A Sadness Within

by Sara Fiorenzo

  “Hmm.” I smiled a little. He was being so open tonight. Last night he didn’t seem to want to talk at all.

  “What? What are you thinking? Did I say something amusing?” He moved back up the aisle to join me.

  “No, it’s just that you’re giving information so freely tonight. Last night you were so guarded. I like learning more about you.” I grabbed the rest of the audition sheets and put them in my bag to avoid his eyes. “I only mean that it’s nice to know more about you, since we will be working so closely together.” Something in me felt the need to clarify. I didn’t need him to think I was some sort of crazy stalker.

  “Oh, I guess I just didn’t know about you last night. I mean, what you would think of some stranger helping out. You are very easy to be around.” I looked right up into his grey eyes. I leaned into the nearest row of seats, suddenly feeling the need to sit down. He seemed to be looking right into me. His eyes were bright tonight, brighter than I had ever seen before.

  “Well, I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure about you at first. What was I supposed to think about the mysterious night janitor who can help with theater? But you really know a lot about Shakespeare so how could I turn that down.”

  “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” He smiled sweetly and I laughed. Quoting Hamlet. He was good.

  “I suppose we should get home. Are you ready?” I asked.

  “Sure, whenever you are.” He flashed his million dollar grin again. Seriously, I think my heart skipped a beat. I turned the lights off and then locked the auditorium after giving the piano a longing gaze and then we walked to my car.

  It was a short drive home, so I drove slowly, never ready for our time together to end. I welcomed the comfortable silence in the car. I could feel him looking over at me from time to time and I resisted the urge to look back at him. Things were falling into place with him. The more time I spent with him, the more comfortable I felt, yet he set my emotions on edge and made me feel like I never had before. How strange that someone could affect me like that in such a short time. It scared me that I felt so at ease and yet flustered. I had been pushing people away for so long, building up an emotionless exterior, so I panicked at the thought of letting him in. Then again, he was so different from anyone that I knew. I didn’t really know how to describe it. I suppose it was akin to standing on the edge of a precipice ready to jump. It was equally exciting and terrifying at the same time.

  Soon we were pulling into my driveway and saying our goodbyes. I would see him tomorrow night, yet I was anxious to watch him leave.

  It was dark out and getting cooler by the minute. I stood on the porch for a few minutes, watching Will disappear. It would only take him a minute to get home, and then I knew what I needed to do.

  Once I thought that he wouldn’t notice me, I climbed back into my car and drove. I needed to talk to someone… my brother.

  The cemetery is technically closed at dusk, but I knew a way in. I liked to come at night since it was quieter and I knew that no one would be here to bother me. Unlike most people, I liked being here alone. There was solace to be found at times, in this maze of stone. During the day when others were around, I felt as if they watched me at his grave, like they wanted to see me break down. Or they felt pity. That was the thing about this small town. I always felt watched and judged. Everyone knew your life story. They knew your strengths and your weaknesses.

  The granite headstone shimmered in the moonlight. I was at peace out here tonight; a stark contrast to some visits. Missing Aaron seemed to be a consuming part of my life at times. Some days were harder than others, and I ached with the loss. Some were like today, relatively easy. Still, I visited his grave often. My parents were buried separately, in different cemeteries. I think I came to terms with their deaths long ago, but I had never understood the unfairness of Aaron’s death, so his seemed to haunt me more. I had always been closest with him anyway, so he was my first choice when I needed someone to talk to.

  “I started play practice this week,” I began. I could almost hear him answer in my head, while I prattled. “I think we’ll have a good cast this year. We’re doing Shakespeare’s As You Like It. And I have a new assistant director. You remember the Bradley place down the street? Well, Will Bradley, the boy I was telling you about before, I guess he’s really good at Shakespeare, so he’s helping me.” I paused and traced my finger over Aaron’s name. The stone was cool and smooth. I breathed in deeply, letting the extra oxygen settle deep in my lungs. “There is something about him that I like. Will. I find myself letting my guard down and… and it scares the shit out of me.” I spoke very softly, as if someone else was around to hear my confession. Finally, I had said it aloud. There was something about Will Bradley that scared me, true, but there was also a part of me that liked that about him. And I was definitely drawn to him. The way his eyes pierced through me. The way he flexed his chiseled jaw. The few strands of hair that constantly seemed to fall forward and get tangled in his long, dark lashes. The deep timbre and lilt of his voice, like a siren song, drew me in.

  “I don’t really know what to do or how to act. I’ve been pushing everyone but Kara away for so long, that it feels strange to actually meet someone that I’m drawn to. I want to let him in, but I don’t want to scare him off. ” I sighed deeply and closed my eyes, letting my feelings out. The grass was cool and welcoming as I lay my cheek down.

  I sat up quickly at the sound of something close; a rustling of leaves. My eyes darted around in the darkness. My body froze, but I could see nothing, and then the feeling was gone. It must have been a deer, I rationalized. Who in their right mind would be venturing around a cemetery at night, right? Then again, I was out here, wasn’t I?

  I shook off the dark feeling and turned back to the cold stone memory in front of me.

  The rest of the week went by in a blur. My days dragged as I waited for night to come, when I would see Julia again. We quickly fell into a routine. I would walk to her house, and she would drive us to rehearsal. After rehearsal we would part, but I would usually come back to see if I could catch her playing the piano. I longed for time to spend together. The aching pressure in me was still there, but subsided substantially whenever I was with her. We spent so much time together that I became completely aware of her. I couldn’t explain it. It was like I had an insight into her mind. If her feeling was strong enough, I could almost get a vision of her. I didn’t know what to make of it; I only knew that it was unusual. It was becoming stronger every day, and I knew I would have to tell someone eventually. Tonight, however was Friday; there was no rehearsal. The pain I felt was my own, and it was back with a vengeance. The ache of not being with her for a few days was torture. To make things worse, I was paranoid that Chris would send someone here, looking for me. Or worse yet, he would come himself.

  I felt weak with a restless urge, a longing that I had not felt all week. The idea that I would be able to change didn’t seem so strange anymore. In fact, I seemed to be doing quite well, hardly able to remember the person I had been before. I had managed just fine on donated blood and actually felt satisfied. I had either been with Julia or knew that I would see her soon, which made me content. Tonight, however, was unbearable. It didn’t feel right to not be around her, and this pleased the disease. I stood in front of the mirror staring at myself, trying to see the monster struggling to come out, fighting with myself. My eyes were sunken in and dull. Even my face was greyer than usual. I didn’t understand, because things had been going so well, but now I looked and felt horrible. It was becoming clear to me how much I needed Julia. Just then, Celia came bounding up the stairs. One look at my reflection as she passed by caused her to stop in her tracks.

  “Are you okay, Will?”

  “I feel so restless again, Celia, I can’t stand this feeling of unrest. I need to go out or something.” I sat on the edge of my bed and ran my hands through my hair.

  “But you have been okay all week. Why is it so bad
right now?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied, then changed my mind and opted for the truth. Change also meant not hiding behind my old ways anymore. Honesty could only help. Maybe she would know how to help me deal with this. “Actually, I have a theory.”

  “Let’s hear it.” She settled against the wall opposite me.

  “I think it has something to do with Julia. When I’m around her, I don’t feel the urge. I can make it through the day because I know that I’m going to see her at night. Tonight is hard though, because I know that I’m not going to see her until Monday. Have you ever had this happen? Don’t you ever feel like the donated blood isn’t enough?” I shifted uncomfortably on my bed.

  “I used to. I mean I used to feel those urges, but I don’t anymore. I never knew why. I just thought that I got used living this way, so I resolved to be content and refused to give in. The feeling is still there, but it’s buried deep. It’s like I care more about my life now and don’t want to ruin it.” She looked up at me carefully and then smiled jokingly.

  “I’m glad my pain amuses you.” I started to push past her, feeling suddenly annoyed, but she grabbed my arm and spun me around, not allowing me to walk out. I really was on edge tonight.

  “I’m not laughing at you, Will. Look at me, damnit. How do you feel right now?” I didn’t understand where this was going, but I decided to humor her anyway.

  “I’m angry,” I said, glaring at her. “And if I have to be honest, I guess I’m sad too. I miss her. I know that sounds stupid because I hardly know her, but I miss her. I feel an empty space when she’s not with me.” I pushed away from her and stood gazing at the mirror again. “But there’s more. I’m beginning to feel her.”

  Celia looked at me in a strange way. Concerned and curious all at once.

  “No, it’s not bad,” I said. “You know how I was so drawn to her because of something I felt? Well, it’s stronger now, and I sense her mood. I know if she’s happy or if she’s in pain. I can feel her even when I’m not with her.” I walked to the chair and slumped down, letting my head sink back into my hands. The grandfather clock on the wall ticked rhythmically, the only sound for a moment.

  “I have never heard of that before. I mean I’ve never heard of anyone, diseased or not, being able to sense mood in others.” Her voice was barely a whisper as it floated from across the room. “Are you sure you’re not just attracted to her blood? That it’s not just the need pushing through?”

  “Positive. It’s definitely different than that first time. Most of the time, I have a feeling like she’s just there. But then, I’ll suddenly get an impulse of her feelings if something changes. If it’s an intense feeling, I get a flash of her. Like I can see what she’s doing. I feel almost as if I’m in her mind.”

  I only felt a small amount of relief in confiding to her. Celia was looking at me like I was crazy. Of course, I didn’t realize how strange this all sounded until I said it out loud. She returned my gaze, squinting a little as if she was trying to see further inside of me. I looked back down ashamed and embarrassed by how stupid I sounded.

  “Please don’t tell me I’m crazy,” I couldn’t help but add.

  She began to walk toward me, standing in front of me for a moment before kneeling down and cradling my face in her hands. Her gaze was intent and I felt as if she was seeing right into me.

  “Your eyes. They are different. There is more life in them. You’re changing, Will. Whatever you have with her is changing you.” She dropped her hands from my face and grabbed my own hands. “I really think it might be time to talk to father about this. You need to tell him everything. Maybe he knows something you and I don’t. ”

  “No.” I almost spit the words out as I stood abruptly. “I’m afraid to hear his disapproval. I’m still not sure that he would understand.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Will. You’re in too deep and he’s going to notice something is up. He has to find out and it would be better coming from you.” She gently squeezed my hand and then slipped from the room, giving me time alone to process.

  She was right, of course, and minutes later I was standing outside of my father’s study, ready to tell him everything.

  “Yes,” his voice answered from within. “Come in.”

  Quietly, I slipped in. My father was standing by the large window of his study, with his back turned. He had a book in hand and never looked up.

  “Will, what can I do for you? I trust your job is going well, considering I haven’t heard anything negative.” He turned to face me, a small smile on his face.

  “I have to talk to you about something. Well, I actually have to tell you something. Can I sit down?” I nervously shoved my hands in my pockets not sure where to begin. I needed to ease his suspicions right away. Usually when I talked to him like this it was because I had screwed up and I needed him to help me cover it. At least that’s what I used to do before I finally moved to Chicago.

  I wasn’t sure he would believe the truth, but I had no choice but to tell him. He motioned for me to sit all the while eyeing me cautiously and patiently waiting for whatever it was I needed to tell him.

  “There have been some things happening this week, things that I need to tell you about.” I looked up to gage his reaction. His face was still, unreadable. “Last Sunday, Principal Mason called and asked me to help out with something other than the odds and ends at school.”

  “Why, was there something wrong with working at night? Did you do something wrong?” So much for easing suspicions. He didn’t raise his voice, yet I knew he was agitated.

  “It’s nothing like that. I swear I did nothing wrong. He needed me for something else, a special project and asked me for help.” Again I waited for a comment, and I pleaded with my eyes for him to let me finish, so he let me continue. “The school play needed an assistant director and he asked me if I would help out. The director is a teacher named Julia Cavallo. She lives just down the street. He didn’t want her working alone at night and thought I would be helpful.”

  “Miss Cavallo, you mean Celia’s English teacher?” His facial expression went from concerned to quizzical.

  “Yes, I believe so. It’s just that…how can I say this,” I couldn’t let on that I knew so much about her quite yet, but after my pause, he jumped in, not allowing me to finish my thought.

  “Does she know? About us I mean. Is she in some kind of danger? Are you okay alone with her? What happened to her?” In two strides he had crossed the room to stand in front of me, his questions turning to accusations and coming fast and furious. I tried to stay calm, reminding myself that he had every right to be so paranoid, of course, based on my past performance. Plus, up until this week, I hadn’t been sure that I could be alone with her without endangering her life. Taking a deep breath and calming myself, I said, “She is not in danger. I assure you. I would never dream of hurting her. That’s not what I need to talk to you about. It’s just that… well… I… ” I was stumbling over my words, unable to figure out just how to say it. “We have been spending a lot of time together and… I think I’m starting to feel.” I held my breath waiting for his reply.

  Shock registered on his face, and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. I was used to getting chastised. Silence and shock were not things I was prepared for. He turned his back to me and crossed back to the window to gaze out over the lake.

  “Say something, please,” I whispered. The ache in my chest burning, I brought my hand up and began rubbing the ache as the demon I had been pushing down all week warred with my new found need. Talking about her always made it worse.

  He turned back to me and his face had softened, but I could see conflict in his eyes. He seemed to mirror the conflict I felt within myself.

  “You feel. I had hoped for this day for years. I’m only sorry that it didn’t come sooner. Before the change, I mean. You were always such a rebel as a boy, never caring about the consequences of your actions. And now, finally…” His voice faded as he stopp
ed to really look at me. I knew he was taking in my pale skin, the deep circles under my eyes, and the sadness and pain I was trying to keep from my face.

  “I can see it now. The change in you. I don’t know why I never noticed it before. I guess I didn’t believe that you would ever be able to change, so I stopped looking. There is more light in your eyes. Perhaps, you are beginning to reawaken. You’re becoming something more.”

  “I don’t’ understand. What do you mean? What change?” I was confused. I thought he would only see my current weak state. The way I felt when I wasn’t around her was worse in many ways than the way I had been before. At least it felt that way to me.

  “I have never told you much about the change because I believed for so many years that you were incapable of accepting it. Those that you have been hanging out with certainly are.” His voice was soft and full of emotion as he went back to his desk to sit across from me. “Haven’t you ever questioned why your sister and I are so different from the rest?”

  “Yes, but I guess I just assumed that it was because you fought your urges.”

  “That is partly true. Just because you are an immortal being, doesn’t mean that you need to be a monster. You see, you must remember that we suffer from a disease. You aren’t dead, but you aren’t alive either. Your body is in a sort of hibernation. That’s why we are so cold. The blood flows at a much slower rate. It makes us cold-blooded in a sense. Our temperature is controlled by our surroundings. But of course, you know this. Our hearts beat, but at a much slower rate, and our senses become more acute, which is why our hearing and sight are so good. Even our sense of touch is heightened.” He breathed in deeply, settling himself further back into his chair. His hand lightly toyed with the miniature portrait of my mother that I knew was on his desk. I followed his arm up to his face and could see that he was staring intently at her, forcing me to quickly look away, feeling like I was intruding on a private moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.