Page 57 of Vampires of Eden
Alexander looks away and his expression isn’t amused or curious. He seems upset. I’ve probably pushed this too far and have accidentally relapsed to my asshole ways.
“I ask because I… I had a situation where I thought that I loved someone, but I was wrong about it,” I offer, panicking. “About everything. The situation in my head wasn’t reflective of reality—but I didn’t realize until it was too late.” I pause to take a breath because the words tumble out. Now that I’ve started, it’s as if I can’t stop.
“Anyway,” I go on, like a high-speed train with no breaks. “When you talk about Oliver, it reminds me of that. You always mention the things you wanted to do. Activities the two of you could have done if he’d given you the chance. But you never talk abouthimas a vampire—like something funny he said or a good memory you shared. Typically, it’s wishful thinking.”
Alexander sits in silence. Only the wind moving through the vineyard brush disturbs this odd, suspended moment. I shake my head, feeling remorseful. “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have?—”
“No, you’re alright, I’m just… I’m thinking, Danny. Give me a second, okay? What you’ve said is a lot to process.”
“Okay,” I scratch the top of my head, nervously shifting my bun because I don’t know what else to do with my hands. He called me ‘Danny’ again. My weakened nature glitters in my belly and I want to punch myself.
“Oliver used to tell me that he was my, ‘obedient little poodle’ kept under glass,” Alexander begins. He stares out into the landscape blankly, as if wholly consumed by his thoughts. “I didn’t see him that way at all, but he eventually told me he hated his life here, because he didn’t have any choices. That everything was planned out and decided for him—his clothes, his schedule, his possessions… me and our engagement.”
Alexander takes a breath. The dejection radiating from his body is palpable. Stifling, like the atmosphere around us is filled with thick gray cotton.
“I don’t talk about good memories with Oliver because we don’t have any,” he says, looking at me with glassy and forlorn eyes. “The truth is, even after all those years, we barely knew each other. Eden’s conservative, aristocratic system stuck us together as kids, but didn’t allow space for us to build anything meaningful. So… I guess I was always hoping that we’d have the chance to do that later, in the future. To learn each other. To make those memories.”
He pushes himself upright from the steps and I stand as well, feeling overwhelmed by his quiet grief. It’s so familiar that it might as well be my own.
“Thanks for today,” he says, offering a weak smile. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. You always do.”
Every fiber of my being wants to reach out and touch him in some way—as if I need to make physical contact to share in his pain. To commiserate or maybe soothe him.Something. His hand in mine or maybe my palm to his shoulder. An embrace to let him know that I know. I’ve been there and it does get better. With time.
He moves down the next step, away from me. I twist and wring my hands behind my back. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” he says. “Don’t worry. If it’s not too much of a pain in the ass for you, maybe we can watch more episodes ofDS9another day? Or maybe someBuffy? I’ll bring you a new bag of crisps since I ate them all. That was rude.” He grins and this one is less forced.
“Of course,” I say, relaxing my shoulders and noting the glittery tension there. It streams warmly like a sun-soaked river down my spine. “Anytime.”
Alexander stalks across the gravel and toward his car. Before he gets inside, he waves. I wave back. Eventually, he pulls off. His taillights fade down the driveway and into the darkness.
Standing alone in the quiet night, I close my eyes.
My nature is… alive inside of me. It’s not dead like I’ve always thought. Slowly, it’s unfurling and longing to thrive—to breathe and flow as it naturally should. But it’s too weak.
I open my eyes and lift my chin to the moon.
God, karma, the universe, what is happening?
Please don’t do this to me.
Not again.
CHAPTER 14
Alexander
Stacks of garbage are neatly arranged on the back patio. Cardboard boxes flattened and tied with string. A bucket filled with recyclable glass and two black bags stuffed with the leftover waste from our bathroom renovations.
“It’s supposed to rain soon,” Kathryn says, securing the last garbage bag. “Me and Roland can drag everything out in the morning before the garbage truck comes. It can wait.”
I lean past the awning to look up at a sky filled with rolling, steely and tumultuous clouds. In the distance, thunder rumbles low and threatening like a lion about to strike. When I inhale deeply I can smell the rain coming. “Yeah, but, the garbage truck comes to this area at five-thirty in the morning, right? It’s better to do it now—I’ll be quick.”
“We could load this stuff up in the car?” Kathryn offers.
I snicker. “It’s notthatfar.”
“It’s not that close.”
