I paused over the next shot; the geometry seemed a bit skewed on this smaller playing surface. Many viable shots presented themselves, but billiards is a game of sequences, not single shots, and it was taking a bit of time for the geometry to present itself.
Kern cleared his throat loudly and impatiently. “The shots aren’t gonna get any easier there, Count.”
I simply nodded and took my shot. Then, another and another. And one more before yielding the table to my worthy opponent.
“I am being hustled.” He was still smiling, a good deal of astonishment on his face.
“Just luck,” I replied. In four turns, Kern had knocked in two balls while I had only the eight ball remaining. But to Kern’s credit, he did an excellent job of defense, prolonging the inevitable, almost making a miraculous comeback, shooting in all but two of his balls before the contest ended with my victory.
“How ’bout another?” Kern asked. He handed Nicole her cocktail. I looked at her.
“Okay by me, Al.” She nodded. “I’ll just mingle.”
I watched her move toward the back of the bar as Kern racked the balls. He was unable to put up as much of a fight as during our first contest; much of the rust had been scraped clean from my game, and Kern’s spirit seemed slightly broken. He still had five balls on the table when the eight ball fell into the pocket, ending our match. He stepped toward the bar, but I stopped him.
“No, Kern,” I said, smiling broadly, “I can buy Nicole’s drink.”
“You’re a hell of a boyfriend, Count. And trusting too.” Kern pointed toward the back of the bar where Nicole stood conversing with a rather slender fellow, his hair long, straight and jet black. He wore a black T-shirt and black denim trousers, his face twisted into a scowl as if that was its natural state.
“Without trust, there is no such thing as love.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Kern grabbed his beer and migrated as far from the pool tables as possible.
I had noticed that Nicole’s tumbler was nearly empty, but it proved a most difficult task to find a bartender to fetch her next cocktail. The bartenders were inaccessible from behind the arch, so I moved toward the front of the bar where a gap opened next to a pair of women who sat conversing. One was a rather Rubenesque blonde, which perhaps in today’s vernacular translates as overweight, but she looked a full figure of delightful womanhood, a true beauty as much as any women I have ever seen; in fact, something about her face and the way she wore her hair made me almost think she was French.
The other woman was black and also quite lovely, though in a less classical manner. Though thick and muscular of torso, her eyes sparkled, and she laughed easily. On a finger, I noticed she wore a gold ring bearing Hebrew lettering. The woman noticed me staring at her ring.
“Can I help you?” she said. Her voice bristled.
“That is Hebrew, is it not?”
“Yes, it is,” she replied, smiling broadly, revealing a gap between her two front teeth. “My father’s mother was Jewish,” she said. “That makes me part Jewish. My mother made sure I had the chance to learn what it means to be a Jew. It was something she considered important.”
“She was very perceptive.”
The woman nodded. “I have a daughter, and I’m making sure to give her the chance to learn about her heritage. I’m not forcing it on her, but if she wants to learn, she’ll get the opportunity.”
“What a good mother!” the blonde said.
“The best,” the black woman said. Both women laughed heartily. “I’m Carol, and this is Jenifer.”
The blonde smiled and waved.
“I am pleased to make the acquaintance of both of you.”
Jenifer looked at me. “I know you. You drive for Co-op, right?”
I nodded.
“I drive for Kapitol Kab. I’ve seen you at the airport.”
Carol downed the rest of her cocktail. As if coming from nowhere, Todd appeared to refill her glass. I took the opportunity to order Nicole’s cocktail, while looking at Carol’s drink quizzically. The liquid within her tumbler was the oddest shade of brown.
“Long Island Iced Tea,” she said. “Todd’s specialty.”
Todd returned with Nicole’s drink. I paid him, bade my farewells to my new acquaintances and went in search of Nicole. She still spoke with the man in black. Up close, I noticed that rings encrusted with a gaudy rainbow of semi-precious stones adorned most of his long-nailed fingers. An ankh hung from his neck. The scowl remained, looking somewhat forced. It seemed perhaps that this fellow spent much time looking at his reflection in a mirror, making sure his expression bore the proper combination of disdain and disinterest with all that surrounded him. Though it is rather impolite to make hasty judgments regarding another’s character, something about this fellow struck me as contrived, as if he was trying to appear more than his years, which were scarcely out of childhood.
“You’re back,” Nicole said, taking the cocktail.
“Yes,” I replied. “It took little effort to vanquish Kern a second time, but there was quite the crowd at the bar.”
Nicole’s conversation partner turned to leave, but Nicole grabbed his shoulder. He stopped. “Al, this is Charles.”
I extended a hand, as the Americans do. He seemed reticent, clasping my hand lightly. His eyes sang of pure disgust, and I realized that there is nothing wrong with a hasty judgment—if it is correct.
“Nice to see you again, Charles,” Nicole said, her voice warm and sincere. He said nothing, merely nodding his head as he walked away.
“A friend of yours?” I asked.
Nicole took a sip of her drink, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the direction Charles had gone. “Not really,” she answered, picking lint from her sweater. “Just somebody I know.”
———
When we arrived at my apartment, Nicole’s passions were swollen, if not inflamed; as soon as I had pulled the futon from the wall and spread it on the floor, she was upon me, shoving me to the mattress’s soft embrace, climbing atop me, nearly sending my buttons flying as she opened my shirt, running her hands over my chest. She lowered her mouth to my neck, kissing, licking and biting my flesh. Biting with a great deal of force, almost as if she wanted to break the skin open.
“Take care, my love,” I said, moving my neck away from her mouth. “You would not want to break the skin and drink of my blood.”
“Would that make me like you?” Vodka slurred her words.
I nodded.
“Maybe that’s what I want. To be a hunter, preying on the life surrounding me, having you at my side. Forever.”
The image of the vampire, of my wife, superimposed itself over the present for a fleeting moment as a blinding light filled my sight, the light growing as it came closer. I let myself fly toward the light. My wife was there in the light. I could feel it. That molten gold was warmth, was love.
But just as the light touched my fingertips, it flew away from me, shrinking until there was nothing but darkness in my sight, cold against my flesh and a vampire telling me that I was a creature of the darkness, forever banished from the light.
“You cannot really mean that,” I said finally.
Nicole lifted her head as she straddled my hips. “Tell me you love me, Al.”
I laughed. “Of course I love you. You know that.”
“I wanna hear you say it. I love it when you say it.”
“I love you, my dear. I love you with the ferocity of a lioness with her cubs. I love you with the sureness of the sun rising in the east each morning.”
“Is it really true? Could you make me into a vampire?”
I felt my expression grow serious. The logic of lovers is quite the dangerous game. “Yes, it is true. If you were to drink of my blood, you would die, but rise again as one who must hunt in the night.”
“Make me like you. I want to be like you.”
“No. Absolutely not, Nicole. Ask me anything, anything at all, anything but t
hat. I will not do that.”
Her smile faded away. “You said you love me. Wouldn’t you do this for someone you love? I love you, Al. I want to be your lover forever.”
“My love for you is precisely why I would not do this. If I were to make you into a vampire, I would not be giving you something. I would be taking something precious away from you.”
“You mean my life?” She shook her head vigorously. “My life? My life’s a fucking joke. It’s all pain and sickness, growing old and then dying. Hell, you get to live forever.”
“Nicole, my love, what happened to me is something that never should have happened. My wife and I should have grown old together, taken care of each other when we were sick. We should have died together. Should have been buried together. Do you know what it is you ask of me?”
“But we could be lovers forever.”
I cupped my hand against her cheek, but she pushed it away. “If you became a vampire, you would lose interest in me.”
She grabbed my hand and pressed it against her soft breast. “No, I wouldn’t, Al. No way.”
I nodded sadly. “Vampires have no need for reproductive organs. Like me, you would lose your ability to have an orgasm. And like me, you would hunger for the sweet taste of human pleasure. You would seek human men, perhaps human women, in order to taste their orgasm the way I taste yours.”
She appeared to pout silently; I had hoped she would not be one to pout. That has always seemed mere manipulation performed by those of an inferior level of maturity.
“What is wrong, Nicole?”
Her eyes glistened slightly, but she did not cry. “I’m sorry, Al. Vodka makes me get kinda mushy, kinda silly sometimes. It’s just—I’m scared to die.”
I sat up and hugged her tightly. “There is nothing at all wrong with being frightened of dying. To fear death is simply to be human. All I can say is that it is normal to fear the unknown, and that is exactly what death is, the unknowable unknown. I myself died, but remain bound to this Earth by that which courses through my veins. As to what awaits all of us, I do not know, though I can say it is not anything of which to be frightened.”
She somehow did not seem to fully comprehend my words.
“But if I was a vampire, I wouldn’t have to be scared anymore.”
“Vampires constantly face destruction. We have to walk around in fear all the time, fearing the suspicion and hatred from the humans who inadvertently allow us to maintain our existence. Do you know what immortality really means? It means an eternity of watching others die, being doomed to an eternity of loneliness with mere interludes of friendship. Vampires so often shy from intimacy with humans because the mere wink of an eye for us is a lifetime for a mortal.”
Nicole stared ahead pensively before collapsing onto the bed. “I’m sorry, Al. I’m just being silly.”
I kissed her on the forehead. “It is perfectly okay for you to be silly every once in awhile. I will love you anyway.”
She smiled and yawned. “God, I’m suddenly tired. Is it okay if we don’t make love tonight?”
“Of course, my sweet.”
She stripped off her clothing and crawled underneath the covers. And she spoke not another word before lapsing into slumber.
I reached for her, but Nicole eased herself to the far side of the bed, a chasm separating us, cold as a grave.
Chapter 16
Vampire Cabbies in Love
Lemme guess. Sounds like a one-way ticket to dump city. So, the bitch dumped you for the guy in the bar?
Sir! By the torments of Hades, you will not speak of Nicole in such a manner. And you will cease these interruptions. They are most impolite, and please do not jump ahead of the story. If you were to call me a fool, you would be absolutely correct. I was a fool, fooled by love, my vision clouded by the giddiness of the emotions of the immature.
Nicole quickly became incommunicado. Looking forward to our usual Tuesday tryst, disappointment greeted me as Dexter told me that she had called in sick. A half-dozen messages left on her answering machine brought no reply. Saturday—our night—came and went, with me stalking State Street alone, half-heartedly searching for Madison’s other vampire, but, as you Americans would put it, it was not unlike perusing a haystack for a mere needle.
By the next week, the peonies began to bloom full bloom, making it so easy to forget about how drab the city had been just weeks before when the streets were covered with the slush of the melting snows. Still, slush-covered asphalt was all that filled my inner sight, so heavy was my heart.
Finally, a phone call to Nicole’s house brought an answer. It was Maggie. “I’m not here,” a muffled voice said from the background.
“She’s not here, Al,” Maggie said after a brief pause.
“Tell her I am sorry to hear that.” With not another word, I dropped the handset onto its cradle, shaking my head, laughing bitterly at myself.
You know, after a thousand years, it is not difficult to be philosophical about those things that happen to us in our intercourse with others. I tried to focus on the sheer bliss of the previous month, but the task proved difficult, so I attempted to seek solace in the fact that good or bad, at least she made me feel something.
The next night, parked at the Concourse taxi stand, Maggie joined me in my cab. I quickly turned off the dome light, which makes my flesh look quite unwholesome, then put away Candide and prepared to entertain my guest.
“Sorry about the other night,” Maggie began immediately. “I lied to you. Nicole was right there when you called. You deserve better than having me lie to you. If she doesn’t want to see you anymore, she should have the decency to tell you herself.”
“Apparently, we cannot always expect people to behave with the maturity their age might indicate is the accepted norm.” Momentarily, Maggie appeared a bit bewildered. My syntax still gets sufficiently convoluted, confusing these so-called masters of the provincial English language. Cripes, ya hey, indeed!
“Whatever. Anyway, for whatever it’s worth, I told her I’m not lying for her anymore.”
“Your sentiment is greatly appreciated. But I would like to at least know, why is she behaving in such a manner?”
Maggie pulled at the straps of her tank top and ran a hand agitatingly through her thick red hair, an obvious gesture of discomfort over the illumination of some unsavory information. “Look, I tried to tell you she’s not really in a good way.” My guest paused a moment, her gaze dropping downward. “She’s seeing someone else.”
My spine tingled with momentary anger, then I felt amused at the sensation. Jealousy? How absurd.
And dishonest was this intellectualism of my feelings. Knowing that Nicole was no one’s property could not prevent me from imagining the torments I might inflect upon he who had stolen her from me.
“It’s a guy she used to go out with,” Maggie said, answering my silence. “She hadn’t seen the guy since he dumped her. But when she ran into him recently, she realized she still felt something for him.”
“Slender fellow? Black hair? Dresses in black?”
“Yeah, that’s the guy. His name’s Charles.” Maggie reached over and lightly touched my shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Al.”
I turned, and her hand fell from my shoulder. “Please, Maggie. Do not worry about me. I will be okay.”
Maggie paused for a second, biting her lip. “I tried to tell her the way she was handling this was bullshit. Now, she’s not talking to me either.”
“Do not worry,” I replied, smiling bravely. “You have been friends since childhood. As you Americans are so fond of saying, this will all blow over. Her anger will pass.”
Maggie nodded pensively. “Yeah, I know, but I miss her, Al. And I’m worried about her, but she won’t let me help her. That’s why I’m here. I just don’t know what to do. Can you help her?”
My laughter filled the cab, my reaction stronger than desired.
Maggie paused, crossing her arms in front of her. “Look, A
l, I know you’re feeling hurt, but she didn’t mean for it to happen like this. She’s not really herself right now.”
“If not herself, then who?”
A horse-drawn carriage passed the cab. Inside, a young couple snuggled close together. Maggie glanced at the pair, then returned her gaze back to me. “Love is illusion, isn’t it?” she asked rhetorically, as if she spoke not to me or anyone in particular.
We watched silently for a moment as the carriage disappeared into the night, the hoofbeats fading into inaudibility. “Look, Al, you can’t just all of a sudden not care about her, can you? No matter what she does?”
“No, Maggie,” I replied. “I do care, but it seems quite apparent that she does not want me in her life. She does not desire my help and would view such overtures as an unwelcome intrusion.” Indeed. With a killer vampire running amok, why should the petty problems of a confused child be worthy of my trouble?
Maggie’s reply seemed non-sequitur. “Did you know Maggie’s father killed himself.”
My back straightened. “She most certainly did not tell me that. She merely told me that he was dead, but did not tell me how he had died.”
“Nicole was fourteen. She came home from school one day and found him. He’d blown his head clean off his shoulders. The paramedics had to pry his fingers off the shotgun.”
“How horrid!”
“She’s never been the same since that day. Most of the time, she’s fine, but every once in awhile, she’ll go through a suicidal episode. Something triggers it, and all of a sudden, she becomes really self-destructive, if not suicidal. Over the years, she’s slit her wrists, taken pills, tried to jump into the Wisconsin River. I stopped her that time.”
“Suicide can be like a contagious disease sometimes,” I said. “When life is considered so precious, it is a shock to see someone voluntarily snuff it out.”
“I think Truck’s murder did it this time.”
Of course. Her erratic behavior did indeed coincide with his death, and such a senseless death! These mortals find death disturbing enough as it is, but when it is as senseless as that, where there is no reason and not even an identifiable killer, they become paralyzed.
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