mess. “I think we’re done here,” he said and breezed through the open door.
Free from the foul smells, sticky floor and obnoxious college kids, Adam tilted his head back and took in a lungful of crisp night air. Pausing for a moment, he looked at the stars and thought fleetingly of his time as a young man in North Wales. Nights like these made him feel nostalgic for his short years as a human. Centuries ago, he’d wander outside the castle walls and get lost in the stars’ dancing reflections on the nearby river as it flowed. Coming from a noble family, Adam had stood to inherit a sizable estate, had he lived. Of course, he had substantial wealth and immortality now, but he often wondered what life would have been like had he been allowed to remain human.
Even though the stars were brilliant in his mind’s eye, they paled in comparison to Adam’s view of the sky now. His vampiric eyes made every image sharper, lines and edges more exact, colors more vibrant and varied. God, he loved being a vampire.
Adam spotted a lonely bench outside a photography shop across the street from the bar. There was very little road traffic at this hour, so he sauntered across the five lanes and made himself comfortable on the woo
den bench.
A noisy group of post-exams revelers exiting the bar caught his attention. No sign of Andrew, but that wasn’t surprising. Andrew had been known to close the place down—even on a weeknight. Surely tonight, the end of the semester, would be no different.
Adam didn’t mind the wait. One trait most successful vampires develop over the centuries is patience. Adam was no exception. He also developed the ability to be comfortable anywhere – even on an old and splintering bench across the street from a noisy bar. He scooted back, rested his ankle on his thigh, and resumed his star gazing.
It was closing time at Cascarelli’s. Adam watched, arms crossed, legs stretched out in front of him, amused by the alcohol-fueled antics of the supposedly enlightened youth. He chuckled at some of the unlikely pairings and at the thoughts of how they would attempt to restore their decorum in the morning. Shaking his head, he sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his chin on his clasped hands. Andrew should be exiting soon.
As expected, Andrew did exit, last among the remaining stragglers. Lucky for him the bartender had a soft spot for him, or he would’ve been tossed out long before. Andrew could barely stand, let alone walk. He was shouting something unintelligible, but harmless, at the bartender with his arm around his shoulder. Andrew patted the man’s shoulder, at least he attempted to pat his shoulder; he mostly just swatted at the air and assured him that he could make it home on his own.
Adam witnessed the exchange and jumped at the opportunity to snare Andrew. He raced across the street to where the drunk man and the bartender were standing.
“Thanks for taking care of him, tonight, Jeff. I’ll take it from here,” Adam spoke smoothly and authoritatively to the bartender.
