Forever 51

by Pamela Skjolsvik

  “Michael? Michael Knight? Is that really you?” Veronica called out to him. Startled, he looked in her direction and rubbed his eyes. He walked slowly towards her with a questioning look. She ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his taut midsection.

  She thought she’d feel something, as she’d loved him once. Instead, it was like seeing her brother. She kissed him quickly on the cheek and playfully ran her fingers through his hair. “Look at you! Those plugs lasted. Well, I’ll be damned.” She tugged at a lock. “You look good, JA. As good as the day I left you. Where’s Kit?” She punched him on the arm, a little harder than she meant to.

  JA stiffened and pushed her away. “What are you doing here? Is this about last night?”

  Veronica didn’t have to try hard to feign ignorance. “What happened last night?”

  JA shook his head. “There was some strange man here. He tried to get me to eat a cookie in front of him and then he cornered me in the bathroom.”

  So maybe Veronica wasn’t the only one who’d gotten an audience with Seamus. “Maybe he thought you were cute.”

  JA scowled at her affected nonchalance. “He was trying to prove something. He whipped out his phone and took a photo of us standing in front of the mirror. Neither of us reflected. Did you send him here or something?”

  “No.” She knew it had to be Seamus, but JA was a simple man, and talk of the CIA would complicate things. “Is there somewhere we could talk?” She looked around the empty halls.

  She could feel his impatience as he glanced over his shoulder. “The last room on the right is free, but you need to make it quick. I’m the only one here tonight.”

  “Jenny, you stay out here.” Veronica leaned closer. “If you see Seamus, scream. Okay?”

  “Whatever.” She clutched her phone and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

  JA flipped on the light and closed the door behind them. Like the first night she met him, he was irritated and on edge. “Okay, what’s going on? I haven’t heard from you since I can’t even remember. What year was it?”

  “Ninety-four.” The year she moved to Texas.

  “You didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye to me. I came home from my shift and you were gone. No note, no nothing.” He gnawed at the edge of his thumb nail.

  “But look at you. You survived. I’m sure the lady at the twenty-four-hour fitness helped. Or was it ladies? I forget.” She couldn’t help but dig up some dirt to justify herself.

  “You’re still bitter about that?” He sat down on the bed and jiggled his right leg. “What do you want from me? A job? Or are you here to apologize for your cruelty and beg for my forgiveness?” His voice cracked with emotion. He scowled and pressed both feet firmly onto the floor.

  Veronica was surprised that her absence, or even her presence, meant anything to him. He was always distant, unless she’d hurt his pride. “Actually, I am.” She sat down next to him and gently rested her hand on his leg. “What I did to you was stupid. I robbed you of the possibility of a normal life.”

  “And then you left me to do all this by myself,” he stammered.

  It wasn’t easy to conjure up sincerity—theirs had been a marriage of convenience from the start. But Veronica tried to imagine the better person that JA might have someday become, if she hadn’t left him with a permanent case of arrested development. That man deserved more of an apology than she could ever give. “Listen, I know you thought you wanted to be immortal at the time, but I turned you for the wrong reasons. I wanted to continue our companionship and you pressed the issue, when I knew that the life I was bringing you into was lonely and filled with death. I’m truly sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. All of it.”

  His eyes widened in fear as his body betrayed him. Grasping at his stomach, he fell dramatically onto the tile floor as if he’d been shot, squirming and whimpering like a child. “What is going on?” He simpered and belched. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “You’re not.” She extended her arm. “Get up. That floor is a germ fest and you really will get sick if you stay down there.”

  He remained immobile. She didn’t want to force the issue as the deed was definitely done. Veronica could feel his soul leave her body, but it barely registered, like the faint fluttering of fourth-month fetal movement. She rubbed at her own stomach, to see if it was somehow miraculously flattened. It wasn’t. There was only one soul renting space now and it was a big one. Seamus had already confirmed her fears—Kevin Black’s soul might be there awhile. Relieved at the relative ease of JA’s transition, whimpering aside, she looked down at him and smiled maternally. “Come on now, let’s get up before you get a nasty case of old age.”

  He pushed himself up from the floor and brushed off his scrubs. Veronica patted his back. “There, there,” she cooed.

  She led him into the bathroom like a child. The bathroom light was dim with a pink undertone, producing a much more flattering reflection than the fluorescent bulbs that made everyone look sickly.

  “There you are,” she said.

  Startled by his reflection, he slammed his hands on the counter to steady himself. “Holy mother of Jesus. What have you done, Veronica?” He leaned in closer to the mirror, inspecting his face. “Oh great. Why didn’t you tell me my nose was covered in blackheads? I’ve looked like this the whole time! No wonder I can’t keep a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t think you can blame your blackheads on that one. Your work schedule sucks, you’re cold all the time and I imagine you don’t wine and dine these girlfriends of yours. But now you can.” Distracted by her own reflection, she wished the entire world could be lit like this.

  “What do you mean?” He turned on the water and splashed his face.

  “Have you turned someone else?” Frustrated by his show of vanity, she turned off the water.

  “No, of course not. I had no desire or need for that. And after what happened with you, I didn’t think it was a good idea to trap someone else into this lifestyle.” He dried his face with a towel and flattened his hair. “Look at that mullet. Dear Lord. I’ve been kidnapped by the 80s.”

  “All you need is a Member’s Only jacket and you’d be good to go.” She tousled his hair again. “You can now cut your hair or grow it out however you want. At least I think you can. Do hair transplants grow?”

  “Stop touching me!” He backed away from her and returned to his reflection. “How would I able to do that?” He inspected his teeth. “And my teeth. They’re so yellow. I should have had them whitened when I had the chance.”

  “Listen to me. You are no longer what you were. You are now free to live your life during the day with the rest of the world. You can sleep at night and eat whatever you want. Actually, JA, you’ve always been free to walk outside during the day. That was just a giant lie perpetuated by some novelist a long, long time ago.”

  “Are you saying I’m not a…?” He whipped around to face her.

  “No. You’re not. You’re mortal again.”

  “Wait a second. What did you just do?” His eyes narrowed and his nostril’s flared, like a bull about to charge.

  “I gave you your soul back.”

  “Well, undo it! You didn’t even ask me if I wanted my soul back. You just went ahead and did whatever you wanted, like you always do.” He kicked the trashcan. It flew into the shower stall. “I was perfectly fucking happy the way I was. You need…” His face reddened as he grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “I can’t.” Her teeth shot out in fear. She tried to loosen herself from his grip.

  “Of course, you can! You better turn me again, or I’ll…” He tightened his grip, pressing his thumbs into her neck.

  “Or you’ll what? Kill me? Let me go before I do something I’ll regret.” She dug in her nails.

  He pushed her away and stormed out of the room. Overwhelmed by heat and the desire to strike out against him, she splashed her face and checked her teeth in the mirror. They weren’t moving. Outside the ro
om, Jenny leaned against the wall.

  “Where did he go?”

  “Down that way.” She pointed down the hall. “You sure pissed him off. Did it work?”

  “Yes. Just give me another minute.” She trotted towards the lounge and found him staring at the glowing vending machine. She walked up behind him. “I don’t want us to part this way.”

  JA stared straight ahead, boring virtual holes into the Cheez-Its behind the glass. “Fuck you.”

  “Look, they’ve got Snickers. That was always your favorite.”

  He pulled out his wallet and slid a bill into the cash slot. “A9,” he murmured and carefully pressed the buttons.

  “Dove huh?”

  “Go away. I’ve never had one, and I want to try it. I can, can’t I?” He reached into the slot and retrieved the candy bar. Veronica looked him in the eye and nodded silently. He tore it open with care and nibbled like a rodent tasting the outside edge of baited cheese.

  A stoop-shouldered janitor pushed his cart past the lounge and stopped. “You eating a candy bar, Michael?”

  “Yeah, the diet’s over.” He popped it in his mouth, devouring it in one bite.

  “I was starting to worry about you. Have two.” The man chuckled and wheeled his cart away.

  Veronica leaned against the back of a couch. “Please. It was never my intention to hurt you. I left that night because I thought your life would be better off without me.”

  “It wasn’t.” He took another bite of the candy bar.

  “You can start over, you know. Do something new. Get your teeth whitened. Date lots of women. Get fat. Whatever. The world is a whole new place again.”

  “Get out of here before I call security.” He glared at her with an intensity she’d never seen before. “Something I should have done years ago.”

  The words “except when to do so would injure them or others” repeated in her head fifteen minutes too late. Her words had injured JA, but there was no way she could take them back or return him to his previous state. She could, but she didn’t want to. With adrenaline fueling each step, she dashed down the hall to find Jenny. They needed to get as far away from this place as soon as possible.

  She didn’t trust Seamus, nor did she trust JA. Hurt people hurt people and she didn’t want to be present when the proverbial bomb dropped. She’d lit the fuse ages ago by using people for her own benefit. Even in making direct amends to those she’d injured, she remained selfish and self-centered. It was now merely a game of crossing people off her list in order to achieve something she hadn’t given much thought to. Her words could have sentenced Mary to death and she’d be facing the same question she confronted the night she turned her—what kind of death do I deliver?

  Only now did she realize that it wasn’t her choice to make.

  44

  Detroit—the Seventies

  On a typical night, the Emergency Room at St. John’s was understaffed and out of control. Tonight was no different. Veronica disliked the hectic pace, but with it came easy access to the bleeding—a lick here, a sip there, and it would sustain her until she could find a suitable meal. The full moon promised and usually delivered a nonstop night of chaos, which was both bad and good for the citizens of Detroit. Its luminous presence taunted her from the front window of the packed emergency room. There were no bleeders yet, only flu-ridden feverish folks, bruised and battered slip-and-falls and the drunken men who’d lost their midnight brawl.

  She was deep into her shift, working triage, when she spotted the first man she’d ever truly desired. Dressed in black from head to toe, he staggered through the front door of the packed waiting room. Blood oozed from his shoulder, coloring the ends of his long salt and pepper ponytail. His angular face was tanned and weathered. What struck her initially about him, besides his crystal blue eyes, was his demeanor. He was calm, almost too calm, as he strode towards her, his large black work boots thudding heavily with each step. She grabbed his arm to steady his large frame, but he was the one who seemed to lead her to the examination room, as if he’d performed this waltz before. Closing the curtain, he edged his way onto the paper-covered cot and laid back with a heavy sigh.

  “Left shoulder,” he said.

  She quickly cut the sopping shirt, revealing a scrambled mass of intertwining tattoos in various shades of red, black and blue. “Devil Hogs” was scrolled prominently across his muscular chest in solid black ink. As she rolled him on his side to inspect his back, he groaned.

  “Fuck, that hurts,” he said.

  “Hunting accident, I take it?” She inspected the wound hungrily, her breath hot on his neck.

  Rolling onto his back, he smiled up at her. “I love a woman who can handle the sight of a little blood.” He looked down at his shoulder. “Is it still in there?”

  “The bullet?”

  He nodded, holding her gaze.

  “The bullet’s gone, but there might be some fragments left behind. I’ll need to irrigate it, which won’t be the most fun you’ve ever had. If you want pain relief, I’ve got to call the doctor.” She shifted slightly. “But I get the feeling you don’t want that to happen, do you?” She pressed a sterile bandage against his torn flesh.

  “Yes, let’s just keep this moment between us. You’re a smart lady. I like that about you.”

  She could feel a wave of heat rising from her chest. Soon her pit sweat would soak through her shirt, increasing the anxiety. “I’m smart, but I’m not gullible. I could get into a lot of trouble for this. You are a trauma call, but I’m going to let you slide this one time if you promise never to come back. Let’s make this quick.”

  “Now why would I promise that? I like it here. A pretty woman tending to my tiny little BB gun wound.” He smiled, but only one corner of his mouth lifted… as if he were hiding something.

  “BB gun, huh? Looks to me like a .22. A few inches to the left and your family would be picking out a coffin right now.”

  He laughed, then grimaced in pain. “I’m lucky that way. The Night Reapers sent Elmer Fudd to deliver their message.”

  “The Night Reapers? Sounds menacing. Is Elmer your hunting buddy?” Veronica raised her eyebrows.

  “Yeah, we were shooting rabbits.” He attempted to sit up.

  “Uh, uh, uh. You need to lay back down there, Bugs.”

  “It’s Mr. Black.” He collapsed back down on the cot with a sigh. “But you can call me Kevin.”

  “Alright, Kevin.” She placed her fingers on his wrist. Inhaling deeply, she counted the beats of his pulse. The flow of his blood was slow but strong, while hers accelerated from the heady mix of attraction and blood. From his constricted pupils and tolerance of pain, she gathered he was high on heroin. She inspected his thick arms for track marks, but if he was shooting it, it wasn’t in his skull-and-flame-covered arms.

  “I’m going to get some fluids into you. We can skip the catheter if you promise to stay still. Are you high on anything? Alcohol, drugs?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Veronica winced at the formality and implications of being called ma’am. He was no Southerner with good manners. “You can call me Veronica.”

  “I think I’ll just call you V. Some of my favorite things begin with the letter V. Venison, violets, vodka, va….”

  “Vagina? Or were you going for Valium? Now, now, Kevin Black. If I weren’t an old, wise woman, I’d think you were trying to flirt with me. I’m smart, remember? I’m pretty sure you’ve had enough drugs for the evening.” He watched her every move with interest, as she prepped his arm and inserted the IV.

  “You’re good with a needle too, there, V. Ever been on a bike?” His expression softened.

  “Are we talking ten-speed or Harley?” She removed the bloody bandage, tossed it in the trash can to savor later, and placed a fresh pad against his shoulder. “I’m just going to press down a little bit to stop the bleeding.”

  “Cold hands.” He smiled his crooked smile, engulfing her frigid hands with his own.
“Let me warm them up a bit.”

  She kept her hand under his as the whimpering cries and painful shouts from other rooms faded into the distance. “Warm heart,” she said under her breath, as if to remind herself of that long-forgotten fact.

  “I bet you do.”

  In all her years, Veronica had never encountered a man who emanated danger equal to her own. Unwisely, she found it intoxicating. Kevin Black left her emergency room as unceremoniously as he’d entered. Red warning flags were everywhere, but it didn’t matter, Veronica was already hooked.

  45

  Present

  As they crossed the border into Iowa, Veronica felt desperate to call Frank, if only to hear the sound of his voice. Surely, somehow, in a fifteen-minute conversation they could solve the Kevin Black problem and plan the rest of their lives together.

  But she knew better. At one time, Frank had been willing to let her change him, but she wondered if he’d be open to leaving his life behind and starting over somewhere new. Immortality sounded infinitely more exciting and sexier than relocating their belongings in a rented U-Haul to the suburbs of a new state. Not only were Frank’s familial roots deeply embedded in his home state, Texas pride dripped from his pores. He wouldn’t go easily.

  Veronica stared at the phone, running her long fingers over the keypad. She placed it back in the cup holder with a sigh. Sometimes it was easier not to know the answer.

  “Do you by any chance still have that letter I wrote on the plane?” Veronica stared down at Jenny’s backpack, nestled near her own feet.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m tired. Can you take over?” Jenny’s jet-black hair glistened in the sun, whipping around her face from the open window. Against the black Ramones t-shirt, the orange coloring of her skin had faded to what must have been her normal color. If Veronica hadn’t known her story, Jenny simply looked like a normal, healthy teenager on a Sunday drive with her strange aunt.