Bella Notte

by Jesse Kimmel-Freeman

  I walked through the double-glass doors and the cool night air felt good on my warm face. I could tell my cheeks were flushed. I took the old lantern I kept up there, struck a match and lit it. The glow it gave off was a gentle warm orange. I was starting to feel better. I don't know what is happening to me.

  My mind blanked and then I remembered the conversation that I'd overheard. My father's voice echoed in my head, “The change has started in them- even if they've not noticed the signs yet.”

  “What change?” I shouted into the air. All I knew was that I was seeing things before they happened- I could smell and hear blood, and that I must be going nuts. Who the Hell can smell and hear blood? I've officially lost my mind.

  That's when I remembered why I went up there. I looked at the journal I had set down on the small table that held the lantern and I knew I had to write to Mike. I opened the book to the first cream colored page and smiled. Mike's words jumped out at me.

  Dear Emma.

  I thought this would be the best present I could give you. We never really talked about it. But I know I knew you before we ever met.

  You see, I've been having dreams about you for the last fourteen years! I know it sounds crazy, but I'm pretty sure you've had something similar. I know this because the day we met, we dream fasted the first time that our eyes met. That dream was much more pleasant than any dream I've ever had, unlike the one I'm going to tell you about now. Yes, it has only been one- one that has grown in intensity since I met you in real life. It is always the same though. There's a full moon that's slightly obscured by the rolling clouds. I'm walking through the forest and I can hear the winter grass crunching under my feet. I am warm in the cool night air. My hearing, sight, and sense of smell are heightened. I hear other footsteps and can smell another person- a female. Her scent comforts me and I move to meet her in the center of the clearing that is just ahead of me. I move to her side and a slight breeze kicks up. Her long black hair whips behind her and she moves closer to me- I can feel the chill of her.

  Her skin is cooler than the night air. We take a few steps and the wind catches a new scent and sends it toward us. I inhale as I hear the cry of a lone forest wolf. The sound is familiar and comforting. I smell the wolf and something else- my enemy.

  The hairs on my neck stand and I snarl defensively to protect this female. That's when I hear its call to her- it calls to her in a tender caring tone. She doesn't seem to hear it- only the wolf- and she's scared. I lean toward her and whisper “run” in her ear, then I shove her toward the cover of the forest. I can hear her heart speed up and her freeze up. I hear her start to run. I scream in defiance of whatever is out there. “You can't have her!” I say into the night. The air grows cold around me, I know it's near. Then, it is as though the wind itself is talking, the words swirl around me, “Too late, she's ours.” I run as fast as I can toward the sound and where she ran to- panic floods my body.

  That's where I usually wake up, panting, with a tear always running down my cheek.

  You see, the girl is you. It has always been and, now that I know you, all the sensations from my dream are a hundred-fold. I just wanted you to know about the dream.

  There is something else as well- you see, every time I see the girl in my dream, I know that I love her and, when I met you, I fell in love with the real one. In short, what I'm trying to say is that I love you.

  Happy Birthday, Emma Mary Hutchinson.

  I stared at the page, and at those words. He loves me? It all seemed too surreal to me. I love him but I never expected him to say it or even think it. He loves me!

  The words danced in my head like little sugar plum fairies. I had discovered what a natural high felt like and I loved it. I reached for my phone to call and talk to him, but then I remembered why I hadn't called him in the first place. I also remembered why I was up there. I turned the page in the book and stared at it for a minute. How do I begin?

  Dear Mike.

  Thank you for the best present ever! Today has been filled with interesting happenings- this awesome journal, our kiss, the clearing, your entry, a dress, and some jewelry. I suppose it's my turn to tell you about my dream. Yes, it's been one dream for me as well.The dream is identical to yours only from my side. In the end, it is fear that always drives me back toward your screams- ones I feel are of pain and terror.

  Besides the utter fear and tears that the dream brings on, it also tells me that I'm in love with that boy- or you, I should say. Besides that dream, I had one the day when I fainted while we were dancing, but this dream was almost as though it was my birthday party. It was in the ballroom, there were lots of people I didn't know. As I looked around the room, I realized they all had fangs! When I looked in the mirror – my hair was up with an emerald pin, I was wearing a golden satin dress and I had fangs as well! I freaked out and I went outside and then you appeared and shied away because of the fangs but said you'd never leave me. You also told me that we'd never be able to be together because we were too different and you told me to think about what couldn't be with a vampire. Then I woke up. The weird part is today when I got home, the ballroom looked exactly like my dream and my mom and grandmother gave me a dress just like the one in my dream. Not to mention the emerald jewelry, including a hairpin, Grandpa gave me. Am I losing my mind or something? Can I see the future or something? I feel crazy. I would've called but ... you have family there. I hope you call soon.

  Now that the words were on paper, I felt better, even though it all read crazy. I know it all means something- I don't know what.

  I could hear car doors being closed. I blew out my lantern and I headed back downstairs. I didn't want to deal with the invaders of my house- but it was what was expected of me. I listened to the murmur of voices mix with the creak of the ladder as I climbed down into my room. I checked my appearance in the mirror behind the door. I noticed that the cool night air had given a slight pink tint to my cheeks. Well, at least I look alive. I placed my best show smile on and headed downstairs.

  The brightness of all the lights bothered me and I damn-near tripped walking down the stairs. It didn't matter since everyone was gathered in the foyer and study. The front door was left open and the night breeze was gently blowing in. I could hear numerous conversations happening as I walked closer to the ever growing crowds.

  The majority of the words that buzzed around the room were greetings and catch-ups. I walked into the foyer and found my grandpa greeting folks as they came through the door.

  “Hi, Grandpa.” I smiled at him.

  “Oh, Emma. I'm glad you came down. Now you can help me welcome our guests.” He seemed to be full of pride that night.

  “Of course, Grandpa,” I said, “but where are all these people going to sleep?” I whispered as I realized that there must be at least fifty people here and more seemed to be coming.

  “Well, dear, some are staying here and the rest are staying in town. Everyone wanted to come by and say hello before they went to bed and such.” His eyes were kind as he whispered back to me.

  The rest of my evening was spent talking and smiling to people I had never met before. By the time I got upstairs and into my room, I was exhausted. I grabbed my cell to check the time and saw it had a text message.

  “Goodnight Emma & Happy Birthday, love. Get some sleep.”

  I went to bed smiling.

  The knock at my door is what finally drew me out of the darkness of sleep. I felt like I had forgotten something as I stumbled out of my bed.

  “Just a minute …,” I mumbled as I shifted my pajamas back into their proper positions.

  I turned the knob and saw the most beautiful blonde man standing there, holding the deepest red rose I had ever seen.

  “Happy Birthday, Little Emma Bird.” There was a slight accent to it, perhaps Italian, but the prefect smile and bright green eyes seemed familiar.

  “Um ... do I ... know you?” My cheeks flushed from the guilt of forgetting someone. Little Emma Bird. Only on
e person ever …

  “Wait, you couldn't be ... Dominic!” I shouted as I gave him a huge hug.

  “Hello, Emma. It has been awhile. You've grown into such a beautiful woman.” His smile was perfect but something threw caution at me.

  “Oh my God. Dominic, I didn't know you guys were coming. Is Isabella here? I'd love to see her.” I blushed as I realized I was standing in front of my first love, in my pajamas- without a bra on. Now, mind you, I was only like four when I decided I was in love with my best friend's brother, but it didn't matter as they moved back to Europe that year. I remembered their parents complaining about the trash moving into town. Who moved here then? Wasn't that the year Mike moved here ... no, it couldn't be?

  “Principessa Bella. Isabella isn't here. There have been some problems with her and the family.” His lips turned down as the sadness came through his voice. God, look at those lips. I shook my head. What the Hell is wrong with me? Have I completely forgotten about Mike?

  “So, what happened? Did she do something forbidden?” I waggled my eyebrows and winked at him, but he didn't smile.

  “Unfortunately, mia bella, she did do something terrible ... she ran off with some creature and shamed the family by turning down her betrothed.” The anger burned fierce in his eyes.

  “Wait ... Issy was betrothed? Didn't that die out, like in the middle ages?” I scoffed at the idea that my childhood best friend had been excommunicated from her family for finding love.

  “Don't make fun at tradition, Little Emma Bird. You'd be surprised at how much tradition is invested in your famiglia.” He handed me the rose and with that he walked away.

  I thought about going after him but I needed a shower before I faced any more of this day.

  The shower felt good and hot. Last night I felt more conscience of the dream. I knew it would happen the way it did every night, but when I heard the wolf cry, I tried not to be scared and listen. Nothing changed and I couldn't change anything. When I had woken up after it, my tears were fierce. Thinking back on it, I wonder if that was from not having the ability to change the dream, or from the dream itself. Then thoughts of Dominic drifted into my mind. I wonder what he meant about my family? Then it hit me. Oh my God!

  “I'm betrothed!” The words jumped out of my mouth. Suddenly the shower felt extremely cold. My parents would never do such a thing to me. But something inside knew different and that scared the Hell out of me.

  I got dressed in my satin black button-up and black dress pants. I slipped on my black peek-a-boo pumps. The only color I wore was the blood red fingernail and toenail polish. The attire was suitable for a funeral, which I suddenly felt like I was about to attend. I needed to find Grandpa.

  I managed to find him after successfully avoiding everyone in the house. He was on our tennis court practicing his swing shot. I was extremely lucky this morning; it would appear that he was alone.

  “Grandpa. I need to talk to you ... now.” I knew my voice sounded harsh but I also knew he would understand once I talked to him.

  “Emma, my sweetheart. I was expecting you after I saw Dominic huff away from your door this morning.” His voice was gentle and understanding.

  “I don't know how you always know these things, but I needed to talk to you about something he said to me,” I replied as we walked to the edge of the court to sit down.

  He sat and patted the bench next to him. “Emma, in the next few months you're going to find out many things you won't like or won't agree with. I want you to know that I am always here for you to talk to. Now, what did that boy say that has upset you so?” He smiled and his eyes twinkled as usual.

  I suspected he already knew what I was going to say but I needed to hear what he would say.

  “Well, we were talking about Issy. He mentioned how much trouble she was in for breaking her betrothal and running off with some guy. Then he implied that I was betrothed as well after I said that betrothal was so old school.” My face flushed and I knew I sounded like a little girl again.

  “I know that you would like me to tell you that none of it is true, and that he was trying to upset you- which of course would be a terrible birthday present. Unfortunately, I cannot. What he told you is true ... which is part of the reason no one ever pushed you to find someone. However, your friend Michael has complicated things quite a bit. You see, ever since you were a little girl, you have been betrothed to Dominic. So, when he was your first love, everything was going on schedule. Only a problem arose when his family became snobbish when the O'Shanold family moved into town. Don't ask why, you'll know the answer soon enough. Your father has discussed your relationship with this Michael O'Shanold to get advice on how to handle things, and so many people know of it. Unfortunately, Dominic is one of them and you are on the same track as your dear friend Isabella. I hope you aren't too angry with me for not telling you sooner.” He was staring off in the direction of the forest now.

  “Grandpa, you know I could never be angry with you. I am, however, confused. I don't understand what's wrong with Michael and me. I also don't understand what my Dad is doing. What is going on?” I sighed into my hands.

  “There is so much that I want to tell you, but the time is not right, my dear. Your father is confused as well and he is trying to find the right approach for your relationship. Your father is not as- let's say intuitive- as I am. He doesn't realize how close you and your Michael are. He has never had to comfort away your tears from that horrible dream that I am pretty sure you and him share, in some manner. Times are changing away from what were the traditions.” He smiled again but did not look away from the trees.

  “Grandpa, how did you know about the dream and how we share it?” I was so shocked.

  “Knowing about the dream was not hard since you've had it since you were three, and someone had to come and hold you while you calmed down. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you how I know you're dream fasted to him. It will have to wait for another day. I also think it is time for you to go and visit with the guests that are here for your big evening, my little sweetheart.” He looked at me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  “Okay, Grandpa. Thank you for answering what you could. I love you.” I gave him a great big hug. I had more questions than I had come to him with, but I knew some things had to wait until their proper time. Besides, I didn't want to push Grandpa.

  The day looked beautiful and like it would give way to a wonderful evening. A part of me was really excited about tonight and another part of me was really worried. I had no idea what tonight was going to hold in terms of these “traditions” I kept hearing about.

  Worrying about it won't stop it from happening, so might as well enjoy the day.

  I ultimately had no time to worry, since the day flew by. When I wasn't visiting with out of town friends and family, then we were eating.

  There were lots of people I didn't know, but everyone I did talk to gave off the air of caution. I don't know why but everyone here made me nervous.

  By six o'clock the guests who weren't staying with us left to get ready, and those who were staying with us went to their rooms. Dinner was at eight and then afterwards, there was supposed to be a great ball-like experience. Looking at it, I realized it was all old fashioned, and I also realized no one from town was invited- except for Miss Ashley- which I thought was odd. But it didn't change the fact that I had to get ready for this entire experience.

  My Mom and Grandma flew a beautician in from New York to do my hair and makeup. Apparently, I'm not allowed to do my own hair and makeup on such occasions. Who could blame them with all the dark colors I wear and dark makeup I put on. They were probably worried I'd do something intentional.

  So, I walked up the stairs to my room and bathroom, to await my fate.

  When I reached my room, I found it to be unusually bright and there was an extra three-way monstrosity of a mirror in it. My dress sparkled like some exotic jewel in all the light. Suddenly I felt very attracted to shiny things. Great now I am l
osing my IQ over this whole affair.

  I walked through to my bathroom and found it to be even brighter, which I didn't think was humanly possible. It caused me to momentarily shield my eyes. When they adjusted to the flash bomb type lighting, I saw a short squat woman who reminded me of a toad.

  “You must be Emma?” she said, with a slight New York accent. It was more upper east side than Brooklyn. “My name is Monique and I'll be your stylist this evening.” She gave a slight bow as she continued.

  “Your mother and grandmother gave me some clue about this event, and I've seen your dress, so I have some ideas about hair and makeup. I think your hair should be up with curls, we can pin it with this gorgeous hair pin. Your polish can stay as it makes a beautiful contrast to the gold of your dress … and as for your makeup; I thought we'd highlight those beautiful eyes and color your lips to match those nails of yours. What do you think?” Her fast talking seemed to confuse my brain.

  “Um, that would be fine. I mean, you're the expert. So, work your magic.” I smiled and tried not to be afraid.

  She sat me down in a portable salon chair that I hadn't noticed before. Somehow it managed to be comfy, which I was thankful for. I wasn't thankful for the hideous bright pink leather. Then, she misted my hair with something smelly and started to place hard red curlers in my long black hair.

  After she finished getting the curlers in, she blew dry my entire head. It all felt strange and alien. My head had become some sort of space helmet.

  After my locks were dry, she began taking out the hot plastic rollers and my hair cascaded down in delicate tendrils. It was strange to see my hair in such a way, but I liked it as well. The small toad-like woman with a mushroom cut of hair began to pile the newly formed ringlets upon my head and affix them with black bobby pins – scraping my scalp ever so often and never muttering even an apology.