Embraced by the Shadows

by Mayra Calvani

  In a sudden movement, he pulled the kimono off of her shoulders so that they were exposed and her arms lay imprisoned under the garment. She tilted her head back and moaned, and he bent and kissed her on one shoulder. His cool lips slowly moved up and down her throat, then to the soft curve of her jaw, his tongue moving languorously in and out of his mouth. He groaned, feeling her heart beating violently against him, a heart that was like the most magnificent treasure box, and that would soon be completely his. She pulled her arms out of the kimono and held him around the neck, burying her hands in his hair.

  Lifting her off the floor, he looked at her, a feral smile on his face. Then he hissed, exposing his deadly teeth.

  She threw her head back and pulled him down by the neck, arching her slender body against him. The artery pulsed and swelled under her pale skin like a flowing river. And with a sudden ferocity that surprised him, he buried his mouth in her neck and drank like a starved animal, as if wanting to bruise and shake the inner corners of her very soul. Then, clasped together in this tight lover's embrace, he began to twirl and swirl in the darkness, to waltz around and around. As if from another dimension, he could distantly hear Vivaldi's “Summer,” one of his favorites, playing on the stereo. His beloved little angel. How he had always admired her taste in music!

  * * * *

  A few nights later, a little after three o'clock, Valeria awoke with a slight burning sensation in her stomach. She had had Mexican food for lunch, very hot and spicy, and always had trouble with her stomach whenever she ate it. Not that the midnight stomach pains taught her any lesson. I'll never eat that damn food again. But she had told herself this dozens of times before. She might as well face it: she was a slave to her body, and when her body wanted something, she gave it to it, be it men, food, drink, or clothes.

  Sitting up on the bed, she groaned and began massaging her stomach. The room was dark. She liked to sleep in complete darkness. She even drew the curtain at night to keep the moonlight away from her eyes.

  Valeria stood up and started toward the door. She would go to the kitchen and have some Pepto Bismol, that would make her better.

  But when she was about to open the door, something made her stop.

  The distinct sound of a sliding glass door.

  The long balcony extended along the length of the living room and their two bedrooms. She turned and crossed the room again, pushing the curtain to the side and opening the glass door. She craned her head out and looked toward Alana's bedroom, thinking to herself that Alana was probably having trouble sleeping again.

  But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.

  Alana stood against the rail of the balcony, her long hair playing in the breeze, her arms extended forward to the night as if in greeting, her whiteness contrasting eerily with the overflowing darkness. Her only attire was a short black kimono, but it was loosely tied and fell off one shoulder.

  "Alana!” Valeria called out, rushing to her side.

  But Alana didn't even turn her head. She kept staring vacantly at the sky in front of her.

  Valeria couldn't help herself. She had never seen Alana—nor anybody else, for that matter—sleepwalking before, and even though part of her was screaming to shake and wake her up, the other part wanted to watch. Vaguely she remembered having read something about sleepwalkers, and how dangerous it was to wake them too abruptly.

  For a moment longer she watched, mesmerized. She looked down against the rail, which stood chest-high, and a wave of panic swept down her spine. What if one night, while sleepwalking, Alana decided to climb over the rail? They were seventeen stories high, for Christ's sake!

  Valeria stared at Alana's unblinking face, at her naked shoulder. Her flesh seemed almost iridescent in the moonlight. Why did she look so pale?

  Alana's arms fell to her sides, and the expression of peacefulness that had covered her face was replaced by one of despondency and sadness.

  "Alana,” Valeria softly said, holding her hand gently but firmly. “Let's go inside, let's go to your room."

  Alana blinked, her black eyes glazed and vacant. But she let herself be guided, and a moment later they were inside the room.

  "There, very good. Lie down,” Valeria said, switching on the night lamp. “Close your eyes and go back to sleep. Shhhhhh, everything will be all right.” Alana did as she was told. Valeria was acting instinctively. She didn't know if this was the right thing to do in this situation, but what else could she do? She covered Alana's body with the sheets and sat next to her on the edge of the bed, a bit uncertain about what to do next. How long had this been going on? Alana had told her she had been having trouble sleeping during the past few weeks. Had she been sleepwalking all this time, going out onto the balcony, exposing herself to death? The thought was too disturbing to contemplate.

  For a long moment, Valeria stared at her, watching how her pupils moved rapidly under the delicate skin of her lids.

  Valeria let out a long heavy breath. She brought a hand to her stomach. With all the excitement, her stomach ache had disappeared. As her brown eyes darted to the sliding glass door, she suddenly felt the need to walk over and close it. She made sure it was well locked. Then she drew the curtain.

  Turning around slowly, she looked about the room. Everything seemed in order. The stereo was on, but no sound came from it. The cassette had reached its end and stopped playing. She bent over and switched it off.

  Then she lay down on the bed beside Alana, telling herself that tomorrow they would have a good talk. She lay on her side with her head resting on her bent arm, looking at her friend. The faint light of the night lamp was stinging her eyes, but she would leave it on tonight. She gazed at Alana until she could no longer keep her lids from closing. Then she turned over on the other side, closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep.

  CHAPTER 4

  "Are you sure you didn't dream the whole thing?” Alana said, slipping her legs into jeans, though she knew that what Valeria was saying was probably the truth. Why was she being so mulish? Why did she hate to admit there was something wrong with herself?

  "Alana, have you been listening to me? I'm telling you that you could have fallen down that balcony. You could have died. Why are you taking this so lightly? Believe me, this is serious. And I know it has something to do with those nightmares you've been having, those nightmares you're not telling me about. Don't bother denying it. I'm not stupid, you know."

  "You're not stupid? I didn't know that."

  Clenching her teeth, Valeria obviously decided to ignore the remark.

  They were in Alana's bedroom. Valeria was standing in the doorway, clad in a short black dress, her blond hair gathered in a loose chignon on top of her head, her face expertly made up, a black leather purse hanging from one shoulder. Even though her eyes were a bit puffy and red from lack of sleep, she still looked lovely. She glanced at her watch. “Look, I'm late. I hate to leave this unsettled. Why don't you just promise me that you'll go to a doctor? Is that too much to ask? We can go together. I can take a day off."

  Alana was standing in front of the dressing table, brushing her hair. “I hate doctors. What is he going to say? And even if I'm a sleepwalker, what is he going to do?"

  "How can you know if you don't go there?"

  Still brushing her hair, Alana sighed wearily.

  "Maybe it's nothing,” Valeria went on. “You've been under a lot of pressure lately. All the planning and preparations for the restaurant have taken all the energy out of you. You haven't been eating well. Look at you. You look so pale. Maybe your hemoglobin is low, maybe he'll give you vitamins."

  "If I'm so pale it is because we haven't been to the beach in more than a month. Your tan is gone, too."

  "Why are you doing this? God, I feel like strangling you."

  A short laugh escaped Alana. She didn't know why she was acting like this. She just felt like it. Sometimes, without any apparent reason, she sadistically enjoyed infuriating Valeria. It always made her f
eel guilty, but the guilt never stopped her from doing it. She stuffed her white shirt into her jeans and buckled her leather belt. Yes, she had lost some weight. The jeans were somewhat loose at the waist, when only a week ago they had been tight.

  "Let's see,” Alana finally said, aiming to end the conversation. “Let's see if it happens again. If it happens again, I promise you I'll go to the doctor."

  "I don't think last night was the first time. How am I going to sleep now, thinking that at any moment you could open the door and jump from the balcony?"

  "I don't think you'll ever get that lucky."

  Valeria looked painfully surprised. Then he threw Alana a malevolent look. “You're impossible."

  "You're impossible!” Alana mimicked her.

  "Why am I bothering? Go to hell!” Valeria said, turning on her heels and hastening down the corridor.

  A moment later Alana heard the front door slam.

  "Why am I bothering? Go to hell,” she mimicked again, almost whispering. But she felt rotten. She knew that Valeria was telling the truth, not because she remembered anything but because Valeria would be incapable of such a lie. And what would be the point in lying, anyway? She had clearly read the concern in Valeria's eyes. As far as she knew, she had never experienced sleepwalking before. But there was always a first time for everything, and sleepwalking was, actually, quite common. It was not such a far-fetched possibility. Also, it might explain the strange and disturbing dreams she had had during the past few weeks. The whole thing was probably connected to stress, as Valeria had said. It had to be. Her restless nights had begun right after she had taken this job. Maybe it would be a good idea to go to the doctor, after all, so he could prescribe something to help her sleep.

  She slipped her feet into high-heeled sandals and stepped out onto the balcony.

  It was sticky and hot. The bright morning sun blinded her for a moment and she had to shade her eyes with her hand. The view was splendid, deep green mountains and clear blue skies and huge white clouds like gigantic clusters of cotton balls. No wonder Puerto Rican skies were famous. She leaned against the white rail and looked down at the small streets and neighborhoods, at the houses with their small square swimming pools.

  Why wasn't she afraid?

  Even after what had happened last night, she couldn't be afraid, as if she were, somehow, totally sure of her own safety. As if she were ... untouchable.

  This morning she had been momentarily stunned to find Valeria sleeping beside her. Right away she had sensed that something was wrong, although in a way it had been a pleasant surprise, reminding her of all those times they had slept together when they were little, making up supernatural stories, making up adventure and romance stories...

  So she had been sleepwalking last night ... She shuddered, the memory of the panther accelerating her pulse. Ah, the hell with it! She was sick and tired of this dream-and-no-remember business. The hell with all of it! The hell with the doctor and the hell with Valeria and the hell with herself! She was not going to think about it anymore.

  She walked along the length of the balcony and went inside through the living-room glass doors, muttering a curse to human beings and to life in general.

  * * * *

  By the time Alana came home from work that night, Valeria was already asleep in bed, or pretending to be asleep in bed—probably the latter. Alana felt a sudden urge to go to her and apologize. Well, not exactly apologize, for they hardly ever used the word apologize or sorry with one another. Both were too stupidly proud for this. But she could have burst into Valeria's room with an amusing remark or simply asked her in a sweet voice how her day had been. And Valeria would have understood and they would have smiled at each other and known that everything was all right and that would be the end of it.

  But Alana didn't go into Valeria's room. She went straight into her own room and began flinging off her shoes and taking off her clothes. She had already washed off all of her vampire makeup in the little back room at the club, so the only thing left to do was brush her teeth and jump into bed.

  After turning on the stereo, hardly audible, to the same classical music station, Alana walked over to the glass door and lingered there for a while, staring at the velvety night sky and realizing with a shiver that she didn't want to close the glass door. She wanted it open, wide open.

  For what?

  But her common sense finally took the best of her, and she pushed it closed and made sure it was well locked.

  * * * *

  By the time Alana woke up the next morning, Valeria had already gone to work. Alana decided she would show up at Valeria's office at lunch break and take her out to eat. Driving on the highway in her slightly battered, black Suzuki Samurai, she was filled with anticipation, knowing how pleased Valeria would be by the surprise. Alana hated surprises, but Valeria loved them. Little things made Valeria happy in a big way, and Alana loved to make her happy. Affectionate, forgiving Valeria.

  Though there was a darker side to her. Valeria was an adopted child, she had never known her real parents, nor anything about them. Fortunately, her adoptive parents had been a loving, generous couple, but Valeria had always kept a cold secret core within her, shutting off the rest of the world from it. On various occasions she had impulsively expressed her desire to find out who her real parents were, but these were fantasies declared under the influence of wine. Most of the time the mere mention of her real parents created in her a kind of icy silent rage. Valeria never liked talking about them, and Alana respected this. She herself had lost both her parents while still young, she understood the hidden rebellion, the rage. Their bitter past had bound them closer.

  Even Humberto had lost his mother while still a child, had grown up discovering different mistresses in his father's house, and this episode had probably been a bonding key in his relationship with Alana and Valeria.

  * * * *

  They had pizza and red wine—their favorite meal—for lunch, and everything was perfectly fine again. Although Valeria made Alana promise to go to the doctor if something similar happened again.

  "Anything you say. Your wish is my command,” Alana extravagantly said, biting off a piece of her pizza and washing it down with a sip of red wine.

  They talked about Humberto and about what they would do when he arrived next week.

  "We can all go to the nightclub after you're off from work,” Valeria suggested.

  "I was going to say the same thing. When is he coming, exactly? He didn't give us a date. Remember that I'm off on Mondays and Tuesdays."

  "We can always phone him and find out ... if he's done with his desert camping trip."

  Alana shook her head. “He's not."

  "You called him?"

  "I called him yesterday. A machine answered.” Then she added, “Since we weren't exactly on speaking terms, I didn't tell you."

  "Did you leave a message?"

  "Of course not. You know how I hate those machines."

  "Do you realize how neurotic you are? How many things do you hate in this world?"

  A slight smirk played over Alana's lips. Maybe Valeria was right, maybe she was a bit neurotic. Though they both knew that it wasn't really a matter of “hating,” but of using the word “hate” lightly, and of liking to use it often in speech. Alana wondered what a psychiatrist would say about this.

  Things went on normally during the next week. Alana became more calm, more cool and professional at work, and Valeria was very busy designing plans for the remodeling of a five-star hotel. Sometimes she arrived home as late as Alana, complaining about how tired she was, but happy because she was spending more time with Miguel, who stayed with her late at the office. But Valeria was never too tired to describe in full detail their wild escapades.

  As far as they could tell, the sleepwalking experience had not repeated itself. Valeria had woken during the night on two occasions to check on Alana, and had found her soundly asleep. Just as they had left them in the night, the sliding glas
s doors were always locked when they checked them in the morning.

  The dream of the black panther with yellow eyes did repeat itself one more time. Alana had woken with a throbbing pulse, a fluttering in her stomach, but somehow this didn't bother her anymore, as if the panther had become part of her, and its presence in her sleep no longer disturbed nor surprised her. On the contrary, it was a beautiful image to fall asleep with. I want to sleep and dream.

  Humberto called them the following Saturday afternoon to make plans for the night. Since Alana would be working, Humberto suggested he would come for Valeria in his car at nine o'clock, and from there they would go to La Cueva del Vampiro and meet Alana at the restaurant. Later they could all go to the nightclub. Alana and Valeria agreed, filled with glee and anxious anticipation.

  "Are you going to tell Miguel to join us?” Alana said after they had hung up, sinking in the soft leather sofa and crossing her legs.

  Valeria looked surprised. “What for? I want this to be an intimate reunion between friends. And I don't think he would come, even if I asked him. He'll spend the weekend with his family. You know how it was all this week, staying late at the office.” She sat on the armrest of one of the armchairs and bent slightly forward, leaning her hands on her thighs.

  "He wouldn't be jealous?” Alana said.

  "I haven't told him anything about Humberto. But why would he be jealous? Humberto's just an old friend, like a brother. And even if he gets jealous, let him get jealous. You don't see me complaining about his wife, do you? Sometimes I wish lightning would strike him,” Valeria said, an edge of iciness in her voice.

  "Not a very nice way to die,” Alana said. “Not very original, either. Try to be more original, please."

  "It would make you happier, wouldn't it? If he died?” Valeria slowly said. In fact her voice was like a kitten's purr.

  For a second Alana seemed stunned. “Don't talk like that, Valeria. God, sometimes I can't tell whether you love or despise him."