Marie locked the back door and then hurried to lock the front. She unplugged the phone. She lowered the blinds and pulled the curtain on the window in the front room. Her cell was already on vibrate, but she turned it off.
She wasn’t surprised when she heard the rap on her window. She had her head under her pillow, but she still heard the tap and the muffled voice.
“Marie, open the door. I live here too!"
“Then use your key," Marie said.
“I gave it to--mom. Stop being a puss and just get your ass up.”
Marie rose and eased her way through the small house to the back door. A young woman stood there glowering, marked as kin to Marie by her nubbish nose and freckles. Marie unlocked the door, but was back in the bedroom with the pillow over her head before it opened. She was braced for the tug on the pillow when it came.
"You're acting like this is the end of the world. Well, it just might be—I can’t believe you said no.” Marie groaned and lashed out with the pillow in the direction of Martha’s voice; the pillow slipped out of her fingers and dropped to the floor
“I can’t believe he asked!" she said. Her static-ridden hair fanned out behind her and across her face; she left it there to hide her sister's face. "He asked right in front of everybody, what was I supposed to do? Let myself get pressured into agreeing to something I’m not sure about? I’m not sure I’m… no, I definitely know that I’m not ready for that sort of commitment. I start to think about it and I just feel a gigantic weight on my chest and I just.” Marie took a deep breath. Martha gave her a dirty look and scooped the pillow back up. She fluffed it absently and tossed it back at Marie; it fell slightly short. Marie left it there on the foot of the bed.
“Why’d he pick you? Any of the rest of us would have said yes in a heartbeat.”
“Ask him yourself, then. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled," Marie said.
Martha glared another glare. “He’s not there anymore, stupid. He left. You ran out of the place and he just like, stood there for a second. Then he left. I think he’s upset."
Marie’s laugh got her another dirty look. “He’s not physically capable of being upset.” Her words hit Martha’s back as her sister walked out of the room.
Later, Marie went on a walk to clear her mind. It was a beautiful, slightly cloudy day, but she didn’t see many people. Those who were out and about—an elderly woman working in her garden, a few young children playing in a yard with their parents, and a couple out walking with their dog—all hurriedly went back inside their houses as she passed. She hadn’t realized so many people in the neighborhood went to his parties.
And so many people at school, too. There wasn’t much room in the caff during lunch, but if she sat down at a table it was a sure thing that the table’s entire population would quickly find seats elsewhere.
Her parents wouldn’t speak to her and neither would her sister. She wasn’t let to forget the mistake she had made in any waking moment. And then she dreamed.
She was at his house: a well-maintained Victorian towered over the manicured grounds. It was dusk, and during her waking moments, the red lights inside gave the place a warm, intimate, and private feeling. Here in the dream they made it feel like a smothering womb, and no one in the press of people seemed to notice. Her friends and family were among the throng; they laughed and joked and hugged her and eagerly gestured for her to join the conversations in which she was too bemused to partake. Then the conversations trailed away, and the laughter fell silent, though their eyes were no less full of humor. But they were captivated eyes, eager eyes.
He walked down the stairs. His suit was well fitted and very new, but his face was moldering and bits of his slicked-back hair fell away with each step he took. His eyes met Marie’s. She woke with a start.
There was a weight on the bed that hadn’t been there when she fell asleep. She didn’t need the lamp or her glasses to make out the blurry shape at the foot of the bed.
“Your sister invited me in. She says we need to talk.” Marie fumbled for her glasses.
“I say we don’t. I say that all the people around here are goddamned cultists and I know what you’re doing now and I don’t care for it and you need to stay out of my goddamned head and get out of the goddamn house. Get out!” He flinched as though burned and lunged for the window. A moment later there was nothing but air where he had been. Marie’s blinds were a mess.
“I think… I think I hate vampires.”
She wasn’t surprised when she heard the rap on her window. She had her head under her pillow, but she still heard the tap and the muffled voice.
“Marie, open the door. I live here too!"
“Then use your key," Marie said.
“I gave it to--mom. Stop being a puss and just get your ass up.”
Marie rose and eased her way through the small house to the back door. A young woman stood there glowering, marked as kin to Marie by her nubbish nose and freckles. Marie unlocked the door, but was back in the bedroom with the pillow over her head before it opened. She was braced for the tug on the pillow when it came.
"You're acting like this is the end of the world. Well, it just might be—I can’t believe you said no.” Marie groaned and lashed out with the pillow in the direction of Martha’s voice; the pillow slipped out of her fingers and dropped to the floor
“I can’t believe he asked!" she said. Her static-ridden hair fanned out behind her and across her face; she left it there to hide her sister's face. "He asked right in front of everybody, what was I supposed to do? Let myself get pressured into agreeing to something I’m not sure about? I’m not sure I’m… no, I definitely know that I’m not ready for that sort of commitment. I start to think about it and I just feel a gigantic weight on my chest and I just.” Marie took a deep breath. Martha gave her a dirty look and scooped the pillow back up. She fluffed it absently and tossed it back at Marie; it fell slightly short. Marie left it there on the foot of the bed.
“Why’d he pick you? Any of the rest of us would have said yes in a heartbeat.”
“Ask him yourself, then. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled," Marie said.
Martha glared another glare. “He’s not there anymore, stupid. He left. You ran out of the place and he just like, stood there for a second. Then he left. I think he’s upset."
Marie’s laugh got her another dirty look. “He’s not physically capable of being upset.” Her words hit Martha’s back as her sister walked out of the room.
Later, Marie went on a walk to clear her mind. It was a beautiful, slightly cloudy day, but she didn’t see many people. Those who were out and about—an elderly woman working in her garden, a few young children playing in a yard with their parents, and a couple out walking with their dog—all hurriedly went back inside their houses as she passed. She hadn’t realized so many people in the neighborhood went to his parties.
And so many people at school, too. There wasn’t much room in the caff during lunch, but if she sat down at a table it was a sure thing that the table’s entire population would quickly find seats elsewhere.
Her parents wouldn’t speak to her and neither would her sister. She wasn’t let to forget the mistake she had made in any waking moment. And then she dreamed.
She was at his house: a well-maintained Victorian towered over the manicured grounds. It was dusk, and during her waking moments, the red lights inside gave the place a warm, intimate, and private feeling. Here in the dream they made it feel like a smothering womb, and no one in the press of people seemed to notice. Her friends and family were among the throng; they laughed and joked and hugged her and eagerly gestured for her to join the conversations in which she was too bemused to partake. Then the conversations trailed away, and the laughter fell silent, though their eyes were no less full of humor. But they were captivated eyes, eager eyes.
He walked down the stairs. His suit was well fitted and very new, but his face was moldering and bits of his slicked-back hair fell away with each step he took. His eyes met Marie’s. She woke with a start.
There was a weight on the bed that hadn’t been there when she fell asleep. She didn’t need the lamp or her glasses to make out the blurry shape at the foot of the bed.
“Your sister invited me in. She says we need to talk.” Marie fumbled for her glasses.
“I say we don’t. I say that all the people around here are goddamned cultists and I know what you’re doing now and I don’t care for it and you need to stay out of my goddamned head and get out of the goddamn house. Get out!” He flinched as though burned and lunged for the window. A moment later there was nothing but air where he had been. Marie’s blinds were a mess.
“I think… I think I hate vampires.”
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