by P. Mattern
Charley grimaced shamefacedly.
“I know. I see the problem. My bad-but you do get that I’m hurting too, right?”
“Of course I do. But you need to man up Charley-feel hurt without being hurtful. You know that’s what Lux would say. And-“Cass walked over to look directly into Charley’s eyes.”I shouldn’t tell you this because it’s Fress’s business, but I have never seen her with anyone since Lux and I met her. Nary a one.
“So you were her first in nearly two hundred years man. You should remember that.”
Seeing Charley’s surprised face, Cass nodded his head with a satisfied air.
“Uh-huh. I thought so. So you can also keep that in mind and SHUT UP.
“Good night Charley Rabbit.” Cass finished cordially.
Across town in Fressenda’s cottage, Lux was comforting a tearful Fress. Her tears had broken out afresh after she’d arrived home-sans Charley. The absence of his energy in the house was a reminder that they’d had a falling out.
Lux, patient as always, waited for his sister to speak first. Finally, pulling back from his comforting embrace and accepting the handful of tissues that he proffered, she said,”
I feel destroyed inside. Lux, I kissed someone. I didn’t initiate it, but I kissed him back. And I don’t know why.”
“Let’s back up a little.”Lux suggested.”Fress you may not realize that Cass and I noticed, as self-involved as we were for the last 180 years, that you have majorly sacrificed your own social life to keep us straight.
I don’t know what your immortal life was like before we met you. You don’t talk about it much and Cass and I agreed never to pry. But from various things you’ve alluded to I think you’ve suffered some losses-am I right?”
Wordlessly Fress nodded. It bothered Lux that she wasn’t meeting his eyes.
“Hey lady,” he said, reaching for her hand, ”We’re here for you. Both Cass and I think you and Charley rushed a relationship-maybe it’s time to take a breather.”
“Both you and Charley came into this relationship romantically deprived. You chose not to get involved with anyone and he was stuck in first grade by virtue of his condition. That’s why you two need to take a break. Get some perspective, you know?”
Fress raised her eyes to meet Lux’s.”You know I love Charley fiercely. Lux, I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
Lux was quick to respond.
“Of course you do Fress. But you need time to figure out if you love him on your own terms or because you put on your Florence Nightingale hat and changed him twice. I don’t have to remind you about the connection that comes along with initiating a human and then taking it to the next level by making him a twice bitten.
“Charley will be in your head and your heart always. And he will always love you, and love you for changing him, that’s what he told Cass. But you need to figure out if you want Charley to be your ‘man’ or not. You do have a choice. None of us, not even Mitzi, blames you for anything.”
“Well, that’s quite a lot to think about.”Fress answered.”Lux? Can I ask you a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Will you sleep down here on the couches with me tonight? I –I can’t go upstairs . Please?”There was a plaintive, childlike note in her voice.
Lux smiled ,”Sure. Just get some pillows and blankets. We’ll pretend we’re camping out. And I’ll be right here.”
Fress sniffed, blew her perfect nose, and, throwing him a grateful look, went to get linens and extra pillows.
Carey had a few seconds after regaining consciousness to be amazed that he wasn’t dead.
After that the pain kicked in, making him wonder if death wouldn’t have been a much better alternative.
With a great effort he sat up, his back against the same tree he’d tripped in front of. His clothing was in tatters: jeans ripped, shirt hanging in bloody ribbons. Only his jean jacket, lying on the ground some distance away, looked to be mostly intact.
His arms, torso, and most of the area on his legs were covered in layers of gashes and bitemarks. Many of the wounds had scabbed over. Miraculously, some seemed to be in the process of healing. One elbow sported a huge purplish bruise at the joint and Carey could taste the salty metallic sweetness of his own blood in his mouth.
He reached up to feel his face, which didn’t sting quite as much as the rest of him. He could feel cuts on his neck ,and a laceration way over on the side of his left cheek, but he still had ears ,a nose and eyes-at least as far as he could tell. He figured his face was spared because he’d landed face down after tripping.
Gingerly he struggled to stand and was grateful to discover that he could. His muscles ached as though he’d taken a terrible beating. Around him the forest was making its usual chittering and warbling sounds and in the distance he could hear early morning traffic. It occurred to him that he must have been out for hours. Hobbling over to where his discarded jean jacket lay, he picked it up and shook out a beetle and a couple of ants. Stripping off his tattered and bloody shirt he slipped on his jean jacket and buttoned it all the way up, simultaneously coming to a decision.
He wasn’t telling anyone about the attack.
And he was never going home.
Carey had $ 700 in his checking account, which he withdrew, relieved that the teller didn’t seem to notice the scratches, nicks, and healed- to- the- point- of- being- pink scars on the back of his hands when he signed the paperwork. He pocketed the cash and thought about where he could go. He only had one living relative in proximity-an elderly aunt who lived in a even smaller Indiana town than he himself did.
Aunt Ida. He hadn’t seen her since the Thanksgiving before, when one of his cousins had driven her up for the traditional family dinner. He had always been her favorite-at least that’s what she told him, with a wink, at every family function as she surreptitiously slipped him a quarter. Carey always hugged her, finding it endearing and amusing that she still thought a quarter was a staggering fortune to a younger person. A pleasant looking elderly woman with snowy white hair twisted up into a neat bun, she always smelled of lavender and rosewater and always invited him to come see her in Cassis, where she still lived independently with a bevy of cats and a cocker spaniel.
Resignedly Carey trudged to the Greyhound bus terminal and purchased a ticket. Fleetingly he thought of his school friends, sports, the pretty little dark haired girl that he had developed a crush on in his Junior college history class, but could cull up no corresponding emotion. His parents, busy and distant, would be alarmed at first but he wasn’t sure that they’d look that hard for him because he had always been the black sheep of the family, quiet where they were boisterous, introverted where they were sociable and outgoing. They might have thought themselves better off without him…and now they’d be right in their assumptions.
Because whatever he was-he was no longer human.
He could feel ongoing changes in his body viscerally, feel his temperature fluctuate. He realized with a start that if he concentrated on anything for more than a few seconds his vision would shift into microfocus mode, as if his eyes had a telescopic feature that allowed him a closer and closer view for each second he stared. He could see the eye of a blackbird from 100 yards away if he wanted to.
As he waited on one of the molded plastic, putty colored ,bus station benches, he was aware that he could also pick up various sounds of breathing and also the heartbeats of those around him. The small station was fairly deserted, only containing himself, a young nursing mother with a daisy patterned overnight bag and two or three men –two dressed casually with dusty shoes and one man in a cheap suit reading a newspaper, a tacky pleather briefcase on the seat next to him. There was a ticking sound emanating from somewhere behind the ticket counter. Carey realized suddenly that he was famished, and looking up through the hair in his face at the huge chrome edged bus station clock decided that he had enough time to run across the street to grab a bite to eat.
The diner was c
rowded, but a yellowed and stained sign at one end of the soda fountain indicated that he could get carryout there. The red haired waitress that came up to the other side of the counter to take his order was dressed in the traditional waitress outfit from the 1950’s diner era ,replete with the folded triangle of a lacy handkerchief sticking out of a decorative pocket at her right breast. Her brows were penciled in and her heavily made up face and too-red lipstick reminded Carey of the band Insane Clown Posse .
“What’ll you have?” the waitress asked disinterestedly, flipping over to a fresh page on her order pad.
Carey only thought for a moment.
“Two burgers-rare. In fact tell the cook just 15 seconds on each side.”
The waitress peered at him over her cat’s eye glasses.
“Raw meat isn’t supposed to be good for you hon-bacteria and all.”
Carey didn’t have time for a discussion on the merits of eating raw meat. And the waitress was already looking into his eyes, so letting his mesmerization powers kick in he repeated himself so that she’d get it right.
“Two burgers. Extremely rare. 15 seconds on each side. Hurry.”
Robotically and without uttering another word the waitress turned and ran back to the order window, hurriedly giving his order and saying it was a ‘rush’ order. It was less than a minute when she returned with a white bag through which hamburger grease was already starting to leak in oily spots.
“Two twenty-five,” the waitress intoned, still not quite looking her normal self. Carey reflected that there was definitely something zombie-ish about the way she carried herself in the mesmerized state. Something in the tilt of her head, as though it had grown suddenly too heavy for her neck.
Carey handed her three dollar bills.”Keep the change” he said, at the same time releasing her from her temporary fugue, which immediately caused her to look confused, but he had no time for that either-he could see his bus pulling into the station across the street.
He found a seat near the back by a window and hoped that no one sat next to him.
Then the girl with the long red hair got on the bus and he immediately changed his mind.
She was so gorgeous that she caused an immediate hush in the boarding hubbub and conversation inside the cabin of the bus. There were few vacant seats open, but after a short perusal she seemed to settle on a window seat in one of the middle aisles of the bus. She was wearing white jean shorts and a pale frost blue tee shirt that had sparkly sequins on the front of it. She had ear buds in, connected by a thin white wire to an unseen device in the back pocket of her shorts. She stashed her Hello Kitty travel bag in the overhead bin flanking the aisle and slid into her seat. From his seat in the back Carey could no longer see any of her except an occasional glimpse of her abundantly long red hair.
Other passengers continued to get on the bus. Finally a tall teenager with shaggy blonde hair clambered on and after a quick perusal of the bus’s passengers made a beeline for the aisle seat next to the redhead. Carey could hear her voice assuring the blonde guy that it was okay for him to sit there, and they seemed to strike up an easy and casual conversation, pieces of which continued to drift back to Carey .
After an eternity the bus lumbered forward into the street gracelessly, like a huge mechanical land mammal with a small brain, and they were on their way to Milton. It was a two hour ride across the Midwestern farmlands-but unless you were an enthusiast of cows, horses, and red barns in various stages of dilapidation it was not a memorable ride. Carey quickly fell asleep.
His sleep was a restless one. In his dreams he was being pursued again in the woods, tree branches cruelly slapping him in the face as he ran for all he was worth, stealing a glance every few seconds at the rapidly setting sun. In his dream he tripped again, just as he had tripped in reality when he’d been attacked. He could smell the fetid odor of the hybrids and feel their hot breath and saliva on his back and was about to scream bloody murder when a noise on the bus jerked him awake.
“STOP!” the redhead was saying, loudly enough to attract the attention of the other passengers.”STOP TOUCHING ME YOU PERP!” This was followed by the sound of a loud slap as she shot straight up out of her seat and jumped into the aisle of the bus, looking extremely vexed and glaring daggers at her seatmate, the blond guy.
As she looked around the bus, searching for a vacant seat, Carey found himself in the aisle motioning to her. He was acutely aware that his hair was probably mussed and he was almost sure he could detect a little drool on his cheek.
“There’s a seat HERE”, he said, motioning to his recently vacated window seat and hoping she would accept his offer.
The redhead seemed to make a decision and, grabbing her Hello Kitty bag from the overhead, tromped down the aisle and flounced into the window seat by Carey.
“Thanks,” she said ”I can’t believe how creepy some people are! I was dozing off and that guy put his hand on my leg!!!”
Carey’s eyes automatically drifted downward to the girl’s perfect, lightly tanned thighs.
“I apologize for all mankind.” He said, making her smile in bemusement.
“Where are you headed?”
“I’m on my way back to Cassis,” she replied, “After a visit to my grams.” She’d been foraging in her purse and pulled out a fruity flavored pack of gum, offering Carey a piece.”
“Thanks.” Carey said, taking it . Even though he normally didn’t chew gum he couldn’t pass up a chance for a potential bonding moment.”I’m Carey Floyd. I’m on my way to live with my Aunt Ida in Cassis. Have you ever heard of her?”
“Of course!” the girl replied.”Everybody knows everybody in Cassis. Except that you don’t know me yet-I’m Kimbra. Sometimes my friends call me ‘Kimber’. My dad is one of two, count ‘em, TWO whole doctors in town. So you’re going to live with your Aunt Ida Floyd, huh? When was the last time you visited her?”
“Well she came up for Thanksgiving. So it hasn’t been that long since I’ve seen her.” Carey answered,”Why? Is she weird? Does she invite people over for tea and poison them or something? Take in boarders and hatchet them in their sleep?”
Kimbra smirked. Then giggled.
“Well-I just hope you like CATS!” she replied still smirking, amusement sparkling in her eyes.
Carey and Kimbra continued to talk for the rest of the Greyhound ride. As it turned out they both liked the same kind of music, had liberal political views that didn’t fit in with the staunchly Republican views of most Midwesterners, and cared passionately about the environment. Kimbra told Carey she’d introduce him to the local ‘Save Our Planet’ chapter so he could meet some new people. They exchanged cell numbers, talked about their hobbies and interests ( Kimbra played several instruments and also had paintings hanging in the local coffee shop for sale.) Carey was becoming more infatuated with Kimbra by the nanosecond, partly because it seemed to him that she had made the most of living in a tiny backwoods town that anyone possibly could and had a great energy about her.
On another level, a darker primal level, he was becoming obsessed with her. Her heartbeats echoed in his ears, the delicious and distinctive bouquet of her blood stirring his deepest passions. Time and time again he found he had to forcibly push back his instinctive urges to maintain his equilibrium and continue a normal conversation.
And then there was the additional fact that she was the most beautiful young woman he’d ever set eyes on, period. From the top of her head to the soles of her feet she was perfect .Her eyes were brilliant springtime green, and her beautiful long waist length auburn hair was breathtaking. Her hands were dainty, as were her feet, and her face was a poem-Carey though that odes should be written to her pleasing facial planes and her beautiful lips, and made a mental note to write some himself. He found himself telling her about his dreams of being a writer, which seemed to intrigue her, and she made him promise to show her some of his work.
The only discordant note was when she noticed his scarred hands.
“What happened to your hands?” she said suddenly, catching him off guard.
Carey immediately pulled the sleeves of his jacket down over the backs of his hands.”Nothing.” he said, and found that he couldn’t elaborate. He didn’t want to make excuse or lie to this beautiful girl that he was already half falling in love with, he didn’t want to joke about it. He didn’t want to tell her that he looked like the Illustrated Man in the Ray Bradbury book , only instead of tattoos his entire body, at least on the backside , was covered in scars. He didn’t want to do any of those things .
And so he said nothing, creating the first, and only awkward silence between them.
After a few minutes Kimbra cleared her throat. At that point she wondered if Carey was moving to Cassis to get away from abusive parents, but she sensed that he wouldn’t-or couldn’t-talk about it. So she decided to change the subject.
“We’re nearly there. If you want, I’ll walk you to your aunt’s -it’s really near the bus terminal.
And be sure to call me. I want to show you the town-what there IS of it that is!”
Carey relaxed.
“I accept your generous offer on the condition that you’ll let me take you for coffee soon-I want to see your paintings. If you’re any good I may even buy one.
But I have a feeling they are…” he finished, smiling at her, and receiving a smile back.
“So strange,” she said, moving her face more closely to his, ”I know we just met, but I feel as though I’ve known you forever. It’s kind of a déjà vu feeling too.”
“So do I.” Carey admitted to her, gazing into her beautiful, thickly lashed green eyes.”I feel so… comfortable. For me, believe me, that’s rare.” The impulse to kiss her was overwhelming, she was so close he could smell her fruity bubblegum- scented breath, catch glimpses of her intriguing pink tongue. But he didn’t want to freak her out, like her former seatmate had, so instead of leaning forward to press his lips against hers, he straightened up and leaned back in his semicomfortable seat again.
