I grab my keys and a leather purse that goes with my outfit, and head out to pick up my date. I’m looking forward to seeing her reaction. When you spend all of your time locked up in your house, you rarely have the opportunity to show off your fancy toys.
* * *
“Nice car,” Mia says, marveling at my Mercedes. “I didn’t get a good look before. She’s a beauty. I can see why you wanted to drive.”
I flash my fangs in a quick grin, but I cover them. They don’t embarrass me, but I don’t want her to want me for that. She should want me for me, not for my species. That sounds odd. I head around the vehicle, opening the passenger door for her. “I’m glad you approve.”
“Such a gentleman,” she teases. She has no idea how accurate that is.
“Where’s this restaurant?” I ask, climbing back behind the wheel.
“It’s not too far from here.”
With the thought that she may actually be leading me into a trap never leaving my mind, I follow her directions and am relieved to find that we arrive at New Orleans Seafood and Steakhouse. I’ve driven by it a few times but never had any real inclination to go. As much as I enjoy food, it’s hard to find motivation to go to a restaurant when I don’t even need to eat. Especially as popular as it always is.
We shrug past a few people, and she gives her name to the hostess. She made a reservation. I wasn’t sure if that was still common. Though, again, it is nothing I have experience with either way.
For eight o’clock on a Saturday, I guess it’s not that busy, but it’s still far more than I’m comfortable with. I can feel eyes on us, staring, hopefully just at the lesbians and not at the vampire they were told to expect. There are no obvious weapons on them, no bulges suggesting a hidden stake or crossbow. It should be okay. I try to focus on my date.
Mia smiles back at me, barely glancing at her menu. She seems more animated than usual. She must be as nervous as I am. She’s almost bouncing. “It’s been a while,” she admits, her words tumbling out, her cheeks coloring.
“Me too.”
She blows out a breath. “Yeah? That’s good to know. Must’ve been a couple years for me. Haven’t had a serious girlfriend in around five. It’s hard to find the time or the motivation.” Her fingers dance across her menu, drumming a quiet beat.
“It’s been five hundred and twenty years for me.”
Her mouth opens and closes, and she turns her gaze back to the menu, quietly humming. Before she could’ve even read a single item, she turns back up, meeting my gaze with those brown eyes that seem clearer than usual. Her pupils are smaller. She seems more focused. I’ve never realized how beautiful her eyes are. “Really? No dates at all? Like, what, since you were turned?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “Not since then.”
“Why?” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”
“Thank you.” She deserves to know the truth, but after my dream last night, I’d rather avoid the subject. I swear I’ve been dreaming about her almost every night of late. “I’m really not ready to talk about it yet.”
“That’s totally cool.” She waves her hand in front of her emphatically. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it’s a sensitive topic. Maybe I can find something a little easier to talk about. Where are you from? England, right? London? I’m not amazing with accents, but I thought I recognized it.”
I shudder, thinking of my last time in London. She’s clearly trying, but when you’re as old as I am, every single topic can turn into a landmine. “I lived there for a long while. Not always London, but I used to love it. Less so now, but it was an amazing city once.”
“Then where?”
“Venice. My family lived there for generations.” I think back to the canals of my home, the stench, the beauty, the wonder. I’d loved it there. “I miss it. I haven’t been back since I was turned either.”
“Didn’t want to see your family?” She can be blunt, but from what I understand, that’s a rather common first date topic for lesbians. So how badly did your parents react? Yeah, mine kicked me out too.
“No. They’d died a few years before. They were wonderful parents. They never judged me for being who I was, and they adored my wife.”
“You were married? She’s not—”
“No, she died a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry.” She nods, a look of pained comprehension on her face.
“It’s okay.”
“I’m glad your parents approved. I’m sure that must’ve been difficult for fifteenth-century parents. It’s still pretty tough now.”
Finding my throat surprisingly dry, I take a sip of water. “They were very impressive people. We were Catholic, and that proved quite complicated.”
“How did you manage to get married?”
A small smile forms on my lips as I think back on that day. She had looked beautiful in that dress. “Well, other than my parents, no one in attendance knew that I was a woman.”
“Really?” She stares, rather obviously, at my cleavage. “That’s hard to imagine.”
I roll my eyes. “My brother died before I was born, when he was a baby. When I was sixteen, I took his name and joined the armed forces. I wanted to see the world, to make something of myself, and maybe to move away and decide who I could be. I proved myself in what’s now called the First Italian War and came home a hero. No one seemed to remember the old me, and I’d earned something of a name for myself. I was already a captain, and that earned me some acclaim.”
“That’s impressive. And then you met your wife?”
I got a bit sidetracked there. I don’t think I was showing off. “I suppose there was one other person who remembered me. We’d been friends when we were young. Well, more than friends. We had”—I blush—“explored a few things together when we were in our early teens. Though, of course, there wasn’t much of a concept of teenagers. She didn’t recognize me at first, but after we talked, she did. I wasn’t sure what to make of it until she pinned me to the wall and kissed me.” Now that’s definitely too much detail for a first date.
“You like dominant women?”
Looking her up and down, I bite my lip. I’ve little doubt that she could and would do the same. “I courted her for a while, but we didn’t have the chance to marry until after the Second Ottoman-Venetian War. I made general and was left in charge of Cyprus during the peace. I sent for her, and she came, and we were wed a couple months later.”
“It didn’t bother you living as a man all that time?”
With a shrug, I reply, “I was used to it. It was the easiest way to have everything I wanted. My femininity wasn’t important enough for me to feel it worth sacrificing everything else.”
“Do you think you might be—”
“No. I’m definitely a woman, but perhaps a little apathetic about it.” I glance at the menu. At some point, I’ll have to figure out what I want to eat.
“Just wanted to make sure. Had that happen to me once, though before we’d gotten serious. We don’t really stay in touch, but he’s a good guy.”
That still takes some getting used to. “Interesting,” I reply. “I’m not trying to dismiss that. I just don’t know what to say. All of my understanding of trans people comes from recent schooling. I’ve never known one. I don’t think I have any problem with them, if that’s something you’re worried about.”
Her smile returns, and she stares down at the table or possibly at my hands. “That’s good to hear. Age is no excuse for bigotry.”
I’ve had far too much experience to disagree. “What were your parents like? Or are they still alive? Did they approve?”
“They’re still alive.” I can hear her foot bounce on the floor. “They don’t disapprove,” she says, her words substantially slower than they had been. “They’re really not that bad. They’re…they’re quite proud of me. They just don’t understand. I’m a lot more successful than they ever were, and they love what I’ve done with my life, but th
ey don’t like that I’m not planning on giving them grandkids, and I know they blame a lot of that on my being gay.”
“I’m sorry.” I consider reaching for her hand but think better of it. I really don’t know what’s acceptable first date behavior.
“It’s okay. Maybe they’ll accept it eventually.” Her derisive snort seems to indicate that she believes otherwise.
Before I have time to think of a response, the waiter comes by with some bread. “Have you decided on your orders yet?”
“Sorry,” Mia replies with an uncharacteristically apologetic smile. “We’ve barely looked at the menu yet. Could we get some wine?” She turns to me. “Red okay? I was thinking the Dom Perignon if it’s not too expensive.”
“That sounds great.” I’m not too particular about my wine, though it does make me hungry sometimes. I’m glad I restocked the fridge.
“Of course,” he says, smiling between the two of us. “Take your time. I’ll be right back with that wine.”
“I’m actually really hungry,” she admits when he walks off. “Let me figure out what I want real quick.”
We both take a moment to look over the menu. Everything sounds good, but I could go for some seafood. I’ve never actually had jambalaya. Maybe I’ll order it and a shrimp appetizer. “Want to split the coconut shrimp?”
“Sure, that and steak sounds wonderful.” She flashes a quick grin and closes her menu. “Now that we have that out of the way, what do you do for fun?”
“Trying to find a safer topic of conversation?”
“Don’t want to scare you off yet.”
Maybe I have good cause for this crush. She can be quite charming. “I’m pretty boring,” I admit. “Mostly, I play with Harvey, invest in things, and get new degrees. I watch some television sometimes. I’ve been watching way too much of The Great British Bake Off of late.” She doesn’t have to know that I was dissociating during it. That’s a second date topic. “What about you?”
She falters, her mouth hanging open for a second. “Damn, I should’ve thought up an answer if I was going to ask that question. Honestly, I don’t do shit. I pretty much just work. Do drugs count as a hobby?”
There it is. “I have been wanting to ask about that, but I didn’t want to push.”
Shaking her head, she smiles. “It’s fine. I’m not all that secretive about it. I’ve offered some to you a few times.”
“I suppose that’s true.” The waiter comes by to give us our wine, leaving the bottle, and we tell him our orders.
She stares out the window for a moment, likely trying to decide how to explain this. “I’m bipolar. I normally medicate by taking downers during my manic phases and uppers during my depressive phases so I can try to stay normal and do my job.”
“Oh. I never would have guessed.”
“Really? I’m pretty damn manic today.” She chuckles. “Thought it’d be obvious. I didn’t bother to take anything, other than the wine, since I figured I’d rather use that energy and be fun on our date. After all, I think you may be the reason I’ve been manic all week. There’s not always a cause, it can be random, but it started after I saw you at the Community Center. It’s when I realized I liked you.”
“That’s when I realized I liked you too.”
“Good. I was a little worried I was imagining that.”
“I thought I was being obvious.”
“I don’t like to assume.”
My gaze lingers on those eyes. I wonder if that’s why they look different today or if it’s the lighting. I swear I could fall into them. I’d never say it, of course; even I know when something’s clichéd. “Why not take bipolar medication? It seems a lot easier.”
“Are you kidding?” She chuckles, her lips curling upward in an adorable smile. “That shit is way too hard on you. The opiates and Ritalin are nothing in comparison. I’ll take minimal side effects and lots of fun over feeling like a zombie.” She pauses. “Is that bigoted? I mean, I’ve met a few zombies, and they seem far more alive than people on some of those bipolar meds.”
“Most likely. My sociology degree would suggest that a lot of actions and beliefs are rooted in some bigotries. You’d have to ask a zombie how they feel about it.”
“Can I not?”
“I wasn’t going to make you.”
“Good. How many degrees do you have?”
I have to think about that. As many years as I’ve been studying, I didn’t see much need to keep track of them. I just like to learn. “I’m not sure. Maybe around a dozen. I took a lot of correspondence courses back in the day, but it was a lot more difficult to earn a degree from that, and everything took a lot longer. Now I buy all of the books online and take as many classes as I can manage. Everything is so fascinating. Human knowledge advances incredibly quickly, and I can’t keep up. I love it.”
“That’s cool. Learning can be a lot of fun. I actually majored in the classics in undergrad. It’s why I handled the whole mo…fiend thing so well.” She stares into space. “Wow, I really forgot how much I enjoy learning.” Those crystal-clear eyes settle on me again. “Maybe I’ll take one of those classes with you sometime. Anyway, my grades were good enough, and I loved animals, so I figured, why not be a vet? I actually really like it. It’s why it’s almost all I do.”
“I’m glad. You’re an amazing vet, and I know Harvey agrees.”
“He does seem to like me.”
“He’s not the only one.” Is that too forward?
“I’m glad to hear it.” Biting her lip, she stares down, pausing for a moment on my chest. I think this date is going far better than I’d feared. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.
The waiter brings out our food. “Enjoy your meals. Is there anything else I can get you?”
We both shake our heads. We seem quite content with what’s at the table. Our hands touch briefly as we each grab a shrimp. Hers are softer than I’d expected. The shrimp is delicious, moist and crisp and amazing. I don’t eat often enough to be the greatest judge, but this is some of the best shrimp I’ve had since I moved away from Italy.
“This is amazing,” she mouths, her eyes half-lidded. “Oh my God. I haven’t had their shrimp before. If the steak is half as good, I may die from sheer joy.” He brought everything out at once rather than bringing the shrimp first, but it means fewer interruptions, so I certainly wouldn’t dream of complaining.
“It is. It makes me miss Italy. The seafood and pasta were always wonderful, and of course, I actually had to eat back then, and hunger always makes food better.”
“Did you have all these spices?”
“Well, no. We weren’t exactly wealthy. Maybe it’s just nostalgia—”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to trash your childhood meals.” I startle as she grabs my hand, but I don’t pull away. It’s been over a century since anyone has touched me like that. It’s not sexual. It’s barely even romantic, but it’s affectionate, sincere, and warm. “I’d love to try your favorite foods. Maybe an Italian place around here would have something similar?”
“Maybe. It wouldn’t be the same, though.”
“I know, but without a time machine…” She trails off, her thumb running over my knuckles. She seems to notice what she’s doing and pulls back, looking both embarrassed and pleased with herself. “We’ll see if we can find anything. I’m not a terrible cook, if you’d like me to give it a shot.”
“I’d like that. Maybe I could cook for you sometime too.”
We both fall into silence, justifying it by eating our food. We both seem to realize what we’ve implied. This won’t be the last date we go on.
The spice of the jambalaya is surprising. It has a nice kick to it, and I feel like I deserve it. I’m really moving on. I know it’s well past time, but she was the love of my life, and it will always feel like I’m dishonoring her memory.
Her eyes widen as she stares at my food. “You know there’s garlic in that, right?”
I consider feigning
a horrified expression. It would be fun, but I don’t want to mock her concern. It’s rather sweet. “I’m Italian,” I remind her.
She glares.
“Garlic is fine. Well, for me. I have heard others claim that it affects them, just as I’ve heard others say that religious iconography doesn’t affect them. I believe it’s due to the fact that vampires aren’t a single species but a number of different ones that crossbreed with each other.”
“Wait, vampires can have kids?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” She stares down at her steak and potatoes.
“In truth, I’d rather be weak to garlic. As much as I enjoy its flavor, it’s rather difficult being a Catholic who can’t enter a church.”
“You’re still Catholic?” She stares at me, her eyes narrowing. I should’ve thought ahead. Given the church’s reputation, it’s no wonder she wouldn’t approve.
“I am.” I swallow another bite as I try to figure out how to explain this to her. “It’s a big part of who I am. I know that the church hasn’t always treated us well.”
“You mean ever.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “My current priest is wonderful.” Maybe I should tell her he offered to marry us. “He’s a strong opponent of a lot of the worst policies of the church and is just a good man in general. I’ve been through a lot in my life, and my faith has always seen me through it. I know it’s hard to understand. As a gay, black vampire, the church has done a lot of things against all of my people, but I could never give it up. I hope that’s not a deal breaker.”
“Are you going to make me go to church with you?” she asks, staring askance at me.
“I can’t enter a church.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
I decide to let it be. I like her, and I may even be starting to trust her. I know exactly what people think of the church and can hardly blame them for it. I need it. “Can I try a bite of your steak?”
Her expression softens, the disapproval vanishing, “Yeah, of course.”
I cut off a piece and take a bite. It’s perfect. I wish the red liquid was actually blood, as then it would even be filling and taste all the better, but it’s still amazing. Maybe I should make some blood sausage sometime. It’s been too long. “Would you like some jambalaya?”
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