Nightlight

by The Harvard Lampoon

  “Not cute. But nice. He’s a really nice guy.”

  “He is not a really nice guy!” I shouted loyally. “He is a very dangerous man!”

  The girls exchanged glances. Lucy exchanged an ominous glance for Laura’s knowing glance and Laura traded that glance for Angelica’s loaded one.

  “Well, he is strangely quiet,” admitted Laura, astutely noting how peculiar it was for a non-vampire to be soft-spoken. “It’s strange when people don’t shout out whatever words and half-formed ideas are incubating in their heads. Gives me the willies.”

  “I agree,” said Lucy. “I heard that at his old elementary school, the bigger guys used to gang up on Edwart, day after day. One day Edwart decided enough was enough and bam! The bigger guys hit him even harder. After that Edwart went through a biting phase for a while because, you know. He can’t exactly hit back.” She squeezed her skinny bicep as she said this, implying that Edwart couldn’t hit back because a single blow from him would be fatal. “Of course,” she added, “that story is probably just urban legend.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. It’s just urban history. “Yet I couldn’t help but remember Angelica’s warning while her mouth muscles were spasming out of any conscious control—Beware the crown.” “Crown” as in “dental crown?” As in, Edwart was going to go on a vampire biting spree once the dentist had fixed a few cosmetic problems? Hmm. I would have to enter this into my “reasons why dating Edwart is an extreme sport and thus a legal alternative to gym” rubric.

  “So, which store are we shopping at next?” I asked as we walked out into the mall. I had noticed a kitchenware store on the way. Would that have a cookbook for vampires? It was funny—all this worrying about whether Edwart was a vampire and I didn’t even know what vampires ate.

  “Whichever one carries prom dresses,” Lucy said.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  “Whoa, whoa hold on,” I said, digging my heels into the sidewalk to resist forward movement like Scooby Doo, only no one was pulling me so it was more like I was walking on my heels. “There aren’t any books in dress stores.”

  “We’re shopping for more clothes,” said Angelica, as casually as you’d say “good morning” to a neighbor in the olden days.

  “I can’t shop for more clothes, guys. I’m a role model to 1.3 million girls—I have to prove to them that there’s more to life than clothes. There are novels out there. Romance novels, for every type of monster fetish.”

  “Fine,” said Lucy. “Let’s split up. The three of us will continue shopping in the brightly lit, well-populated mall. Belle—you roam around alone, looking for something to read in the dimly lit alleys.”

  “Great plan! I’ll see you sometime later,” I said.

  “Okay. Meet us somewhere nearby at a later time!”

  I searched and searched the streets for reading material to no avail. Even the grocery store, which usually carries a few well-written wine labels, failed me. They were all in pictograms.

  I was about to give up when I saw a shiny racecar covered in antennae. Something about this car induced a strong feeling in me … I was seized with an urge to tow it. Nothing irks me more than a car parked in a loading zone. I wrote down the license before entering the “Computer Games and Price Elasticity for Storm-Chasers” store to my right. Someone was going to feel the cold hand of justice today.

  “May I help you?”

  A wretched old man with stink-breath was nosing his garbled moldy nose into my face. I felt bad for him. It was too late for his life to bear an impact on me, Belle Goose, Red Cross—certified babysitter.

  “Do you by chance have any vampire simulation games?” I wanted to see the world through Edwart’s eyes. “Scrap that—do you have any Edwart Mullen simulation games?”

  “Well I don’t know about the latter, but we’ve got plenty of the first. We’ve got your coffin-sleeping vampire simulation, your crucifix-fearing vampire simulation, your human-blood drinking vampire simulation, your above average looks but otherwise completely normal vampire simulation—”

  “Ooh! That one! That’s the one.”

  “Okey dokey. Just have a seat in the booth and I’ll help you out with the 3-D goggles.”

  “I assume these goggles also prevent the vampire spirit from escaping once you switch out your human one,” I said, putting the goggles on and tying them tight.

  “These goggles make all the green things have red shadows.”

  “Right. And the fine print is that they turn you into a vampire.”

  “If that’s the character you choose, yes. But permit me to suggest choosing Yoshi—a formidable underdog among an otherwise completely armed and loaded cast.”

  “Yeah, sure—will do,” I said, giving my vampire character a missile launcher.

  Immediately after the simulation began I felt my skin blanching and my hair growing beautiful. I felt my teeth sharpening and my blood going dead. I had this insatiable urge all of a sudden. An insatiable urge for magnesium.

  No—that wasn’t it. I wanted blood.

  I ripped open the booth’s curtain, my own strength surprising me as the material swung effortlessly to the side. I was free and not even my morals could stop me.

  “You!” I said menacingly, turning on the old man. I didn’t have anything against him personally, but I couldn’t control myself. Being a vampire was difficult. I was filled with newfound awe for Edwart, that he could walk through the hall everyday without lunging at the nearest person’s wrist and clinging to it with his teeth, as I was doing now.

  The senior was old but he was strong. He flicked me off in one fell wrist circle, tearing off the goggles with five slower but persistent gestures.

  As the vampire spirit escaped, I quickly came to my senses. “Whaa-aaa?” I shook the dizzies out of my head and wiped my saliva off his wrist. “That is one crazy machine, old man,” I informed him. “I hope you have a license for that.” I gathered up my things and walked out without taking the game controller I had bought. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

  The sun had set now and the streets were eerily quiet except for the spooky “Whoooooo” noise I made to scare away zombies—enemies of spooks. I had to counteract this with zombie noises to scare away any spooks I might have attracted. As I wandered aimlessly through the pitch-black alleys, I had a funny feeling I was being watched. I heard rustling, and the distinct sound of a Sega game controller waving through the air. I turned around. It was the old man, seniley whirling his merchandise. My heart began to pound, beating against my chest, pummeling my ribs and getting all braggy about its muscle strength. I was being followed.

  Quick, I told myself. Try to remember what you learned from Jimbo’s Self Defense for Young Ladies. Jimbo was a beefy man with prison tats.

  “Go into the nearest dark alley,” I recalled Jimbo saying. “Freeze like a rabbit or the creature you desire your attacker to mistake you for. If your attacker shouts out to you, respond politely—maybe your optimism will change his mind. If you’re about to get in an elevator with a man you feel uncomfortable spending time with in a small, escapeless room, head right in. Remember, fear is an irrational emotion you should probably ignore.”

  Armed with these tips, I hung a right into the nearest dead-end, curled up into a ball and started rolling.

  “Where are you luring me?” the old man taunted. “Please stand up and take your game tontroller—I can’t bend down that far.”

  Just then I heard a familiar whirring. I looked up. Edwart’s body was plummeting from the roof of the nearest building. I stood up to try to save him, but he deftly aimed his body at the man, bringing him to the ground. The old man moaned and then settled himself for a little nap on the ground, using the crux of his arm as a pillow. Old people like being given an excuse to sleep.

  “Please come with me to my car, Belle,” he offered gently, limping towards me. “I mean, only if you want to.”

  “Uh-uh. Not with that attitude.”

  “Pretty p
lease?”

  I shook my head disappointedly. “What’s the magic verb form?”

  “Belle,” he groaned. “We don’t have time for this. Plus I hate when you make me do this.”

  “Imperative, Edwart. The magic verb form is imperative. You don’t have to hide your natural inclination to boss me around. I want you to feel comfortable with me, Edwart. To the point of domination.”

  “Okay, okay.” He took a deep breath and pointed at me. “You,” he said stiffly, the words flowing straight from some primordial, bossy wordbank. “Come to the place where you want to go, which, hopefully, is my car, where I will be, God willing.”

  “All right.”

  He relaxed. “You’re not angry at me for being domineering? That wasn’t a trick?”

  “No, Edwart,” I said, leading him to his car. “Get in.”

  He hopped in as I started the engine for him, looking at me softly—murderously softly.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah—why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  “Are you serious, Belle? Were you not aware of what that sick old man was trying to do?” He shook his head, seething. “You’re lucky I was on that roof all day. That old man … he was trying to sell you a Sega product.”

  “What were you doing waiting for me on a roof all day?” I asked, watching his knuckles whiten at his own reference to Sega. “How could you possibly predict that he would lure me there on top of telepathically knowing his intentions?” I had him there—vampires only get one super talent.

  “I was watching the sky on that roof,” he said quietly. “Examining Mercury through my telescope. The things I saw and heard, Belle … it’s so difficult for me to explain.”

  “Try, Edwart. The only way this will work is if we’re honest with one another. Honest about Mercury.”

  “It was spinning. A lot planets are out there, Belle. Spinning and spinning.”

  We were quiet for a moment.

  “Promise me you’ll never walk out in these streets alone again, Belle.” His face contorted in fitful rage. Suddenly, he rolled down his window and shouted, “She plays Nintendo!” He inhaled deeply. “Play Nintendo,” he breathed out. “I won’t always be here to keep you safe from Sega.”

  I tried not to breathe too loud so I wouldn’t disrupt his protective ire. It was beautiful.

  “Are you hungry?” he finally asked. “I know … I know we’re just friends but … we could both be friends eating dinner together, if that appeals to you. Or we could eat at separate tables and still be friends. Or eat at separate tables but be going out. I mean…” He glanced at me. “You probably already know this because you’re a really smart girl.”

  “Are you offering to take me to dinner?”

  He nodded slowly.

  Suddenly, my eyes started blazing and firing up. Nothing makes me angrier than when people do nice things for me. “Listen,” I said, grabbing him by the collar, “I’m the nice one. You’re the one with uncontrollable aggression. Understand?”

  “Oh God,” he said, blood gushing from his nose. “Now you’ve done it, Belle—Now you’ve really done it. Direct phrasing gives me nose bleeds.”

  “That’s better,” I said, releasing his collar. “Get nice and angry.”

  “Can you please hold my nose for me? I don’t want to take my hands off the steering wheel.”

  “Sure.” I plugged his nose. “Little vampire punk,” I added beneath my breath before I lost the adrenaline. “Whoa! Look at that palace!”

  Edwart pulled alongside the curb. We were parking next to what I can only describe as a modern day pantheon. Buca di Beppo read the fancy script and neon lights.

  “Isn’t it great?” Edwart asked, touching my shoulder and then taking it away and then firmly placing it back when I directed him to. “To think—Italy is full of these … these bistros.”

  I was awestruck, and flattered that Edwart would want to introduce me to his cultured lifestyle. And yet a tiny part of my heart, maybe the pulmonary valve, sank. Were we really as good a match as I told myself repeatedly in the mirror we were? He was more worldly and more otherworldly than I. What world could I bring to our relationship?

  The underworld, I thought, resolutely ripping in half my “Get Into Heaven Free” coupon. Looking back, I probably could have come up with a better world if I’d given it another moment of thought. Sea World comes to mind.

  Edwart led me to a small, intimate table by the bar television. Interestingly, the waitress was very quick to interrupt our private tête-à-tête on whether the blue team was evil or good with her own irrelevant commentary on specials. And was it just me, or was her back completely turned to me as Edwart spoke? Maybe I was being territorial, but it seemed that she was standing on the table for the express purpose of snubbing me and filling her entire purview with Edwart.

  “I’ll have a lasagna—buca small,” I told her muscled calves.

  “Make that a buca large,” Edwart said.

  “Are you sure?” asked the waitress. “A buca small feeds seven to nine people. We do things ‘family’ style here. ‘Screw sustainable population growth family’ style.”

  “I’m sure,” he said, smoothly winking at me through her legs. She crossed her legs. We couldn’t really see each other after that.

  Once she left, Edwart turned his dazzling, disco-ball eyes to me. Just looking at him transported me elsewhere, to a rave. A rave with pulsing, multicolored eye-shaped lights.

  “I wouldn’t normally order for you,” he said, “but with everything that’s happened in the last hour, all so confusing and fast-paced and condensed for comedic purposes, I’ll bet you’re pretty hungry.”

  “How could you tell? It’s like you can read my expression.”

  He frowned and looked down at the tablecloth. “Actually, you’re the one person I can’t read. I’ve always considered myself good at looking at people’s expressions and making wild guesses as to how they feel, but you—I look at your face and try to guess what you are thinking, and all I hear is ‘BEEEEEEEEEP.’ Just this giant beeping sound—the sound a medical monitor makes when you die and everything goes blank. ‘BEEEEEEEEEP.’ Like that.”

  Ah, the old BEEEEEEEEEP—a sound I had grown accustomed to. A default sound, if you will, that my mind returns to whenever it has nothing more interesting to think about.

  “I know what you mean,” I said.

  “There’s that sound again,” he said. “What did you say? Because to me it just sounded like B BEEP BEEP BEE BEEP.”

  The waitress carted my lasagna platter over.

  “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” she asked Edwart, typically.

  “Actually, do you make blood-sausage?”

  “Yep.”

  “Great. One order of that then. Easy on the sausage, though.”

  “Easy on the sausage?”

  “Yeah, I’m more of a sauce guy.”

  “A blood-sauce guy?”

  “Yeah—a blood-sauce guy.” He turned to me. “You were saying?”

  BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP, I thought as I grasped wildly for something else to say. Then I had another one of my well-researched epiphanies. His constant use of Purell, his love of video games, his lack of friends, planet gazing, and flail-run.

  “You’re a zombie,” I gasped.

  “No. I’m not,” he said.

  I went back to the vampire theory.

  On the drive back home, he asked me if I had any other theories.

  “A few,” I said. “You know how they say the universe is ever-expanding? Well, I think outer space is a hoax and NASA is a retirement home for CIA officers,” I explained. “The moon is real.”

  “I meant theories about me,” said Edwart. “The way you look at me sometimes … okay, the way you look at my teeth sometimes and comment on how inhumanly pale or inhumanly cold I am and the way you are putting your ear to my chest right now … I mean, what is going on inside that head of yours.”

  “You have absolut
ely no heartbeat.”

  “That’s what I’m saying! Why do you say things like that? What could you possibly think that I am?” He glanced over at me nervously. “You don’t think I’m a robot like the others, do you? Please Belle … I … I just couldn’t take that.”

  “Why don’t I do the asking and you do the answering?” I asked. To be honest, the robot theory was new to me. It would require further reflection.

  “All right. Shoot.”

  “Is there a reason we shouldn’t be together?”

  He sighed. “I was afraid you would ask that. The truth is, I’m not good for you Belle. I’m dangerous.” He started driving in a zig-zag way. “Too dangerous. I don’t want to hurt you.” He ran through a red light. “I would never forgive myself if I put you in danger.” He stopped at the yellow light so he could turn left during the red.

  “Why don’t I drive next time?” I asked.

  “That would solve it,” he chuckled. “I never did get my license. Now there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, too: What’s your favorite color?”

  “Blue.”

  “What’s your favorite flower?” “Daisies.”

  “Cool. Well, I’m all out of questions for you. I think it’s interesting that you have a favorite flower. That was my trick question.”

  “I lied about the color. I really don’t care about colors. Blue has no value to me.”

  He took his hand off the steering wheel to tuck the hair behind my ear further back behind my ear. “That’s what I mean about you. You’re special. We both are. We both think about more things than the others.” He parked the car and turned to me. “You want to have a discussion about those things?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’d love to have a discussion about those things.”

  We had a discussion. It was really interesting. “I should probably go inside,” I said when it was over. “It’s nine p.m., and I’ve got to start making breakfast for my Dad.”

  “Good-night,” he said and squeezed my hand.

  I leaned over to kiss him good-night on the cheek. Suddenly, I was kissing thin air. He was gone.

  “Don’t ever try any funny business again,” an angry voice rebuked, floating up from below the driver’s seat.