by Lisa Olsen
“Aw, I’m sorry An, maybe on the next date then. Oh, you might want to check your messages, your phone’s been beeping all day.”
It was after eight p.m. and I had twelve voicemails on my cell. Not too bad, at least I was missed while I was gone. Not being up and around during the day was going to be a problem. Even though Bishop assured me I wouldn’t burst into flames, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to function for the bulk of the day. I had no idea how I was going to make it through school.
Listening to the voicemails, one was an automated message from the library reminding me my books were due. The rest were from Melissa, the other soprano in my jazz group. It was way past rehearsal time and I’d completely blown it off, something I’d never done before. With a wince, I listened as each message got more frantic, her neurotic personality kicking into overdrive. Of course, that might have been me calling a week ago. Before vampires came into my life, music had been the most important facet of my life.
“Melissa, hi… I’m so sorry…” I tried to head off her tirade as I called her back, but it ended up being easier to let her vent for the first thirty seconds. “No, I realize that, I was so sick, I couldn’t reach my phone.” Not a lie… I’d slept like the dead all day long, that had to count for something. “No, I understand… you know I’m committed… yes, I understand the pressure that puts on you.” Frak, it was just one rehearsal, she acted like I’d put Tabasco in her cough syrup. “I promise you I’ll be there at the next rehearsal, and I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Sorry again.”
“I hope it’s not catching,” Bridget called out, leaning over to buckle up her clunky boots.
“Don’t worry. On second thought, maybe you’d better not get too close to me,” I amended after a moment’s thought. It was probably for the best to avoid getting too close to any humans until I learned better control. Of course that assumed I’d learn better control. I’d never been able to resist brownies either.
“I’ve got to get to work, so you’re good. Unless you need me to stick around?” She looked almost hopeful, but I wasn’t sure if that was because she was actually worried about me or eager to get out of work.
“No, I’ll be fine, have a good time at work.”
“That’s an oxymoron if ever I heard one,” she muttered, pulling on her coat. “Laters.”
The apartment wasn’t as quiet as I normally found it with Bridget gone. Without trying too hard, I could tell what each of the neighbors were doing, but quickly lost interest with that game. If I wanted to watch old re-runs of the Munsters, I could turn on my own TV.
I got a good look at myself in the bathroom mirror on the way in to take a shower. Instead of looking like hell for not having showered in over twenty-four hours, I looked… pretty good. Better than pretty good even.
There was no sign of the dark circles under my eyes that followed my escape from the hospital. My blue eyes were bright and clear, my vision crisper than it was with my glasses. My hair has probably always been my nicest feature, it came to just below my shoulder blades and it fell in soft waves now, lighter and more lustrous even under the harsh bathroom light. It wasn’t greasy or stringy from missing a washing and my face wasn’t shiny at all. I started to grasp that unless I got outwardly dirty, I probably wouldn’t need to shower at all. I still took one though, relishing the feel of the hot water coursing over my body.
Changing into soft, familiar pajamas, I got ready for bed like I always did at night, but I wasn’t the least bit sleepy. Retrieving the card Bishop gave me, I keyed it into my phone under B and stuck the card itself between the mirror and the frame of my dresser for safekeeping. Thirsty and feeling peckish, I stole some of Bridget’s vegetable juice, vowing to replace it the next time I went to the store. The salty drink hit the spot and I settled onto the couch for a movie marathon with my cozy blanket.
Near dawn I shuffled into the bedroom, shutting the blinds up tight as the yawns started to become more frequent. I noted as an aside that my retainer didn’t fit right anymore and filed it away as one of those things not to worry about anymore as I climbed into bed.
Lying there in the dark, I couldn’t help but wonder what Bishop was doing at that moment. Was he lying in bed in his darkened apartment too? Was he alone, or did he have some other blonde lying beside him? Just as quickly as that thought slipped in I pushed it aside, not wanting to go there. My last thought was of the feel of his lips brushing against mine in passing as I said my goodbyes.
* * *
I used to love school.
Not only the social aspect of it, but the actual learning. Not the most popular thing to admit to, but I liked it. I was good at it. It made me feel good to get decent grades or when my parents praised me for it. I even admit I liked the feeling when they would say 'Why can’t you be more like your sister?' to Hanna, who never cared a whit what they thought. Frak… maybe I was a book nerd after all?
But as I arrived at the school, dark sunglasses and long sleeves firmly in place, I found it hard to rouse any interest in being there. I couldn’t help but view each classroom and old acquaintance with new eyes. When had the acoustic ceiling tiles become so water stained and dingy? When had the cafe stopped serving meat in the Salisbury steak? When had the overhead projector in English Lit started to smell like old socks? All of those observations assailed me as I sat through class, but I didn’t find myself distracted. No, my brain catalogued those tidbits and more as I devoured the lessons, reading and working ahead in class easily while still following a half dozen whispered conversations before class was over.
The sea of bodies around me as I left the room was… intoxicating. To be surrounded by the cacophony of voices and so many beating hearts… it was an overload on my enhanced senses, and I fell back against the nearest wall, letting it all wash over me, a vaguely dazed look on my face, I’m sure.
Beyond the sharp scents of too much perfume, deodorants, hair products and more, wafted the unmistakable smell of blood. My eyes immediately sought to track down the source, flicking to rest on a skater guy who winced over a fresh road rash on both elbows. My mouth started to water and I unconsciously licked my lips, taking a step in his direction before I forced myself to stop, eyes squinching shut until the wind changed and I could think again. It was pure torture taking a step backwards, and then another, putting as much space as possible between me and the temptation before I did something unforgivable. Only the knowledge that I had to get to rehearsal kept me from giving too much thought to waiting for the guy to wander off alone and unprotected...
* * *
Most people couldn’t understand why I majored in Voice, mostly because it scared the bejeezus out of me. Not all the time. I could sing with a group with no problems at all. Sure, I got a little nervous before a performance, but as long as there was someone singing along beside me, it was no trouble whatsoever. It didn’t have to be a large group either, I’ve done well with a quartet or even a duet. But something about singing anything solo sent my nerves into chaos. It didn’t matter if I was singing in front of a packed auditorium or a living room full of people at a karaoke party.
If I knew I had a solo coming up, even in rehearsal, my stomach would tie into knots, and I’d get the shakes. If it got really bad, my upper lip would start to twitch while I sang too, or my eyes would start to tear. It didn’t usually affect my performance, but it turned me into a nervous wreck if I had too many solo spots lined up. At the same time, I wanted to sing solos in the worst way. Whenever a new piece was announced, I’d get a surge of desire to try out for it. Maybe it was a sick need to make myself miserable, or a masochistic streak, but I couldn’t resist signing up to try out.
Apart from the jazz group that practiced twice a week, I had my one on one’s, the regular choir and the concert choir rehearsals to attend. They generally kept me busy most evenings. We were preparing for a performance in three weeks and would be practicing with the orchestra that night, which meant a double dose of stomach wringing nerves
since Trent would be there.
Trent was my biggest source of shame and embarrassment, and every time I saw him, I wanted to crawl into a hole and pull the dirt in over me to hide. He was the one guy to pay any attention to me in college, and I fell for him hard. I’d thought he’d fallen for me too, especially when he asked me to move in with him, and I blithely gave up my student housing to begin our new lives together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as mutual, or I should say not as exclusive as I’d thought, because I found out he was seeing Bridget on the side.
Since then I’d mostly avoided him, except when we had those joint rehearsals. Trent played the double bass, and I knew he also played an electric bass in a local band, which was how Bridget met him. I always thought that if I played by the rules and was as nice as I could be, I would meet a nice guy in return who would love me for who I was. At least, that’s the stuff they preach at you in Hallmark movies. I wasn’t feeling nearly so nice when he came into view that night.
As if I’d had a jolt of espresso, my energy level shot up as the sun slipped from the sky. The sluggish boredom was replaced by an eager anticipation of being immersed in music, my true passion. I was glad to see the clumsiness disappeared as well, as I stopped crashing into things the darker it got outside. Finding my way to my spot on the risers, I loosened my scarf, suddenly feeling too warm. Discounting it as the lights, I smiled to Leona and Ivy, who I stood between on the stage. There was little time to chat before Professor Matthews arrived and called us all to order.
“Thank you all for being here promptly,” he greeted us with a benign smile. “Before we get started on the new cantata, I would like to open up with auditions for the quartet piece O Occhi Manza Mia. Let’s start with the sopranos if you please. Come down, my little butterflies, right here down front.”
I knew that part backwards and forwards, I’d been practicing it for the better part of two weeks at home. If I was picked for the piece I knew I’d be fine. It was a four part harmony with no solos, but in order to get there, I’d have to audition by myself. It was almost enough to keep me rooted to my spot, but Ivy gave me a little nudge.
“Go on, Anja, you know you want to,” she whispered as the other three sopranos descended the risers.
Teeth worrying at my bottom lip, I took a step forward, and then another, hurrying to be counted among the auditioners before it was too late. It was starting already - my hands were warm and sweaty, and I felt like I had hedgehogs playing leap frog in my belly.
One by one, they sang a capella after being given a single note from the piano. There was a polite smattering of applause, and the next person stood forward to give their rendition of the classical piece. All too soon it was my turn, and I gave the Professor a fleeting smile as I heard my note being given.
I couldn’t look at them.
Focusing on the lights in the back of the auditorium, I began to sing. As long as I focused on that spot, I could do it. The music took hold of me then. I swayed lightly as I sang of my beloved, my voice swelling and falling with emotion, hearing the other harmonies blending in my mind. The last note hung in the air, seeming to fill the auditorium, though I knew it likely didn’t reach past the first section on my own.
I drew in a shaky breath as I finished, eyes rapidly blinking as I focused on those around me again. I was mortified to find all eyes on me, the theater quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Was I so terrible not a single person thought to give me even a golf clap of acknowledgement? Swallowing in discomfort, I jumped when as a whole, they all burst into enthusiastic applause. Even the girls I’d been competing against clapped for all they were worth. One of them had tears in her eyes.
Professor Matthews looked like he wanted to hug me, but settled for patting me on the shoulder awkwardly, announcing I had the part. Overwhelmed by the response, I nodded and murmured my thanks to the congratulations that surrounded me as I retook my place on the risers.
“Wow, Anja, that was so amazing! Wasn’t it, Leona?” Ivy gushed.
“It was so… so beautiful. It made me want to cry,” Leona nodded fervently. The other girls around me echoed the sentiments with excited words of praise as the group buzzed over my performance. Had it really been that good? It sounded fine to me, but I’d been so nervous at the time, I could hardly be the judge. After a few moments of chatter, the professor called the next group of altos down, and the tryouts resumed.
“Looks like you have an admirer,” Ivy whispered.
Looking up, I caught sight of a man standing in the rear of the auditorium, staring at me intently. Despite the shadows that masked half of his body, the piercing blue eyes arrested my attention. I knew him… I felt it in my bones, but from where?
“Maybe he’s a scout from the S.F. Choral Society?”
“Wouldn’t that be something,” I whispered back, unable to take my eyes off of him. But what were the odds a scout would happen to come on the one night I kicked booty on an audition? I wasn’t that lucky.
“Maybe he wants to take you away from here to tour across Europe?” Leona giggled, and I saw the man’s lips quirk in response. Had he somehow heard us? A quick check showed there were no microphones anywhere near us, and with the singing going on, it was nigh impossible. I looked back to see if he was still following our conversation and there was no sign of him.
“I guess he wasn’t all that impressed after all,” I sighed.
“Someone else was though. Don’t look now, but Trent’s giving you the eye.” Ivy nudged me towards the orchestra pit, where my ex was indeed hoping to catch my eye with that smile he had… the one I’m sure he knew was almost irresistible. Almost.
“I’d like to give him a black eye…” I muttered, feeling a little hot under the collar again. Stripping off my scarf, I tossed it to the side of the stage, out of the way. Weren’t vampires not supposed to be susceptible to hot or cold? Why did I feel like I was burning from the inside?
“Anja! What’s come over you? I’ve never heard you talk like that before,” Ivy whispered, her brows drawing together in puzzlement.
It wasn’t common knowledge that Trent was a lying, two-timing, sonofabitch. I hadn’t gone public with many of the details of our break up. “Let’s just say I’ve gone through some changes lately,” I murmured back, deliberately turning away from Trent’s gaze.
The rest of the rehearsal went well. I was conscious of the fact that my voice was more powerful, and I had to make an effort to tone it down to blend in with the other sopranos around me. Also, I had a tendency to reach an almost trance-like state whenever there was an instrumental break and I wasn’t singing. When it was all over, Professor Matthews waved to me.
“Anja, I would like to speak to you a moment, if you please.” Here it came, he’d noticed I wasn’t paying as close attention as I should have been. Would he take away my shot at the quartet? “I know it is short notice, but I would like you to be a featured soloist at our next performance. I was thinking perhaps something by…”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted him before he picked up too much steam. “It’s not really a good time for me, Professor Matthews. I have a lot going on.” Understatement of the year... Even though it was a chance every girl in the room would kill for, I felt uneasy making any kind of commitment when I wasn’t sure I could deliver.
“My dear, you have been given a gift from God, it is a sin to waste it.”
What would he think if he knew the gift wasn’t from God, but from one of the damned? Not that I was sure all vampires were damned, but wasn’t it a well debated concept, whether or not vampires had souls? I was pretty sure if God was going to be ticked at me at the pearly gates, it would have less to do with squandering my ‘gift’ and more to do with becoming one of the undead.
“I understand, sir. Maybe next semester would be better though.”
“Anja… I know you suffer from stage fright, but look how beautifully you managed tonight! Here, I thought, she is finally breaking free of her cocoon and transforming into what s
he was meant to be!” He didn’t know the half of it… “If you keep putting off ‘til tomorrow what you should do today, someday there will be no tomorrows left, only yesterday.”
Somewhere in there was a piece of advice to live by, but it was all too new, and that kind of stress was the last thing I needed. “Let me think about it, alright?” I already knew the answer, but I suspected that he’d accept my decision easier if he thought I’d given it serious thought.
“Fine, fine, we’ll talk more at the next rehearsal,” he nodded, dismissing me.
Released from that awkward conversation, I went in search of my scarf, even though I still felt hot under the collar, but there was no sign of it. “Who steals a scarf?” I muttered in irritation. Turning around, I nearly ran into the solid wall of Trent’s chest. “This night keeps getting better and better,” I frowned, not bothering to hide my displeasure.
Chapter Eleven
“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked when he just stood there, that stupid grin on his face. The one I used to find adorably charming.
“I thought maybe we could go talk somewhere.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” That was the last thing I was interested in doing. I had the entire night ahead of me, and even sitting alone in my apartment with a Golden Girls marathon sounded better than talking to him.
“Don’t be like that, Anja. I thought you still wanted to be friends.”
“You want to be my friend?” My voice rife with skepticism, I fixed him with a flat, unfriendly look. “Friends don’t betray each other, let alone boyfriends.”
“You never let me explain about that, An. I made a mistake, I should have told you about her, but I’d already decided to break things off. You’re the one I asked to move in with me, remember?” His voice dripped of sincerity, but I wasn’t interested in his excuses.