by Connie Vines
A long and uncomfortable silence stretched between them, until Viktor said, “I suppose you want me to leave now.”
“I think that would be for the best.”
“You know, Meredith,” he said bitterly, “nothing is going to happen unless you want it to.”
“I know that! I’m not saying I didn’t want it to happen, Viktor. I just don’t want to end up like one of those pathetic people on TV talk shows.”
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think? Maybe if you had thought a little more about us than what other people think we would still be together.”
“Oh, is that what you were doing?” She asked.
He started for the stairs. As he passed her he said, “Writing romance hasn’t taught you much about love or men.”
It was the cruelest thing he’d ever said to her. “Do you think that insulting my writing is going to make me fall in love with you all over again?”
He stopped on the stairs turned around. Looking down at her, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–or, maybe I did. I’m angry at you Meredith! You’ve so much talent, but it’s as if you haven’t got a clue what to do with it. You could write a great book, something so much better than the dim-witted Steampunk romances you churn out.”
She was crying now, a choking, wheezing sound, but still managed to get out the words. “And maybe if you weren’t so jealous that my writing makes gobs of money, my books wouldn’t seem so dim-witted to you!”
She heard the door upstairs close. Not wanting to see him again before he left, she closed herself into the bedroom. About thirty minutes later she heard his car start up. Only then did she go back into the living room.
Hurt and bewildered by her feelings, Meredith slumped onto the couch. What had she expected from Viktor?
Compassion?
A willingness to view life from her perspective?
No, what she had expected was for Viktor to notice she was different.
Not necessarily different, as in for the better, she realized sadly. Just that she had changed. Only Viktor, her husband of five years, hadn’t noticed she was different. He hadn’t an inkling that the entire landscape of her life had flat-lined; that she was still trying to figure out what was going on.
Reaching for her cell phone with an unsteady hand, Meredith sent a message to VDN.
She had to be strong. She had to send Viktor away. Forever. It was for the best.
It was just right now, she wasn’t certain she had the strength to spend the rest of eternity alone.
***
“I hope you’ll be comfortable in the cramped room,” Rhonda Karl commented as she fussed over a plate of sweetbreads, unleavened crackers, and sliced smoked lamb tongue. “I would have saved that large front bedroom with a fireplace if I’d known you’d want a room.”
Viktor sat in Rhonda’s kitchen, nursing his wounded ego and a mug of strong black coffee. After his fight with Meredith, he’d wanted to put as many miles as possible between them, but by that time it started to snow, and he hadn’t relished making the long drive down the mountain to Los Angeles in this weather.
Unfortunately, the hotels and inns of Forest Falls were nonexistent and a drive up to Big Bear would be wasted effort. Big Bear, a winter tourist town, was usually full for the holidays, and with such great skiing potential, this year unlikely to be an exception.
Then, remembering that Rhonda sometimes rented out rooms in her house during the peak ski season, Viktor had sought out the two-story Alpine style home on Spring Drive that had once been Jose Feliciano’s vacation hideaway on Snowy Canyon. Moreover, not surprisingly, Rhonda had been delighted to find a place for him.
Viktor knew that Rhonda enjoyed flirting with him in an innocent sort of way. He also knew that it irritated Meredith in the past would probably irritate her even more now, given the circumstances, if she knew he was here.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong by being here. Besides, what concern was it of Meredith’s anyway? She kicked him to the curb because she couldn’t deal with her own emotions. Meredith had felt the attraction reignite between them back at the cabin, but had chosen, in her own particularly stubborn way, not give in to it.
Even though he couldn’t help but blame himself for what happened, Viktor was angrier at Meredith now than he ever had been before.
She’d never really been easy to live with, but he had known that from the start. Women like Meredith, talented, beautiful and independent seldom were. But she had been worth it. Of course, they had other troubles in the past, but who didn’t?
Viktor stared through the darkness, past the large deck, and out into the San Gorgonio Wilderness. He had never wanted a divorce. That was Meredith’s idea, fearing that he was deliberately trying to hold her back from the success she deserved. He really couldn’t blame her for feeling that way. After all, he had been excessively jealous of her quick success.
Still, that didn’t mean they couldn’t manage to get past those issues and be happy together. Now it seemed as if the one chance he had bargained on to bring them back together again had failed, and made Meredith even more convinced than ever that divorce was the only answer.
Rhonda put a plate of food in front of Viktor, encouraging him to eat. “Come on,” she nagged in a good-natured way, “everything looks better when you’ve got some food in your stomach.” As she spoke, she placed a large mug at his elbow. “Sânge.”
“Mulţumesc.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
Viktor lifted the ceramic mug to his lips. He sipped the warm liquid that tasted of raw iron and earth. He hadn’t said anything about his fight with Meredith when he came looking for room. It was only logical, and in this case, a correct assumption on Rhonda’s part to assume what had happened between the couple.
“Meredith and I had our meal this evening…” he heard himself say before he could stop himself.
“She got plenty of attitude when she got famous,” Rhonda said, tossing her head in a way that caused her chandelier earrings to jiggle and slap against her pale throat. “Still hasn’t figured out what’s important, either.”
Viktor knew that Rhonda had been married and divorced numerous times (their kind often were), and he wondered idly if her somewhat flamboyant style had a way of driving men away as readily as it drew them. Still, he couldn’t help liking her. If you took the time to see beyond her supersized-bleached hair and green eye shadow perched above black eyeliner applied with a generous hand. She was nosy but nice. He liked her very much. She had also introduced him to other members of the Cele Întunecate making his transition endurable.
Of course, Meredith would be . . . what was the American expression? Bent out of shape. Yes, she would most certainly become bent out of shape, if she knew where he was right now. For a moment, Viktor almost wished that she did know. Women, especially wives, even soon-to-be ex-wives were always so sure that every man, especially their man, had his eye on every available female. He would be the first to admit the male ego craved attention.
What wives didn’t realize, was that many times, a man didn’t have an ulterior motive at all. Sometimes he simply wanted a woman to listen to what he had to say. Just listening and being sympathetic without talking the whole thing to death. He gripped the handle of his mug. Meredith certainly knew how to analyze a subject to death.
Seemingly unaware of his thoughts, Rhonda sat down across from him with a cup of coffee in her hand and smiled. “Not the Christmas you expected?”
Viktor shook his head. “No.”
“My cousin is driving up next week and I was going to put him in your room. I could make a few phone calls and find you some other place to stay.”
“Thanks Rhonda,” Viktor flashed a sincere smile. “That’s really considerate of you. However, I don’t think I’m going to stay in Forest Falls. I spoke with another strigoi in Marina del Rey and he’s going to put me up for a while. If the snow stops tonight, I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“S
o you’re really splitting up with your wife?”
He shrugged. “Meredith has no desire to stay married.” He pushed the plate of food aside and said, “I’m not hungry. But thank you for the food, the room, and your company.” Viktor emptied the content of his mug in a few quick gulps, and then stood. “I think I will go to bed now. It’s been a long day.”
“There’s an extra comforter on top of the dresser,” she told him.
With a nod, he started toward the stairs.
“Merry Christmas, Viktor.”
“Merry Christmas to you,” he called over her shoulder.
Upstairs he pulled off his shoes and socks, before walking over to his suitcase to locate his dressing gown, slippers and grooming kit. Meredith had chuckled when she’d first seen him wearing his Hugo Boss shawl collar dressing gown belted over his conservative herringbone stripped pajamas with his aristocrat scuffs firmly on his feet. He grinned before saying, “It adds a sense of elegance around the breakfast table while enjoying coffee, croissant, and the morning news.”
As always, cherished memories of his past were the most painful to him. He tried not to relive the early days of their marriage; especially as he saw no hope for reconciliation. Yanking off his jeans and sweater, he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Slipping into bed thirty minutes later, all Viktor wanted was to close his eyes and forget about the past. He’d had such hopes for the future when he’d discovered Meredith in the cabin. Now, more than before, they had a future; a very long future ahead of them. A future that would no longer be filled with intense arguments and secrets. Instead, Viktor found himself contemplating an eternity alone.
As he slept, the snow continued to fall and the soft mournful wail of the wind whimpered at the edges of his dreams.
Chapter Five
Meredith woke to the most dismal Christmas morning she’d ever experienced. Even Gertie seemed to be in a bad mood, hiding in the corner of her cage when Meredith tried to pet her.
Downstairs was a further reminder of the way she and Viktor parted company yesterday. The inkwell remained conspicuously perched on the table in the hallway. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what prompted him to leave it behind.
Once in the kitchen, Meredith made herself a cup of coffee and halfheartedly took a couple of sips. Gnawing on a cold slice of leftover pot roast, she sorted through her emotions. Well, this is what she bargained for—Christmas alone. No interruptions, that was for sure. No company. And worst of all, no Viktor.
When she thought about the way she’d acted yesterday, Meredith felt a mingling of anger, self-pity and frustration. Even though it flattered her ego to know that Viktor still wanted her, she knew she had done the right thing.
It would have been wonderful to make love to him one more time. However, if they had, would she have been able to go through with the divorce? Probably not. That meant the completely unhappy business would start all over again. Only, this time, it would be ten times worse.
Meredith didn’t have a clue about how she’d go about explaining everything to Viktor. What would happen if she told him that she wasn’t the same woman he had married?
I mean, really, not the same woman. How did she explain that she was no longer human? Or living, or breathing, for that matter? Worse yet, how did she explain that she was now a zombie?
She would have to explain what being a zombie entailed.
Oh, not good. Really not good!
Even if Viktor could come to terms with her zombieness, how long would it take for them to start fighting again? How were jealousy and love supposed to coexist?
So many couples bickered over silly unimportant things until the arguments became big enough to be the issue.
Nevertheless, it had never been that way for them. There were no little fights, no petty bickering. The rapport had been great. Competition was what stood between them. They simply couldn’t stop competing long enough to look at the big picture and wish each other well.
He was jealous of her success and she was irked by his academic credibility. It was never going to stop. It was never going to be any better until they ended it, and that was why divorce was the only answer.
***
Meredith engaged in little chores for most of the afternoon, trying to convince herself that nothing was wrong, that it was just any ordinary day. She was too mentally and emotionally distracted to write, but at least she could wash dishes, polish furniture, bring in a few sprigs of pine from outside to fill the cabin with a wintery scent.
Taking a moment to appreciate the fruits of her effort, she perched on a bar stool and opened the case with her iPad. After clicking on the Bluetooth keyboard, she opened her My Journal app. What she liked about this application was her ability to tweet, post to her author page, and send her promotion materials via a PDF file. After all, a great deal of her time involved promotion.
She was in the middle of journaling for her writing blog when she heard the PING, signaling a VIP email alert. The flashing message: “Supe-of-the-Day” blog update posted. She smiled at the play-on-human terms (soup-of-the-day) which are so prevalent in the supernatural subculture.
Normally, Meredith pounced on blog updates; after all alive, or dead—fashion and gossip, kept life interesting, but today she wasn’t up to reading about cyber doings, or even a message from her anonymous cyber mentor.
She knew Pippa would tease her about her ‘cyber-hottie’ (if you could label a person who gave tips and guidelines for the undead, and signed off as, VND—VampireNextDoor), as a prospective love interest. Meredith had a major suspicion that VND was really a 20-something geek, with way-too-much time to kill (which creeped her out way more than discovering he was a vampire—how twisted was that?).
Hunger pains were beginning to cloud her mind, so she slid her iPad into a desk drawer.
Making certain Gertie’s bowl was filled with fresh veggies; Meredith pulled on her boots and shrugged into her wool coat, and headed off to the town to have a meal for herself. Leaving the cabin would make her feel better, less alone. She certainly couldn’t feel any worse than she was feeling right now.
The El Mexicano was packed, but after only a twenty-minute wait, a place for one opened up. A lifetime ago (what else could she call events prior to undead life?) she hated dining alone, but today she simply could not care less. She had her EpiPen in her jacket pocket if things went zombie, but otherwise she was good to go.
Let people look at her if they wanted to. Let them wonder why the famous novelist didn’t have any one to share her Christmas dinner.
Meredith was about halfway through with her meal when she noticed Viktor sitting in a booth at the far corner of the room. Her immediate reaction was surprise, which was replaced with anger when she saw him sitting with Rhonda Karl. Viktor seemed to sense her presence because a moment later, he was walking toward her.
Disconcerted, Meredith turned away, hoping that he would take the hint and leave her alone. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder. Swallowing a wave of emotion that washed over her, Meredith allowed her imagination to take over. She could see Viktor taking her in his arms. His lips brushed her cheek and he apologized for everything that gone wrong between them.
Then she looked up and felt like ducking behind her menu. Viktor was staring down at her with something close to indifference in his face. His hand extended, not to take her hand lovingly in his as she’d imagined, but to offer her a key.
“Meredith,” he said. “I thought you’d better have this.”
She accepted the key with no comment. Then, with only the slightest hint of bitterness said, “Rhonda was asking about you the other day. I see she managed to find you.”
“I spent the night at her place,” he said. Seeing her jerk in surprise, Viktor added. “You are aware that she rents out rooms during tourist season.”
Meredith hadn’t realized she could still blush. Somehow, she managed a jerky little nod.
“I didn’t wish to dri
ve down the mountain until I made some arrangements. After all, I do need a place to stay for the next month, or so. Remember?”
Meredith placed the key on the table, unconsciously tracing the edge of its square surface with a fingertip. “Perhaps you should have considered that fact before you insulted my writing.”
Viktor seemed to clench his jaw for a moment before he responded. “Do you know what’s really wrong with our relationship? You aren’t even willing to let us try again. Our divorce isn’t going to be a shield that protects you from future heartache and hardship, Meredith. We could call the divorce off if you wished. We could begin a new life together.”
Meredith stared at him, unable to respond. What could she say? How could she explain what was going on in her life? How could she explain the humming in her head, the undead supernatural world she now inhabited? How could she explain how selfish it was for her to love him?
Viktor mistook her silence for agreement. “But you’ve made up your mind, have you not. To change your mind now would be an admission of being wrong. Admitting you were wrong is something you are incapable of doing! I’ll accept my share of the blame for what has happened between us. I, at least, am not too stubborn to admit the truth.”
***
During the week between Christmas and New Year’s Meredith spent most of her waking hours working on her novel. When she wasn’t working, she roamed around the kitchen staring out the frosted window glass trying to figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life.
Just thirty-two-years old and a best-selling author of Steampunk romance novels, yet her close companions were her married sister with a family of her own, her agent, a cinnamon-colored hamster who spent her days in an exercise ball, and cyber acquaintances on social networks. What was wrong with this picture?
The only good thing to come out of these past few weeks was the fact that she had never written better her life. The new novel, with the tentative title of “The Rochester Chronicles,” had morphed from action-packed, romantic potboiler to heartbreaking chronicle of the failure of her marriage—just as she lived it.