Joe Vampire (27 page)

I hate to sound like even more of a jerk, but if I would have known it was this easy to take control of the situation, I would have done it from the beginning. 

As short-lived as it ended up being, it still would have been worth the risk. 

POST 37

Revelations

When trying to convince someone that their actions may have fallen short of your expectations, taking a strong stance on your position in spite of the fact that you might also have been somewhat wrong – even if you aren’t quite aware of your wrongness – can sometimes work to your advantage. Sometimes, it serves to put the person on the other side of the table on the defensive from the get-go. And sometimes it just makes you look like a total ass.

In my case, it did all three. 

For a solid minute after we sat down at a window table in the corner café where I had dreamed our Hollywood kiss would happen, I just looked at her through my Ray Bans. I couldn’t help myself; somehow I’d forgotten how truly lovely she was. I think our last exchange may have stunted my memory, and as a survival technique against the damages of heartbreak it washed our past with a filth-ridden haze – one that didn’t belong over the whole experience. I could see that now as I gazed across the table. She finally broke my unintentionally sinister stalker-stare. “So, you wanted to talk. Go ahead… talk.” 

“Yeah. Um… ” I suddenly remembered what I wanted to tell her, but however I had prepared it in my head sounded sort of silly and not good enough anymore. So I started with something small and simple instead. And totally freaking lame. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You look nice.” 

The compliment didn’t take. “That’s why you pulled me away from the million things I have to do, because you needed to tell me I looked nice? Seriously, Joe. That’s just… not good.”

Then everything else started falling out of my mouth, without any of the kindness I had included in the prepared version. “Yeah, well, it can’t be all good all the time right? Things can be going along sweet and smooth for a great long while, and one day when you least expect it, they get all shitted up… and just when you thought they were about to get even better.” 

This, she understood. “You’re still stuck on what I wrote in that card, aren’t you?” 

Okay. Maybe she didn’t quite understand all of it. “Screw the card, Chloe; it’s not the card. It’s everything. I thought we were headed somewhere beyond playing coy at the copy machine, and I’m pretty sure you thought we were headed there too.” She wouldn’t respond. “I’m not wrong, am I? I wasn’t kidding myself that all the build-up came to a screeching halt right about the time I… ” I was so close to telling her about
This
. Ultimately, I felt it would clutter the issue, so I did the duck-and-cover thing I’ve become so skilled at. “… about the time I got
sick
.” 

“Right. About the time you got sick.” Oh. I see how it is.

 I could practically hear the italics of her sarcasm. 

But I wasn’t giving it to her. If she thought I’d turned into an addict, she was going to have to say it out loud. “What is
that
supposed to mean?”

She backed down. “Look, I honestly don’t know what it is that you’re going through. I’ve heard rumors and whispers around the office, things that otherwise I wouldn’t give a second thought… but then you move down to night shift on a moment’s notice, and you drop out of life entirely as far as I know, since no one ever hears from you at all anymore. And now you show up all this time later, pulling me away from my job with zero warning so you can tell me I look nice and that you’re angry because we never got past flirting with each other. What am I supposed to think? All you’ve done is make the rumors look even more like they might be true.” Of everything she said, what I picked up on the most is that she’d noticed I wasn’t around. 

That was nice to know.

But now she was looking at the hoodie, mostly in the region of my forearms, no doubt wondering what it might be covering up. Sleeves, so long ago a trusted confederate, had gone turncoat and were now the enemy. So, in the relative protection of the blinds in the window we were sitting in front of, I rolled them up past my elbows. “Is this what you want to see?” I showed her my track-free arms, totally grateful now for the phony carrot juice tan. “I’m clean, Chloe. No matter what you’ve heard, it’s not true.” Unless you’ve heard I’m a vampire.

In which case: probably all true.  

“And the Wayfarers are just a fashion statement, right?” She was a little feistier than she’d let on in the whole time I’d semi-known her.

Sweetness.

But I couldn’t bring myself to take off the shades just to prove her wrong. “Yeah… I’m all about the accessories.” That got a little laugh. “Do I look like I’m on drugs to you – honestly? And even more than that, would you rather believe a bunch of gossip you hear bouncing around a roomful of resentful nobodies? Or would you rather have a conversation with me and figure things out for yourself?” She thought for a second, which I allowed without protest since I hadn’t been around the day shift to counter the scuttlebutt. “They don’t always have their facts straight,” I reminded her. “Most of the time, they don’t even have facts.”

“But do you see how I might have had no choice other than to believe them? You disappeared… we had one unhappy conversation and you took off.” She sounded genuinely sad about it. “I missed you.” 

Hearing that sent a warm feeling through me that almost thawed my vampirious permafrost. “I know. I didn’t handle things in the right way, and I apologize for that. I just got a little freaked out after you and Malibu Ken kicked it up a notch. I wasn’t expecting it.” 

She didn’t seem to want to talk about that, and I wouldn’t look into her head for fear of what I might find there. She changed the subject. “So… you were really sick?” 

Here was my opportunity to lay the whole vampire deal on the table. But I could hardly bring myself to tell her how I felt about us; there was no way I was going to blow her mind with something like
This
. “I really was, and I still am. Some weird chronic thing that I’m just now getting under control.” 

Maybe she thought it was Lyme disease or some other headline story condition. She looked at me, trying to undo the image of me as a junkie that she’d probably built up over the last few months. “You look good. I like the hair.” 

“Thanks. Breaking out of my comfort zone a little.” Our conver-sation was smoothing out, which meant it was time to push the issue. “So how are things with you and… ” don’t call him the Tool. “… Micah? The move-in and the engagement are working out?” I didn’t really want to know, if the answer was going to be
yes
. But finding out was the whole point of this little exercise. 

She didn’t even try to pretend to be happy, but at least she answered. “It hasn’t gone quite like I thought it would.” She paused too long after that, and I could tell how much of an understatement it was. “But I’m making the mo –”

“Don’t say it,” I told her, more abruptly than I had meant to. “Don’t tell me you’re making the most of it. I’ve heard that bullshit from too many people lately, about all kinds of things that shouldn’t be
made the most of
.  You should have what’s
really
best for you, not make do with whatever lesser crap you’ve gotten stuck with.”

Who was I telling this to – her, or me?

Both, probably. 

She sparked up a little again. “And you think you know what that is – what’s really best for me?”

Here it was, my
Say Anything
moment, minus the trench coat and the boom box. I hoped I wouldn’t blow it. “I don’t know anything about what you and the Golden Boy have going… doesn’t sound like much, by your lack of enthusiasm. But I do know that if all you’re going to do is make the most of what little you do have, then it’s always going be just something you’ve settled for instead of something you really want. I know that you don’t get a whole shitload of second chances before you finally find yourself stuck in a situation you can’t get out of, wondering if you’d be a hell of a lot happier if you’d just risked a little more than what you were used to risking – and wondering what it was that kept you from risking it in the first place. And I know that no matter what you get in life you’re always going to have to pay a price for it, so you’d better make damn sure whatever you end up with is worth the cost.” And while I’m unloading… “And I know we don’t know each other as well as we could have if I hadn’t wasted all this time hiding away from the world, but for me to have a chance to know you better and to see where we could end up would be so totally worth breaking the bank for. If that’s not how Micah feels about you, then I think you’re making a mistake. You’re definitely not getting your money’s worth… and he’s ending up with a fortune.” Whoa. I did
not
expect to be that eloquent. 

I guess I can pitch the word cloud now. 

I stunned her into silence. Whether it was good or bad, I couldn’t tell at first. Then she did a little unloading of her own.

It was definitely not a good silence.

“You little jerk… how dare you come back and lay all this on me now? You couldn’t say anything that day – not that you were happy for me, not that you hated the whole idea. I told you I wanted to change my mind for you and you
walked away
.”

I had no idea it had affected her that much. “I said I was wrong for that; I should have stuck around and told you exactly how I felt instead of just leaving.” 

She kept the fire under me. “You’re damn right you should have. And now you’ve got this whole script that you recite to me like I’m supposed to change everything in my life because you think I deserve more? Who the hell are you to tell me what I deserve?” 

This wasn’t going anything like I thought it would. 

I had a feeling it was too late to move my bearded lady. 

“You’re kidding me. I just poured out my heart and my soul right in front of you because I want us to be something, Chloe – I want us to be
everything
– and you don’t like the way I said it?”

She looked so much sadder than I had imagined she would by this point in our conversation. “How do you know what you want with me? You hardly even
know
me.”

“I know enough. This isn’t something I’m just saying to you on a whim. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. So have you. And I’m pretty sure you feel the same way, or you never would have left your desk.” 

After that brilliant display, I felt foolishly confident that I had convinced her that we deserved a chance, and I was ready now to take that chance. Though it had taken much longer than intended, the ball was now completely in her court. And then she stood up, and said, “I should get back, then. Good luck, Joe; I hope things work out for you.” And she left the café. I just sat there like an idiot, wondering how I had misjudged the situation in such a major way. How could I have been so wrong about what I thought was going to be a slam dunk? 

I didn’t even make the backboard.  

More than that, I had finally come up against something that made being a vampire look insignificant. Not the way I had intended to gain perspective – and not the perspective I wanted to gain at all – but again, someone else had their own corner to look around. Clearly, she didn’t see what I saw on the other side. Our back-and-forth was effectively over at that moment. And to think, the unexpected ending came in the exact location where I had daydreamed our magnificent beginning would take place. 

As much as I hate to admit it, I think it’s time to let go of the dream.

POST 38

Reboot

In trying to put Chloe behind me, I’ve been wondering if I haven’t deluded myself about the vampire stuff being at the root of my troubles. There was obviously something preventing me from moving forward from Girl No. 2 well before I ended up on my group date with Don, the Maker of Young White Ghouls. It’s hard to blame my being struck with what is essentially an otherworldly illness for making me afraid to follow through on our workplace wordplay tease, or I would have tried something a long time ago, wouldn’t I? If anything, my sudden soulless state gave me some sort of previously unfound fortitude to step forward and make the attempt at all. I may have gotten my balls cut off in the process, but at least I had balls enough to put up on the chopping block in the first place. I haven’t been known to do so very often in my life. Hube called it right all the way through on that one. 

So, a toast to vampiration, for the cajones you have given me. 

Muchas gracias, mi amigo.  

When I told Louise how everything had gone, she gave me one of her Shirley Temple
at least you tried your best
speeches. It was not what I wanted to hear, and it went on for far longer than her other up-pepping monologues. But as she rambled, I recognized that there was something good that had risen out of the whole situation: Louise and I were forced to dissect the dashing of my romantic hopes because we had begun to run out of vampire things to talk about.

Hot damn. 

You’ll notice the lack of bullet points in this post, because I have nothing vampirish to discuss with you, either. All of my symptoms have finally leveled off, and for the past several weeks I’ve been able to sustain, and maintain, and at least three other words that end in
–tain
, but I can’t remember what they are. In any case, I’ve finally gotten the upper hand on my condition. Everything is in check. I keep my coconut water and carrot juice handy, discreetly dine on raw animals, and keep all the light-sensitive bits of my anatomy covered at all times when in direct sun. That makes me sound more like some sort of backward hippie health nut than a vampire, and my shaggy ‘do doesn’t do much to make a distinction. Of the two, I’d probably rather be pegged as a vampire. Be that as it may, the blood lust is under complete control… and in all seriousness, it may be clear to me and a few select others that I’m a freak of nature, but at least I can make it blurry to the rest of the world. Still hoping to man up and learn how to stick my fingers in my eyes so I can colored-contact-lens my way to normal looking irises. Other than that, it’s all copacetic. Even Lazer’s continued
I know what you are…
e-mails don’t bother me anymore. He can send them all he wants; I just filter that shit to the trash. And now that I have things under control, it’s probably time to let others know about my situation.