by Steven Luna
Maybe she thought it was Lyme disease or some other headline story condition. She looked at me, trying to undo the image of me as a junkie that she’d probably built up over the last few months. “You look good. I like the hair.”
“Thanks. Breaking out of my comfort zone a little.” Our conversation was smoothing out, which meant it was time to push the issue. “So how are things with you and… ” don’t call him the Tool. “… Micah? The move-in and the engagement are working out?” I didn’t really want to know, if the answer was going to be yes. But finding out was the whole point of this little exercise.
She didn’t even try to pretend to be happy, but at least she answered. “It hasn’t gone quite like I thought it would.” She paused too long after that, and I could tell how much of an understatement it was. “But I’m making the mo –”
“Don’t say it,” I told her, more abruptly than I had meant to. “Don’t tell me you’re making the most of it. I’ve heard that bullshit from too many people lately, about all kinds of things that shouldn’t be made the most of. You should have what’s really best for you, not make do with whatever lesser crap you’ve gotten stuck with.”
Who was I telling this to – her, or me?
Both, probably.
She sparked up a little again. “And you think you know what that is – what’s really best for me?”
Here it was, my Say Anything moment, minus the trench coat and the boom box. I hoped I wouldn’t blow it. “I don’t know anything about what you and the Golden Boy have going… doesn’t sound like much, by your lack of enthusiasm. But I do know that if all you’re going to do is make the most of what little you do have, then it’s always going be just something you’ve settled for instead of something you really want. I know that you don’t get a whole shitload of second chances before you finally find yourself stuck in a situation you can’t get out of, wondering if you’d be a hell of a lot happier if you’d just risked a little more than what you were used to risking – and wondering what it was that kept you from risking it in the first place. And I know that no matter what you get in life you’re always going to have to pay a price for it, so you’d better make damn sure whatever you end up with is worth the cost.” And while I’m unloading… “And I know we don’t know each other as well as we could have if I hadn’t wasted all this time hiding away from the world, but for me to have a chance to know you better and to see where we could end up would be so totally worth breaking the bank for. If that’s not how Micah feels about you, then I think you’re making a mistake. You’re definitely not getting your money’s worth… and he’s ending up with a fortune.” Whoa. I did not expect to be that eloquent.
I guess I can pitch the word cloud now.
I stunned her into silence. Whether it was good or bad, I couldn’t tell at first. Then she did a little unloading of her own.
It was definitely not a good silence.
“You little jerk… how dare you come back and lay all this on me now? You couldn’t say anything that day – not that you were happy for me, not that you hated the whole idea. I told you I wanted to change my mind for you and you walked away.”
I had no idea it had affected her that much. “I said I was wrong for that; I should have stuck around and told you exactly how I felt instead of just leaving.”
She kept the fire under me. “You’re damn right you should have. And now you’ve got this whole script that you recite to me like I’m supposed to change everything in my life because you think I deserve more? Who the hell are you to tell me what I deserve?”
This wasn’t going anything like I thought it would.
I had a feeling it was too late to move my bearded lady.
“You’re kidding me. I just poured out my heart and my soul right in front of you because I want us to be something, Chloe – I want us to be everything – and you don’t like the way I said it?”
She looked so much sadder than I had imagined she would by this point in our conversation. “How do you know what you want with me? You hardly even know me.”
“I know enough. This isn’t something I’m just saying to you on a whim. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. So have you. And I’m pretty sure you feel the same way, or you never would have left your desk.”
After that brilliant display, I felt foolishly confident that I had convinced her that we deserved a chance, and I was ready now to take that chance. Though it had taken much longer than intended, the ball was now completely in her court. And then she stood up, and said, “I should get back, then. Good luck, Joe; I hope things work out for you.” And she left the café. I just sat there like an idiot, wondering how I had misjudged the situation in such a major way. How could I have been so wrong about what I thought was going to be a slam dunk?
I didn’t even make the backboard.
More than that, I had finally come up against something that made being a vampire look insignificant. Not the way I had intended to gain perspective – and not the perspective I wanted to gain at all – but again, someone else had their own corner to look around. Clearly, she didn’t see what I saw on the other side. Our back-and-forth was effectively over at that moment. And to think, the unexpected ending came in the exact location where I had daydreamed our magnificent beginning would take place.
As much as I hate to admit it, I think it’s time to let go of the dream.
POST 38
Reboot
In trying to put Chloe behind me, I’ve been wondering if I haven’t deluded myself about the vampire stuff being at the root of my troubles. There was obviously something preventing me from moving forward from Girl No. 2 well before I ended up on my group date with Don, the Maker of Young White Ghouls. It’s hard to blame my being struck with what is essentially an otherworldly illness for making me afraid to follow through on our workplace wordplay tease, or I would have tried something a long time ago, wouldn’t I? If anything, my sudden soulless state gave me some sort of previously unfound fortitude to step forward and make the attempt at all. I may have gotten my balls cut off in the process, but at least I had balls enough to put up on the chopping block in the first place. I haven’t been known to do so very often in my life. Hube called it right all the way through on that one.
So, a toast to vampiration, for the cajones you have given me.
Muchas gracias, mi amigo.
When I told Louise how everything had gone, she gave me one of her Shirley Temple at least you tried your best speeches. It was not what I wanted to hear, and it went on for far longer than her other up-pepping monologues. But as she rambled, I recognized that there was something good that had risen out of the whole situation: Louise and I were forced to dissect the dashing of my romantic hopes because we had begun to run out of vampire things to talk about.
Hot damn.
You’ll notice the lack of bullet points in this post, because I have nothing vampirish to discuss with you, either. All of my symptoms have finally leveled off, and for the past several weeks I’ve been able to sustain, and maintain, and at least three other words that end in –tain, but I can’t remember what they are. In any case, I’ve finally gotten the upper hand on my condition. Everything is in check. I keep my coconut water and carrot juice handy, discreetly dine on raw animals, and keep all the light-sensitive bits of my anatomy covered at all times when in direct sun. That makes me sound more like some sort of backward hippie health nut than a vampire, and my shaggy ‘do doesn’t do much to make a distinction. Of the two, I’d probably rather be pegged as a vampire. Be that as it may, the blood lust is under complete control… and in all seriousness, it may be clear to me and a few select others that I’m a freak of nature, but at least I can make it blurry to the rest of the world. Still hoping to man up and learn how to stick my fingers in my eyes so I can colored-contact-lens my way to normal looking irises. Other than that, it’s all copacetic. Even Lazer’s continued I know what you are… e-mails don’t bother me anymore. He can send them all he wants; I just fi
lter that shit to the trash. And now that I have things under control, it’s probably time to let others know about my situation.
Which is why I left Amanda a voice message to fill her in.
I owe her an explanation, anyway, and if anyone can help me make the confession to the rest of the family, it would be her. That’ll give them all something else to discuss besides television and their disappointing retirement accounts. Hopefully, by week’s end, the fam will know about the vam. That leaves just one thing out of sorts. I’ve been trying like hell to put it back into sorts, too.
It’s proven to be a tad more difficult than I gave it credit for.
It was easy enough to talk to Chloe, since I’d been preparing what I wanted to say to her for the entire duration of our copy machine chitter-chatter. Not as easy to talk to Hube, who, until our unseemly late-night knock-about at the deli, I could always talk to about anything. Except how shitty I’d been to him, apparently. That was going to be a high hill to get up. I’ve had the phone in my hand a dozen times, my thumb on his speed dial number, totally at the ready to fire the missile, and I haven’t been able to do it. What keeps holding me back is the knowledge that there’s a favorable chance I’ve run out of luck where he’s concerned.
But I’m big into taking risks lately.
And as long as I’ve gotten used to being knee-deep in humiliation, I might as well see if I can shovel a little more embarrassment on the heap, right?
Yeah. He’s worth a little more embarrassment.
I called his cell today, hoping for his voicemail to pick up. It would be so much easier to start things off with a voice message: Hey Hube, ol’ pal, ol’ buddy. It’s Joe – hit me back when you can. Later. Then it would be on him to return the call, and if he chose not to, I’d have my answer. We’d stay on our non-speaking, non-interacting, no-longer-in-each-others’-lives terms, and it would be completely his fault. My conscience would be squeaky clean knowing I had tried.
That was the most chicken shit way to do it.
And it would still be my fault that things were as hellacious as they were. His not calling me back couldn’t change that. So I called and let it ring through, and when it went to voicemail I hung up and called again. I called about eight times in a row before thinking the guy might actually be busy, and not just avoiding me. He didn’t play things like I did, ignoring calls and messages out of spite. As long as he could reach it, he actually picked up the phone every time it rang. In light of that, I knew a text would be a more direct hit instead; at least he could look at it if he was in the middle of things, and know that I was sending over an olive branch. I hoped he wouldn’t strangle the dove that carried it. I texted:
R U good 2 talk sometime soon?
I tried to busy myself until he replied. Lucas had called earlier and said he and the guys are ready for me, for our first practice as a whole unit. We’re getting together tonight to start laying out some new tunes, so I fiddled around with some synth patches and riffs in an attempt to appear impressive. I know I’m already in as far as the band goes, but I didn’t realize until after I left the audition that Lucas was the only one who’d heard me play. Kyle and Jeremy have no idea what my music sounds like and will be hearing JoeTunes for the first time tonight. So I’m desperate to shine for these guys. I won’t be the one to drag down their shot at making something big out of Forever 81.
I hope we change the name, though. It’s kind of weak.
After an hour of tinkling around on the keys, my phone buzzed with a text so brief it didn’t even have letters. Hube had written back:
???
Okay… he wasn’t going to let me off the hook in one jump. Fair enough. I texted back to him:
U can’t call me?
Then, in a much quicker response than the first had been, he threw one back my way:
!!!
I know the subtext is real subtle there, but I’m pretty sure he was calling me a dick. So I volleyed back:
Want 2 say sorry if U’ll let me
I watched my phone, knowing he’d probably not call back very quickly but hoping for it anyway. As easily as the words had flowed in the café – useless though they turned out to be – I was also hopeful I’d find some sort of articulate way to tell him I was fully aware of how ginormous a jerk-off I’d been, and how perfectly well within his rights it would be for him to light into me with a whole encyclopedia of self-invented slang customized to insult me and my family. And my ancestors. Anything would be fair game. I had my cup on; I could take it. I totally deserved it, too. And what’s more, I expected it, as my penance for having trespassed so heavily on the sacred bond that is our friendship, so sayeth the shepherd in heaven and on Earth, when the moon is in the seventh house, Amen.
Forgive my lack of knowledge where prayers are concerned.
But you get my drift.
So it was an excruciating ten minute wait for his next move. But it finally came:
Can’t now – busy
Okay. I had to accept that. He probably didn’t want to talk, busy or not, even if it was to insult my ancestors. And I had made it that way, so I had no choice but to let him be, just like Chloe. I said it myself a few posts back: life is everyone’s circus, not just mine. I’m slowly realizing that both the elephant and the bearded lady belong to me. If she’s wearing a lapful of grass-laden crap, it’s because I put her directly in the line of fire from the big guy’s ass.
Really gross analogy.
I need to work on those.
So I loaded up my synth and hauled my amp out to the van, trying to let it all go so I wouldn’t be anxious at rehearsal. And when I came back in he’d return-texted:
Lunch tomo – Sal’s?
Like a weight lifted from me, it was. I speed-replied:
Sal’s it is – I buy
That put me in such a better mindset for my first rehearsal with my new music mates. Things with Chloe may have been a bust, but it looks like there’s still a chance of me getting some of my life back on track.
Took me long enough.
As bumpy a ride as it’s been for me lately, it’ll be nice to be able to turn on the cruise control and coast for a while.
When I post my next entry, I will have started a new chapter in my life. And not necessarily as Joe Vampire, either. As Joe Average again, maybe. Or Joe Normal. Or maybe just Joe.
Check you all soon.
POST 39
Joe’s Missing
Hey everyone – this isn’t Joe. My name is Hubert; I’m Joe’s best friend. I don’t know how many of you are out there, but if anyone is reading this I’d really appreciate your help with something. Joe and I were supposed to meet up for lunch yesterday. He never showed. It’s not like him to miss appointments, but he isn’t at home and I can’t get him on his cell. I’m pretty worried about him by now. He’s disappeared once before, and that time he turned into a vampire. You probably know all about that from reading the blog. Last time I saw him, he didn’t look so great and he talked about wanting to bite someone. My fear is that he fell off the wagon (however you say that for vampire stuff) and might have gone out looking for blood. I hope I’m wrong. He’s been through a lot and I know he could use some down time, so hopefully he’s just off somewhere taking it easy. I don’t know if any of you are in contact with him outside of reading the blog, or if you talk to him offline. If you’ve heard from him or you know where he is, please comment back or hit me on my cell 621-555-3231 and have him get in touch with me as soon as he can.
Thanks for your help.
POST 40
No Sign
Hey everyone – Hube again… still nothing from Joe on this end. He still won’t answer his phone. I think I’ve filled his voicemail by now. I checked with the other people on his shift at work and he hasn’t been in all week, or called in his absences. I went by his house again today and found someone named Bo doing woodwork in his front yard. My first thought was that he had something to do with this. Turns out he’s a friend
and has been waiting for Joe to show up, too… hasn’t heard from him since last week sometime. I’ve checked the emergency rooms, police stations, etc. but there’s no trace of him. Wherever he’s gone, he’s covered his tracks in a major way. I haven’t asked his family yet… no use in worrying them if he’s just gone underground to figure out the vampire situation a little more. And I’m not too comfortable with the idea of filing a missing persons report, in case it turns out there’s something darker going on. I’d rather get to him first, if possible. I can’t shake the feeling that the vampire thing has become too much for him to handle. If that’s true, then the longer he’s out there the worse it’s going to get. So, again, if anyone reading this knows where he is, hit me at 621-555-3231. Bo has offered to help search, so we’re going to check second-level places like shelters and parks. Please, if you hear from him, let him know he needs to call me ASAP. Thanks again.
POST 41
Leads?
Hey there… still Hube. I’ve checked everywhere, and still no sign of Joe. I might have a lead – a pretty weak one, but at least it’s something. Not sure why it took me so long to think of it, but I read his last post and found out he left for band rehearsal right after we agreed to meet for lunch the next day. So I checked out the club Damage to see if anyone there could give me anything else to go on, but it’s locked up tight. Too many dead ends, and this thing is dragging on for too long. Bo is kind of a computer whiz, and he thinks he has an app that can pick up the GPS signal from Joe’s phone. If so, we’ll follow it and see where it takes us. It’s a last-ditch effort, but it’s the only thing we can think to do. If this doesn’t work, I’m out of ideas. I don’t want to think about what might have happened to him by now, so I’m holding out hope that we’ll find him soon and he’ll be okay. Please, if anyone out there has made contact with him and he’s told you not to tell me about it or to keep quiet about where he’s gone, I’m begging here: tell me where he is so I can get him help – 621-555-3231. I know he thinks he can take care of everything himself, but this stuff is too serious to mess around with.
