Parasite Life

by Victoria Dalpe

  “Just think on it. Look, you came here for answers and I am trying to be straight with you. No kid gloves. Think about what I’ve said.”

  “I will. Thanks,” I croaked.

  “Good. Anyway, it’s quite late. And you look like a patch of rough road, so why don’t you get some sleep? Tomorrow, explore the city, spend some time with your friend, think about things. We can have dinner tomorrow evening, and talk more.” He walked to the door and opened it. Looking out at Sabrina sleeping, he turned back to me. “Obviously, the dinner invitation is for you alone.”

  I stared at the empty door frame long after he left, numb. Eventually I made up the bed, then changed into the sweats and woke Sabrina, helping her groggily settle into the bed. She was asleep before she hit the pillow. I snuggled in, fitting into place beside her, my knees behind hers, my chin at her shoulder. I loved the way her body felt pressed to mine, the warmth she gave off, the life. I wrapped my arms around her soft middle and squeezed. She sighed, content, and shimmied closer. My heart felt heavy, but I was finally able to fall asleep, lulled by the steady thumping of Sabrina’s heart.

  XXIX.

  Sabrina had woken early in the morning, griping about the sunlight being too bright. I kept my eyes shut and pulled the blankets over my head, burrowing down into the bed. I heard her walking heavily over to the windows and the shuck sound of the curtains closing. The room was once again dark. She crawled back into bed, nuzzling up to me, and we both fell back asleep.

  An hour or two later we woke for good, fairly well rested considering all the stress and travel of the previous day. Sabrina called her mother on her cell, reporting that Isabelle had screwed us over, but that Hugh had offered us a place to crash.

  “Yes, Mom, he’s super nice, and rich.” She rolled her eyes at me and pointed at the phone. “It is like a fairy tale! Let me give you the address.”

  In case we never came home, I caught myself thinking darkly.

  Sabrina walked into the bedroom but I could still hear her talking, mostly about the traffic and the neighborhood. It was an easy conversation, and I was suddenly overcome with envy. How I yearned to have that conversation with my own mother. To have a mother who cared, who just wanted to have a normal “Are you all right?” check-in on the phone. But Vivian DeVry existed so out of time and out of the norm that I couldn’t even picture her using a land line much less a cell phone.

  I got in the shower. I ran the water as close to scalding as I could. Another punishing shower. I would be red as a lobster if I kept this up.

  Once clean and dressed I emerged to discover Sabrina was done on the phone and ransacking the cupboards for food. She managed to find some cereal bars and a jar of instant coffee, so she put the kettle on. I sat on the stool, elbows on the granite island as I watched her putter around the kitchen. She hadn’t heard me come out of the bathroom and I took the time to watch her unobserved. Had she lost weight since last month? Her cheekbones were a bit hollower and she had dark circles under her eyes.

  Was her hair less shiny? She was singing to herself, her hips swaying as she pulled down two coffee cups. She jumped and squealed when she finally turned around.

  Clutching her chest, she scowled at me. “Jesus, how long have you been there?”

  “Just a minute, patiently awaiting the feast you’ve prepared.”

  With a dramatic flourish Sabrina placed a small plate in front of me with a granola bar on it. I laughed and unwrapped the foil, biting into the bar. She poured water into coffee cups and added a spoonful of instant into each one. Then she settled onto a stool beside me. I noticed her watching me with anticipation.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “I know your dad showed up here last night. I woke up and heard you guys talking. I didn’t eavesdrop or anything, but I know he was here. So . . . what the hell happened? Tell me everything.”

  Her eyes were wide with excitement, an eager smile on her face. All I could picture was his hulking shape over her, stealing her blood while she slept on, oblivious. I debated telling her, but decided against it. She wouldn’t understand. I barely did. Her anxious curiosity had me scrambling to find a positive spin on what was essentially my doomed condition.

  “Well, it was interesting to meet someone like me. And it was awkward. Hugh’s my father biologically, but he’s also a stranger. So it was strange.”

  “Okay, so you met a strange stranger. That’s all?”

  She was teasing, but she could sense my hesitation. I didn’t want to tell her what I’d learned. I especially didn’t want to tell her she’d probably die if we stayed together. The granola bar turned to chalk in my mouth. I swallowed it, cleared my throat.

  “It just wasn’t a very encouraging evening. Basically, there’s no magic bullet that makes me not need blood. Human blood. If I want to live, that is.”

  “Oh, shit. That sucks. Are you okay? How do you feel?” She asked this without the earlier mirth, suddenly serious, her hazel eyes peeping out over the cup, looking very young without all the harsh makeup.

  “It made me feel terrible. I don’t want to be like this.”

  Sabrina’s face fell. “I was really hoping there was something, some herb, or some secret blood bank, or cabalistic doctor network or something.”

  I nodded wistfully and rested my head on my fist. “Guess only the real stuff straight from the source works for us. He wants me to have dinner with him tonight. Just me, though. Would you be okay on your own?”

  She was clearly hurt, but anyone arguing for an invite to an evil vampire’s dinner might need some re-evaluation.

  “Of course. He’s your father. You guys have a lot to catch up on. Not just the, uh, blood stuff, but the real father-daughter stuff. I get it.”

  I highly doubted Hugh and I would ever have a close father-daughter relationship. Something told me he’d only been hospitable and indulgent so far because he didn’t want us to screw up anything for him. But it meant a lot to me that Sabrina didn’t push.

  As repugnant as I found his way of life and personal philosophy, I needed to learn from Hugh. And as hard as it was for me to admit, it was a relief to be around someone who understood where I was coming from. He might believe there were no other options, that we had to move from victim to victim to live, but surely there were other ways to survive. Dr. Blake had kept me alive and healthy with transfusions when I was a kid. If I could find a discreet doctor, or a scientist . . . maybe I could find help to manage this condition. I refused to accept Hugh’s version of things.

  I felt a swell of hope, tinged with anxiety at the prospect of seeing him again. If I did have to send Sabrina away, then I wanted the time we had left to mean something. I wasn’t sure where our attraction began and biology ended, but I owed her regardless. She’d taken a risk on me and genuinely cared for me. She’d forced me to face my nature, and she’d brought me to find my biological father. She’d made the world and my future suddenly so much larger and full of possibilities. And for a little while I’d felt loved.

  “I think we should go out, do touristy stuff, make it more of a vacation. Let’s see some sights, and just have a normal, fun day, okay?” I tried to make my smile reach my eyes, for her not to see the sadness behind them.

  Sabrina nodded excitedly and jumped off her stool. She put her arms around me in a tight hug. After a beat I hugged her back, a knot in my throat. She pulled away to look into my eyes, and when she spoke her breath smelled of coffee and raspberry. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  And she leaned forward and kissed me confidently on the mouth. My body seemed to rev up at the touch, my heart rate increasing, my senses unfolding, pulling in everything around me. I felt like a flower opening up for the sun. Hugh’s words were in my head then. This was the lifeforce, the love he talked about us needing; I was stealing something with this kiss. What I stole was hard to name, harder still to describe. I was drinking in her energy, her essence, her . . . soul. That black snake in my gut
was fattening on her touch. I was disgusted, yet unable to stop myself. This was not affection, this was predation. My father had insisted that it was more than just blood that sustained us, and he was right. There was a nasty undercurrent to even this simple kiss. And as much as it made me sad, stealing Sabrina’s lifeforce gave me pleasure right to the core.

  She finally broke the kiss, breathless and wobbly, her smile big. But I wasn’t fooled. I could still see the circles beneath her eyes. Her complexion was pasty, her skin tight across her skull. Her pupils were large and she almost seemed drugged. With a playful peck on my nose, she danced away toward the bathroom. My smile stayed in place until the door closed. I could feel the tingling along my skin and mouth. She was inside of me. I knew my cheeks would be ruddy, my skin clearer and more luminous. My father was right. Whether I liked it or not, I was stealing her life. I touched my fingers to my mouth, revolted.

  That day, we set out to see the city. “Let’s start with the classics,” Sabrina had said. “All the typical touristy NY sights, also the freest, since we don’t really have any money.”

  First, we headed to Times Square. The subway was packed and jostling with the combination of morning commuters and out-of-town visitors. I had never seen such a variety of people, a veritable sea of faces and voices. I’d never really understood the smallness of my old world until now.

  “You need to relax,” Sabrina had to keep whispering in my ear.

  Unfortunately, the natural aversion people had for me was amplified in the confined space. Even the most cramped subway car would clear out around me. A seat would miraculously appear wherever I stood. Just a shark swimming through a school of fish. A distinct invisible barrier surrounded me wherever we went. Sabrina had either stopped noticing entirely, or didn’t care anymore. “Don’t look so glum, Jane, I think being able to get a seat anywhere is a definite perk.” She snagged the vacant seat with a grin. I held the pole and tried not to take it personally. I pictured Hugh riding these trains, standing by the doors, newspaper in hand. Completely oblivious to the near panic, the animal-brain compulsion, people scrambling as far from him as possible.

  Times Square was garish and loud. The streets were packed to capacity, more like pipes clogged with hair than walkways. Rainbows of shopping bags swinging, the sharp edges jabbing into our shins. There were babies shrieking, store lights flashing, car horns honking. And every look that turned my way was desperate to escape my gaze, mothers clutching their children tighter, others scrambling to cross the street. The honking horns and strobing lights, the smell of refuse, the smell of humanity, the miasma of fear and hatred directed at me.

  “It’s too loud, too much,” I said to Sabrina, finding the world at too high a decibel. I waded through the crush to an alleyway. I needed to get away from the press of bodies.

  In the alley, the air reeked of garbage and urine, but at least I could collect myself. I leaned against a wall, breathing as deep as the foul space would allow. My hands trembled. Sabrina crowded me, worrying like a hen. I pushed her off, harsher than I intended.

  “I’m sorry. I just got overwhelmed.”

  She nodded, looking back, watching the stampede, voices blending into one cacophonous noise.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy around here. I don’t like it much, myself. Let’s go someplace less busy.”

  We decided to go north to Central Park. It was cold and had started snowing again, and we hoped that would chase off most of the park goers or tourists. The traffic, both humans and cars, petered out as we walked. The buildings became more residential and my revved up nerves finally started to relax.

  “I think you almost had a panic attack,” Sabrina said after a few blocks of silence. She stopped to light a cigarette and was puffing along, the steam of her breath mingling with the smoke around her face. It was midafternoon now and the snowflakes were fat and fluffy, the sky gray, heavy with the threat of a serious storm.

  “Yeah, I think so. It’s hard to be loathed by a whole city at once.”

  Sabrina smiled and took my hand. She seemed so brazen in the act, staring around defiantly, wanting someone to see us, wanting someone to care. No one did. The city moved in a blur and there was a strange camouflage in that. Just two more stars in an infinite galaxy.

  We finally reached the park. Stopping at a coffee truck, we bought two cheap, watery coffees, more for the warmth on our hands than anything, and then trudged into the park. As the temperature dropped and the snow accumulated, the park started emptying out. We walked farther in, taking spindly trails, going deeper into the woods. We eventually came to a pond. The water was slick as oil, a few winter birds gliding effortlessly along the surface. It hadn’t frozen over yet, but the banks were white and round. There was a heavy silence here, which seemed strange in the heart of a sprawling metropolis. It was like a mirage. Above us, branches and sky—no buildings to be seen in any direction.

  Sabrina found a bench and dusted off the thin layer of snow. The seat was so cold that it immediately seared through the thin fabric of my slacks, but it was worth it. My legs ached from the miles we’d walked. She took my hand in hers, the skin of her fingers red, mine pale and bloodless. Both numb. We didn’t speak for a long time, just sat watching the birds. It felt so far from everything.

  I closed my eyes and breathed, smelling the dark marshy water, the fowl skimming the top. Had I always been able to parse smells? Maybe I just never noticed.

  I could sense Sabrina wanted to talk. Everything about her, from the tapping of her foot, to the thrum in her body, intruded on the tranquility around us.

  Finally, after allowing myself an internal sigh, I turned to her. “What is it?”

  She avoided my eyes. “Nothing really. We’ve been so busy all day we just haven’t really talked at all. I’m just wondering what’ll happen now. Like what if your dad wants you to stay here with him?”

  “What if?”

  “Well, would you?” Sabrina worried at her lip. I was hypnotized by her wet mouth and dark plum lipstick. She prodded me and I met her eyes.

  “I don’t know. This isn’t my home. But I kind of hate everything back in Hob’s Valley. My mother should be in a hospital, if I could make sure she was settled, and I could do something about my cat. Maybe then I could stay here.”

  “And you’re sure I can’t come with you tonight, even as moral support?”

  I shook my head. “No. He was very clear on that. I’d feel better if you weren’t there. And it’d be safer for you. Hugh is not a good person—hell, he’s not even really a person at all—and I don’t trust him around you.”

  “You think he would hurt me?”

  I know he would, I thought to myself as Sabrina shimmied along the bench, bumping into my hip. I felt the warmth of her body against me. I was greedily sponging it up. Even through her clothes, she wasn’t safe.

  “He doesn’t think of you as a person. People are a means to an end. I don’t want you to feel that way. And he specifically asked that I come alone.” I risked making eye contact.

  “No problem. I’ll stay in. Get pizza and watch TV. No big deal. Really, I’ll be fine.”

  Sabrina wrapped her arm around me, pulling me close. I rested my head on her shoulder, watching the snow fall soundlessly. The smell of her skin, of her sweat at the collar, brought my inner monster roaring to the surface. I nuzzled at her, not even meaning to. I wasn’t even hungry, really. I think I craved comfort more than sustenance. She stiffened, and I could feel her anxiousness. I willed her to be calm, to be unafraid, and miraculously she relaxed, leaning into me, and whispering her permission into my hair.

  The flesh at her neck parted easily for me, the blood trickling in, driving me mad with its complexity. I slid my tongue into the wound, teasing out as much blood as I could. I didn’t want to take too much; it was a long way back to the apartment. And Hugh and I had both been at her in the last two days. But even knowing that, intellectually, another voice whispered that I could do whatever I wanted.
That it was time I got a little more selfish, that I started taking care of myself since no one else would. It was an ugly voice, and it brought me back. I pushed against it, sealing up the door in myself. I needed to take control. I needed her to trust me.

  So with all my strength, I pulled myself from her, wiping my mouth shakily. Sabrina was paler, and shivering, but she looked otherwise okay. She smiled, her lips a bit chalky under their paint, her eyes a bit unfocused. I reached out and tucked a strand of wayward black hair behind her ear and I felt proud that I’d fought the thing in me and won. I kissed her, impulsively, feeling alive and happy, and complete for once. She laughed, and wrapped her arms around me. I snuggled in under her chin, her head resting on mine and sighed contentedly. I wished we could stay there, entwined together, forever.

  I didn’t care if it wasn’t real, if Sabrina was drawn to me by something out of our control. I’d let myself believe the lie, for now. I needed her to care for me. I needed her to see me as a person, not a ghost, not an addiction, not some sort of symbiotic parasite. I didn’t like the thought of Hugh being right, but I understood holding and being held—that I was starved for more than just blood. I needed Sabrina’s love and touch just as much. We stayed on the bench until the fading light and the cold pushed us out of the park and back toward Brooklyn and my father.

  XXX.

  It was snowing heavily by the time we stepped out of the subway in Hugh’s neighborhood. On the way to the apartment we stopped at a well-lit, warm pizza place and Sabrina bought two gigantic slices soaking cheese and grease into the small paper plates they were balanced on.

  When we got to the apartment it was full dark, the city twinkling magically in the distance. Sabrina ate the remainder of her pizza on the sofa, flipping stations. I wondered if I was dressed all right. I was anxious. It felt foreign to watch the door, to watch the clock, to pace. Finally, I decided to change, opting for a pair of dark pants, a turtleneck sweater, and my grandmother’s tweed blazer from the previous day. I pulled my hair back into a tight bun and on impulse took a bright red lipstick tube from Sabrina’s makeup bag and put it on. The effect was dramatic, my mouth now a deep red gash, my teeth white and sharp when I smiled. I stepped from the bathroom, Sabrina glancing my way and doing a double take.