by R. C. Graham
“Then let’s spend another night there,” I tell her. “You wanted to come back. This looks like a good place to start.”
A big smile forms on my love’s face, her eyes dance. “I was hoping you’d say that.” And she pilots our vehicle into the parking area as we come to the sign.
The lot is crowded. There’s only a few spots available at the back, right at the edge of a field. We exit our vehicle, lock it and proceed to the front door hand in hand.
Turning the corner, we mount the stairs and walk along the covered porch that runs the width of the building. There are a number of people out here, leaning against walls and posts, smoking, talking. I examine them closely as this is the type of place I rarely visit.
My examination of our fellow patrons discovers those traits that that are familiar to me from other rural areas. They show the wear of working in the fields. Much less so than similar people from two centuries ago, but their life of hard outdoor labour shows on their faces and hands. Their clothes are practical and relaxed.
Another attribute I associate with farm life shows as well, suspicion of outsiders. It’s not strong but it is there. However it is covered by a trait I’ve heard about the South, courtesy. As we come to each individual or group, they nod and greet us with words flavored with drawl of the region.
I have to glance at Diane when she returns them. In the years she spent away from here, and the year with me, her accent had faded. Now it’s back full force. I do love the sound of it, it suits her.
I nod back as well and reply, “Bonsoir.” I could easily fake an American accent of some description but I don’t want to hide while Diane’s being so open.
The reaction is mixed, but largely positive. People look surprised, smile and welcome me to America. I smile back and thank them in English.
One person though, makes a face as if someone had shoved feces in his mouth. He turns from us and hawks a large glob of phlegm into the parking lot. I tighten a bit while Diane’s hand trembles in mine. But we shove our monsters down and enter the bar proper.
Inside, it’s fairly well lit and rather crowded. The age of the patrons covers a wide range but most are younger than Diane. There’s a fair bit of tobacco smoke in the air, something I find surprising as that habit is banned in so many other areas. There’s a dance area in the back, a small band belts out songs in the old Country and Western mode. They’re rather good and I find a finger on my free hand tapping time to the music.
Off to our left a half dozen pool tables are in use. One group of players and watchers draws my scrutiny for a moment. Something in their posture and their faces shows an unsupported arrogance. They’re all unshaven and their clothes less than clean. The people at the neighboring tables are careful to watch them and not intrude on their space.
The leader of the group is a large man, built somewhere between solid and fat. He has a florid, unpleasant face, damps spots show under the armpits of his stained T-shirt. The man who spit outside approaches him and directs his attention our way. The heavy set person shows a malignant smile as his gaze comes to rest on us.
Diane turns us in the opposite direction, towards the bar on the right wall. She squeezes my hand very hard. “Shit!” she mutters. “Why of all nights did that asshole have to be here?”
“You know him?” I inquire.
“Yeah. Dwayne Coltrane and ‘friends’. A finer collection of turds in the punchbowl of life you’ll never meet.” Her words are filled with loathing.
“They won’t be any trouble for people like us. Remember that, love.”
She turns her head and smiles at me. “Yeah, I keep forgetting. Thanks, cher.” She rises on her toes to give me a quick kiss.
We arrive at the bar and Diane nudges her way between two men. I stand a little behind letting her lead, this is her world.
The person on her right glances at her, an expression of surprise fills his face. Then he turns towards her with a wide smile. “Diane?”
My love turns to look at him, and wraps him in a hug. “Tim!” she squeals. “It’s good to see you!”
He returns the gesture. Then, with a bit of edge to his voice Tim asks, “Uh? Could you ease off? I’d like to breathe.”
Her mouth grimacing in chagrin, Diane lets him go. “Sorry,” she says, “I’ve been exercising.”
Tim draws a deep breath to flex his ribs. “Tell me what the system is,” he says, “it works.”
The woman behind Tim leans away from the bar and says, “Hands off my man, girl.” The look on her face is amused though, and the words carry the sound of an old joke.
Diane beams at her. “Patti! You two still together?”
Patti steps next to Tim and places her arm around his waist. “Yep,” she replies, “Closing on fifteen years now.” She smiles the same sort of smile I see on Diane’s face when she looks at me.
“What brings you back?” Patti goes on.
“I’ve been away too long,” explains my love. “I needed to see how things are here, and I wanted to show the person I fell in love with where I came from.”
Tim and Patti both smile broadly at that. “We’re so happy for you,” Tim tells her. The two of them look out to the crowd. “Is she here?” he goes on. “Can we meet her?”
Diane turns her head to me and reaches out. Stepping forward, I take her hand, face the other couple and say, “I’m not a she,” with a slight smile.
I believe the correct term for the looks on their faces is ‘gobsmacked’. “Huh?” is Tim’s remark. “What?” comes from Patti.
“Georges Belleveau,” I tell them, extending my free hand. “Comment-allez vous?”
It takes a couple of seconds before they react. Patti recovers first and takes my outstretched palm. “Pleased to meet you,” she says. Tim follows his wife’s lead. Their expressions are still befuddled.
Diane chuckles. “You aren’t half as surprised as I was. But there it is. Who knows where your heart can lead you?”
The other couple smiles for an instant. A moment later, their expression slides back to confusion with a small and growing amount of concern.
“I’m rather tired, love,” I say to my sweet lady. “Let’s find a place to sit down.” I think it would be wise for us to be away from Patti and Tim. It seems Diane has changed too much. If they think on it too long, they might start to penetrate the obfuscations with which the two of us surround ourselves. That wouldn’t be a healthy thing for them to do.
“Good idea,” she returns, “I’m beat too. All that time on the road.” She pulls a wallet from her jeans and takes money out. Leaving it on the bar, she picks up the beers she ordered and hands one to me.
Diane returns her attention at her friends and says, “We’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” Tim tells her, “if you want. We’re still at the same place.”
“We’re going to my folks. We’ll stop by if we get the chance. Nice to see you two again.” She leans forward just a touch, her arms start to rise. Then she pulls back.
“Same here,” Patti says. “See you.” Her arms repeat Diane’s action. Another wave of confusion passes over their faces, which then become rather sad.
Hand in hand, my love and I wander into the crowd. After a short search we are fortunate enough to find a booth being vacated. We set ourselves down and pretend to drink from our bottles.
“I’m not happy about that,” Diane says as a grimace of sorrow flashes over her face. “Patti used to be a really good friend. Tim too. I haven’t seen them for years but I thought I knew them.” Her countenance takes on a bleak cast. “I sure didn’t expect them to react that way.”
“As you said, love, it’s been years. Also you’ve been elsewhere, learning new things, becoming the person you are. They stayed behind. You’ve grown apart, a little.” I lean closer so I can whisper. “People, both human and vampire, are often disconcerted by the way others change.”
She smiles at me, leans over to give a quick kiss. “Thanks.” When she pull
s back she remarks, “I hope it goes better with my folks though.”
“It shall, I’m sure,” I tell her. I’m certain it’s going to be difficult but she needs reassurance more than wisdom right now.
We watch the crowd for a while, Diane looking at something familiar and with a different perspective than before, me on something new. We make observations, occasionally comment on the desirability of a person as a meal.
Twice we’re approached by people who knew her when she had lived here. The encounters are always short and bittersweet. They knew Diane as a gay girl. The apparent change in status to straight woman is hard for them to handle. I suspect they sense other things have changed as well.
Technically, we’re neither straight, gay, nor any particular gender. She snickers when I whisper that observation in her ear. It fades quickly though and her bleak expression returns.
The band starts up a slow ballad, which gives me an opportunity to salve my beautiful lady’s mood. I stand and extend my hand. “Would the lady give me the honor of this dance?”
Diane smiles broadly, takes my hand and replies, “But of course, kind sir.”
Fingers entwined we go to the dance floor. We wrap our arms around each other and pull close. Our dance doesn’t consist of any particular steps. It’s just soothing movement in time with the music.
The feel of her in my embrace is as it always is, wonderful. She fills me. Her presence drives the darkness deep within me, compresses it to a point where it is hardly noticeable and takes no effort on my part to control. I smile a content smile and lean my head against hers, complete.
Diane reacts the same way. She had been tense when we started dancing. In moments her state is relaxed, calm. She runs her hands over my back, pleasuring herself with the feel of me.
The ballad ends and we step away from each other. “Thank you,” she says to me, her warm smile shaping her features.
“De rien,” I say back. “Your happiness and comfort is more important than mine.” We move back together and share a kiss.
We must hold it longer than we thought for someone remarks, “Get a room.” We break apart and smile at that person. He grins back, gives a thumbs up and continues leading his partner through their dance.
We find our booth taken and our beers gone when we return. Good. We’d been pretending for a little too long. An observant person might have noticed we weren’t actually drinking. We head back to the bar to replace them. I stand a few steps away while Diane goes up to the bar.
At the moment she steps away with our drinks Dwayne emerges from the crowd. When he is arm’s length from my lady he gives that nasty smile. “Hey, brain,” he drawls. “Been a while. Come back looking for something?”
Diane’s face goes cold, her mouth forms a grim line. “I’m back to visit my parents. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“You can’t kid me. You came back looking for a man, a real man.” He puts on an arrogant sneer. “Here I am.”
She blinks at him, and chuckles. “Get real, Dwayne. There’s two problems with that idea. First, I’ve already got a man.” She turns and reaches for me with a smile.
I step up, take her hand and smile at her antagonist. “Bonsoir,” I grin at him. There’s a touch of a gloat in my expression.
The hooligan’s mouth drops and his eyes go wide in astonishment.
“The other problem is you’re not a man,” My lover goes on. “Being a man requires traits you can’t even spell.”
His reaction is to turn beet red. A grimace of fury pulls Dwayne’s lips back and his fists clench.
Before he can act, Diane turns us away and leads us into the press of people. Her hand holds me very tight. A quiet growl comes from her throat.
I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Nicely done,” I tell her. “Have I said lately how much I love your wit?”
That garners me one of her warm smiles. “Not for a couple of hours now.”
“Then consider it done.”
Another booth opens up and we take it. We sit, hands entwined, soaking up the ambiance of this establishment and the emotions of the crowd. It’s a drama people like my love and I cannot participate in, but enjoy watching. One of the biggest dangers of our existence is to wander too far from the world, to only see humans as food. Such a mindset is dangerous. It could alert the mortals to our presence. Although we are much more powerful individually we are greatly outnumbered. On top of that our weaknesses are as detrimental as our powers are advantageous.
The crowd shifts a little, and a woman steps from it in our direction. She’s average in height and build, with brown eyes that contain a great depth. Her chocolate skin is smooth while her hair is short and tightly kinked. A happy smile is fixed on her face and her gaze is on my lady.
Letting go of my hand, my sweetheart rises from our booth. Diane meets the black woman as she arrives at our table. They wrap their arms around each other in a warm hug.
“Ginny!” exclaims my love.
“Hi, Diane.” Her head turns and kisses Diane’s cheek.
She gasps then, and steps back. Her eyes are wide with shock, her mouth slack. She blinks. Her face goes blank while her lips tighten to a thin, fearful line. “N…nice to see you again. I…I can’t stay. See you.” She turns back into the crowd, her steps quick, almost a trot.
I rise and take Diane in my embrace from behind. This can’t be good is my thought. Her body is tense. A little noise of pain trembles in her chest.
“Oh crap,” she murmurs. My lovely lady turns her head to whisper in my ear. “We’d better go, Georges. Now. I’ll explain on the way.” She pulls herself from my grip and heads for the front door.
I catch up and we leave Red’s.
Once we’re off the porch we’re nearly alone. No one is close enough to hear as Diane speaks in a low voice. “I’d forgotten. Ginny’s grandmother and mother had…a reputation. People went to them for help, for advice about the future, or to find out about things in the past. They were usually right. Ginny didn’t have that reputation.” There’s a pause and I can see her searching for words. “But Ginny was, insightful. I think she knows, Georges.”
“That’s not good,” I remark. “This is your world, cheri. What should we do?”
My lover’s shoulders hunch. She knows, and understands, that humans shouldn’t know about us. She doesn’t want to do what our people usually do to mortals who do know.
“Let’s find her,” she says. “We can decide then.”
“We’ve found her,” I tell her. We’re approaching our vehicle and a person is sitting on the back bumper.
Ginny rises as we draw close. Her face is pensive, a touch of fear shows in her eyes. She leans forward just a little with her arms pressed tightly to her sides, bracing herself for what is to come.
Diane and I walk until we’re a couple of steps away. We check as we go, making sure that there are no witnesses, if we have to do what we have to do. We reach for one another and interlace our fingers. I’m struck yet again how much we depend on one another for strength.
Diane’s friend watches. As we take one another’s hands the fear in her features fades a little. Her mouth smiles, just a bit. Her eyes gain that puzzled look that is becoming familiar.
“Hi, Ginny,” Diane says then.
“Hello, Diane,” returns her friend. The black woman’s tone is flat, none of the emotion in her shows in her voice. “That is, if you are Diane.”
“I am,” my love tells her. “Changed a little, but still me.”
Ginny’s face frowns for a second as she tries to match what Diane has told her and what she’s learned about us. “I’m not sure. It was a joy reading you back when. You were so bright, so sharp. Something’s gone now. Something else has been added, and it’s dark, very dark. You look and sound like Diane. But you don’t feel much like her now.”
My love squeezes my hand very hard but I ignore the pain. Stepping behind her I wrap my free arm around her. She needs me, I know.
“What happened?” asks Ginny then.
“I fell in love,” Diane’s answers. The hand not holding me comes up and grips my forearm. I can feel tension leave her as she does. “Georges asked me to stay with him. I accepted. It was my choice. I’m very happy I did.”
Ginny brow furrows in confusion, pulls her head back a little. “Can something like you fall in love?”
A quick flash of anger shoots through me. Diane strains against my embrace for a moment. Neither of us likes to be judged. I push down that emotion. She relaxes as well.
“We feel everything you feel, Ginny. Love, happiness, pain, grief.” Diane trembles for a moment. “The only real differences are physical. You should know how little those matter.”
The other woman nods after a second. Much of the fear fades from her face. “I suppose,” she remarks.
Diane lets go of me, spreads her arms and steps forward.
But her friend recoils and steps back. “I, I’m sorry,” she says. “You’re not the person I knew. I can’t.”
My love slumps and I wrap her in my arms again. Her hands come up, cover her chest in a gesture to protect her from the cold. She huddles against me.
Ginny turns, takes a step away. Pausing then, her head swivels to us. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret. I saw a lot of your ways when I touched you. Understandable because I have to do much the same. I know how people are about different.” She rolls her eyes. “And I just showed I’m not much better.” She refocuses her gaze to continue. “I’ll say nothing. Who’d believe me? How would I explain I know what you are from reading your soul?”
I turn my head a little to look at my love and she does the same. A very small nod of confirmation answers my unspoken question.
Diane turns back to her former friend to reply, “Okay, Ginny.” Her voice is clipped, the tones rather formal. “I trust you. I’ve never doubted your honesty. Sorry things turned out the way they did.”
“Me too. Good bye, Diane.” She walks away not looking back.
My lady watches, staying very still. She remains that way for a minute, long after her lost friend has vanished from sight. Then she shakes herself, steps out of my arms. “We’d better go, love,” she says. “It’s getting early.” She gives a quick smile that vanishes into misery.