by April Smyth
I let dad‘s face dissipate and I look to Gabe. His fingers are gripped tightly around the steering wheel and his strong jaw is locked. I wonder what has made him so angry; I guess working for a secretive, powerful vampire isn‘t much fun. “So Maurice is like your boss?” I ask and Gabe nods. “What’s he like?”
Gabe opens his mouth but closes it again and chews at his full lips. I am surprised at how quickly I am caring about this boy. He is arrogant and has, technically, kidnapped me. He has foul habits like drinking and smoking but something about him yanks at my emotions. What would make a young man work for a vampire? In America, many vampires run bars and nightclubs and hire humans but it’s not like that in Scotland. I think people’s lack of empathy of my situation has burdened me even further; I always search for the good in people. It’s a burden because more than often there is no good to be found. But I do not believe that Gabe chose this path for himself. He doesn’t want to be here and I want to know why he is.
“He’s exactly what you want him to be,” Gabe says. His vague words set into my skin like a footprint in the sand. Sinking deeper until they have left a clear imprint. “What’s the deal with you anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. What’s the story behind Miracle Girl? Constantly getting hurt but not really, eating up all this vampire stuff? I don’t get it,” he shrugs. His pretty face is contorted.
“What’s the deal with you?” I reply rashly. “Working for a vampire, showing up out of the blue with a box full of newspaper clippings about Miracle Girl, eh?” I wince at the mention of the papers’ playful nickname for me.
Gabe chuckles slightly and I feel proud I’ve managed to crack his hard exterior, even if only a tiny bit. He desperately wants to dislike me.
“Everyone has something, Gabe,” I say softly, looking at me knees, “I’m just the only one with this thing.”
The car falls silent again but I get the feeling Gabe has an aversion to silence and turns his infernal music back on. He said this music helps to drown out unwanted emotions: fear, anxiety. But it doesn’t seem to be working for Gabe. His face is twisted. The muscles of his brow tightened and his teeth visibly clenched. However I have to agree that this music allows barely any space for thought.
My dad calls again. And again. I watch the screen light up and it makes me feel queasy to imagine how worried he is. My finger trembles over the answer call button but Gabe glares at me, “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not? I can just reassure him that I'll be back soon,” I say but I’m not sure that I can even convince myself of this.
“Give it to me,” Gabe holds his hand out, it brushes my arm and I feel a tingle where his skin bumped me. He yawns it away from me, “You’ll say something stupid. He knows you’re going to be okay. You always are, right?” The words are bruising. The idea that I am unbreakable has soothed me to sleep every night when I worry about the next accident but the way Gabe says it, it sounds slanderous like it is a lie I was feeding to everyone and in fact I am more fragile than I let on.
I put the phone in his hand and he clenches his long fingers around it. I bite my tongue. I want my dad to know I’m okay even if it goes without saying that I won’t be hurt. He just worries about me so much; this will tip him over the edge. Gabe sighs, “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not going to,” I bark. I wasn’t going to but now he’s said it, tears sting my eyes. This is what I want. I want to meet a vampire. I need this. For once I can walk the tightrope and have the fear of falling. “Where are we going then?”
“Maurice has a home in France. We’ll go there,” he speaks so nonchalantly about travelling to France as if it’s a quick journey to the local supermarket. I have never left Scotland and even then I haven’t seen much of my own country. Ayrin has encased me in a claustrophobic bubble that I'm eager to burst. He speaks so lightly about travelling the world; I wonder what sights he has seen. “But I can’t be sure where he is until night time. I’ll phone him then but first we have to meet Rose.”
“Who’s Rose?” my mood picks up with the mention of a new name, allowing myself to drift back into the excitement. Leaving wearying thoughts of dad, Shannon, Bruce and Jana behind.
“She works for Maurice too,” he says.
“Like you?”
“No. Rose is higher up in Maurice’s staff,” Gabe speaks with resentment. If there is a hierarchy to Maurice’s human assistants, is he at the bottom of the pyramid? Does this explain his anguish? “She’ll know what to do with you…”
He makes it sound like I am a package. Wrapped up in unsightly, brown paper. Thrown about, stamped on and with an illegible address scrawled on the front. A package that he holds in his hands as if it contains a ticking bomb. But I am a valuable package that Maurice wants delivered personally so he can't risk losing it.
“Where is Rose?” I ask but wish I hadn’t. Gabe snaps and tells me to stop asking so many questions and just be quiet. He puts his music up so loud that it becomes white noise in my ears.
The sky is dusky when we pull into an estate filled with red-brick cookie cutter houses. I had almost managed to dull out the angry screaming of Gabe’s music to fall asleep when the car cuts out and the music stops completely. Leaving us with a dead silence.
“You can talk again,” Gabe says clicking his seatbelt and getting out of the car. I don’t know why I expect him to open my door for me but it feels appropriate to hesitate. I don’t know the protocol for escorting important human cargo for a vampire but I’m sure Maurice wouldn’t be pleased with Gabe’s manners, or lack thereof, towards me. If anything at least vampires are polite.
Standing at the door of the house we are parked outside stands a beautiful woman in a red dress. She must be in her mid-twenties and has chocolate brown hair that tumbles down to her waist. Her skin is dark and sumptuous and completely flawless. Her lips are painted a wild shade of red. She is exactly how I picture the women that keep company with vampires. Her face bursts into a wide smile, showing shiny white teeth, when she sees Gabe and I.
She walks towards me and grabs one of my hands with both of hers. Her skin is soft and I feel embarrassed by how clammy my palms are. The car was too warm. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Cassie,” she says and plants her big red lips on my cheek. I’m not used to intimacy with a stranger and I feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment.
“Gabriel Greenall. Long time, no see,” Rose repeats the gesture with Gabe who returns it with a kiss on her cheek. So he shows manners now. I wonder if Gabe likes Rose. He is certainly smiling a lot more around her and she is extremely beautiful; I can’t think of a reason why any man would turn her away. “Come in.”
Inside the house is modern and meticulously decorated. An extension of Rose’s beauty. She ushers us into the lounge area which is all white except for the black television and the coral red pillows on the white leather couch. It is so pleasing to look at that I feel like it doesn’t serve its purpose as a lounge; I could not relax in here. “Do you want anything to drink?” Rose asks. This makes me aware of how parched I am. I haven’t eaten or drank since I left the house this morning.
“Yes please,” I say in a meek voice. I am not usually intimidated by other girls. My lack of socialising has not hindered me so much that I cannot hold my own but Rose is different from the girls in my classes at school. She is everything I could dream to be. Beautiful, evidently successful, warm and friendly, and spends her life fraternising with vampires.
Gabe sits awkwardly beside me on the white couch like he is uncomfortable in his body. I am aware of his entire stance: his hunched shoulders, his folded arms, his closed mind.
Rose gets me water and a toasted sandwich. The water is served in a fancy blue crystal bottle and the sandwich tasted heavenly in my mouth. The hot crunch of the toast, the cheese melting on my tongue. And she’s a good cook too. Add that to my list of reasons to be envious of this woman I’ve just met. “Have you spoken to Maurice
yet?” Rose asks, opening and pouring a can of beer into a glass for Gabe.
Gabe shakes his head, “No, I only found her today.”
“He’ll be pleased,” Rose smiles, sipping genteelly at tea which fills the room with a sweet, strawberry scent. “He’s been waiting such a long time.”
“You don’t think I know that, Rosie? He’s been on my back every night for the past six months. He dropped in last week to check up on me. I just wanted to be sure, you know?”
“I understand, Gabe,” Rose tilts her head sympathetically and there is nothing insincere about the concerned expression on her face. “You were just waiting for the right time.”
I don’t like the way they speak of me like my presence has been overlooked. I pretend to choke lightly on my food just to break their conversation up. They give me a quick glance as if I’m a fly buzzing around that is infuriating but easily ignored.
“Do you know where he is?” Gabe asks. His thick eyebrows knitting together.
Rose purses her lips. They curve so flawlessly, a perfect cupids bow stained the most vivid red - it is hard to believe they belong to a real person and not a painting. She shakes her head and I feel like they are having a conversation I can’t hear. “He was travelling through Spain last I heard.”
As if he has just remembered I am still here, Gabe turns to look at me and says, “It’s difficult for vampires to travel because they are restricted to the night.” In America, hostels specifically designed for vampires have been set up for when they need to rest during the day but are too far away from their own home. Vampires in Europe don’t have this luxury and I guess this means they either have to make a lot of friends, or enough people who are intimidated by them, to get a place to stay when the sun is out or give up travelling. I am struck with pity for these ominous creatures who can’t enjoy the pleasantries that daylight brings: sipping a cold Diet Coke in the garden or even the cosy feeling watching a ray of sunlight reflect off the first snowfall in Winter from your bedroom window.
“He’ll be home soon. I presume he’d like you to take her to the manor,” Rose says, setting her teacup onto the pristine coffee table. I can’t help but compare this beautiful abode to the dingy apartment Gabe was staying in Ayrin. Both mirrored the personalities of their occupiers. Gabe’s being dark, dirty and inhospitable. Rose’s is pleasant, bright and warm. “You should stay here until dark when I can contact him.”
The decision is made without my input. Rose shows me to the guest room where she insists I should make myself at home. It is as delightful as I expected. The walls are painted a daintily fair shade of lilac, so light that it is almost white. The dusky pink and lilac floral bed sheets are tucked in so pristinely that it seems a shame that anybody should ever sleep on them but equally they look so comfortable that it takes all my strength to pull up some manners and not dive headfirst onto the clean, fluffy cloud duvet. There is a white wooden beside cabinet and a matching chest of drawers. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling and throws light across the room and bounces against the small bottles of perfume on the ornate dressing table. It is beautiful and it winds me to think how much money was spent on this room alone. Maurice must pay his staff a great salary, I think.
Rose must hear me gasp because she giggles, “I am too house proud for my own good. I love decorating. In a few months time you won’t recognise this place.” It makes me sad to think this room will be torn apart, repainted and it will be a completely new kind of beautiful. “I understand Gabe didn’t give you much time to pack your things?”
I shake my head, “I wasn’t planning on staying for long…”
Rose gives me the same sympathetic look that she gave Gabe in the living room, “Don’t worry. The drawers are filled with my clothes. Take your pick. I won’t miss them.”
Dad always aimed to give Bruce, Jana and I an ample lifestyle. Christmases and birthdays were brilliant days and I was never left wanting. I have never been particularly taken my material objects anyway. What I desire couldn't be gift wrapped. What I wanted was freedom from my disease. But whilst I lived a comfortable lifestyle, I could never imagine what it must be like to have hundreds of luxuries at your disposal. I got the impression that if I took the entire contents of those chest of drawers, Rose wouldn’t blink and could replace it all with ease. That kind of extravagance was implausible to me when I only just replaced a winter’s coat I had for three years.
“Thanks,” I smile, mustering up as much gratitude as I can for a woman I do not know but who’s world I am being thrusted into. I remind myself that whatever I am going to face in the vampire world will be much easier to handle if I make friends. I have learned that much from my days spent reading about them on the internet. Connections are important in this unknown world.
“There’s an en suite too so feel free to freshen up if you feel so inclined.” I feel as though Rose has lost the ability to speak with normal humans after spending so much time with vampires. Although she is welcoming, her conversation does not flow with particular ease. Casual slang has been replaced with the eloquent chatter associated with the creatures of the night.
Rose asks me if I would like more to eat but I decline politely. I don’t feel up to eating now. Whenever dad or Shannon’s face flash into my memory, I feel nauseous. She asks if I’d like a movie to watch and I shake my head. I don’t like movies. Romantic films make me cringe because I know they are created purely to give young girls like me false ideas about the real, cruel world of love. And when I watch action envy eats me up. There is something too tangible about movies. I always get the feeling that moviemakers think their audiences are stupid; they spoon-feed stories to as if I am not trusted to understand the concept of a story on my own. I don’t like being talked down to.
Eventually I agree to one of Rose’s suggestions and decide to read a book. I am unsurprised to find Rose has a magnificent collection of novels in her study which is a room painted sky blue with the nice touch of small black birds and white swirling clouds on the ceiling. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Rose hovers in the doorway. “I’m going to talk to Gabe. Shout me if you want anything. You are free to take any book.” Let me guess, she won’t miss them.
Some of the books in her oak bookcases, which in this room look like majestic trees growing high into the blue sky, look very old and important so I’m sure they can’t be as easily replaced as clothes can. I’m impressed by the wide variety. I stare, open mouthed, at the dusty classics that look like originals but I don’t have enough knowledge of books to be sure. Laughably, I choose a copy of Interview With A Vampire and go back to my temporary room.
I feel sweaty and unclean and decide to take up Rose’s offer to use the bathroom facilities. I need to figure out a way to waste time before night arrives and Gabe and Rose can speak with Maurice; I need to keep my mind off of my family who are worrying themselves sick.
The en suite bathroom smells like lavender and it reminds me of my Gran’s, my dad’s mum’s, house which only makes me more homesick. It can’t help but feel the décor of the bathroom is inspired by a French boudoir. Rose must spend a lot of time in France if it’s where Maurice calls home. I wonder, as I run my fingers across the elaborate curves of the countertop that the gold sink sits in, if this is a nice reminder of that part of her life.
The shower serves it’s purpose as a distraction. The water is warm and soothing on my skin which is tired from a few hours of travelling in the car and washes away the nervous sweat that had built up on the back of my neck. In Rose’s house I feel like I’ve been missing a huge part of womanhood. There are so many products on the shelves that I don’t know where to begin. She did tell me to help myself so I start with a honey and sugar body scrub which leaves my skin a bit raw and pink but smells so sweet I want it for dessert. Then I squirt strawberry shampoo into my hand, massage it into my scalp and rinse it away. What next? There’s cinnamon shampoo, peppermint conditioner, citrus body wash. And it doesn’t stop there.
Once I’m out of the shower and patted dry with a fluffy white towel, I find watermelon body lotion and slather it generously onto my skin and then a coconut oil which I apply to my legs. It makes them look shiny and glossy and it is easy to see why so many girls enjoy pampering themselves like this; I smell like I’ve been dipped in a piece of heaven and my skin shines more than ever.
I choose a pair of the least risqué underwear in the top drawer. Rose seems to indulge herself in expensive and seductive pants and bras, all with a matching partner. There is a lot of lace and bright colours which make me blush just to look at. I soon discover that most of Rose’s clothes are out of my comfort zone. I like simplicity but everything I find is extravagant. I can’t deny they are striking and I’m sure Rose looks like a knockout wearing these intricately designed ensembles but I feel like I would look like a little girl playing dress up.
I’m still deciding between a long sleeve grey cable knit dress and leopard print sweater and black skirt when Rose enters the room without knocking. I grab for the pink dressing gown that I’ve left lying on the floor to cover myself up but Rose seems unfazed by my part-nakedness. “I think you’ve found the most boring clothes I own,” Rose laughs gently, fingering the hem of the grey dress.
“I’m not really into fashion,” I shrug. Rose looks appalled. Like I’ve just threatened her with a knife.
“I love it all. Pretty dresses, handbags, shoes,” she grins but then she touches my arm and says, “But it’s not for everybody. I’ll get you something you’d be more comfortable in as soon as I can. You smell wonderful by the way.” I feel embarrassed.
“I hope you don’t mind…” I say, twiddling with a strand of my wet hair.
“Not at all,” she smiles. She probably has lots of guests coming in and out of her house. Maurice’s house guests. I doubt I am the first person he has requested to meet with. I imagine how I would feel if strangers frequented my home and I shudder at the thought of some girl I don’t know raiding through my shelves, using my shower and thumbing my books. I don’t own anything precious like Rose does but I feel anxious at the thought of somebody seeing my possessions and sleeping in my bed. Perhaps Rose is so accustomed to it by now. “I like it. Can I do your hair?”