by Sonia Hartl
“Did you know Frankie here is good at picking locks?” Stacey rested her elbow on his massive shoulder. “He told Elton he could get into Rose’s safe-deposit box without her key.”
“What?” Rose asked. “How?”
“Don’t worry.” Stacey tapped her on the nose. “He’s going to help us get into the vault before it ever comes to that.”
“I … ah …” Frankie cleared his throat. “Gwen gave me the security code to the building and the combo for the vault. I told her I’d go in tonight and get Rose’s heirloom.”
This could work. It scared me how much hope I had at the moment, but this had to be better than straight-up breaking in. If we could bypass the security alarms, we could be in and out without being detected. I looked to Rose, who gave me a thumbs-up.
“We’ll let you three talk while we clean up in here.” Stacey nudged Frankie, and they each grabbed a body to dispose of in the woods.
As soon as they stepped outside, Rose turned to us. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” Ida grimaced as she took in the last two bodies in the living room. “I still maintain there is something very wrong with Stacey, and the thought of her coming up with a decent plan that might actually work makes a little piece of my soul shrivel up and die.”
My spine stiffened. Even if something had corroded in Stacey over the years, she’d been nothing but generous and helpful. A miracle, considering the kind of resentment for me she was absolutely entitled to. And if her idea worked, we’d have everything we’d need.
“I think this is a great plan,” Rose said with a heavy dose of cheer. Probably because she sensed my rising annoyance and wanted to defuse it before it became an issue.
“I didn’t say it was a bad plan,” Ida grumbled. “This is our best shot at getting into the bank, and I think we should do this, even if the idea did come from Stacey.”
With that settled, I gestured at the remaining bodies. “Should we …?”
“Good idea,” Rose said.
The two of us each hefted one over our shoulders and took them out to the woods in the back, passing Stacey and Frankie on the way. Sunlight filtered through the red and gold leaves. If we weren’t dumping a bunch of bodies that had already begun to stink of rotted meat, it would’ve been beautiful. The blank, empty face of a sixteen-year-old girl stared up at nothing. It was really too bad. Her only mistake had been thinking vampires were sexy, and really, who hadn’t been there?
We continued to plan well into the afternoon. Frankie shared with us that Elton had been in a mood ever since the graveyard, which didn’t surprise me. He also told us about Elton’s growing frustration with Parker’s continued distance from him. Of course, he blamed us. The thought gave me a considerable amount of joy.
“Has Elton always been like this?” I asked.
It was more a rhetorical question, a way for me to voice my fears about what losing our memories might do to us, but Ida set aside the arm she was trying to fashion into some kind of a wall sconce. “His parents spoiled him but also ignored him. He grew up entitled and insecure, and it made him feel like he had to be important.”
“I guess.” My mom ignored me most of the time, but it didn’t turn me into a controlling asshole. “How does he justify himself, though?”
“He thinks he has genuine feelings,” Frankie said.
“He thinks of us as his,” Ida said. “And the problem is, he doesn’t know how to love anyone other than himself. He was selfish when we were kids too, but I let him get away with it because I knew his home life sucked, and I felt sorry for him.”
Frankie choked on a laugh. “He would not appreciate your pity.”
“I’m aware.” Ida went back to her latest art project. “He might’ve had a shot at being decent once, but immortality gave him a lot of power that went right to his head.”
After living with Elton’s whims and tantrums for so many years, I’d learned he was the type of guy who would’ve pushed everyone else out of the way to grab a solo lifeboat on the Titanic for him and all of his possessions. I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty for wanting him dead. Only sad that it had come to this, and that I hadn’t seen his true colors decades ago.
Frankie left but wouldn’t tell us where he was staying, which made me question whether or not we could really trust him. But if he got us Rose’s combs, I wouldn’t care whose side he was on. With our plans for the bank set in place, I had the rest of the day to do what I wanted, and what I wanted was to eat. My pulse started its irregular beating, and my stomach grumbled. There had to be a jogger or someone I could pick off in the nearby park.
Unable to take another second of sitting in this house, I stood. “I’m going out.”
I glanced at Ida, and she gave me a small nod of acknowledgment. The story about the county-fair pig had been the most personal thing she’d shared with me. It was a shame I’d never know more about her life before it was gone. With us all being one day closer to losing our memories for good, the best thing we could do for ourselves was to settle our pasts.
“If you happen to go hunting on the east side, can you stop by the apartment and grab my heirloom notes?” Rose asked. “I think I left them in the hidden drawer in my dresser.”
“No problem.” I just so happened to be heading that way.
I took the bus over to Shady Pines, the nursing home where my mom had been ever since her dementia had gotten bad enough that she could no longer live on her own. Elton must’ve known about it long before I ever did, but he never told me. I had to find out about it on Facebook, of all godforsaken places. But he had to have known. He told me a long time ago that he kept tabs on her but wouldn’t ever give me updates. For my benefit, he said. So I wouldn’t feel obligated to tie myself to her when that was no longer my life. Like it was up to him to decide what I needed based on what he said I needed. His opinion had become so ingrained in me, I hadn’t even realized I was still giving it weight long after he was no longer a factor.
At the same time, my mom had consistently made my life harder because of her careless choices. She screwed up all the time. I was so angry with her, and I loved her. I could hold those two opposing facts in my mind, but I was still trying to find a way to settle them.
Shady Pines was a sprawling complex with assisted living and full-time care all on the same grounds. Cheerful plants in fall colors bordered the walks. An old man with a plastic gnome tied to his walker held a finger to his lips as he passed me and sneaked out the front gates. Far be it for me to stop him from trying to live his best life before he died.
I walked through the main entrance, which had the look of both an apartment-complex clubhouse and the front desk of a hospital. Maroon carpets with gold threading, plastic potted plants, and a fountain with cracked plaster made up most of the ambiance. The nurse behind the desk looked like she’d rather be handing out free enemas.
“I’m here to see Marie Liddell.” I tapped my fingers on the counter, debating if I should go through with the visit or run while I still had the chance.
The nurse eyed me with part fascination, part revulsion. The typical mortal response, though I would’ve thought she’d be more accustomed to facing death, working in a place like this. “Are you family?”
“In a way.” I hadn’t considered my mom family since I’d been turned. It jarred my senses to claim her with that kind of title. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
“She might not recognize you.” She gave me a kind smile with tired eyes. “It’s nice for her to have visitors. I don’t think anyone’s come by since she’s been here.”
Guilt and indifference hit me with equal force. I spent my entire childhood raising the person who was supposed to be raising me. I tried time and time again to save her from herself, to stop her from playing games with the ex-wives of men who never tried to make her feel secure in their relationship. She never listened, never changed, no matter how many times she promised. At the same time, she was dying. Alon
e. As her memories slowly eroded away. No one deserved that, not even neglectful mothers.
The nurse led me down the hall. Death lingered in the air, so much more potent than the dark alleys and shadowed corners where I claimed most of my victims. The scent of antiseptic stung my nostrils. Hopelessness clung to the muted white walls. I’d been to hospitals in the past, but it wasn’t the same. People didn’t come here with the expectation of getting well.
At the end of the hall, the nurse left me at an open door and let me know she’d be up front if I needed her. I’d expected my mom to be older. Maybe a little more wrinkled, her bones a little more brittle.
Nothing could have prepared me for the end stages of a hard-lived life.
My mom sat in a padded rocking chair, staring out the window. Her skin now hung in sallow sags off her birdlike frame. Wispy curls framed her hollow face like a cheap Q-tip. She used to have a laugh that would draw the attention of men within a ten-mile radius; bold, bright, and so self-assured. None of that remained. She stared up at me with empty eyes.
“Holly?” Her voice cracked as I entered the room and took a seat on the edge of her bed. She squinted at me. The papery skin around her eyes folded in on itself. “What year is this?”
“Hi, Momma.” I took her hand, and she shivered as she pulled it away.
“You’re not here. You died.” She turned her head toward the window. “I remember. They think I can’t do that anymore, but I can. I remember everything. This isn’t real.”
“It’s real, Momma. The night you thought I died? That’s not exactly what happened. I left town with that boy my teacher tried to talk to you about. I became something else.” It didn’t hurt to tell her the truth. She wouldn’t remember I’d been here, anyway.
“No, you died. They found all that blood, most of it belonging to that sweet girl you used to run with. You remember her, don’t you? Bug-eyed little thing, but such a nice friend.” Her eyes widened, and the wooden legs of her rocker screeched across the linoleum floor as she pushed her chair away from me. The glaze over her eyes cleared for a fraction of a second. “Why are you here? What did you do to yourself?”
“Something I regret, but I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” I stood and walked around her room. She didn’t have many personal possessions, but she kept a silver frame with my junior-year picture. The same one they’d put on the side of milk cartons for a few weeks, hoping I hadn’t been killed after all. “Pretty soon, I’m going to forget everything. This might be my last chance to say the things I should’ve said while I’d been alive.” I exhaled, letting out the words I’d been hanging onto for decades. “You hurt me, Momma.”
My throat tightened. The truth was always so much harder to say than the lies I told her when she asked if everything was okay. Her selfishness hurt me over and over, and I let it go because it was easier to hope she’d stop remembering me altogether on the days she wanted to trot me out to play happy family with her new boyfriends. She wouldn’t have cared if I’d said I was anything other than “fine.” She wanted the peace of mind, the reassurances, and the pats on the back while I quietly died inside.
Elton hadn’t been the start of it for me. He hadn’t been the one who trained me to feel small. I’d been learning how to shrink my entire life.
“I know this isn’t real.” She shook her head. Even in what she thought was a delusion, she still couldn’t bring herself to take responsibility. “Who are you, really? Why are you wearing my daughter’s face? She’s dead, and she’s not coming back.”
I crouched in front of her, this woman I loved and hated with my whole heart. My very presence made her recoil, and even in her last days, I was glad to see she hadn’t stopped seeing the world in color. A glimmer of that bold and brash woman still lived within her deteriorating mind. “I wish you had been better.”
“What is this nonsense?” She’d gone back to 1987. I could see it in her posture, the way she held her head high, and the haughtiness in her voice. I didn’t talk back in 1987. I didn’t demand more from her as a mother back then. “Don’t you have homework to do?”
I took her hand and pressed it to my cheek. “I’m sorry I don’t have words of comfort to offer you now when you probably need them most, but I wish you had cared more about both of us when you had the chance.”
“How can you say I don’t care? Who buys your clothes? Who is always picking you up a new book when I do the shopping? Who works double shifts so we can live in a decent neighborhood?” She lifted her chin. “My personal life is not your concern.”
“Don’t you see that it is, though?” I let go of her hand. “School was so much harder for me, because you never once thought of me when it came to your life.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears swam in her old eyes as she moved in and out of focus. We’d shifted back to her thinking I wasn’t really here. “If I could do it all over again, I would’ve never given those men the time of day. They all fucked me over in the end. I was so hurt when your daddy left, and I kept trying to find someone to fill that role. Not just for me, but for you too. I went about it all wrong, though. Forgive me, Holly. Please.”
I could’ve had my final say. I could’ve lowered the hammer and refused in these last moments we had together. I might’ve even been able to convince myself I deserved to have my turn, but it would’ve given me only a moment of triumph, and that’s not really why I came here, anyway. “I forgive you, Momma.”
She turned back to the window, a small smile disappearing into her folds of wrinkled skin. Her shoulders relaxed as she took in the sunset. I’d leave, and she’d probably convince herself this was all a dream, but it was a dream she’d needed.
Maybe it was a dream I needed too.
I left the nursing home, not necessarily with a sense of closure, but I’d done the best I could do. Though the resentment I carried for my mom wasn’t gone by any means, it was time for me to let go. I hoped in death she’d finally find the peace that had eluded her in life.
She hadn’t been a good parent, but I no longer needed her to be.
Chapter Twenty
The sun had just begun to set as I made my way over to the apartment above the meat market. I wasn’t exactly eager to get back to Stacey’s and sit around that moldy tomb until it was time to go to the bank, so I stopped to grab a bite to eat. The guy who told me I’d be pretty if I smiled tasted like a mix of tomato paste, noodles, and metal. It reminded me of SpaghettiOs.
Rose had given me instructions on how to unlatch her hidden drawer, and I was eager to look over her notes myself before bringing them back. Maybe there was a loophole to the memories. Something she had overlooked.
Elton and Gwen had torn the place apart. A top-to-bottom violation of the place we all considered home. I didn’t believe for a second they expected to find the heirlooms. The destruction had been a careful shredding of everything we held dear, a reminder that he still knew our hearts and where to hit hardest. He wanted us to run. He wanted our fear, because he no longer had our love. One way or the other, it all came down to control. I closed my fist around the locket I hadn’t taken off since the night Stacey gave it back to me. Soon.
The stairs to the second floor creaked as I approached the apartment with caution. The door was wide open, revealing the mess to the street below. Elton had broken the lock the night he ransacked the place, but I could’ve sworn we shut it when we left. My senses went on high alert as I stepped over the threshold, and I froze as Parker swung around with a yearbook in her hands. Glen River West’s 1987 yearbook.
She held it up. “Explain yourself.”
A spread of black-and-white photos had “In Loving Memory” scrawled across the top. Dozens of pictures of Stacey and me filled the two pages. The yearbook committee cropped all the photos where we’d accidently appeared in the background to make us look like a couple of Suzy High Schools. There were even a few pictures of a girl who most definitely wasn’t me, but an effort had been made. I had no idea an
yone had cared.
“That was nice of them,” I said.
“That was nice of them?” Parker slammed the yearbook to the ground. “That’s all you have to say? You died over thirty years ago.”
She hadn’t asked, but I felt compelled to answer, anyway. “Technically, yes?”
The rage and confusion in her eyes had me taking a step back. Deep down, she’d known. But deep down wasn’t the same as upfront confirmation. The night Elton had told me the truth, I pushed him off the bleachers—even though I’d been having suspicions for weeks that there was something otherworldly about him. Then I spent the next two days denying it and shutting down any conversation related to vampires. Parker was handling it a lot better than I ever did.
“How?” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Tell me the truth.”
“For the record, I never lied. I just omitted a few facts.” When she shot me a glare, I held my hands out. “Okay. Not what you want to hear right now. The truth is …” I’d only ever shared the truth with people I intended to kill, and I couldn’t afford to think about what that meant in regards to my feelings for Parker. “I’m a vampire.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “I know.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you know, then why are you acting like it’s some dark secret I was keeping from you? Which I only did out of self-preservation, by the way.”
“I didn’t know for sure.” She took on a defensive posture. “The sun doesn’t bother you.”
“I don’t particularly like being out during the day, but no, the sun doesn’t turn us to dust.” I picked up one of the overturned wicker chairs and took a seat. “I don’t even know how that rumor got started. If it were true, we’d all just live in Alaska. And it’s insulting. We’re undead. It should take more than a little ultraviolet light to end our existence.”
“Is that what you’re trying to do with Elton? End his existence?” She said the last three words as a whisper, like she didn’t want to voice the possibility, which annoyed me for reasons I couldn’t explain.
