Lust for Life (29 page)

I look at my own food, and my own hands, unfolded. Who do I thank for what happened?
Is there some god or goddess out there who wants to return vampires to a human state,
but only under certain circumstances? Will we ever understand it?

I think back to that time in the beyond. There was a presence, but it didn’t feel
singular, like an old dude with a white beard, or a beautiful woman with open arms
and ample bosom, or whatever the goddess-worshippers believe in.

It felt like . . . everything and everyone. It felt like the universe.

Shane whispers, “Amen,” and I echo him, slightly louder. What the hell. It makes him
smile.

He takes a bite, and the noise he makes is worth all the aging and debilitation that
lie before us. A vampire’s debilitation is equally inevitable, anyway. It’s just slower
and affects our minds instead of our bodies.

From now on, Shane and I can eat. We can sustain ourselves on something that can be
obtained with mere money and time. No more enslaving ourselves to donors. No more
taking human vitality to survive.

We are free.

And this omelet is literally to die for.

29

I Feel Free

I still can’t believe Mom’s here. Seeing her on the outside, wearing something other
than prison garb, is almost weirder than seeing Shane in the sunlight.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I tell her as we share a pizza in the lounge that
afternoon. “But I’m sorry I never told you what had happened to me.”

“David explained it all, how you had chicken pox and would’ve died if you hadn’t turned.
You couldn’t exactly tell me on the phone or in a letter—the prison monitors all our
communication. Creeps.”

“I know. But I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

She reaches out and takes my right hand. “When that man cut you . . . it was like
he was cutting my own heart out.” She runs her thumb over mine. “Even though we’re
not related by blood, you’re still a part of me, Ciara.”

“I know.” I don’t bring up the fact that we’re not related by marriage, either, since
my dad is still married to my birth mom, Luann O’Riley. To me, Marjorie will always
be Mom. She did raise me, after all, even though she raised me to be a con artist.

“I wish you’d told me you were getting out of prison in November instead of December.
You know I hate surprises.”

“Since when?”

“Since ever. Remember that clown you hired for my sixth birthday party? I cried for
hours.”

She laughs. “Oh, my, I wish I’d had a camera to capture the look on his face when
you kicked him in the kneecap.”

“He went down pretty fast, didn’t he?”

“And stayed down, once that other little girl started beating him with the piñata
bat. What was her name?”

“Beth-Ann Moseley. She was my best friend that week.”

“Too bad we had to leave that town a little sooner than planned, since the clown was
on the town council.” She angles her head. “I’m sorry about the surprise. But I’m
here now.”

“I can’t even take you shopping or out to dinner, since I have to play dead.” I pull
out my phone and check my calendar. “I have a wedding gown fitting tomorrow. I’ll
have to have Lori reschedule. Or maybe I should just not show up. What would a dead
person do?”

“Maybe if you wore another disguise . . .”

I give her a guilty look. They came back from the hospital before Shane and I arrived
from our brunch. David was predictably pissed.

“No, Kashmir’s people will be looking for me at the bridal boutique. We just have
to hide for a couple more days, I hope. We can plan wedding stuff after my funeral
is over.” I doubt anyone’s ever uttered
that
sentence aloud. “You ready to play mournful mommy?”

She waves her hand, like I’ve asked her to pick up a quart of milk at the store. “You
know I’m a good actor. The more emotional the role, the better. I even bought a funeral
dress on our way home from the hospital.”

“That was efficient.”

“I needed all new clothes and toiletries, anyway, to replace the belongings that man
stole from me. Luckily it was just one suitcase.” She reaches behind her to the coffee
table, careful to keep her bandaged ankle elevated on the adjoining chair. She pulls
a black dress from a department-store shopping bag. “I held off on the hat and veil.
I figured that was just for widows.”

“It’s nice.” I add
the dress my mom just bought for my funeral
to the long list of today’s surreal images.

“I also got a couple scarves. I’ve been missing them so. Obviously we can’t have them
in prison, not that many people hang themselves in minimum-security facilities.” She
pulls out a green-and-blue silk scarf.

I scan the long piece of cloth, relieved not to see a security sensor hanging off
it. She never needed to steal things, but sometimes she liked the thrill. Maybe she’s
rehabilitated, just like Jim.

“It’s not too garish, is it?” She shakes it to make the colors undulate. “I don’t
want to look like a Gypsy.”

“You mean real Gypsies or Dad’s Gypsies?”

“Real ones. Though your dad’s kinfolk dress crazy, too.” She folds the scarf and lays
it back in the bag. “But they don’t like to be called Gypsies.”

“I know.” In April, I met four of my Irish-American Traveller cousins, three of whom
were vampires. They carried boulder-size chips on their shoulders about the way they
were viewed by “country folk,” which is anyone
who’s not a Traveller. I’m a full-blooded Traveller myself, but I’m still country
folk to them because my dad stole me from my neglectful teen “bio mom” and ran off
with this woman sitting across from me.

Though Dad had escaped a family of enterprising criminals, and though Marjorie was
presumably squeaky clean, they soon embarked on a decade-plus tour of deceit as fake
faith healers (and, apparently, insurance brokers), gathering more money than our
Traveller cousins ever would with their petty short cons.

Lori enters the lounge and passes us with a quick wave on her way to the bathroom.
Thankfully it’s on the other side of two doors, and I have human ears again, so I
can’t hear her barfing while I’m trying to eat.

“I should get Lori a congrats-you’re-pregnant gift.”

“Ooh, you can use this.” Mom hands me a coupon from the department-store bag. “There’s
a sale on sweaters.”

“She likes the clothes I buy her. But I don’t know what size to get now. How fast
do pregnant women swell up?”

Mom laughs. “ ‘Swell up’ sounds like she has an inflammation. Freudian slip?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re upset that she’s having a baby and you’re not.”

“Yes. But not because I want one.”

“Because you’re afraid you’ll lose her.”

I gape at her. She actually understands.

“Don’t look so surprised. I was young once.” Mom pulls out another scarf, one with
broad red and violet zigzags, a bolder look than I knew her to have. “My close girlfriends
all got married right out of high school, and
all had babies by the time we were twenty-one. They talked about nothing else all
day long. I was the ‘weird’ one who didn’t think potty training counted as high adventure.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Dad sure gave you adventures.”

Stroking the vivid silk scarf, Mom smiles to herself. “Yes, he did.”

“If you could do it all over again, would you change anything? Would you run screaming
when he said hello, or maybe push him off your grandmother’s roof he was supposedly
fixing?”

She looks at me like
I
should be pushed off a roof. “Not a thing. It was worth the jail time, the uncertainty,
hardly ever seeing my family except at funerals and weddings, and not being able to
bring my husband and child home for those.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

“Before you pity me for giving up my family, remember that your dad did it, too, but
for him it was forever. He was exiled.”

Shane and Jeremy enter from upstairs on their way to the studio, discussing the latter
taking over Shane’s show while we pretend he’s dead. They each grab another piece
of pizza, though they’ve already eaten an entire one of their own.

Shane kisses the top of my head. “Ready to go soon? Lori needs to drive us to their
place while it’s still light. David’ll bring Dexter after dark.”

“Can’t wait.” Seriously, I can’t wait to get him alone and see what his human body
is like. Then I realize we have a speed bump. “Mom, we need to find you a safe
place to stay. You can’t come to David’s house until Dexter gets used to you. He doesn’t
generally like humans. Dexter, that is, not David.”

“Oh, I’m staying with Franklin. He said his house is too big for one person and he
needed someone who can cook something other than breakfast.”

“Did you learn how to do that on the inside? Because last I remember, your cooking
began and ended with Hamburger Helper.”

“I’ll have you know, I am now skilled in all forms of boxed Helper.”

Shane laughs. “That sounds amazing right now. By the way, can I get you anything,
Mrs. O’Riley? Drink? Food?”

Mom beams at him. “I’m fine, thank you, and please, call me Marjorie. Or just Mom,
since that’s what I’ll be in a month and two days.”

Shane’s eyes fill with wonder. “Wow. That is . . . wow.” He takes another bite of
pizza as he follows Jeremy to the studio.

Mom watches him go. “How old did you say he was now?”

“Forty-two. In four years we’ll pass the half-his-age-plus-eight cradle-robbing standard.”

“Hm.” Mom gives a heavy but ladylike sigh. “If he makes you happy, I suppose that’s
what counts.”

“That is exactly the right thing to say, especially after telling me what a great
choice it was to run off with Dad.”

She purses her lips like she’s trying not to smile. “I wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite.”

“Mom, you guys were living out of wedlock while
preaching family values to the masses. You were professional hypocrites.”

“I do regret that I never made your father divorce Luann. But most of all, I regret
lying to you about being your real mother.”

“You
are
my real mother.” I pick the onions off my pizza, deciding I don’t like them anymore.
“Did you ever regret not having a baby of your own?”

“Oh, sweet pea.” With her paper napkin, Mom dabs the corners of her mouth, then her
eyes. “You were always my own.”

30

Like a Prayer

It feels weird to go to bed at night.

Shane and I (and Dexter) have slept here at Lori and David’s house before, in this
downstairs guest room with thick blackout curtains on the window. The only thing that’s
changed is that now those curtains are hiding what’s
inside
instead of what’s outside.

As I finish changing into a pair of Lori’s pajamas, she knocks on our bedroom door
and enters. Shane’s in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and probably taking a good
long look in the mirror, though he’d never admit it.

“I have something you might need.” She hands me a half-full box of condoms.

“Thanks.” I examine the contents of the variety pack. “Funny, all the double-pleasure
ones are gone.”

“Yeah, those were . . . hmm.” She sits on the edge of the bed. “So you think you’ll
use these after you’re married?”

“I’ll go back on the Pill until we go for something more permanent.”

“Oh.” She gives a wistful sigh.

“We’re not having kids.” At the sight of her disappointment, I add, “We don’t even
know if we can.”

“Won’t the Control give you fertility tests? I would think they’d be curious.”

“I guess.” I riffle through the box. “Between extended pleasure and glow-in-the-dark,
which do you recommend for first-time human sex?” I look at the ceiling. “Oh, no,
you’ll be able to hear us through the vents.”

“We sleep on the other side of the house, so you should have privacy.”

“Okay, we’ll try not to break too much furniture.”

She lets out a pealing laugh. “I’m so happy you’re back. I mean, I loved you as a
vampire, but now we can do all the things we used to do.”

“Like hug each other without me wanting to bite you.”

“Yikes.” She examines my face. “Are you happy to be human again?”

“There were some really cool things about being a vampire”—I pinch my forearm—“but
this feels right to me.”

“Because you were undead for such a short time?”

“Because something inside me always rejected the magic. I was fading fast, wasn’t
I?”

Her eyes turn sad. “Yeah. Maybe that was part of why I had trouble accepting it. There
was something not quite right about you.”

“Well, that’s always a given.”

“It was still wrong of me to freak out over you changing. I promise it’ll never happen
again.”

I look away to hide the doubt in my eyes.

“Ciara.” She puts her hand on mine. “I know you’re afraid we’ll grow apart after the
baby comes, especially if
you choose not to have your own. But David and I talked about it, and he said he’ll
make sure I get at least one girls’ night out every week with you. Just the two of
us, grown-up stuff.”

I smile at the ceiling, where I hear David’s footsteps going down the hall. “You know
he’s amazing, right?”

Lori gives a coy, one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, he’s all right.”

“Your kid is going to be ridiculously cute and smart. I’ll try to not be a bad influence.”
I swallow and force out the words. “As a godmother, I mean.”

Lori gasps. “You’ll do it?”

“If Shane agrees, too. And only if I never have to go to church except that one time.”

“Of course!” She throws her arms around me. “I can’t stop hugging you. You’re so soft
and warm now.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘flabby,’ but thanks.”

Out in the hall, the bathroom door opens. I let go of Lori. “Hey, you know what my
only regret is about being human again?”

“What?”

“That I never got to bite you.” I snap my teeth. Her cackle fades as she retreats
with a good-night wave.