Later that evening I was sitting in the living room reading a book
when there was a knock on the door. I slid a bookmark into the spine of the
thick paperback, setting it down on the arm of the sofa. As I rose and crossed
the room I looked at the clock—it was after eight. I don’t know why I
checked. I never have visitors regardless of the time of day. I stuck my eye to
the peephole and was surprised to see the woman from the coffee shop on the
other side of the door. I unhooked the chain and opened the door.
She smiled a huge grin. “Hi! Remember me?”
“Sure.”
“I thought I’d bring you a coffee instead of just sending you
money. That seemed too impersonal after such a sweet gesture. I hope you don’t
mind.”
Did I mind? I wasn’t sure what to say. I was pondering the
quandary silently in my head, unknowingly causing an uncomfortable silence as
she stood in the hall holding up the two paper coffee cups. While waiting for
my response, the smile slowly began to dim on her face. I swiftly recovered my
manners and finally answered, “Come on in.”
I opened the door wide to allow her to enter. As she passed I
couldn’t help but wonder why women trusted me when, in reality, I should be the
last person to trust. This woman knew nothing of me, except that I had
purchased her a cup of coffee, and yet she entered my apartment with no
hesitation. Don’t get me wrong, it definitely works out to my advantage, but it
always strikes me as more than a little odd.
She turned back to face me and I took note of her. She was young.
If I had to wager a guess, I’d say early-twenties. She had long blonde hair
that she parted down the middle in a very typical hippie fashion. She wore
baggy blue jeans, a blue t-shirt, a grey men’s cardigan sweater, and converse
sneakers. She had the appearance of a typical college student, especially with
the khaki-green messenger bag she had slung across herself. Her baggy clothes
were leaving a lot to the imagination and I allowed mine to run wild for a few
moments.
I observed her as she glanced around my apartment. She let out a
slow whistle. “Nice pad.” I wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or
forthcoming but when she turned, her blue eyes resonated honesty. There was
something vaguely familiar about her. Had I seen her around the coffee shop
before our previous meeting? That had to be it, but my brain didn’t seem
totally satisfied with that answer. I realized I was staring at her and
diverted my eyes. “I didn’t know what you would like so I winged it and gotcha
a Mocha. Hope that’s cool.”
“Works for me, but you didn’t need to repay me.”
“Seriously it was the least I could do. What you did today was so
cool.” She handed me the cup and I gestured for her to take a seat. She plopped
down in the recliner with the grace of a gorilla, yanked the messenger bag up
over her head, and unceremoniously tossed it on the floor beside her. Picking
up the book I had been reading, she started flipping through it. She was
bending the spine rather hard as the pages slid quickly though her fingers. The
bookmark fell to the floor and I gently snatched the book away from her. Yes,
she brought me coffee—but that didn’t mean she could just waltz into my
home and disrespect my books. I laid the novel back down with care on the
coffee table. I had a sneaky suspicion she was someone who dog-eared pages,
which meant we could never truly be friends. However, I realized I was being
rude and should probably remedy the situation.
“I’m Marcus by the way.” I reached out my hand.
She extended hers in return and shook mine firmly. “Jules.”
“How come you were in such a hurry this afternoon, Jules?”
“I was late for class.”
“A student, huh? What are you majoring in?” Up until this point
she had been leaning back in the recliner. She moved forward and leaned her
elbows on her knees. She had a very stern look on her face, like she was about
to discuss some serious business.
“Honestly?’ I nodded before she continued, “I haven’t picked a
major yet. I’m just mostly wasting my parents’ money and getting drunk.” She
leaned back again in the recliner, pulled the lever releasing the footrest, and
then arrogantly crossed her feet one over the other, placing her shoes
unapologetically on my furniture. If I had nicer things I might have been
offended, but as it turned out I found her lack of inhibition interesting. I
watched her as she chewed on the straw to her drink.
“What do you do, Marcus, besides buy coffee for girls? You work?”
“Nope, just a college dropout.” I had to think on the fly and that
seemed like answer that fit the social situation.
“You live here alone?”
“Yeah.”
“How can you afford a sweet pad like this by yourself? You a
trust-fund baby or something?”
I shrugged nonchalantly as I took another sip of my coffee. “Yeah
something like that.” I could play the role of a trust fund baby. That would be
a hell of a lot easier than explaining the truth.
We sat in silence for a few moments before she popped up out of
the chair and asked, “So you gonna give me a tour of the place or what?”
“Sure.” I set my cup back down on the coffee table and walked her
through the apartment. It took the better part of twenty minutes, partially
because I have a three bedroom apartment, but mostly because she liked to take
her time looking at each room. She was meticulous—examining every fine
detail. She was most impressed by the master bedroom, even though it still had
my sparse decorating touch. She sat on my king-size, four-poster bed, bouncing
up and down a few times before going into the master bathroom, climbing into
the Jacuzzi tub and claimed, “I could die in here.”
Is it so wrong that my immediate thought was...
Yes, you could
. She climbed out of the
tub and wandered around my room for a few more moments before coming to a stop
at my bedside table. She eyed the odd collection of little trinkets before her
gaze landed on the little plant. She seemed to study it for a moment, brushing
her fingers lightly over its leaves before walking out of the room.
When the tour was over, she picked up her bag off the floor and
made for the front door. “So you wanna hang out again sometime or what?”
“Um…” I was caught by surprise and wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Sorry, I tend to be a little direct but you can say no if you
want to. You seem nice enough and I don’t have many friends. I know we just met
but I don’t know…thought maybe we could be pals.”
This chick was more than a little odd and I’m not one for keeping
friends, but then a wonderful thought came to mind. The challenge I had been looking
for had just delivered itself to me with a big red bow, or a khaki-green
messenger bag, as it were. I had been in a rut, feeding on the goth kids, and
Jules could break that boring tedious cycle. So without further hesitation I
agreed.
“Cool. If you’re not busy tomorrow, you wanna meet up at the
coffee shop around three?”
“Sure,” I replied and she smiled.
“All right. I’ll see ya then.” I nodded to her as she left and
closed the door behind her. I smiled to myself. She didn’t know that I had
already decided any sort of relationship between us was doomed because she was
mean to books, but I could fake it to give her what she wanted—a friend.
In turn, I could get what I wanted—a thirteenth keepsake.
š
Over the course of the next two weeks, I met Jules at the coffee
shop numerous times. We sat and had the get to know you kind of discussions:
family, school, childhood—most of which I made up. After confessing to
being a trust-fund baby, I didn’t want to be caught unprepared again. So the
first evening after she left I came up with a whole persona to feed her. I also
made the decision to not feed again unless it was from her—figuring it
would make my victory all that more sweet. However by our fifth meeting, I was
very hungry; growing weary of my own game and ready for it to be done. As I
left my apartment, I made the decision that the time was upon us, no more
fucking around. I couldn’t bring her back to my place though—what the
hell would I do with her body? I would need to get her to invite me back to her
apartment—something she had yet to do. I would have to pour on the charm
to get this done. It wouldn’t be hard to accomplish because I am, after all, a
pro.
When I arrived at the coffee shop she was already waiting for me,
sitting at our usual table by the window with a drink in her hand. I waved to
her as I ordered a black coffee and a chocolate chip scone. I wasn’t hungry for
food but I needed something to keep my teeth busy. I took up the chair across
the table from her. She smiled a big, goofy grin at me and I returned the
gesture.
We made our usual small talk for about twenty minutes, both of us
picking at the scone, but I was too anxious to carry on the charade for much
longer. I needed to steer the conversation towards us leaving but I wasn’t sure
how I was going to do it. There just didn’t seem to be an opening for it to
happen. I realized I was just going to have to force it.
“I’m kinda bored. You want to get out of here?”
“I guess. What do you want to do?” She smiled
“I don’t know,” I said as casually as possible. “Maybe we could go
back to your place and watch a movie or something.”
The smile slowly left her face as she broke eye contact with me.
There appeared to be hurt in her eyes as she glanced down at her wrist watch
and started gathering her things. “Shit! I completely forgot I have a ton of
reading to do for one of my classes. So I’ll have to take a rain check.”
“Okay,” I agreed hesitantly as she popped up off the chair and
grabbed her usual gray cardigan, which had been hanging over the back.
“How about tomorrow? We can meet here first—same time as
always?”
“Sure,” I agreed again, but before I could say anything else, she
was gone. I stared out the window wondering what the hell had just happened.
Sure she’s an odd little duck anyway but that behavior was strange, even for
her. Maybe I had to concede, I was just projecting my own anxiety. I was
disappointed that I wasn’t going to feed today, but come hell or high water, I
would feed when we met again.
I spent that evening, and most of the next morning, jittery as
hell. I paced around the apartment wearing holes in all the rugs. I still had
another twenty minutes before I could leave to meet her when there was a knock
on the door. I stuck my eye to the peephole and saw Jules standing on the other
side. “Motherfucker!” I whispered with clenched teeth and fists. What was she
doing here? There would be no way I could casually shuffle her out of here and
back to her place without arousing suspicion. This was seriously becoming more
trouble than it was worth. I took some slow, deep breaths and plastered a phony
smile on my face as I swung the door open.
“Jules, hey! I thought we were meeting at the coffee shop?” I
feigned enthusiasm.
“Well, we were but you had mentioned something about watching a
movie yesterday. Unfortunately, my roommate is home with the flu.” She held up
two paper cups. “So I brought the coffee to us and figured we could watch a
movie here.” She smiled her sweet, innocent smile and I fought the urge to
wring her neck.
“Sure,” I replied as I ushered her in. I was picturing all the
ways I was going to torture her when I got the chance. I had never tortured any
of my victims before but there’s a first time for everything—and if
anyone was deserving of it, she would be the one.
She handed me one of the cups and I took a swig. It was as bitter
as my mood. I scowled behind her back, sipping the drink. She plopped down in
the recliner again but stayed sitting straight up, looking almost proper. I
wanted to chuck my drink at her but instead I chugged it down fast.
“You have any popcorn?” she asked and I shook my head. She reached
in her bag and produced a box of microwave kernels. “Oh, that’s cool. I brought
some.” I clenched my fist around the empty cup as I tried not to scream...
Then why the fuck did you ask?
Usually I
found her strange behavior oddly charming, but now, I just wanted to throttle
her for all her idiosyncrasies. She tossed me the box. I marched into the
kitchen and shoved a bag into the microwave.
I tried again to take some deep breaths and calm myself down. I
kept reminding myself it was early in the day yet, all was not lost. I poured
the popcorn into a bowl as I heard the TV come on in the other room. Leaning my
hands on the counter, I tried to center myself before going back to her. The
past few weeks would have been for naught if I blew it now. I had to stay calm
and focused. Picking up the bowl, I walked back to the living room.
I had almost made it to the couch when the room started to spin.
The bowl slipped from my fingers and crashed to the floor, spilling popcorn all
over the rug. Jules was still sitting straight as a rod, with the remote in her
hand, flipping through the channels. “You all right?”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel very well,” I responded, holding my
head. My knees were starting to feel weak and I felt very unsteady on my feet.
“Yeah, about that, you might wanna lie down,” she said absently as
she continued channel surfing. I meant to ask why, but before I had the chance,
I collapsed to the floor and everything went black.