Page 9 of Batty About You
“Why is she calling me now?” I mutter and jab the phone as best I can with my bony fingers, wishing I’d had money to fix the radio in this old wreck of a car, or that my wireless headphones would work when my ears are “batty.”
Oh, right. It’s Halloween. Time for my annual lesson on how not to die. “Hi,Bunica!” I say cheerfully.
“What is this that your father tells me? You are not safe at home? You are out on this night, the night of the devils?”
“Nice to hear from you, too,” I sigh.
“De?teptul lui pe?te!”
“I’mnotbeing a know-it-all!”
“Don’t waste your last breaths. You must turn around now! Or find a holy place and hide until morning.”
Maybe if I count to ten. Think about Kelly’s face. Stare at the beautiful fall foliage—ooh! And a road sign that says my exit is just fifteen miles away! “I can’t stay long,Bunica. I have to use my GPS once I get off the exit,” I say as sweetly as possible.
“You should not be exiting unless you are exiting into a church!”
“Kelly goes to Pine Ridge Non-Denominational. She said we could go together to services on Sunday before I go home. I have six more weeks of my internship at the music school, and then I’ll be done with all my music major credits. Isn’t that great?”
“Mynepot, you are thinking with your trousers and not your head. Listen to the old ones. Our family has run all our lives to avoid the devil and the bargains he made with our ancestors not so long ago. You are the curse-bearer, the seventh son of a seventh son. You alone of your kin transform into a beast that has the vampire’s ability to change at will into a bat, the demon-wolf’s ability to walk in the day, and the curse binds your hideous form to the moon!”
I look in the mirror. Okay, so I’m not human-looking right now. My nose is like a snubby upside-down heart, my ears are long, I’m covered in fur, and my eyes are red. Does that really equal hideous, or just... different?
I’m praying Kelly will think it’s just different.
“Grandma,” I use the American word forbunicabecause sometimes that irritates her to silence. “I’m twenty-three, and nothing bad has happened to me on Halloween or any other night except that I’m forced to either be in my man-bat form or a little brown bat. I can’t be human between the hours of sunset and sunrise—I get it. I’ve missed a ton of parties. A ton of school events. My parents have had to write a lot of excuse notes formarching band night games, and Dad finally had to get some quack doctor off the net to give me a diagnosis of night blindness so I could get out of any work or school requirements at night. But on Halloween—everyonelooks like something else, whether it’s a monster or a beauty queen. The devil made deals with my stupid ancestors—”
“Don’t call them stupid, Bogdan!”
“I think theywerestupid!” I shout over her, twenty-odd years of politely biting my tongue boiling over. “They did evil things for power or to cheat death, and they gambled away pieces of their soul, more and more pieces every time they did evil things, right?”
There’s silence. That means I’m right.
“A long time ago, someone in Mom’s family and in your family made decisions to stop killing and hunting, stealing and mauling, and God knows what else. They had that monster blood, and they still chose to escape. Mom and Dad are the best people I know. I’m going to be a doctor—well, probably a physician’s assistant, but whatever. I’m going to heal and save lives. I make music. Kelly teaches children.”
The silence grows. Did I lose signal?
Shit, did I kill my grandmother by telling her too many truths at once? Or with my disrespect? “Bunica?” I whimper.
“I want you to be happy, son of my son. I believe you have a good heart, and the woman you want is a good woman. But if you meet her, you will see that she cannot love you, and it will hurt you. In your hurt, you may be preyed upon by the devil, because he knows how to sneak into our souls and speak to us in our despair. Listen to me, because I have seen it in my own grandfather and his brothers.”
A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the driving October wind. “She loves me.”
“If you believe that... Go to her tomorrow. In daylight. Go to her on any other night, but not this one. For this night feeds the devil, at least in your God-forsaken country.”
I shake my head, knowing many Americans would call her small rural village where only a few people have cars or modern conveniences the “forsaken” country.
“Belief gives power, Bogdan. Tonight is a night for wickedness, and the curse will come to claim you. You will no longer be my dear, sweet boy,” she weeps.
“Yes, I will,bunica! I will, I promise it. I vow it. If Kelly rejects me, well... I guess I’ll grow old alone, and there won’t be any more seventh sons coming from me, at least. I’m not going to go evil if she doesn’t like me.”
I’ll just die inside.
Learn to live with a broken heart. Maybe that’s the curse. Yep. It’s probably the curse. The one night I can freely show Kelly who I am will end with her screaming and throwing things at me as I flee, sobbing and trying to fly straight... I’ll crash into a tree. Break my neck. Kelly will grow old and alone, afraid to date anyone else in case they’re also a horrifying monster.
I suddenly feel like everything in my stomach has turned to liquid, and I can’t wait to shift into my smaller bat form and release a load of anxiety-guano.
“Our family members are experts at storytelling. Why do we always tell the story of the worst-case scenario, though?” I demand, hunching over the wheel.
