by Jessie Olson
“I was checking on the house.”
“The house?”
“The one Ben and I still own on Scott Road.”
“Right,” she nodded to hide her complete ignorance. Ben never told her they still owned property together. In Coldbrook.
“Ben wants to sell it.”
“Oh,” Lizzie felt a sudden letdown. Did that mean Ben didn’t want to come back to Coldbrook?
“It’s good to see you.”
“Yes,” Lizzie couldn’t make an expression of joy or frustration. She took another sip of water and looked at the lake.
“Are you visiting your family?”
“I am,” Lizzie let herself look back at his hungry dark eyes.
“It’s a good day for a run,” he took another hesitant step towards her.
“I’m training for the Boston Marathon.”
“Good for you,” he took one more step.
“Did you talk to Ben?”
“I did,” Oliver stopped moving towards her.
“And he told you he wants to sell the house?”
“He wants to sever ties with me, Lizzie.”
“Oh,” she twisted the cap back on the water bottle. Tightly.
“He told me to stay away from you,” Oliver continued. “There wasn’t a lot of sentiment.”
“He told you… why?”
“That isn’t for him to tell me. You don’t want that, do you?”
“Oliver,” Lizzie felt a strange apprehension settle over her. “I told you before. Nothing has changed since I left the hotel.”
“You’ve had time to think about it, haven’t you?”
“I miss…” she shut her eyes, thinking of the sensation of her blood flowing out of her neck and warming another strong body.
Oliver put his arm around her waist and pulled himself closer to her. “You left him,” he kissed her. Lizzie dropped her bottle and let him open her mouth and captivate her lips for several minutes. The exhilaration of her run sped up her heart and aroused her senses to his touch. It felt so good, so warm, so familiar. Like the dream that left her. It came back with his kiss. Oliver lifted her off the ground and carried her towards the back wall of the store. She saw the green hedges and felt the sensation of that long forgotten memory. She breathed out as he moved his kiss from her lips and down to her neck. She leaned her head against the wall as Oliver inhaled a warm breath from her skin. She knew it was the sensation she craved, but the panic she didn’t let enter her mind before suddenly motivated her.
“No,” she unclasped one of her arms and pushed his head up to face her. “It’s too soon.”
“What?”
“It hasn’t been two months,” she felt suddenly frightened, still pinned against the wall. “My blood isn’t… Ben says it has to be two months.”
“Ben is a fussy eater,” Oliver growled.
Lizzie pushed her hands against his shoulders and managed to get her feet back on the ground. He paused for a few seconds, his hands still holding the side of her hips. He looked into her eyes, showing the burn of his hunger and the lust for her. She wanted to be touched, to feed him. She wanted to make the sadness buried beneath the hunger leave his eyes. She let him kiss her lips and neck again. He started gently but let his hunger propel his aggression. He lifted her legs again, startling Lizzie back to reality. “No,” she pushed him away. He pressed against her resistance, forcing her head against the wall.
Her eyes watered and looked away from him, unable to make any other movement within his strong hold. “Lizzie,” Oliver let her down gently, making the shame evident in his voice.
She walked away from him, feeling the intensity of the pain resonate on her skull. She wanted to cry and have someone hug her to make it go away. Not his arms. She preferred to suffer it alone. “I have to run home. I can’t… I need that blood more than you do,” she forced her kindness, more out of fear than empathy.
“Let me drive you home.”
“No.” Lizzie picked up her water bottle.
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Lizzie looked at his sad eyes. She could tell he was sincere, but no longer believed he could control himself. “I think you should go, Oliver.”
“It was an accident.”
“Why are you here?” she asked abruptly. “Why aren’t you in California? Couldn’t you have made a decision about the house without coming back to Coldbrook?”
“I wanted to … I hoped that I might see you.”
“I don’t live here. How did you know I would be here this weekend?” she gripped the water bottle tightly.
“I…” he faded, but looked at her with the answer in his eyes. An answer he was too ashamed to admit.
“Please leave me alone. I don’t want to see you any more, Oliver.”
“Are you worried about Ben?”
“I’m worried about me.”
“No. I would never…”
“Oliver, you just hurt me,” Lizzie walked towards the front of the store.
He took her arm and held her back. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You didn’t want to hurt Lily either,” Lizzie let her fear show.
He released her wrist and let her turn away from him. “Lizzie,” he called in a voice that was barely audible. She let herself look back at him. He was crumbling. She saw the terrified boy from the hedges looking at her. “I’ll go back to California. I will leave you be.”
She shut her eyes. “Thank you.”
“I’m… I am very sorry, Lizzie.” She heard his footsteps pass her. She opened her eyes to watch him get into his Jeep. He paused and gazed through the windshield. Then he started the ignition and pulled away.
The silence of the winter air descended around her again. He was gone. Lizzie knew she should feel relief. Instead she felt a deep penetrating sorrow. Muted only by fear.
*****
Lizzie took a breath as she went up the stairs. She almost felt guilty accepting the open door from the downstairs neighbor. She was a sweet woman who remarked something about not seeing her lately. Lizzie smiled and managed a polite answer about being busy. Nothing too suspicious. Hopefully … hopefully he wouldn’t be angry for her intrusion.
She hesitated at the second floor landing. She allowed another doubt to enter her mind. There was no contact since December. He wouldn’t want to see her. He wouldn’t want to see her if she was upset because she let Oliver attempt to seduce her again. Wouldn’t Ben tell her she deserved the consequence? She made her choice. She made the choice that Oliver wasn’t … she walked away from Oliver. In the end she told him to go. Oliver went. He didn’t attempt to call her or send an email or make any contact in the week since.
The apprehension didn’t go away. No matter how many miles she ran on the tread mill. No matter how long the days were at the hospital. There was still something at the back of her mind left by the fact he hurt her. Not with any desire to bring her harm. She couldn’t completely deny that she wanted him to go further. He let it get out of control. Her runner’s high and his hunger blurred their judgment. Her poor judgment for allowing his intimate touch. His instinct overtook him, a haste and fury to get what he wanted without stopping. Lizzie understood absent-minded fury. She didn’t understand how the sweet sad eyes could hurt her without thinking.
Perhaps she was making a bigger deal than necessary. It allowed her to make the trip back to his street. To walk up the stairs and knock on his door. It wasn’t a decision to go back to him. She just… wanted to see him. To say she was sorry. Because she was wrong. She made a horrible mistake. Would Ben forgive her when she explained what happened? Could he look at her and not have hurt in his eyes?
She knocked fervently at the door. He might not hear it if he was in his office. If he had any inkling it was her, he might not answer it. It was seven weeks. Seven weeks since she left this apartment that was almost her own. Seven weeks since she let Lily cloud her head and motivations. Seven weeks since a vamp
ire took her blood.
She knocked again. She had to… she had to see him to make things right in her own mind. She held her breath as she heard the unclasping of the chain and the door opened. She didn’t recognize the young man standing in front of her. “Is Ben here?” her voice and her courage faltered.
“No,” the young man managed a smile.
“Will he be back soon?” It took a lot of effort to bring herself to that street, to walk those stairs, and to knock on the door. She didn’t know if she could do it again.
“He’s in Chicago,” the boy explained. Who was he? Why was he in Ben’s apartment while he was out of town? Lizzie stared at him and noticed a bandage on the inside of his arm. He was a donor.
“But he’ll be back?” Lizzie continued, as a woman come down the hallway towards the door.
“He’s in Chicago indefinitely,” he looked at the woman, who was holding a book. One of Ben’s books. One of her books.
“Are you staying here?” Lizzie glared at the girl, who was wearing a turtleneck.
“I’m staying here until he sells it,” the boy … he was too young to have such a nice apartment as Ben’s… looked at her softly.
“How? How do you know Ben?”
“I work for him,” the boy answered kindly.
“Can we help you with something?” the girl finally spoke, much less pleasantly than her friend. Lizzie swallowed hard thinking of her using the kitchen and not keeping it in the right order.
“I was … I just wanted to talk to Ben,” Lizzie managed to explain without crying.
“I have to call him later. Is there something you need me to pass on?”
“Um,” Lizzie bit on her lip, fully aware that she was just as capable of calling him herself. He was gone. Gone from Massachusetts. Gone from the city he stayed in or near for most of his two centuries. Because of her. Because he didn’t want to see her. “Just tell him that Elizabeth said hi.”
The girl looked at her and then the boy standing in the doorway with a knowing smirk. Her name meant something to them. “I’ll do that,” the boy lifted his smile.
“Thanks,” Lizzie swallowed and rushed down the stairs out into the cold January evening.
Lizzie couldn’t feel the movement of her legs as she walked into the gym and changed her clothes. She didn’t remember leaving the locker room and getting on the treadmill. She merely watched the animation of her mileage go around the virtual track again and again until her mind was too tired to resist returning to the boy in Ben’s apartment.
Chicago. He left Boston. For good? No. No, he left before. He went to France to forget her. Her? Not her… Lily. Lily was her. He tried to forget Lily. But he didn’t. He came back for Lily. He would come back for her. She didn’t want him to come back, did she? She walked away from him. She left him. Not to choose Oliver. In the end, that wasn’t what it was about, right? It was about not being with one of them anymore. It was to set herself free from those monsters.
Then why was she so sad? Why did she go to his apartment? Was she really that upset by Oliver? Oliver still wanted her. Oliver still loved her. Would he ever stop loving her? Would he love her enough to not hurt her?
She watched the virtual track fill into the next mile marker. It was better without him. Them. She was going to be all right by herself. She was… well maybe not happy, but okay. She had her friends. Her family. She was taking good care of herself. For herself. Not just to become good food.
She picked up her pace as she thought about the teeth at her neck. Not Oliver’s… that summer night in Ben’s apartment. Sitting with him on the couch, feeling her pulse. Staring into his green green eyes as the freckles faded from his skin. The rapid beat of his heart and the warming of his flesh with her blood. It was intoxicating in a way nothing else ever was. Empowering. Thrilling. Would she never feel that way again?
*****
Lizzie climbed the stairs slowly, hearing laughter and voices from the living room. She paused at the landing to rest her weary leg muscles and hang up her winter coat. She glanced into the crowd circled around the room, blocking the television set. Meg glanced away from the conversation and waved without interrupting the discussion of Byron’s Don Juan. Meg was hosting another study night, something Lizzie knew she did to divert her broken heart from Alec. Most of the time Lizzie was at the gym, but even with her thwarted errand and extra mileage, she was home early enough to observe the end of the meeting.
Lizzie smiled back at Meg and was about to turn away when she caught the stare of a student. Lizzie knew she recognized the young, dark haired woman. She mindlessly returned the blatant gaze as she summoned the oxygen back to her brain and memory. It was that young thing who was on Alec’s arm in Starbucks. The snippy brunette Alec sent to get coffee while he made suggestive remarks to Lizzie about… Ben.
Lizzie shifted her eyes quickly with the realization. Was she one of Meg’s undergrads? Did Meg have any clue? Did… what was her name? Claire. Did Claire remember Lizzie from Starbucks? She heaved a quick release from her lungs and headed towards the kitchen.
Lizzie filled her water bottle and then stared into the refrigerator as all her thoughts swirled in her head. Ben. No, not Ben. Not Chicago. Alec’s little minion. Glaring at her. How dare she. She was only what? Eighteen. Maybe nineteen. Lizzie was going to tell Meg. Not that she had much of a right. She and Meg still didn’t talk much. Things weren’t bad between them. But they still weren’t back to good.
Lizzie retrieved an apple and shut the fridge. She was startled to see the dark haired Claire standing in the kitchen entrance. She offered a short lived smile before bringing a half full wine glass to the sink to empty it down the drain. Lizzie soured her lips, wondering which of her bottles Meg offered that group. Not that Lizzie was drinking any more… but… she froze as Claire’s dark eyes focused on her once more.
The look was familiar and frightening and made her think of all the reasons she ran and ran and ran on the treadmill. Claire was hungry.
“You don’t like wine?” Lizzie dared herself the question.
“Not very much, no,” the girl shifted her lips to a smile of mutual knowledge. How had Lizzie not noticed it before? In those scant moments of irritation with Alec during a heat wave? Was Alec one of her sources? She wasn’t eighteen or nineteen. She had the age in her eyes, age well beyond her skin or lips or slender figure.
Lizzie felt the movement of her blood flow, the runner’s high muted by the frustration she tried to rid from herself. She knew her cheeks flushed with color, revealing the recognition that increased Claire’s smile as two other students brought empty wine glasses to the sink.
Lizzie nodded and smiled as Claire turned to the conversation about Byron’s poetry. She capped off her water bottle and swiftly exited the kitchen. Did Meg know one of her students was a vampire? Never mind the association with Alec. Never mind Alec. Did that mean… did Meg know? Did she… did she know they were real?
Lizzie paused again in the stair hall, peering into the living room where Meg was laughing amongst the crowd rising from their seats. Did she know? Could Lizzie talk to her when everyone left? Could she… could she tell her everything about Ben and Oliver… and Lily?
She heard voices moving out of the kitchen and darted up the stairs. She didn’t want to face Claire and her hungry eyes. Not with the endorphins still powering the oxygen in her veins. She slipped in her room and waited for the din of conversation to die down.
She turned on her computer to distract the remaining minutes until the students left the house. She stared mindlessly at the desktop as the voices quieted. She turned away from her neglected keyboard when she heard giggling come up the stairs. Meg didn’t ascend the stairs alone. She couldn’t identify the other laughter. There was no conversation, just the sound of the door closing and the sudden vibration of music coming through the wall between their rooms.
Lizzie took in a breath. That was the reason Meg hosted study sessions with her class at the hou
se. She wanted one of her students to stay. If she couldn’t be with Alec, Meg was going to be him.
It wasn’t… no, it couldn’t be… Claire… who went into that room. It wasn’t the vampire. That girl, woman, thing wouldn’t have come into the kitchen with that knowing look if Meg was her source. Right? Lizzie felt her head swim. Too many thoughts. Maybe she made it up. Another dream to distract her conscious from the fact she never told Meg about seeing Claire with Alec that summer day at Starbucks. A distraction from the more depressing reality that Ben moved away and left Boston. He left her.
She turned back to her idle computer screen. She pulled up the Internet and went on Facebook. She didn’t visit as frequently since Ben stopped being a part of her life. She didn’t take down the pictures of them together. She didn’t want to. She didn’t know if she ever could. She looked through her friends list and was relieved to see Ben hadn’t deleted her. Not that it mattered. He never went on there. But just in case he broke his routine, she clicked on his profile.
He was on recently, accepting friend requests. She saw a few comments from a pretty redhead named Cecilia. She was the CEO or whatever of the Chicago clinic. The comments were relatively harmless. A few notes of appreciation for all his work… and delight in his relocation to Chicago. Lizzie looked at his info page. He changed his current location to Chicago. Nothing else changed. He didn’t have a relationship status. He never did.
She saw the option to send a message. She clicked it and opened the window. She watched the cursor blink, not sure what to say or how to begin. What could she say? Please don’t move to Chicago? I just met a vampire in my house? Come back to Boston to be with … someone who didn’t have enough self control to be faithful to a man who loved her for two centuries? Maybe… maybe Ben didn’t want to be near her. Maybe he realized it was best for them both to be separate. He moved away. To Chicago. To a redhead named Cecilia.
She was tired but felt agitation in her limbs as she shut off her lights and tried to close out her thoughts with music from her computer. She couldn’t run more miles at that hour to shake the anxiety out of her head. She would go for a long run the next day. Along the Charles. He wouldn’t be walking there. Not in the middle of the week. Not… not when he was in Chicago. But she would run. She would run all the thoughts and agitated energy into the ground.