The coolest out of everything? I think all the extra protein consumption has helped thicken my thinning spots a bit – total bonus! If only I’d been in on that little secret before, I’d have eaten like Dr. Atkins years ago. Back then, though, the cholesterol would’ve kicked my younger self’s illness-obsessed ass. But now? No heartbeat means no need to worry about arterial plaque build-up. Sweet, eh?
See how I am now? Silver linings all over the place these days.
Not to say I’m not noticing the things that are missing. I’m just trying to keep them in their place.
It’s hard sometimes, though.
Despite the fact that it’s a thousand times easier than the alternative, I’ve been wondering how long I’ll have to work nights. Louise has never heard of any sort of a cure for being a vampire, so I’m guessing it’ll be close to forever. Even if I change jobs, it’s likely I’d opt for something nocturnal. The hours, the solitude, the lack of sun exposure – it really does make more sense. Louise has been on nights for five years and seven months. That’s a lot of moonlight. I’ve been on for two months, and I will say that having my days free to do whatever I want is convenient. Having to stay inside most of the time during those days in order to avoid being sun-fried makes it a little less so, since, in addition to the other stuff, the sensitivity of my skin has cranked up a bit. Even double-shirting with the UV-safe fabrics like Louise suggested lets through some burn. I can see why the woman wears wool. But sweaters aren’t me.
I have to draw the line somewhere.
When I was a daytime dweller, Hube and I made it a point to work the beach as much as possible. We used to hit the boardwalk and loiter on the pier every weekend – sometimes we’d try picking up women we knew were way out of our league, just to see how far we could get (hint: mostly nowhere), and sometimes we’d take our synths and busk for change to generate interest for the band. Most times we’d just wander around talking shit and dreaming big, like young dudes will do… even the older young dudes such as ourselves. I know now how much I took it for granted. Not just the good times, and not just Hube.
The sun, too.
I liked the heat-baked feeling of spending a handful of hours combing the beach, just kicking the waves and being stupid. It’s not like I’m a kid anymore, but something about having a golden star above you warming your blood while you walk makes you feel young no matter how old you get – or, in my case, how old you
don’t
get. Plants know it; Superman knows it. Everything on the freaking planet knows it, including vampires, apparently. Sun is strength. Sun equals life.
No sun equals… something less than life.
It can’t be only me feeling like this.
I brought it up to Louise. “I miss day life. Do you ever miss it?”
She spoke and crafted a nifty ski hat at the same time. It was amazing; she’s like a female Yoda with knee socks and knitting needles. “You know, I do miss it – especially in the fall. I miss farmers markets, and yard sales, and apple picking. And craft fairs – I think I miss craft fairs the most.”
Yeah. That’s what I was thinking, too…
“What do you miss about it, Joe?”
No question. “I miss the ocean.”
“Is that where you used to
hang
, as you kids say these days?”
Nice, Louise! Way to hit up on the lingo of the twentieth century, now that we’re well into the twenty-first. “I do – I did – hang there. Not nearly enough, though. I think now I’d be there every day if I could.” With Chloe.
“You can’t go at night?” She was looking right at me, and her fingers didn’t miss a stitch… or whatever they’re called in knitting. “It’s a different kind of energy, but it’s still magnificent. You should go.”
“I’ve thought about it. I don’t know if I’d like the vibe as much being there after dark.” Without Chloe.
“You might be surprised. It’s worth a try.”
“Yeah. Not sure it would be.” Without Chloe.
She stopped her knitting, so I knew something big was coming. “Can I ask you a personal question? Not trying to pry here or anything… just wondering about something.”
Oh, snap. Is she going to bring up the shy-gay shit, too? “Fire away, Louise.”
“Who is Chloe?”
I did a quick think-back, and I’m positive that I’ve never mentioned Chloe in any of our conversations. “Louise, are you reading my thoughts?”
She blushed. “Oh, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry. That name just keeps coming up in your head, over and over. And over.”
True, this.
“No big deal, I just thought the whole mind reading thing was like vampire sex, like something one vampire couldn’t do to another vampire because I… “
“Tried to read mine?”
“Ummm… yeah. That.”
“And it didn’t work?”
“Yeah. That, too.” Double bust.
She didn’t seem miffed. “There’s a way to block it; you just have to learn to close your mind. It takes practice, but I can show you how.” She squinted. “And to be fair, you can read mine now if you’d like. I have nothing to hide.” She sort of loosened her posture and closed her eyes. “Take a look.” So I did.
Her mind was filled with books and yarn and tea.
Nope. Nothing hidden in there.
Then I felt like I was invading her head, so I stopped. “Okay. Let’s call it square.”
The knitting started again. “So who is she, if you don’t mind telling me? She seems awfully important to you.”
I didn’t know how to put the something-nothingness of me and Chloe into words in a way that someone else would understand. I did my best, but it still sucked. “She was important, and then she wasn’t. And she still is.” That was confusing… not unlike the whole situation. I left out all the mess in the middle about the flirting and the Tool and the miscommunication, and the way that, even with no heartbeat, I can feel some kind of phantom fluttering in my chest when I think about her. “She was someone I wanted to love. Things didn’t work out.” That was as far as I could go.
“I understand.” She didn’t push it, or show pity, or coddle me. And she didn’t get all
Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow
about it like she’s prone to doing. Probably because she knew exactly how it felt to be in my position.
The sun ain’t coming out anytime soon.
“If you’re anything like me – and we’re more similar than you probably want to admit – what you miss most is the potential. All of
what could have been
if you hadn’t happened upon this sticky wicket.” Her book obsession was spilling out all over her vocabulary. I knew her well enough by now to know what was coming next: a big fat philosophical talk about how I should never give up dreaming the impossible dream of tigers in the night that kill the badness of no dreams. Or something like that.
She talks a
lot
. I let most of it just go right past.
“There’s no reason your
what could have been
can’t still be, Joe.” Really? No reason? I flashed her a fang or two. “Well, there’s that – yes. It’s a complication, for sure. But it doesn’t remove the possibility from everything.”
Maybe not. “It sure puts a question mark on having something normal with someone else, though.”
“So Chloe doesn’t Know, then?” Know, with a capital K? As in Know about
This?
Hell no, she doesn’t Know. “Is there anyone in your life who does?”
“Only one. And things are pretty rocky there right now.” I think she was waiting for me to tell her more, but I just left it there.
“What about your family?”
“Not them either. I’m trying to figure out a way to break it to them.” I’m just now finding some measure of good in this; they might never be able to do the same.
“I have a small circle of ladies who Know… dear friends from before the change, who’ve seen me through my rough patches.” Really? A circle? “They’ve really brought me back my warmth over the years. We knit, we discuss books. You should come sometime.” Oh. That kind of circle.
Great for her, but not exactly my ball of yarn.
Or my cup of tea.
Still, it did sound nice. I’m not greedy; I wouldn’t even need an entire circle. These days, I’d settle for a semi-circle, or a warped oval with wiggly edges.
Even a point would be nice.
I told Louise that I played keyboards, and until pretty recently was in a techno band, and what I’d like more than joining a coffee klatch of fifty five year-old knitting enthusiasts is to find someone to play music with. Having had no eBay bites on the synthesizer-leather pants package, I’ve switched on the keys a couple times since the Old Lady Oral Sex Gig Distaster, and what’s coming out of my fingers now is totally different from what I did in Vomiting Nonsense. It’s still sort of classical and melodic like it had been, but now it has sort of an ethereal edge to it, too. Not having Lazer to boot heel all of my ideas, I feel like I’ve been able to stop holding my musical breath. And I like what I’ve been exhaling. So I’m eyeballing the card I got from that Forever 81 guy. Given the right players to work with, maybe I could make a slow transition back into music. It would be a sweet first step toward balancing things out. Dark and light. Yin and yang.
Joe Average and Joe Vampire.
“You’re a musician? I didn’t know that.”
“You should have read my thoughts a little closer, Louise. It was right there.” She laughed. She takes a good teasing.
“I know someone you might like, someone who… ” Louise isn’t one to leave a sentence unfinished, so I think all the yarn in her head must have tangled into a giant snarl at that moment. She yanked off a Post-It and wrote down the name
Megan
and a phone number. “The daughter of a good friend. She’s a pianist. She’s a bit reserved, and doesn’t get out too much.” Translation: she’s boring. “But she’s the sweetest thing, and very pretty. Maybe you two could get together sometime and talk about music… maybe over dinner or something.”
“Like, go on a date? I don’t know, Louise.” I thought back to my last blind date attempt, and how it had lit the fuse on the whole shit bomb currently stinking up my life.
I’d really like to avoid that kind of mistake from now on, if possible.
“She Knows, so it would be easier for you; maybe you wouldn’t feel as self-conscious around her.” No. I’d be even more self-conscious, I’m sure. Did my fangs lose their roundness in the middle of dessert? Does she keep staring at my pointed Eddie Munster ears? Do my all-black irises make her want to puke?
That is a lot to keep track of while holding up my end of the conversation
and
trying to sound sophisticated while reading the dessert menu.
“Just think about it, okay? Maybe give her a call just to talk. I think you’ll really like her. She’s a sweet girl.” Not as sweet as Chloe.
Louise frowned when she plucked that last part out of my brain.
“Sorry. I’ll think about it.”
Just as soon as she teaches me that Vampire Jedi Mind Closing thing.
POST 28
The Set Up
As you’ve read in previous posts, up until recently I’ve been what I’d call a serial monogamist – if two relationships over the course of fifteen years can be considered serial. It’s more than one, so I’m going with it. Even more recently, I’ve been a total non-ogamist. I might even take the wordplay far enough to say I’ve been something of a self-ogamist, but I don’t want to put any more nasty pictures in your head than are absolutely necessary. Whatever kind of ogamy I’ve been practicing, it hasn’t been with anyone else for a very long time. So I’m rusty. Plus, being a vampire has kinked my already-wavering self-confidence. I can only presume my skills wouldn’t pay the bills. My game is not the same. And my ocean has lost the lion’s share of its motion, regardless of the size of my boat. Which is basically a tug these days.
Cheap joke.
Flirting with Chloe wasn’t enough to sharpen my pencil for a real date. If she and I had picked up steam, I still would’ve been rehearsing smooth lines and throwing practice smiles so I could figure out how to not look nervous or pained. A lot of prep work goes into having a natural, spontaneous night out with someone. When it’s with someone you know, at least you have the safety net of common subjects to chat about in the event that you blow through all your smooth in the first ten minutes. But when it’s someone you’re hoping to impress, or someone you’ve only communicated with through three text messages, say, you probably want to have some sort of plan in place so you can keep things rolling. And if you’re a vampire, you need to toss in all the razzle-dazzle you can to stave off any uncomfortable silences.
I could be wrong, but I would imagine silences tend to invite scrutiny of your night-dweller appearance.
It might seem self-evident, but there is a delicate arrangement to the order of conversation in these situations. Start with the wrong topic, and you have nowhere to go but… nowhere. Start right, though, and you have a steady flow of date talk that moves from one subject to another with ease, and in a way that eliminates the awkwardness variable.
It’s best expressed in the form of a simple yet effective word cloud:
COMPLIMENTS