Bitter Fruits

by Daltry, Sarah

  “No, this is wrong. We can’t do this. It’s dangerous, Nora.”

  “We appear to be at an impasse,” I tell him. “You claim to want me desperately, yet every time we get close, you panic.”

  “It’s not panic. I am only looking out for you. You don’t understand. Not again. I can’t go through this again.” His hands make lazy circles on my back; I need him in more ways than he is willing to give me but there is no way I can stop. “But oh, how I want to…”

  “Alec, I need you. Please. You’re not taking advantage-”

  “I promised you more than this. If I’m going to bring you with me into darkness, at least get to know me first. Tomorrow night. Coffee?”

  He stands and I lie on the grass, shirtless, as he buckles his belt.

  “Is this a game to you? Drive a girl wild so she can’t deny you in the end?” I ask.

  “I don’t play games, Nora. See you tomorrow.” He walks away and I almost cry out, but it seems childish and a little pathetic. My body is hungry and I don’t think I can handle not having him. I pull my sweatshirt on, though, and wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. His silhouette has faded in the darkness, but his image is scorched on my memory.

  ****

  During mythology the next day, I have trouble concentrating for two reasons. First of all, after I returned last night from my - well, whatever it was - with Alec, he was all I could think about. Second, when I made it back, distracted by thoughts of him, I found Scarlet sitting up on her bed. She was grinning to herself as she stared at her phone before she went on to share extensive details about her escapades with “Henry.” This all culminated in her showing me a sext he sent her. An extremely graphic sext complete with a visual aid. Now, I can’t seem to focus on the story of Icarus while “Henry” and his dirty secrets run through my mind as he speaks. Damn you, Scarlet. I really liked this class.

  I look down at my notes at the end of class and see that all I’ve written is Alec’s name. About eighty times. There are even a few hearts. Awesome. Now I’m becoming a stalker. A 12-year-old stalker. Next thing you know I’ll be passing him notes asking him to circle “yes” or “no” if we’re actually anything. I tear out the page and crumple it, dropping it in my messenger bag, and I turn my attention back to Henry. He’s talking about the next section we are studying. Turns out it will be Biblical mythology.

  “I advise you all to brush up on your knowledge of the Bible,” he says. There is a collective groan and he smiles. “Note I did not say you had to attend church. I simply imagine that, as members of a Western civilization, you are familiar with the stories of Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, David and Goliath, and others. However, one of your required texts was a guide to the Bible and its stories, so please do not come in unprepared for the next class. We’re starting with Genesis only, so you have time to refresh.”

  He dismisses the class but motions for me to wait. I look around the room, thinking of reasons to avoid staying behind. Scarlet seems happy, I guess, but the whole situation puts me in an incredibly uncomfortable position. I don’t have a lot of deep, dark secrets so I’m not sure I’m the kind of girl who’s good at keeping them. Not to mention that I now can’t stop thinking about my professor in all of his glory - which is, sadly, kind of glorious. I try to maintain my composure and remember that I do love this class, even if I know what his penis looks like. My eyes dart back and forth between him and the door, but it’s my nerdy obsession with learning that wins out in the end.

  “You wanted me to stay?” I ask, adjusting my bag, which for some reason continues to fall off my shoulder.

  “Nora, I sense that you’re bothered by recent events.”

  I give up on the bag and drop it on the floor. “I mean, it’s weird. It is really tough to pay attention in class when Scarlet tells me everything.”

  He laughs. “Well, maybe she and I should talk about keeping some things private. Is that the only problem, though? You seem a little - off. Usually you’re enthusiastic in class but you didn’t seem focused today. Actually, it’s been different since the party. I would hate to think that I-”

  I lean on the desk behind me. “No, it’s really not that big of a deal. It’s just... I have so many questions. Who are these people who threw the party and what was that? It was so strange, but also... I don’t know what to call it. A little perfect? But then, what happened to Chloe? Is she okay? And, fine, I guess I am a little concerned about what’s happening with you and Scarlet, you know since I don’t want anyone to get in trouble. I mean, it’s all of that and I just… and, also, why is Alec so weird?”

  He sits on the desk next to me and shakes his head. I don’t blame him; my incoherent barrage would leave most people speechless. “One at a time. As far as I know, the vampire clan, as they call themselves, has been active for years. I’ve been going to their parties for a while now; they’re a break from all this. For me, they’re also, I guess, a little research as well. You must see how easily we embrace the myths that we claim we don’t believe. Plus, escapism is a natural part of our psychology; we all have the desire for a world beyond us, a freedom from the inhibitions of our routines. The chance to be a part of the stories we derive so much pleasure from in our mundane and boring lives.”

  I nod, because I can’t express what I am thinking in words. The party was all of those things, but now I feel as if the fantasy has infiltrated my normal life and that the ennui of basic existence is stifling. I want to be the girl I was that night, a princess enraptured by a prince; instead, I am a college girl obsessed with a guy who doesn’t want to have sex with her and whose roommate is banging her professor. So, yes, I suppose I do desire a world beyond myself. Who wouldn’t? The problem is that it’s exactly what Henry said - escapism. Desire for something that isn’t real.

  “It is tempting to let ourselves fall prey to the idea that the fantasy could be more than just that,” Henry continues, “that we are only waiting to be woken and brought into our true selves. But you must remember, it was just a party. A beautiful and transporting party, but no different from the ones that occur every weekend in the frats. Just more dresses.” He smiles. I do love dresses.

  “I felt … something,” I tell him, confiding in him because maybe he can understand. “It was like I had been waiting my entire life to go to that party, to enter that world.”

  “I know but it was just a party. As for Chloe, I fear she also felt a little too transported.”

  “Is that why she sleeps all day and walks aimlessly at night? And quotes Dracula?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “She quotes Dracula? Oh dear, that is pretentious.” I laugh, too, but there is nothing funny about the fact that Chloe appears to be losing her mind. “I imagine she’s convinced herself she was bitten by a real vampire. Like I said that night, she will be back to normal in no time. She just needs to let the delusion wear off. I hope, obviously, that it doesn’t take too long. Besides, Bram Stoker would never approve.”

  “Yeah,” I reply, but I worry that Chloe has passed the point of no return. Part of me fears that I am not too far off myself, but at least I don’t think Alec is supernatural. I just think he is super frustrating. Still, Henry is a doctor of mythology, not medicine and he cannot fix Chloe; she can only help herself. I can’t help but wonder whom she met that night; I know firsthand that some of the guys at the party have some convincing moves.

  “As for me and Scarlet, I like her, Nora. I like her quite a bit in fact. You cannot deny she is phenomenal.”

  “No, she’s perfect,” I agree. And here we go. I’ve listened to this speech about how amazing Scarlet is more times than I count.

  “Perfect? I don’t know. I tend to shy away from perfection, but she’s fun and energetic and, if I can reveal something here, she makes me feel desired. Men are not much different from women in that way; we want to be wanted as badly as you do. Scarlet makes me feel as if I am the only man in the room when I am with her - and I feel the same about her. And if you t
ell her, I’m totally failing you.”

  “That’s sweet,” I say, because it is. It’s probably the most honest any guy has ever been about Scarlet. “Of course I won’t tell her. She’ll just gloat about it forever. But maybe, you know, she should stop telling me about your evenings. I do like your class.” I smile at him and try to forget everything I know. I believe that he cares for Scarlet. That should be enough; no one chooses the person he or she is attracted to and, as long as they’re both happy, I just have to deal with it.

  “Deal,” he smiles. “Now, the last question, which I believe is the most pressing. Alec?”

  “I met him at the party,” I confide. “But he disappeared when Chloe was attacked or whatever. Then he showed up last night and took off again. We are supposed to have coffee tonight, but each time I’ve seen him, we have been drawn to one another physically - only for him to walk away and say he can’t ruin me or something.”

  “And you want to be ruined, as you call it?”

  “Oh God, yes,” I sigh. “Sorry. Too much information?”

  He laughs at me. “A bit. Listen, Nora, I think it is admirable that he’s attempting to wait. I imagine it is nothing less than chivalry, even if you find it frustrating at the moment. You should appreciate it, because few guys, even at my age, have that kind of self-control and willpower. He must think well of you if he doesn’t want to make it cheap and tawdry, despite your own willingness to let it be so.” I blush. I wouldn’t say I want cheap and tawdry, although I definitely seem to have less willpower than Alec does. Great. Even my professor thinks I’m a slut.

  “All right. I know. Thanks, Henry.”

  “Dr. Kenyon,” he reminds me.

  “Listen, Scarlet showed me the picture you-”

  “Fine, Henry. But only outside of class.”

  “Deal,” I laugh.

  3.

  My Bible study is not very intensive since Henry was right. Growing up here and being an avid reader, I’ve heard these stories in multiple forms. My parents are history professors as well and we’ve traveled extensively in Italy. All of this serves me well now because I am not capable of focusing on complex myths at present. Luckily, it’s pretty simple anyway. Adam and Eve had everything, they were tempted, they gave up everything for temptation, were cast out, and humanity grew into existence. Then they had kids leading to a long list of begats and their son Cain killed his brother Abel out of jealousy. There. Refreshed. That leaves me a few hours to pine over Alec instead of being productive, which I am far better at doing with gusto. I don’t know what else to do with myself and I’m in the library, so I flip through a book about vampires. There’s nothing new in it, but maybe Alec and I will have something to talk about. Clearly, he takes this stuff seriously if he had his teeth capped. I find it all silly, the concept of creatures of the night, although no more or less so than the other myths we have studied. People need to look for an explanation for the things that scare them; vampires were just the natural answer for some cultures.

  After it grows dark, I go outside and wait. There is one lone streetlight drenching the wall in warm light. I wait under the stream of soft yellow on the wall. It’s still cold, but I try not to worry about the chill; I start running through my witty repartee that I will use when Alec finally appears. My brain starts to feed me anxious thoughts about him standing me up and I’m turning my phone over in my hands, believing my brain, when I see him standing across from me, next to the streetlight.

  “Hello,” I say.

  “Good evening. I brought coffee.” He holds up a Thermos and I can make out a smile, although it is hard to see him in the shade of the night.

  “Come over here and join me,” I offer.

  “How about we head back to that hill? It was peaceful, was it not? And less…distraction.”

  I gaze in every direction; there is no sign of anyone on campus except us. The weather is not ideal for random jaunts, but Alec seems insistent. I jump down off the wall and follow him, wondering what his obsession is with the hill. I dressed up tonight to see him, although it’s no gown. Scarlet loaned me a black dress that may not be as ridiculous on me as it is on her, but it’s still too small and highlights plenty. I know I look sexy, yet Alec says nothing. I won’t lie; I feel a little insulted that he doesn’t compliment me. He looks the same as he did last time - black slacks and a dark gray shirt. It’s only a t-shirt tonight, so maybe this is his idea of being casual. I’m sure it’s still Armani or something, though.

  When we reach the crest of the hill, I see that he’s laid out a picnic. It is a wonderfully sweet gesture and I am taken aback by what a gentleman he is. There are moments when I feel like he walked out of a novel set a hundred years ago. Maybe I should start calling him Heathcliff. He shatters the illusion when he takes out Styrofoam coffee cups, but still. Maybe they’re the new Armani Styrofoam line.

  “Nora, you are ravishing,” he says and pulls me into a kiss. His tongue tickles my lips and there is a small prick as his fangs are dragged across my mouth; he is instantly forgiven for delaying the compliment. I am ready to be with him and hope that the blanket is a hint that he is finally ready as well.

  “I missed you,” I tell him and slip a hand under his t-shirt. He closes his eyes while I caress him. When I move lower, though, he backs away and shakes his head.

  “Patience, dear,” he teases. “How was your day? Learning a lot?”

  Okay, I think. So this is how we’re going to play it. “Oh, a ton. Would you like to talk about standard deviation? How about some covariance? Because I can tell you all about those.”

  “Really? That sounds…dull.”

  “It is dull - and I actually can’t tell you anything about them, except that I keep writing down the definitions and they’re not sticking. Seriously, when am I ever going to need to find the z-score of anything? Why does anything even have a z-score?”

  Alec laughs. It’s comfortable doing this, despite my body’s yearning for more. I’m not a very outgoing person, but I don’t feel the same natural shyness I feel with everyone else when I’m with him. Strangely, he even seems amused at my terrible jokes, which is unheard of in my dating history. I lean back on the blanket, the moon overhead reminding me of mythology class.

  “We talked about Icarus today,” I say. I have a feeling that Alec is my sun and I, like Icarus, am never going to be able to stop myself from getting too close. I can only hope the fall and punishment aren’t fatal. I turn over on my side and look at him. He’s beautiful. Yup, I am most definitely going to come burning down to earth when this is over.

  “I always enjoyed mythology and literature,” he says wistfully. “I have a personal connection to many of the stories.”

  “Personal connection?” I ask.

  “It’s almost like you could say I was there,” he answers. His voice is light, but his eyes say something else. For a moment, I believe that he was there, that he walked the same streets as Icarus and the others from my vast book collection.

  “Do you take classes here?” I ask. I realize I’ve never seen him on campus before and I don’t know anything about him other than that he seems to be interested in me. I can’t imagine why else he would be here, though, since it’s not exactly a hotbed of activity. Our little campus isn’t attracting types like Alec for the bagels.

  “No, I’m not in school,” he says.

  “Oh.” It is something of a deal breaker for me. Maybe it’s because I have been driven by a passion for art and literature, subjects that have no market or purpose in the world, but I always felt that college was a mandate not a choice. My parents’ profession is probably a part of it as well; I don’t think I could bring Alec home if I told my parents he chose not to go to college. A quick glance at him, however, and I realize I don’t care what my parents think. I can’t walk away no matter what happens. I try to hide my disappointment, not wanting to insult him; he sees it immediately, though.

  “Don’t worry,” he says. “I can hold my own in c
onversation. But, if it makes you feel better, I finished school already.”

  “I see. Where’d you go?”

  “I went to school in England, as a matter of fact.”

  “No accent?” He pours my coffee into a Styrofoam cup but some of it spills onto his pants. He tries to dry it off, but accidentally spills even more. His grin is sheepish and I sense embarrassment in him, although he should see me attempt to do pretty much anything. These moments remind me that he is human after all and not some perfect angel sent from the gods to tempt me.

  “It was a long time ago,” he replies and hands me my coffee.

  I sip it black and watch him. He grows agitated under my inspection; his body is tense, and his eyes flick back and forth. I thought we were supposed to be relaxing; no one gets stressed out at a picnic. Why is he so nervous around me?

  “How old are you?” I ask him and his eyes grow dark at the question.

  “Old enough. Anyway, I brought croissants. Chocolate or raspberry?” His smile returns, but I catch the darkness that slips over him before it does. What is Alec’s secret?

  Not wanting to pry and pleasantly distracted by pastry, I take the raspberry croissant. I notice he does not eat or drink while I do. He’s fortunate I’m not one of those girls who refuses to eat on a date; in fact, I’m the opposite. I finish the croissant and take a chocolate one as well. Hell - he bought them to be eaten, right? I’m enjoying the treat, but I feel something itching at my skull, some fact or notion worming its way into my brain, trying to get my attention. I wish I could place what it was.

  “Alec, tell me something about yourself,” I say.

  “What do you want to know?” Again with the evasion. He could tell me his favorite color is mauve. At least it would be an answer.

  “You know, you never answer questions directly. Fine. Where do you live?”