Vampire Reflections

by H. T. Night

  “And you’re telling me this now? When I am over 80 years old.”

  “Honestly, Marlene. I never planned on telling you. I am exhausted. It’s almost 6 am and we will be seeing Mr. Sun soon. So, I am heading to the basement. Let me get some sleep.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  My heart was breaking, and tears burned my eyes. Experiencing all these visions and remembering my own troubled past was enough to make me want to pass out and sleep like a baby.

  No matter how hard I resisted, the last memory of my wife was a moment that still haunted me. I'm still not sure I have recovered.

  It had been eight and a half years after Marlene and I had our final anniversary in which she was fully cognitive. The last few years had been a very trying time. She didn't recognize me anymore. The fact that I still looked eighteen didn't help matters. She didn't understand that her husband was a vampire, so he didn't age like she did. Hell, she didn't know what vampires were at all. Marlene was losing her grasp on everything. As she sank deeper into dementia, she seemed very depressed and lonely. She wasn't alone; I was by her side each step of the way. No matter how far she dipped, I was there. I dropped everything in my life and took care of her as if she were an infant.

  Marlene had a beautiful soul even as her dementia got worse and worse through the complications of Alzheimer's.

  I decided to live in the basement full time due to the fact she would wake up next to me and not remember who I was and it would scare her to death.

  Each day, I had to reintroduce myself to her as if it was the very first time we had met.

  She could see in the mirror that I was quite a bit younger than she was and that confused her. Eventually, I made the decision to no longer tell her I was her husband due to the fact it seemed to push her deeper into dementia.

  I loved Marlene more than ever and it was absolutely gut wrenching not being able to hold her and kiss her. I just couldn't scare her any longer.

  That night, I made her dinner. I made her macaroni and cheese and garlic breadsticks. It was a simple meal that she always enjoyed. She wasn't worried about her figure and neither was I.

  I was finishing her dinner up in the kitchen, when I decided to walk to her room and I found the door closed and locked.

  This was always the tricky part. Why was there an eighteen-year-old boy in her house? I tried saying I was a number of things in times past, but the only one that seemed to keep her calm was when I told her I was her caregiver and I was there to help her make meals and get around the house.

  I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

  I knocked four times until I heard her call out, “Who's there?”

  “It's Todd,” I responded.

  “Todd who?” she said, sounding worried.

  “I'm your caregiver and I made you dinner.”

  “What is a caregiver?” she asked, behind the door.

  “I'm here to take care of you, because you're having a hard time taking care of yourself.”

  “Who sent you?” she asked.

  “I was sent by the hospital to help you.” That was a bald-faced lie, but her memory could still pick up keywords like hospital.

  “Put on a robe, and come out to the kitchen where I made you some food.”

  “Where's there a robe?” she asked.

  “It's hanging over one of the chairs next to your vanity.”

  “Vanity?” She asked.

  “It's over by the chair in front of the mirror,” I said.

  I heard the lock click open, and then I watched the doorknob turn. I took four steps back to not crowd her as she exited the room.

  Marlene had long silver hair and in my mind, she would always be the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. It didn't matter to me if she was eighteen or seventy-five. This was my life partner and now I was facing the hardest task in our marriage yet.

  She looked up at me and said, “Oh, you're quite young.”

  I smiled. That seemed to be her preferred greeting to me these last few months.

  “I'm old enough to take care of you,” I responded.

  She nodded as she always did. Then I escorted her to the kitchen. I pulled out her chair and had her sit down at the table.

  I went over to the stove and gave her a modest helping of macaroni and cheese and two garlic sticks. Before she was sick, she always wanted two garlic breads. I always gave her the same amount, hoping it would trigger some type of memory.

  Unfortunately, I couldn't enjoy the meal with her being my only nutrients came from actual human blood. I hid my blood bags down in the refrigerator in the basement so it would never freak her out if she were to accidentally stumble across them. They were delivered to me by a friend who worked at the local hospital.

  Before I escorted her down, I poured myself a tall glass of America's finest. I never poured it in a clear glass because it would cause Marlene to ask questions about what I was drinking. Tonight, I had poured it into a large green cup.

  “You're not eating?” she asked, just as she had the last twenty times we had dinner together.

  “I'm not that hungry and cranberry juice always hits the spot,” I said lying, knowing full well she would flip her lid if she knew what I was actually drinking.

  But tonight was different. She would usually start off our conversations by trying to get to know me. It puzzled her why a man so young would be taking care of her.

  She said, “Do I know you?”

  “I'm your caregiver,” I said.

  “Caregiver?” she questioned. “From where?”

  I took a deep breath and in my heart of hearts I wanted to scream from the rooftops that I was her husband and we had been married for the last 55 years. But I knew I couldn't. I would have to navigate this line of questioning in a way that made her feel safe.

  Marlene kept staring at me. “You look very familiar to me. Are we related?”

  I sighed. “No, sweetheart, I am just your caregiver.”

  “Why do I need a caregiver?”

  I paused. I never liked to tell her she was sick. I was afraid that would send her over the edge. “I was assigned to you because you need someone to help you with your day-to-day chores such as cooking.”

  “You made all of this?” she asked.

  “Sure did,” I said smiling.

  “Macaroni and cheese is my favorite. This tastes just like my mom's recipe.”

  When she said that my eyes and ears perked up. It had been a long time since she remembered what her favorite food was. And the fact she called it by name and recognized her mother's recipe seemed encouraging, at least for the moment.

  Marlene kept staring at me. It made me uncomfortable, but I was happy to look into her bright blue eyes. “I think you're lying to me,” she said.

  I nearly spit up my mouth full of blood. That was new. She had never called me a liar before. Especially after she said she recognized me.

  I was nervous to continue the conversation due to the fact it might make her confused and disoriented try to figure out who this young man was in her house.

  So, I calmly said, “You think you recognize me? Can you remember how you know me?” I knew that question was pushing it, but I was a desperate man who needed his wife's love.

  She took a bite of her macaroni and cheese and said, “Did you used to do the gardening out front?”

  “You mean like your gardener?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe something more.”

  Marlene was exactly right about the fact I did gardening out front. I was forced to only garden at night. But that was one of my favorite hobbies I did around the house for her. She loved her flowers and when she couldn't care for them any longer; I took care of them for her.

  I knew I was pushing it, but I asked, “Do you remember my name?”

  Marlene once again looked into my eyes and I decided this time to look at her back with all the love and adoration I had for her.

  Marlene shook her head and said, �
�Whoever you are, you're a lovely man.”

  I knew then not to push anymore and whatever was happening she was seeing a glimpse of the man I used to be to her. I knew I couldn't ask her any more questions because I wouldn't want her to become confused and frustrated.

  I had to admit this was one of the biggest breakthroughs in knowing who I was to her in over a year. I had to let it be for now. I had to wait till she either remembered more, or sunk down below the surface like she had so many times in months passed.

  After she was finished eating, and I was done drinking, we decided to go sit on the couch in the living room and listen to some music. I usually did this in the evening and would play songs from the fifties and sixties to try to see if the music could jog her memory.

  Chapter Eighteen

  We sat down on the long cream-colored couch in our living room and I put on a mixed tape that I knew had a number of songs she had loved over the years. I sat at the very end of the couch, so I wouldn't crowd her.

  We sat there for about forty minutes and listened to all of my wife's favorite music. She would sing along with the songs and when I asked her how she knew the words, she would always say that something inside her just knew the music.

  Tonight was no different. About ten songs played, and she sang along to half of them. I decided not to ask a single thing about the song just to see if she could remember I needed the mixed tape with Unchained Melody by the Righteous brothers because that was our song.

  When the song ended, I looked into Marlene's eyes, wishing and praying it would trigger a memory of me.

  But when the song ended, she smiled at me and said, “That's a wonderful song!” as if she had heard it for the first time.

  “Sir?” she said to me.

  “Yes,” I answered quickly.

  “What is wrong with me that I need such a good looking young caregiver to watch over me?”

  She had never asked this question since the day she had been diagnosed nearly nine years ago. The problem was, I never anticipated the question, and didn't quite know how to tell her. She seemed far more alert tonight than she had been in months. I didn't know what kind of sign that was.

  I felt at this point, I needed to be as honest as I could. “You're sick, Marlene.”

  “I don't feel sick,” she replied.

  This was going to be more difficult than I thought. I took in a deep cleansing breath of air and said, “Your brain is sick.”

  “Do I have cancer?” She asked, looking frightened.

  She knew what cancer was. “No, sweetheart, you don't have cancer.”

  She nodded her head. I wasn't sure if she understood what any of this meant.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” I replied.

  “Why do you call me sweetheart?”

  “Because I care about you.”

  “Do other caregivers call the people they take care of, sweetheart?”

  “They might. It is a term of endearment.”

  “You must not have been here long, you look so young.”

  “I have been taking care of you for quite some time.”

  “So, you were a kid when you started?”

  “Not quite, just very mature for my age.” I didn't know what to say.

  “What is your name? She asked.

  “My name is Todd.”

  “Todd,” she repeated. Hearing her say my name sent chills of joy up and down my body.

  “You are kind, Todd. I'm glad you're my caregiver.”

  “So am I, Marlene. So am I”

  “How long have you been my caregiver?”

  “I've been your caregiver for a very long time.” I hate lying to her, but if she pressed, I would have to. But thank goodness she was finished with that line of questioning.

  The music had stopped playing, and she was sitting on the couch just staring straight ahead. She did this often, and I usually would have to snap her out of it. I wasn't sure where or when she went in her mind, but she often had a smile playing on her lips as she sat there.

  “Can you play that last song again?” she asked. This was new, and I always obliged her, hoping it would kick start some type of memory.

  I played the Righteous Brother's song back in its entirety.

  “My lover and I used to slow dance to that song,” Marlene said knowingly.

  I nearly fell off the sofa. She was right, of course. We had slowed danced to many songs right here in this living room, but this song had always been her favorite.

  She hadn't recalled those memories in years.

  The smile on my face was wide. My heart melted knowing I was the lover she was referring to.

  We sat in silence again for a couple of minutes. Then she asked me something that I had hungered for quite a long time, but I thought there was no way she could ever trust anyone again to ask it.

  “Todd,” she said. “Forgive me for being so forward, but would you like to dance?”

  I didn't answer the question, but instead stood up and took Marlene by the hand and led her to the middle of the room. This was where we had danced more times than I could count. I had always been quite a bit taller than her, but never did I feel so large than when I held her fragile older body.

  The song played, and we gazed into each other's eyes. I fought back the tears that threatened to spoil the moment.

  “I know I'm an old lady, but something about this song makes me want to feel close to you.”

  “I would be honored to dance with you any time you want.”

  Then slowly our hands interlocked, and I held her close to me. This was the first time our bodies had been pressed up against each other in nearly five years. I held Marlene tight in my arms. I had no idea if any of this would jog her memory. In the moment, I didn't care. I was holding my wife for the first time since I could remember. It felt wonderful having her right next to me. The scent of her hair reminded me of all the scents that used to be my wife. Now, each scent was a nostalgic roller coaster ride full of emotions.

  I reset the song four times while we danced. I had no idea this was what my heart had been yearning for quite some time. But here, my wife in my arms and I was holding so tenderly and loving. She looked up at me towards the end of the last song and she must have seen the love in my eyes.

  “I want to tell you something, Todd. But I'm embarrassed.”

  “What is it,” I asked.

  “Every bit of me wants to say three words to you.”

  “What are those words?” I asked.

  She paused and then said, “I love you.”

  My immediate reaction was to respond. “I love you too, Marlene. I have loved you for a very long time.”

  “I know you have.” She then put her head on my shoulder until the song played out.

  It was the greatest night of my life.

  I eventually put her to bed and went downstairs to my basement, praying she would remember more of me the next day.

  Unfortunately, and painfully, I was wrong. Marlene died in her sleep that night from complications from dementia and Alzheimer's.

  She had given me one last gift that night. To be close to her. She probably had no idea what it meant to me. But she gave me that gift nonetheless.

  I opened my eyes and looked around the kitchen and then to the monitors. Marlene had died five years ago, and it felt like yesterday. But the gift she gave me on her last night was more than I could have ever asked for.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It gets dark around six these days and most of these guys sleep an hour or so into the night. Just like when we were human, we didn't wake up at the first sign of light. Vampires were just as lazy. You would think the stress level would be at an all-time high in the house because we are being hunted by Mani bounty hunters. It would take a lot of balls for someone to attack our ranch. This group had proven numbers don't mean much. Everyone in that living room was a killing machine if needed.

  I looked at the monitor furthest to the left a
nd I saw a familiar truck come moseying down the road to our house. I recognized the truck. It was this guy named Robert. He practiced witchery and didn't like the term warlock. On this evening, as the truck drew nearer to the property, I realize a lady with light sandy hair was behind the wheel.

  Okay, that wasn't right. I better wake up Josiah. He normally dealt with Robert each time he came.

  So, I went to the living room to speak to him. “Josiah?” I whispered over his head, trying not to wake the others.

  “What's going on?” Josiah said, waking up.

  “The supply truck that comes every Tuesday has a new driver.”

  “Where's Robert?” Josiah asked.

  “I don't know. It's a woman.”

  “A woman?” Josiah sat up. “I guess I'll go talk to her. Is it dark outside?”

  “Yeah, sun has been down for the last thirty minutes.”

  Josiah was wearing gray sweatpants and a Los Angeles Rams t-shirt from back in the day. He slipped his shoes on, as did I and we both went out to meet the new delivery driver.

  We stepped out of the house and the lady parked the large work truck in our driveway. She opened the driver's side door and stepped out.

  The lady was in her late thirties, and she was very pretty. She had a reasonably full figure and Josiah seemed to take notice of her. He smiled at her in a way that said he liked her.

  “Hello, my name is Josiah and this is Todd. Who might you be? I mean besides the person who is delivering our supplies?”

  She smiled at Josiah. “My name is Sahara. Robert is sick and he asked me to do him a favor because he really needs the money.”

  “So, he isn't paying you?” I asked.

  “I'm getting half and at this point, I need the money.”

  “I hope Robert isn't sick.” Josiah stated and then he asked, “Are you and Robert a couple?”

  Sahara laughed and said, “We were about twenty years ago, but that didn't work out. We have been best friends ever since.

  “Twenty years ago? You're what, thirty? He is a lot older than you.” Josiah said.

  “He ages and I don't.”

  Josiah nodded. “Mani?” he asked.