by A. L. Singer
The woman’s face went blank as she listened to him. She quietly said “si” a couple of times, and then she smiled absentmindedly.
Sorin nodded, reached around to his back pocket, and retrieved a bundle of cash neatly folded in a silver money clip. After separating a few bills from the rest, he pressed them into her hand. She simply stood there for a minute, blinking, and then her smile spread into a goofy grin.
He has made her mind mush, I thought, but thankfully kept from saying it out loud.
He had to nod toward the kitchen in order to get her to finally move. “Il pasto successive nella finestra, si prega,” he said, loud enough that I could hear.
I felt a little concerned for her, honestly, and wondered if that was what I looked like when Sorin spoke to me.
He turned and rejoined me by the entrance.
“Impressive,” was all I said, my tone sarcastic.
He gave a small smile and put his arm around me. I stood and looked around the restaurant, curious to see what I was refusing to enjoy. The tables were covered in a black velvet fabric. There were gold-trimmed wineglasses and small vases filled with roses on each table. Real vines grew throughout the place, covering pillars that led into the dining area. I hadn’t observed much by the time the hostess returned with a large black bag, bearing the restaurant’s name in gold letters on the side.
My jaw went lax as she held the bag out me. “Godetevi il vostro pasto, Signorina.” It had literally been a few minutes; I couldn’t imagine how whatever Sorin had ordered could be ready that quickly.
Sorin took the bag, offering her a smile and a “mille grazie.” He took my hand and guided me outside.
I stumbled through the door he held open for me. “This cannot be our food … my food.” Once outside, I pressed, “What did you do?”
“I politely asked her to box up the next order that came up.” He looked into the bag and then back at me. “Do you like eggplant parmesan?” He held the bag closer, looking in a second time. “If not, there is also linguine and clams.” He continued down the sidewalk.
Knowing how much he didn’t enjoy the smell of food, I found the gesture of his identifying them touching. Still and all, though. … “Sorin,” I quietly scolded him. “You cannot just walk into a restaurant … and take someone’s meal like that.”
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Mia, do not worry about it. I gave her plenty of money. I covered the cost of our meal and the food that we now have. I even gave extra and treated the guests to a bottle of the best wine they had. No one will be perturbed.”
I relaxed a little and climbed into my seat after he opened the door for me. He put the bag in the back of the SUV as he walked around to the driver’s side. As we pulled away, I looked at the dark brick across the sidewalk, shuddering as we passed the exact spot where Anya had infringed on our evening. Something caught my attention, and I peered through the window. The rose Sorin had tucked behind my ear lay on the sidewalk where we had stood. I lifted my hand to the side of my head, confirming I had lost the rose during the encounter earlier. A lump developed in my throat, and I swallowed, trying to force it away. I lowered my hand to my cheek. It was still a little tender when I pressed it.
Sorin looked my direction, and I let my hand drop to my lap. I turned to stare out the window. We drove in silence, neither of us sure what to say. The vehicle filled with a strong smell of food, and I pushed the button to lower the window. As the fresh air lessened the aroma of dinner, I lay my head back on the seat.
My mind started to drift as I looked at the night sky. I thought of Anya’s fangs, wondering if I would feel the same fear when I saw Sorin’s. Was she really gone? My eyes drifted shut, and my mind replayed the exact moment when I’d thought he was going to kiss her. I felt hurt, betrayed. What did “Je ne sera jamais choisir vous” mean? I felt furious and frustrated. Why didn’t I remember more of my French?
The pain I’d felt when Anya struck Sorin was intense, and I wondered what he must have felt. He had explained that we had a partial bond, that he could feel my pain because a part of him flowed through my veins from the night when he’d saved my then pregnant mother. But he had failed to mention that I would also feel his pain. I was still replaying that particular conversation in my head when we returned to the house. It had slowly sunk in how much my cheek hurt, making me realize how much pain he had to be experiencing if he really did feel mine.
He exited his side of the car, and I headed to the front door while he retrieved the black bag. Once inside, he sat the bag on the marble countertop in the middle of the kitchen. I had smelled it all the way home and wished I could feel hungry again.
Sorin started for a plate from the cupboard, but I stopped him. “That’s not necessary … I’m not hungry.”
He turned toward me, looking disappointed. I picked up the bag and easily placed the whole thing in the scarcely filled refrigerator. I closed the fridge door and could no longer contain the questions filling my head. “What does ‘Je ne sera jamais choisir vous’ mean?” I blurted out. I had butchered the French words—my French was even worse than I’d thought—but it sounded close enough.
In an instant, Sorin was sitting across from where I stood. I leaned against the counter behind me, crossing my arms and awaiting the answer. He gazed down at the marble before him, and then locking his eyes with mine, he said, “It means, ‘I will never choose you.’”
My heart skipped a beat. “Well … no wonder it enraged Anya.” My voice was devoid of any sympathy for her. I motioned to the stove across the kitchen. “I should be thankful I don’t own a cute little bunny. We would’ve come home to bunny soup.” I was only trying to lighten the mood. But the expression that covered Sorin’s face told me he had absolutely no idea what I was referring to. “Never seen that movie, huh?” I shrugged. “I should know by now that many references are lost on you.” I sighed, and my eyes fell to his arms resting on the marble in front of him. A dark stain on his gray sleeve caught my attention. I looked up at his cheek. It held no sign of earlier events. I couldn’t help but start to raise my left hand to my cheek as I remembered how it felt. But I caught myself, not wanting to upset him further, and lowered my hand. I quickly started to feel anxious.
Sorin tilted his head slightly. “Anya is gone, Mia. … I promise you, you have nothing to worry about.”
He’d said it with total faith, but I didn’t feel as confident. “I doubt that, Sorin. She hates me. She wants you for herself … and if she thinks there is a chance with you. …” I paused. ”In the end, she is a woman, and she seemed determined.”
He slowly shook his head. “She knows now there is no future for her and me.”
Feeling argumentative suddenly, I said loudly, “There is always a possibility in a woman’s mind.”
“Mia. … She left knowing I had chosen you, “he insisted. My grasp tightened around my own arms. “For now, Anya is hopeful you will lose interest in me. I even realize there is a likelihood of that actual outcome.” He shook his head, and his voice rose. “Mia. … It is no longer a question in my mind that you are my future. After tonight Anya knows it too.”
My nails dug into my arms, and my pulse quickened. “There are no guarantees,” I shot back. I was not ready to put so much faith into a future with Sorin. I had been shown over and over the uncertainties in life. The world could be cruel.
He pounded a fist into the counter, causing a cracking sound. “There are guarantees for my kind, Mia. … A guarantee you will forever be a part of someone. Feel someone’s love, loss, and everything in between.” His eyes pleaded for me to believe him.
I understood what he was getting at. “Yes, I know!” I yelled. “The bond, joining yourself and your partner’s blood. You have explained it. But blood must be shared, you said. I understand you gave a part of yourself to me many years ago, before I was even born. You have gone on about how you feel what I do because of that decision. But that alone does not make any kind of future for us a guara—�
�� I froze, and my eyes widened. I pictured Anya again. Recalled how she had leaned into him, smelled him. Then had turned to me with utter disgust. I gasped. She had smelled me on Sorin … maybe in Sorin. Had that been what caused the encounter to turn violent? Why he was insisting on Anya’s accepting us? I felt my eyes water as tears began to form. I dropped my arms to my sides, digging my nails into my palms. “Tell me!” I screamed, not wanting to believe Sorin had done it.
“Mia … please calm down.” His voice was low.
My hand rose to my cheek. “That’s why I felt it,” I said, realizing it all made sense now. “How could you?” I forced out quietly as a few tears fell.
Sorin looked at me, his face twisted in shame. “Mia … just let me explain.”
I looked at the floor in front of me, my heart thumping in my chest. I couldn’t look at him. The thought of him making this decision that should have been mine tore me up inside. “When?” I demanded.
“You had passed out. I carried you to your room. After feeling you in my arms, smelling you. … I set you down on the bed, and you reached out to me.” He said it all softly.
I lifted my right arm, wiped away a few more tears, and dropped my hand to my neck. I began imagining Sorin’s mouth there. I stole a quick glance at his face. Oddly, his eyes were fixed on my left arm.
“I swear … I stopped myself a moment after I began.” His eyes didn’t budge, and I looked down at my arm. Turning it slightly I saw the two faintest bruises. Even lighter than they had been the day of the funeral. I had thought they had been made by his fingers. But as he relived that moment of tasting my blood his eyes burned deeper into that specific place on my arm.
I had no doubt now: his fangs had caused the small circles. I wondered what this revelation meant for my future. “So you are trying to excuse it by saying it was only a little you took from me … and while I was passed out, helpless. What about the joining of blood?” I looked back to the floor, knowing any second he would try to make eye contact.
“As I said, Mia … I stopped myself as soon as I began. There is no need to be concerned that a bond has been made between us. The only reason you felt Anya strike me was because your blood was still lingering in my body … and it was rather painful.” He sounded sincere and still very upset with himself. “Being alone with you for the first time after all those years of … it was too much for me. Forgive me.” He sounded like he was being honest, and I relaxed a little.
There was silence for a few minutes, and then Sorin spoke. “I can leave if you wish.” His voice sullen.
The thought of him leaving me pierced my heart. I looked up at him finally. “You would leave me? … Just like that?” I couldn’t hide the heartbreak I was unexpectedly feeling. My pain filled my voice.
He weakly smiled. “It would only be for the night, Mia. … I cannot imagine being away from you any longer than necessary. I just thought some time away from me would be appreciated.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, frustrated that I had revealed how the thought of him leaving made me feel. Maybe a night apart would be good for me. I bit the corner of my lip, not wanting to say it out loud. I nodded a yes and left the kitchen. In the doorway, I turned back to steal one last glimpse of him.
Sorin wasn’t there. An empty bar stool was all that greeted my gaze.