Page 70 of Heathens

He sits and motions for me to pick up my knife and fork. I oblige him.

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles. “I’m 170, give or take. What about you?”

“29.”

“Hm, you look younger.”

“It’s probably the freckles and the button nose.” I cut into my steak and take a bite. “That or everything looks young when you’re over 100.” He flashes a wry smile, and I feel a little more at ease. “Seriously though, even when I had my son, I looked younger than I actually was, at least until the sleepless nights started.ThenI looked my age.”

He frowns.

“You have a son?”

“Had.”

I can see that he wants to ask another question, but stops himself.

“And a husband, but I’m on my own now. A lot of us are.”

“We have something in common,” he murmurs. “The loneliness, I mean.”

It must ache for them to love people and lose them, or to spend decades alone. Neither option seems particularly great.

“I guess so, yeah.”

I take another bite of the steak. Rosemary, fresh black pepper, onion, and butter light up my tongue.

“This is seriously amazing, Dominic,” I mumble as I go in for more. It’s really hard not to pick the plate up and just shovel everything into my mouth. “So good.”

He beams at me.

“I’m glad you like it. My mother taught me to cook, she was very good.”

“Is she, uh… you know…” I clear my throat and point at my teeth.

He laughs, shaking his head.

“A vampire? No, she died when I was quite young.”

“How young?” I hold up a hand. “Sorry, that’s–”

“No, it’s alright. I was fourteen.”

“God, I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”

Dominic nods.

“It was, but it wasn’t as awful as what I did to the man who took her from me.”

My stomach drops and folds in on itself.

“Who…”

“My father,” he whispers. “I was asleep while he was killing her – and not just killing her, he was doing… more. I don’t know how I overpowered him. I just wanted it to fucking stop.”

Tears mist his eyes and he takes a deep breath, reaching for his wine and draining it before pouring himself another glass.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the humiliation evident in the tightness of his jaw. He’s choking on grief. “Not exactly appropriate dinner conversation.”

---