Uncle Vampire (7 page)

Maybe I would ask Honey to do it. She was bustling around, being useful. Uncle Toddy, is there anything I can do? Could I pour you a glass of blood?

Grammy says forgiveness is the soul of a true Christian. But how can I forgive the unforgivable?

Sensing tension in our happy home (what a mind she has, she's so perceptive!), Honey skipped to the piano and played “Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring.” She played exquisitely. Everyone stopped bickering and listened.

“That was wonderful, Honey,” Papa said when she was finished. “Rich, help me get the extra chairs.” Uplifted by the music, he added, “please.” Honey beamed with relief.

Richie drove over to pick up Gram and Grampa. In the old days, Gram would've been here early, cooking up a storm.

Sometimes I feel angry at her. I want to grab her and shout: “Don't get old! Don't die!” We used to have such good times together. We picked armloads of daisies in the field behind her house. That field is full of apartments now. Gram played dolls with me for hours. We sang songs about Jesus, and she told me funny stories about Mama's mischief when she was a little girl. I'd lie on the couch beside Grammy and giggle.

That's all over now. Richie guided Grammy and Gramps into the house. They came in slowly and sat by the fire.

“Carolyn, you look splendid!” Grammy said. “Honey, I love that dress. Richie, dear, would you hand me my purse? Thank you, dear. I need some tissue. Wouldn't it be wonderful if Margaret could be with us?”

“She called this morning,” Mama said, and related the conversation.

Our relatives arrived. Papa and Aunt Marion gave each other smacking kisses. Papa's voice gets loud when he greets his sister and her husband, Uncle Wayne, and their teenage sons, Mark and Damon.

We all swam around like fish in a tank. There was lots of talking and snacking and noise. A football game blared on the TV. I circulated with appetizers and brought Gram and Gramps cups of decaffeinated coffee, which is also the only kind that Mama drinks. She claims caffeine ruins her sleep.

Papa, Uncle Wayne, and Uncle Toddy watched the football game. Once in a while they jumped up, shouting: “Yes!” Richie smoked cigarettes on the porch with Damon. Mark, who's thirteen, rode Richie's old skateboard up and down the driveway.

I hung out with Richie and Damon for a while. When you talk to Damon, he won't look you in the eye. He glances at his feet or off to the side. Richie does that too. He didn't used to.

There was a nip in the air, so I went back inside. Mama and Aunt Marion were at the dining room table, talking about how expensive everything is these days, and how crummy things are made; they fall apart as soon as you make the last payment.

“Good thing for you!” Uncle Wayne boomed in his wife's ear. “If it weren't for that, I'd be out of business!” Uncle Wayne owns a car dealership.

“You might be out of business anyway, if the economy doesn't pick up,” Papa said.

“You're telling me.” Uncle Wayne nodded grimly.

“How's business, Bill?” Aunt Marion asked abruptly.

“Just fine,” Papa said. “I can't complain.”

Papa thinks Aunt Marion is too critical, that she never has a good word to say. The same could be said for him. He's always on Richie. Would I like my father if I didn't love him? He was drinking beer and getting louder. His belly strained the waistband of his pants. When people disagree with him or interrupt his monologues on the Trouble with Foreigners, or the Economy's a Disgrace, he turns up the volume and drowns them out.

“He's a dog!” he shouted at Uncle Wayne, referring to the coach of a football team. “They're paying him a million and a half to lose! I wish I had a deal like that!”

“Yeah, you're losing for nothing,” said Aunt Marion. Papa laughed hard at her joke.

You can tell when Aunt Marion's going to say something sharp because her mouth puckers up, as if she's blowing a dart.

She said, “Richie seems a little withdrawn.”

The barb was so pointed Mama barely felt it. Then the poison entered her bloodstream. Aunt Marion was saying that Richie is rude.

(“
He's not rude
!” I wanted to scream. “
He just can't stand you
!”)

Mama glanced toward the porch. Richie slumped on the railing. His long blond hair needed washing.

“He's shy,” Mama explained.

“How's he doing in school?”

“Oh, fine,” Mama said. “He's going to graduate in June. Can you believe it? The time goes so quickly.”

“What's he going to do?”

“Go to college,” Mama said automatically. I wonder if she ever wonders if that's true. “More coffee, Marion?”

“I'll get it, Mama.” Honey leaped up, anxious to serve.

“That's okay, Honey. I was going out there anyway. I've got to check on the turkey.”

If we followed Mama out to the kitchen we'd see her refill Aunt Marion's pretty cup and her own with coffee and a splash of cream.

Then we'd see her set down the cups and go into her bathroom and open the medicine cabinet. She takes out an orange vial of pills and shakes one, no, two tablets into her palm, then gulps them down with a handful of water. Now she dries her lips and touches up her lipstick, smiles at herself in the mirror, stops smiling, applies more lipstick, smiles again, comes back into the kitchen, picks up the cups, and reappears.

“Here you go, Marion. I hope I gave you enough cream.”

Why is Mama so afraid? Beneath her perpetual thirst for sleep is a terrible fear of waking.

The good thing about having so many people around is that they tend to dilute the brew. I didn't have to talk to Uncle Toddy; he watched football and charmed Gram and Gramps. They love him. Honey took off Gram's shoes and rubbed her feet, and told her what was new at school. Gram loves to have her feet rubbed. I don't do that anymore. The nails on her toes look like yellow shells.

Then we helped Uncle Toddy get dinner ready. We mashed potatoes and filled gravy boats. Uncle Toddy sliced open the turkey's breast. Honey clamored for the crispy golden skin.

I wrote the grace, but Honey said it. I wasn't in the mood to give thanks. I know I should; millions of people in the world are much worse off than I am. They're starving or buried alive in prison, cancer victims, and abused children, forgotten by God—Why doesn't He help them? I have plenty to eat and drink and wear, a warm place to sleep, and my family around me. So it could be worse, and I'm grateful it's not, but it probably will be. Amen.

The grace Honey gave was more traditional: “We thank thee, Lord, for bringing us together, and keeping this family safe from harm,” etc. When she was finished, Grampa patted her hand and said, “Wonderful, Honey.” He's a man of few words, but he means them. Grammy's eyes shone with love and pride. “That was just right, Honey,” she said. “Thank you, dear.”

Then we ate. Richie and the boys sat at a card table, watching the football game. Or perhaps it was a different game. Someone got hurt and was carried off the field while the crowd stood and cheered and the announcers agreed that they hoped he wouldn't be paralyzed forever.

After dinner we had Aunt Marion's homemade pies, which she presented with a flourish, like a magician. “We'll have these,” she announced. “You can put the others back in the freezer.”

A generous offer. But let's look closer: Put them
back in the freezer
—whence they came. Mama's pies weren't fresh and homemade; they were store-bought and frozen.

We'd thrown away the boxes. How did Aunt Marion know?

Gram and Gramps got tired and had to leave early. Grammy hugged me and said, “Pretty soon you'll be able to drive me.” Grampa gave me a whiskery kiss. Richie helped them into their coats and took them home.

Honey played the piano. I made another pot of coffee. The men and boys played dominoes. Aunt Marion talked and Mama listened. At last it was time for our guests to go.

After they left we cleaned up the kitchen. Honey and Uncle Toddy did the dishes. She went
on
and
on
about what a terrific day it had been. I had to wonder: Where was I?

Richie helped Papa put away the chairs, then asked to use the car, but Papa said no. Our guests were gone and the show was over. My brother slammed the door on his way out.

I took some coffee to Mama, who was reading in bed.

“Aren't you sweet,” she said, “but I'm falling asleep. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes. Did you?

“Oh, yes,” Mama said. “It was a lovely day.” Her eyelids drooped, her book fell shut. “Now I'm so tired.”

I'd given her coffee with caffeine all day. Which proves the power of the mind: Whatever you believe is true, is true, if you believe it.

9

Just when I think it won't happen again, when I think it was something I imagined, the ceiling above my head cracks open and my uncle descends like night.

My body can sense when it's going to happen. An electric current hums through the house.

I try to escape, spending the night with a friend. Sometimes the danger passes. But usually the house is still throbbing with his charge. It could explode any second. He could hurt somebody.

He comes not for Honey, but for me.

He frightened her so badly she couldn't breathe. She's weak. I protect my sister. When he comes I turn away from my eyes and walk down a long, dark hallway in my head, to the quiet place, where it's peaceful and safe.

I remain there until he's gone.

At dinner that night I read the signals with my skin. His eyeteeth lengthen imperceptibly.

“More linguine, Carolyn?”

“No, thanks. I'm stuffed. I was thinking I'd go over to Nancy's tonight, so we can study together, if that's all right.”

“The linguine was delicious,” Honey blurted, sensing waves ahead, trying to keep things smooth.

“I don't want you out tonight,” Mama said. “It's cold.”

“Richie could give me a ride.”

Papa shook his head. “He's not using the car until he pulls himself together. We got a letter today from school.”

“Carolyn, are you sure you don't want something else?”

“Positive, Uncle Toddy.”

“I'll help Richie,” Honey offered. “He's got plenty of time before the end of the semester.”

I cleared away the plates. “I could walk to Nancy's.”

“Not tonight,” Papa said. “You heard your mother.”

“Maybe Nancy could stay over.”

“Not on a school night.”

“I never get to do what I want!”

Honey cringed.

Mama looked shocked. “What's the matter with you, Carolyn?”

“It's my life, not yours!” My voice was shrill.

“I'll handle this, Doris. Go up to your room and stay there, young lady, until you're ready to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“For acting like a spoiled brat!”

“I'm not a brat! Nobody listens to me!”

My father stood up. Uncle Toddy said, “Bill.”

“Get up there and stay there until you're ready to behave!” Papa shouted. Mama's eyes filled with tears.

I ran up the stairs to my bedroom and slammed the door. They hate it when I'm angry. Ladies don't get mad. No matter what they say, Honey never disagrees. I have to stay awake while she wraps herself in dreams.

I ignored her when she came in. She disgusts me.

I put on all the lights and tried to read, but my mind was listening to the noises in the house: creaks and taps and crunching sounds. I turned on the radio and exercised. I thought Honey might complain, but she kept sleeping.

The night dies slowly. The house is still. I mustn't fall asleep. He tries to surprise me.

I am reading the Bible Gram gave me when I made my first communion. My name is stamped in gold on the cover. Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil for—

He is with me. The door opens. My uncle sticks his head into the room.

“I thought you'd fallen asleep with the lights on, Carrie.”

He speaks softly so no one will hear him. Honey sleeps through this as she has so many times. For a moment I see him through her eyes: He's nice. Then his mask slides off. The eyes are bottomless, greedy.

“Get out,” I say. “I'm going to sleep.” I don't want to wake Honey. She wakes up screaming. I hold out my knife. “I'll kill you if you touch us.” It's such a little knife, not fit for a vampire.

“Have you gone nuts? What's the matter with you?” He steps inside my room and shuts the door.

“You're killing us. You're drinking our blood.”

“Are you crazy? I love you.”

“He loves us to death.”

Every muscle in my uncle's face turns down.

“Shut up,” he says. “Are you on drugs? You're losing weight. You look terrible lately.”

“I'm going to tell the police! I'll tell Mama and Papa!”

“Tell them what, that I'm drinking your blood?” He sits at the foot of my bed and regards me as if I'm an exotic bug he wants to inspect before he crushes it.

“Carolyn, do you hear what you're saying? Do you? People will think you're completely insane. And you are, if you believe that. Sweetie, listen to me.”

He talks and talks. He begins to fill the room, the suffocating wings of his cape inflating.

“You were never like this. You've changed so much. It scares me, Carolyn, it really does. They'll take you away. And I couldn't stop them. We'd all be so sad. Your Grammy would die. And everybody would read about it in the newspaper and your dad would be mad. He wouldn't like that at all. But if you want me to, I'll call him right now, and you can tell him that I'm a vampire.”

His face glistens with tears. They tremble on his lips. I watch them drop to the blanket, entranced.