Joe Vampire

POST 24



Another One Bites



I’m a little ooked about being pointed out as a vampire, even by another vampire, bookish and harmless though she may be. I don’t think of This as some sort of secret society with special hats and a complicated handshake, something mysterious and prestigious to belong to like the Masons or the Kardashians. But it does seem logical that there are others around here besides me. If there’s a chance that Don picked up the pace of his changings after he found out it worked on me, then there must be an abandoned boxcar’s worth of drug-addicted vampire hobos running around town just shitting themselves silly. And I hope to meet exactly none of them in my lifetime. If, for some unforeseen reason I ever do, I’d be more than willing to throw them whatever I have in my wallet – as long as it’s smaller than a ten. But I sure as hell don’t want to chat with them about being a vampire over a breakfast of Marlboros and Wild Turkey.

I’m a hard-ass by no means, but my compassion has its limits.

Having gotten used to everyone’s failure to notice my altered features, it was pretty freaky to have someone notice all of it so easily – even if she happens to have the same features. I mean, I know all the tell-tale signs myself, now that they’ve made themselves at home all over me, and I’ve never noticed anyone else who struck me as particularly vampirish. Maybe if I looked a little closer or paid more attention to people I might find vampires milling about all over the damn place – and more than just the hobo junkies. But the phenomenal ignorance of others coming from both directions has kept me protected from it. I don’t look for them; they don’t seem to see me. I’ve been in my own happy avoidance bubble that no one has had enough interest in to burst. Despite my bitching, I really liked it that way.

Then Louise plopped down beside me and popped the damn thing, in the course of one lousy exchange.

“You’re still pretty new to it, aren’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Of course you are, poor thing… you don’t look like you’ve even fed on a human yet.” She was talking to me like we were old friends. We hadn’t even become new friends.

“And you have?”

“Mmm-hmm. Only a few times, though. It’s not really for me.”

She wasn’t bragging about it, but I got the feeling she wasn’t bullshitting me, either. “Maybe I have, too. How can you tell that I haven’t?”

She squinted and slid her glasses down. “You’re too thin. And pale. Feeding from a human puts a little color back in your cheeks, and a little soul back in your bones. It also causes deep emotional scars for both you and your host. It’s best to find a volunteer, if possible, someone with a strong sense of self who’s willing to bond with you in such a permanent manner in spite of the risks.” I thought of Hube’s offer. I guess he had the right idea. “Still and all, it’s a huge commitment and one I’m not open to sharing with anyone on a permanent basis. So I feed on chickens now.”

“Chickens? Like, live ones?”

“Live ones, yes.” A step beyond my nauseating raw beef fetish, I’d say. “I raise them myself, in a little coop in my back yard. It’s a perfect middle ground. I can use the whole animal – the blood, the flesh and the eggs.” And then she told me she makes soup from the bones and gives the feet to a Chinese folk healer in her neighborhood in exchange for vitamin treatments. Nothing goes to waste except the beaks. She even uses the feathers to stuff hand-made pillows. “How’s that for green living?”

Repulsive – thanks for asking. “Quite a system you’ve got there.”

“It really is. I only do this with the hens, though – the thought of putting something called a cock in my mouth just doesn’t sit well.” She made me laugh; that was unexpected. It had been a while. “And you? What do you use?”

Tit for tat, I guess. I’d already been called out. It would be difficult to skirt the truth now. “Steaks. I like steaks. The bloodier the better.”

“Ahh… a beef eater. Very nice. Masculine.” That’s not something I hear often. “Any cut in particular?”

“Whatever’s on sale, mostly.” I think she was trying to win me over, and from what I could tell she was being sincere about wanting to know more. But I’m sort of determined to not have This become the topic of idle chatter, even with another vampire, so I resisted giving too much information. I did check into her head, though, just to see if she had some hidden motive behind the interest. But I couldn’t read her thoughts. Her grimace told me she knew that I was trying, and that she wasn’t too pleased about it.

That must be against the Vampire Code of Ethics or something.

“Well, I’ll tell you this much about feeding from people: be careful who you choose, even if it is someone you trust. There are so many diseases out there these days.” Diseases? She sucks the blood out of chickens. Hasn’t she heard about H1N5? “And there are people who seek us out and take advantage of us, people who like the excitement of being bitten. It gives them a sick sexual thrill. They’re called… ” and she leaned in and whispered, “… sucker f*ckers. Sorry for the swearing.” Not a problem, Louise. “Not that I call them that, but that’s what I’ve heard others call them. They’re sort of like vampire groupies. Watch out for them; they don’t have our best interests at heart.”

Just Say No To Sucker F*ckers. Got it. “I’m not a very social guy these days. I think I’ll be okay.”

“You? But you’re so handsome; you’re bound to attract one sooner or later.” I know she was trying to win me over with that one, but not in a cougar-on-the-prowl kind of way. More in a making-me-feel-good-about-myself-because-I-obviously-didn’t kind of way.

I’m not ashamed to say that it kind of worked.

But it didn’t make me comfortable enough to just open up to her. I didn’t even know her. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t think – “

“What am I trying to do? I’m just making conversation with a fellow darkened soul, that’s all.” Darkened soul? It may be slightly more poetic than the dialogue in the Nightfall films, but that’s the same romantic flavor everyone wants to throw on this vampire trip.

That’s the shit I can’t stand.

“I really don’t feel comfortable talking about this so casually.”

“Even with Another?” And yes – the way she said it, it was capitalized. That must be part of the Code, too. “Why not? You should get used to it. Better to have someone to talk about it with – someone who’s been through the same thing – than to carry it alone. It’s going to be a part of you for a very long time.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to let it rearrange my whole life.” Not like she seemed to have done.

“Of course you don’t,” she agreed. “But not talking about it isn’t going to make it any less real. It happened; it’s here. Why not let it be a part of who you are?”

A part of who I am? It’s becoming the only thing I am. No way am I going to admit that, though, to her or anyone else who might catch on to the dirty vampire laundry I have stuffed in my personal hamper. “Because I’m determined not to let it.”

“But you can’t deny that it happened, or push it aside like it’s some sort of bad habit. It’ll find a way to come through – it always does.” Sounds like she was familiar with the downward spiral. “Give it a little room; let it breathe, and it’ll settle into place. Fight it, and it’ll knock you down when you least expect it. You’re only fooling yourself if you think you can’t hide from it.”

“You mean, like you? Hiding out here with your books and your tea?”

“What do those have to do with anything?” Nothing, really. I just didn’t have anything substantial to throw back at her. “I’d be reading and drinking chai even if I wasn’t a vampire. And knitting – I knit, too. And I volunteer at a food pantry, and I take Latin dance classes. I’m still living my life the way I want, without letting my being a vampire be any more significant than any other part. But I don’t deny it, either. I respect it, and it respects me. No lying to myself, and no hiding.”

“So you work the night shift in an office with about seven other people, and you don’t think you’re hiding? Not even a little bit?” So rude of me.

“Night is a more comfortable environment for me – that’s all. I don’t have to worry about all the extra physical pain. At the age I’ve been since I was changed, I try to mitigate that by any means possible. And the extra money is nice. But I’m certainly not hiding.”

She was waiting for me to share more, or to sympathize, or to uncork my bottle of shit and let it pour. But I’m not there yet, and I’m not going to be pushed there by someone who just wants another vampire to commiserate with. I also didn’t want to be a total ass about it. I do have to work with the woman. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll take it under consideration.” It struck me at that moment that if she was a vampire, and I was a vampire, and we both preferred working nights for whatever reasons we did, maybe we weren’t alone. How many more were going to poke their heads into my TV Land evenings wanting to rap about their fangs or their death farts? If my solitude was in even greater jeopardy, I had to know. “So are there others here… around the office?”

“No, no others. Just us.” She fixed an eye on me in a manner that said she knew I’d be asking other questions eventually. “But there was only me before you came along; who knows how many there’ll end up being when people find out all you have to do is push a button every two hours.” Not only did she know my vampire secret, she knew my Job Fit for a Slacker secret, too.

What can I say?

That softened me a little.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” I offered. “Maybe we can keep this night shift deal between us, and hang on to our privacy a little longer. What do you think?” It was more than a pact between misfits, if it was that at all. It was really my way of saying, “I don’t want to talk about This, even if you do; please respect my choice.” She seemed like a nice lady, and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But after everything that’s happened in the past few weeks, I haven’t made anything close to a social rebound yet. I don’t know how far I am from wanting to interact with regular people again, let alone another “darkened soul”. I’m just not ready to make that much of a concession to my vampiring. But I do have questions.

Questions even Google can’t answer for me.

Best to leave the door open just a crack.

She smiled in a way that said ouch, but she finally took the hint. “Okay; you win. I’ll go back to my books and my chai and my afghan. Nice meeting you, Joe.” She drifted back over to her desk. “If you’re ever curious about wink-wink, you just let me know. I’ll be right over there, living the dream.”

“Thanks, Louise. I may take you up on that someday.” Not today, though.

And probably not tomorrow, either.

But maybe someday.