TWENTY-ONE

My room turned out to be a lot more modern than the lobby. The king-sized bed had six enormous pillows on it and I threw myself on them as soon as I shut the door. Rolling on my side, I spotted the cordless telephone on the nightstand. Kalia. Kalia would know what to do. She would help me deal with everything that was going on. She would know how to calm me, how to keep me grounded.

I reached for the receiver and starting dialing the area code for Astoria. I slammed it back down. What was I thinking? Kalia wanted nothing to do with me. She didn’t care how much that hurt. She didn’t care how much it hurt to lose my husband and my kid all in the same week. She didn’t even know. I picked up a pillow and whipped it across the room. A lamp crashed to floor, the bulb popping before it shattered in bits all over the polished wood.

I lay back and rested my head on my arms. How had this all happened? One minute I had no one in my life, and I was happy about that. Well, maybe not happy but I was used it. I was content that way. Then suddenly a neighbor asks me out on date and I freak. I freak so badly I leave the only place I’d called home for more than a mere few months. A woman walks up to me on the beach and bam, I’m surrounded by friends and love and all those warm fuzzy things just to have the rug yanked out from under me. Tears streaked down my cheeks and I rubbed at them with my white sleeve, angry at their constant intrusion lately.

Pushing myself off the edge of the bed, I ran into the bathroom. The shelf above the toilet contained two rows, three high, of white towels. I grabbed two of these, and trying to avoid my image in the mirror, left the room and went back to the bed. I pulled the top pillow out and wrapped it in a towel, giving myself permission to cry without ruining the hotel linen.

Why would Christian leave? He told me he loved me, that he wanted to spend eternity with me, long before I gave in to him. I was the one who fought it all along, the one who decided that it was wrong to fall in love with a human. My mind wandered back to that first kiss, the passion and the fire in our bodies when our lips met on that beach on a night that seems like so long ago. I threw myself on top of him, giving in to the desire I had been fighting since the day I laid eyes on him. I felt his soul in that kiss, a soul I didn’t dare possess though I wanted more than anything to do so.

It wasn’t him who walked away then. It was me, with my conscience and my morals. I wanted to protect him from the monster I became the night Ian took my life and replaced it with what became my hell. It was Christian who insisted, who insisted on talking to me, on getting to know me better, on seeing me again and ignoring the signs that should have kept him far away from me.

And I did leave him. I was the one who ran the afternoon he noticed my heart didn’t beat. My mind wandered back to that afternoon and the pleasure and the pain we shared. We lay on his bed supposedly watching a movie when we let our passion get the best of us. Our lips met and the fire ignited, a fire that burned hotter than any fire I had ever had the pleasure of warming myself to. My desire became something different than his and my fangs made their appearance, threatening to control my mind and my body. I hurt him physically that day when I banged his head off the headboard trying to stop him from taking control of my body. Worst of all, I hurt him emotionally when he laid his head on my chest and realized it was silent. Without explanation, I ran from him, swearing to myself that it would be forever.

The stickiness of my blood tears woke me out of the memories only long enough to change the towel on the pillow. I wanted to grieve and cry and scream until I didn’t feel anything at all anymore. I wouldn’t have been able to do that at the apartment. The children would have been terrified. Aloysius and Fiore would have done anything in their power to lessen my pain, to cheer me up, and I didn’t want that. I welcomed the pain and let it engulf me, feeling its comfort and emptiness and hurt.

The tears became a constant stream as I pictured his face, the blue eyes that looked at me as if I were the only thing that existed in his world. The look of total love and desire, of total commitment and devotion the night he asked me to marry him and I threw myself on top of him, knocking him over on the sand and showering him with kisses when I accepted.

The pain engulfing me the night he died in the cabin, the night the last drop of his blood was taken by Ian, took control of me again as my sobs became louder and less concealed. I didn’t even try to stop the pained sounds escaping my mouth. What was the point? No one heard me. No one cared.

I sat up and looked around the room again, trying to focus through red-stained eyes. The emptiness and quiet of the room felt so familiar, so welcoming. Could I do it again? Could I continue on alone, always alone, as I had lived for almost ninety years? I didn’t want to, but what choice did I have?

Christian, can you hear me at all? If you can, please think about this. Please really think about what you’re doing to yourself, to me, to us. I looked at the door as if Christian would walk through it any moment and tell me it was all some sick joke. His way of getting back at me for all the trouble I’d put him through. I don’t understand what is happening to you. Why did you change your mind about us? Why did you stop loving me? How did you even know you could sever the connection between us?

That last part gave me a little sliver of hope. Someone had to have told him it was possible. He couldn’t have known on his own that he could renounce his maker and cut all ties. Which meant someone was with him. Someone taught him how to do this. With frustration and exhaustion, I threw myself back onto the pillow, closing my eyes to shut the world out.

The sun set, shading the room in greys which turned to black and eventually turned to yellows and oranges as it rose again. The hours ticked without my knowledge until the sun set again and the pattern was repeated. I’m not really sure how long I lay there, three, maybe four days. The pain never stopped, never lessened. The burning in my throat increased, taking my breath away, and still I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure how long I could go without feeding, but I was about to find out. Luckily, the hotel staff heeded the do not disturb sign hanging on the door; otherwise I may have done something rash to quench my growing thirst.

I rolled over into the fetal position, wrapping my arms around myself as if I could make all the pain disappear, as if I could protect myself. And I could, I’d done it before, after Ian left me and I was forced to fend for myself, to learn about my new existence as a vampire, one I really knew nothing about. The problem now was that I didn’t want to. I had love, true love, and I wanted it back. I wanted all of it, all of them. I wanted Christian, Aaron, Kalia, and Jose Luis. I wanted the laughs, the warmth, the talks, everything that came with the territory, even the arguments. None of them wanted me, though. And that hurt more than my human death, more than losing Ian ever had.

Sitting on the edge of the bed and wiping my face with the tissues I found in the night stand drawer, I looked around the room again. The balcony doors stood across from this side of the bed, the lights of the city distinguishable through the venetian blinds. I walked over to the chain and pulled them open. The sight took my breath away. Two lounge chairs sat on either side of a round glass table, at the end of that, just below the wall, was a round metal fire pit. This balcony was meant to be enjoyed. That wasn’t going to happen. But what took my breath away was how high I was. It had to be at least twenty stories, maybe more. I hadn’t paid attention to the elevator dial as it climbed.

I sank onto one of the lounge chairs as I lost my balance. What made me, afraid of heights, decide to rent the penthouse? Rolling off the side of the chair, I crawled back inside on my hands and knees like a total coward. An indestructible vampire afraid of heights, who ever heard of such a thing? I’ve chopped heads off, drained killers and rapists, fought my way out of all sorts of things, and I couldn’t handle heights? That would have to change.

With my legs shaking and my breathing coming at a ridiculous speed, I made my way closer to the wall. Every step took coaxing from my mind, my brain trying to remember exactly how to pick up my foot and make it move, then pick up the other and do the same. It seemed like an eternity but I finally made it there, grasping the cement wall with white knuckles. Pushing off my legs, I managed to hoist myself up on the wall to a squatting position. My body shook and I almost fell back off a few times but regained my balance. Once I steadied my legs, I slowly rose to a standing position, my knees locked to keep me still.

Christian, I just want to tell you one last time that I love you more than anything or anyone in this world. I wanted to spend eternity with you. I wanted to be yours, mind, body, and soul until the end of time. You didn’t want that, though I thought you did. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the things I said when I was angry and confused. I’m sorry for all the things that happened to you because of me. I’m sorry I brought you into my miserable world. Even in death I will never be able to tell you just how much I truly love you and how sorry I really am.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Pushing off my legs I brought my arms to my sides and kept them there, as tightly as I could manage. The wind whistled in my ears and blew my hair as I plummeted toward the ground. I’m sorry.