Saying goodbye shouldn't be this difficult...
Chapter 11
He opens the door to his room and it’s definitely different from the rest of the house. Justus’s room is virtually black and white. Off white walls and dark wood floors stretch throughout. All the furniture is dark as well. His ornate black bed frame with black and white geometric bedding and pillows is quite contemporary. There is a black and white geometric rug underfoot and a modern black couch with chrome trim sits facing a pair of French doors, the upper balcony on the front of the house. Justus has been holding out, this room is beautiful. The rest of the furniture is decorated with black and white bottles; and for a guy, the room is pristinely clean. I look up on the wall and my painting of the Burgwin-Wright house hangs over the headboard.
I gasp, “Justus!” He had it framed on his errands; the house looks spectacular wrapped in a black baroque frame. “It’s beautiful in here!”
“It’s perfect, yes?” He beams. “My father bought the house this morning; it’s his to do with as he pleases.”
“Yes.” I mirror him. “Wait…your father just up and bought the house?!”
“Of course.” He says like his father buys a house a day.
I sit on his bed like he does mine, grabbing the remote to the flat screen TV, I flip it on and the last thing Justus watched was HGTV. The host of the currently playing show is describing how to refurbish your deck at minimal cost. I change the station to music television, I look up Justus is staring at my presumptiveness, “What?” I say like he would.
He smiles and closes the door behind him; bounding onto the bed beside me. We hunker down and watch television until I see the sun coming up; I nudge him, “Justus.”
He groans into his pillow, “Huh?”
“Watch the sun rise with me before I go.”
He throws his heavy arm over my legs, “No.” He says, barely audible.
“We can’t go through this again, come on.” I push his arm off.
He moans again and rolls out from under the duvet, “Okay. Okay.”
I’m up and dancing around like I have to pee, “Come ON!” I prance out of his room and run down the stairs quietly. Justus is lagging behind, “Time is of the essence.” I whisper; directing him down the stairs like an air traffic controller.
I open the door and step out, I leave it wide behind me. Justus finally exits and after rubbing his eyes he clasps his arms around my neck, my back to his front. We watch as the sun comes up over the reeds and water.
I take a deep breath and Justus kisses the top my head before saying, “I’m going to miss you.”
I grab his forearm, “I’m going to miss you too.”
“Come on, it’s up.” Justus rushes into the house and back up the stairs. He closes the bathroom door behind him. I follow up to my room and grab my linen sack; I hear the faint sound of my cell alarm and reach into my bag to pull it out. I dismiss the wake alarm and snooze the reminder to call Mrs. Hilliard for another hour. It’s way too early to discuss rental properties.
After I check my phone I go downstairs, drop my bag the steps and start a pot of coffee, Henley hasn’t arrived yet. I look up at the wall clock, it’s nearly 6:30, where is he?
Just then I hear the door open, “I’m here, I’m sorry sir.” Henley darts into the kitchen, “Oh Hey Babe; I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“I don’t have lodging yet, besides, I need to cash my wages check.”
“Yeah, got to have money to travel.” We both laugh and nod.
I hear the sounds of Justus carrying my tubs down from my room, I bolt into the foyer, “You don’t have to do that, I can handle it.”
He smiles, “I know.” He winks before walking out to my car a duffle bag over each shoulder and his arms stuffed.
“Keys?” I chime.
“Got ‘em.” He calls back.
I go back into the kitchen to fix my coffee. I select a large cup from the cabinet, mindful to bring it back in October. Henley is moving around the kitchen on a mission and I try to keep out of his way. I stop him and kiss his cheek, “See you in October, Henley.”
Henley clasps onto my arms, “Be careful Miss Babe, you come back safe to us, ya hear?”
“I will.” I smile at him.
“She will; she better.” Lars enters the kitchen in his bathrobe.
“Lars,” I say walking over to him, I kiss both his cheeks, “Thank you.”
He gently taps my nose, “You earned it.” He winks, like father like son.
“Are you not working today sir?” Henley asks handing Lars a cup of black coffee.
“Writers, Studio issues, you name it. Long story short, I’m off today.” He says smiling while sipping his coffee. “Do you mind staying Henley; I need to make some calls during Soren’s quiet times.”
“Yes sir; of course.”
“Oh, here,” Lars reaches into his robe pocket and hands Henley a check.
“Thank you sir.” Henley graciously sticks the paper in his pocket.
I take my coffee outside where Justus is still trying to figure out how I got all this stuff here. Standing with my arms crossed, cup in hand, I watch while he shifts and moves things here and there; he catches me, I raise my eyebrows and smile.
“Enjoying yourself?” He says sarcastically.
“Thoroughly; can I help?” I put my cup on the top of my car and begin to remove Henri’s car seat. I round to the trunk and place the seat by the back tire.
“Excuse me,” I gently shove Justus aside and pull the shallow tubs from the trunk. Justus holds his arms out for me to start stacking, “Thank you. Will you put them in my back seat?” He smiles and shakes his head, “What?” I ask.
“I could have been very rude just then. Shame on you for trying to set me up like that.” He jokingly sneers at me.
I realize the joke and laugh, “You’re getting better.” A smile sneaks off the side of my mouth but it slowly, weakly diminishes. My brow furrows because even though I want to go, so desperately, by the same token I want to stay. The supposedly philandering arrogant actor I met weeks ago is not so at all, he is sweet and attentive. He cares what people think of him even though upon first meeting you wouldn’t guess it in your wildest dreams. I’ll admit it, I listened to Henley’s inaccurate information without hesitation, formed a “judge a book by its cover” opinion on Justus and there is a shame on me. Shame on me for listening to gossip and taking it for what it’s worth, I have always been open minded to any and all. Even if I don’t agree, I’m not on this Earth to judge anyone. In fact the basis for more than one of my friendships is solidly founded on never listening to the terrible things people say about each other.
Justus secures the tubs and closes the back door, he turns to me smiling and when he sees my tumultuous facial expression his smile diminishes. He lunges toward me but steps back, grabbing both sides of my body, “I will ask one last time, okay? Are you okay?”
I snicker and nod before taking one of the deepest breaths I have ever taken and I swear I get the Penhaligon’s scent in my nose, like I can smell him; Cian.
Justus attempts to take me in his arms but I pull away, “I have to make a few calls, thank you for helping me.” I retreat as fast as I can around the house to the beach; I look up at the back deck; no one, good. I take another hard, long, and deep breath. It’s there, his scent. Over and over, I take in air; the scent of salt and sand is gone, all I smell is him. I bound up the staircase to the deck and into the house to grab my linen sack; Soren is now up and all the men are quietly staring at me from the breakfast table. As I creep back out to the deck I hear Justus say something to Lars in Swedish; Soren busts them cold, and I know they are talking about me when little guy calls out, “Broder love Babe.”
I can’t think about that right now, it’s definitely a decent hour to discuss renting a house. I call Mrs. Hilliard, my former landlord in Emerald Isle and I literally have my fingers crossed for two reasons. Number one, I hope I don’t wake her. Number two, I hope her house is vacant.
“Hello?” The sweet voice on the other end is already up and raring to go for the day.
“Mrs. Hilliard?”
“Yes?”
“This is Babet Beauregard, do you remember me?” I have my fingers crossed and now one eye is closed.
“Babet…Oh yes, of Babet, Frankie and Molly, right?”
I sigh in relief and I grin like the Cheshire cat from ear to ear, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, hey sweetie! How are you?!”
“I’m well; I hope you and Mr. Hilliard are?”
“Oh yeah, we’re still plugging away!” She laughs, sweet and kind Mrs. Hilliard.
“I’m glad to hear it; Mrs. Hilliard, I’m coming into EI to do some painting and wondered if your home was available?”
She is silent for a moment before she says solemnly, “I’m sorry honey; it’s occupied until November. Cute young man too, very handy; but…” she trails off.
“Mrs. Hilliard, are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry. Well, now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. Don’t get old honey, it’s the pits.” She laughs again.
I mirror her before asking, “Do you know of any other houses in the immediate area available?”
“Let me check with Randolph…” faintly I hear her and her husband discuss the possibility of other vacancies in the neighborhood, “Babet?”
“Yes!” I say expectantly.
“Mr. Everett’s house is vacant; if you’re interested, I can call him?”
I am over the moon, Mr. Everett’s house is up the street from the Hilliard’s and while the neighborhood pier is okay, it lacks the privacy the Hilliard’s pier offers, “Yes ma’am, please!” If I end up successfully renting Mr. Everett’s, I’ll then ask permission from Mrs. Hilliard to use their pier.
She laughs, “Okay sweetie, and is this your cell number?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’ll call you right back.”
“Thank you so much Mrs. Hilliard, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it!”
“Glad to help. Talk to you soon.”
“Okay, good bye.” I hang up the phone and sigh, wheels in motion. I cradle my phone in my hand while looking out over the water, the hot wind blows over me while I rock back, and I would rock forth, but my chair has stopped. I crane my neck to see Justus holding the finials decorating the top of the chair. I roll my eyes and look back over the water, “How long have you been there?” Okay, so he’s still a little rough around the edges; eavesdropper.
“Long enough to know you are almost ready to leave.” His tone is deep and ominous.
I rest my arm on the chair and my chin on my hand, Justus releases me and sits in the chair next to me; I tilt to face him, “Not quite, waiting for a call back. Besides I have to go to the bank before I head out of town.”
He perks up, “I can take you.”
“To the bank?” I make a face.
“Yeah, why not?” He rises from his chair.
“I guess I’m not doing anything else at the moment, okay; let’s go.” I get up and follow Justus in the house.
We cross the great room and Justus calls to Lars of our soon to be whereabouts, he turns to me and says, “Your purse?”
“Oh, yeah.” I scoff at myself; dip down and grab it and sling it over my head. It hits my rear end hard and I forgot I packed all my electronics in it. I scoff at myself again as I get into the Jeep. I put on my seat belt and start the endorsement process on the back of my check. Justus pulls into the bank parking lot and instead of asking me my preference drive thru or inside; he automatically pulls under the drive-thru canopy, “I don’t have an account here.”
“It’s not a problem, they know me and my father here,” He says taking the clear cylinder from the vacuum tube, he opens it to me.
“Okay.” I drop my check and driver’s license into it.
He slides it closed and replaces it, sending it soaring through the vacuum tube. The bank teller grouchily greets us but after making eye contact with Justus the young woman flips her switch, “Oh, hello Mr. Gunnar.” Her tone is suddenly breathless.
Justus is polite, “Good Morning.”
“How would Miss Beauregard like her…uh, sir, this is entirely too much to send through the drive-thru, would you please come inside.” She is giddy at having to request such an inconvenience.
“Of course.” Justus smiles, he knows what he is doing.
I roll my eyes, “You do this shit on purpose, you know.”
He continues to smile his radiant smile, “I know.”
I take a deep breath as he parks in front of the bank. He attempts to come with me but I halt him, “I’ll be right back.” I say holding my hand up.
He settles back into his seat, resting his long arm out the window. He thinks I don’t see, but he watches me until I’m inside. Upon my entry I’m greeted by a manager type, suit and tie, glasses, stress balding and clearly stress eating. He offers his chubby hand, “Miss Beauregard, I’m the Bank Manager; Preston Cleary.”
I shake his sweaty palm and when he’s not looking I wipe my hand clean, “Babet.” I say as I follow him into his office.
He shuts the door and offers me a seat, “I apologize for the inconvenience but this large sum is…well, must be handled differently.” His tone is condescending.
I’m not impressed but I use the opportunity to play with him a little, “I’m aware of that, I asked Mr. Gunnar to park, but he insisted…” Preston Cleary cuts me off.
“Say no more, we’ll have this taken care of for you. I assume you want all cash?” He asks like he’s had to do this with other nannies.
I decide to make him think, “No; please give me a thousand in cash, all hundred dollar bills and the remainder I would like in a money order; paid to the order of Pierre G. Beauregard.”
He is taken aback, “Um, yes of course,” he grabs a pen from the conglomerate on his desk, “Pierre?”
“Yes. Pierre, with two R’s.” I sit properly in my seat. He pulls my check close to him to write out Beauregard.
Preston Cleary smiles snidely before he gets out of his chair, “I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly.
Twenty minutes later Mr. Cleary returns with my money order and a white envelope I assume is my cash and driver’s license. I handle it a little after he hands it to me and my assumptions are correct. I shove the two into my back pocket. He takes his seat as I vacate mine and as I head toward his office door he says, “Tell Mr. Gunnar we appreciate his business.”
“Will do; have a nice day Mr. Cleary.” I reply and close his door behind me. On my way out of the bank four female tellers leer at me, the one in particular, the one from the window, is extraordinarily disappointed that Justus didn’t come in with me. I can almost feel the invisible daggers she is firing from her eyes. I duck quickly through the double doors and the second set of doors.
Back in the car Justus is listening to the Rihanna and Chris Brown duet “Cake” and when he sees me open the door he spins the volume dial down. He starts the engine and backs the Jeep out of the parking spot.
“Your phone was ringing.” He says. I reach down to fumble through my bag for it.
Mrs. Hilliard called twice and left a voicemail, “Thanks.” I say. I press the button to dial her back and thankfully I get her.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Hilliard? It’s Babet, I’m so sorry I missed your call.” I say looking at Justus who is smiling big.
“Hi Babet, I talked to Everett and he is more than happy for you to rent his house. How long were you thinking of staying in town?” She sounds like she is about to take notes.
“I want to come in today and I will be heading back to Wrightsville Beach October fifteenth.” Justus snaps his head in my direction and furrows his brow at the date. I hold a finger up to silence him.
“That will be fine, the next tenants aren’t due in until Christmas week. Some people like to have Christmas by the Sea, interesting notion.”
I laugh, “Yeah, very interesting.”
“Anyway, his daughter will drop the keys off; she hides them under the boulder of coral by the door. There is a shed with chairs and other beach toys; it’s locked but that is the small key on the ring, okay?”
“Okay great, how do I get money to him?”
“His daughter comes by to get the mail daily, put your check in his box by the entrance to the neighborhood and you’re all set!” She sounds joyous and I can’t get over how wonderful this woman is.
“Thank you so much, again Mrs. Hilliard; you have been an absolute angel as usual.” I smile thinking of her motherly ways while my girls and I lived in her sound side beach house. She would lovingly cook and bring us a meal at least once a week; I think she missed her own daughter and enjoyed our company as much as we did hers.
“Of course, darlin’…I hope to see you while you’re there.” She says inquisitively.
“You know where I’ll be.” I reply.
“Bye-bye Babet.”
“Bye.” I hang up my phone. I look over at Justus; he’s studying the road but behind it I can see he’s pondering something, “Do you mind if we drive for a bit?” I ask.
He seems to lighten up, smiling as he says, “Sure. Where to?”
“The post office? I need to mail something to my Daddy. Will you roll up the windows please?” I say while rifling through my bag. Justus turns on the air conditioning and rolls up the windows closing out the heat. I pull out the remainder of my care package from home and begin to roll, what is called a “hogleg”. I wrap the bag into a cylinder and hold it out to Justus.
“What?”
“For you.” I say flopping it at him.
“I can’t take your last…”
I cut him off, “It won’t take long to acquire more, please.” I’m still holding the bag, but he doesn’t take it. I sigh and lift the center console cover and place the bag under a handful of cd’s. “Be sure you take it out before your dad gets in here and smells it, or worse.”
Justus takes a deep breath, nods and drives me to the post office. I go inside and Priority mail the money order with a note to my Daddy, which cost a bit more than two pieces of paper should, but the amount of money on said piece of paper is worth the high priced security.
I get back in the car and Justus drives toward the house on Lumina Avenue but he passes it and heads in the direction of the Coast Guard Station. We don’t go that far, and I realize where we are going, the public beach access where I took his pictures. He parks and we find that same little spot hidden from the populace. He sits on the sand; his knees up to rest his arms on, I hand him the joint and drop my bag before I take a seat beside him.
The burning sand is hot on my legs but I don’t mind it, since it will subside momentarily. I pull the lighter from my pocket and blocking the wind, I successfully light the joint. It burns and runs a little; I lick my finger to stop the run. Justus is watching me and holds his hand out expectantly after I get it going.
He hits the joint and holds it gazing out over the blue water. In this spot we are alone, like we are stranded on our own little island and we luckily have one last joint. It’s ironic though, as if said island is our short relationship and the smoke is the signification of its end. Granted I’ll see him to celebrate his birthday, but from there, what? He will go back to Hollywood and then Sweden and I’ll go back to New Orleans probably never to cross paths again. He hands it back to me and I feel moisture on my hand when he does so. I look up at him, in my reverie and inner thought I hadn’t noticed, Justus sitting right beside me, has begun to cry. I see another bauble race down his cheek under his aviator sunglasses, this one he lets fall on the sand.
I pull my hair to one side, since it’s been whipping me in the face, and lean to rest my head on him. He maneuvers his arm out to wrap it around me and pull me closer to him. Before I know it he is sitting behind me as I rest myself against his chest. I snuff out the joint and hand him the butt, instead of burying it, he tucks in into his shirt pocket. I brush the sand off my rear and as he rises his button up shirt billows in the wind giving me one last look at his gorgeous back.
“We should get going. I need to hit the road.” I can hear my own less than convincing tone.
Justus walks ahead of me toward the car; I watch his shirt dance in the wind on his back. His gloriously developed muscles contort with every step he takes trudging through the sand. We drive back to the house and I hug everyone good-bye. It’s official; I have vexed the Gunnar sons; Soren is throwing a moderate fit and Justus looks like someone just ran over his puppy. I give them all one last smile before dropping my sunglasses onto my face. I wave and honk my horn; each yielding another salute from the Gunnar’s.
I start my shuffle payer and to my surprise there is an added mix on it, titled, simply “Justus”. I listen to it as I drive out of Wrightsville and Wilmington. The song titles he selected are “Summertime Rolls”, by Jane’s Addiction, “Blood Sugar Sex Magik” and “Sir Psycho Sexy”, by Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Lounge Fly” by Stone Temple Pilots, and “Paparazzi”, by Lady Gaga among others. The last is a joke regarding our first meeting and I laugh out loud over it. All the songs are funny or sexy until I get to “What Do I Have to Do”, by Stabbing Westward. I begin to tear up while I listen to the heart wrenching lyrics and before the song can finish I turn it off. I don’t turn it back on until I get on 24 from 17, with no traffic problems and as I pass through Swansboro I roll my windows down and take in the difference a few miles makes. The humidity is less heavy here and I can feel a slight coolness as the wind blows over the bridge into Emerald Isle.
I begin to recall the conversations with my Daddy after work each night, prior to the arrival of his coven. Daddy and I sit in the billiards room, face to face across the chess table. Low classical music plays, Bach and Beethoven, Souza and my Daddy’s favorite, Handle. It became like ritual; a friendly chess game played over awkward conversations about vampire blood bonds and a further explanation of why I am the way I am.
I draw my foot up to rest on the seat of my chair, I rest my chin on my knee and move my black knight, my father watches intently, eyeing me with a smile out of the corner of his mouth, “You’re artistic ability is more than a God given gift. Granted, the women on my side of the family have always had an eye but you have an exceptional one. You paint what you see, point blank, period. The lifelike quality of your ability is extraordinary, but there is a difference to it. You see more than what meets the eye, like you paint who they are instead of how they look. As far as what you’ve done since you’ve been home; the speed at which you work, is breathtaking.” He stops to move his white queen in position; I immediately knock her out with my king.
“You did that on purpose.” I say smiling at my Daddy, “Well it’s hard to sleep while visions of Mora dance in your head. But I digress, go on.”
“Internally all your senses are heightened, but you see more than the average human, and that may be your extension from life gift. Externally; your eyes are intimidating. When you were little, I used to watch you focus on someone and slowly watch that person become increasingly uncomfortable. Almost like you were looking right through them; seeing all their flaws.”
“It used to hurt my feelings the way people looked at me.” I mention sadly.
“That’s something else; your moods and emotions have always been volatile and dominating.” He says not looking at me but at the chessboard.
“Volatile?”
“When you loved something, you loved it with all your heart; it consumed you. On the rare occasion you hated something or someone, you hated it or them, to death. With you there was no gray area, it was always black and white, yes or no. Oh, and telling you “No” was never an enjoyable experience.” He takes a deep breath and his eyes widen at the thought.
“Do tell.”
“Don’t you remember the puppy?” He asks.
I laugh because I wanted a Siberian husky puppy so badly; I was going to name him, “Apollo.” I say and my Daddy begins to laugh along with me.
“Yes; Apollo.” He smirks, “You were angry with me for weeks.”
“I remember.”
“Talk about emotional overload. Excitement, wanting, anger…your mother said you were quite the handful in your teen years.”
“Yeah, I had to apologize in French…a lot.” My Daddy laughs, recalling his quirky gesture getting him out of trouble with my mother.
“She said you found a way to cope but she didn’t want to tell me what it was.” He’s eyeing me, waiting for me to confess my secret.
“I did”, I say but I’m not ready to admit to smoking marijuana to my father just yet, “So everything I went through, everything I am is because of what you are? And what Cian did to help?”
He takes a deep breath, assuming I’m angry, “Yes, baby girl and I know it’s been hard, but look how far you’ve come and how great of a mother you are. Until Mora interfered you had it all; unbeknownst to you that is.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you didn’t know about Cian or the bonds and you were happy with Griffin.” My Daddy rolls his eyes and takes a gulp of his blood cocktail. He hated my husband, but I think it’s a long historical story I don’t care to get into.
“I was happy, but I won’t lie; there was something missing. Something more I felt I wanted…” I trail off.
“Babe?”
I shake the reverie of Cian’s face flashing through my mind, “I was going to say, that when I met Cian; that, wanting, went away.”
“Wanting.” My Daddy says quietly, I let him have his moment. He sees me waiting and smiles, “Yes, when you want something, you would work any angle you could, come hell or high water you would do your damndest to get it; within reason that is.”
I nod, “Apollo.”
My Daddy mirrors me, “Yes, Apollo.”
“Anger…anger for you was dangerous, I can only imagine how bad it got when you were a teenager.”
“I remember secluding myself a lot and it was very difficult to overcome.” I admit.
“Are you going to tell me or not?” He says smiling.
What have I got to lose, nothing. My father will still love me, he might not like it, but if it helped me steer clear of a murderous rampage. “Fine; I started smoking cannabis.” I say closing one eye expecting the worst and I specifically call it by its genus because something in the back of my mind says my Daddy will appreciate the intelligence of it.
“Whatever works, right?” He’s smiling but I can see underneath he’s slightly disappointed.
“It worked, but it ostracized me from people further.” I ignore his tone.
“The friends that stick around are the ones that count.”
“Agreed, can we talk about the good things again?” I ask implying we’ve diverted from positivity.
“Of course, baby girl; there are a-plenty.” He draws out his Creole accent.
I smile, “Like?” I fish.
He smiles back, “Well for one; your wit. At a young age you had a come-back for every tongue lashing. Your Sunday school teacher always said how special you were.”
“Special? Huh, yeah that’s nice coming from Deena Smalls.” That woman used to grab the back of my arm and dig her nails in the meat on the underside.
“She died, you know.” My father says with a devious smile on his face.
I don’t miss a beat, “Hmm, rest in peace; I suppose.” I roll my eyes and move another pawn. “What else?” I smile.
“Let’s see…hmm, your intelligence, your cunning and your beauty.”
I blush at the last sentiment; I’ve never been one to take a compliment graciously.
“What it all comes down to, baby girl, is that you were born to be, what may be; but, you have the choice to stay who you already are.”
I stare at my Daddy blankly, that was overly cryptic; “And if I want to be more?” I ask.
“Then you have made your choice. Just know that the gifts you have grown into and possess are a diluted version of what you will experience if you become what I am.” He cautions.
“How diluted?” I ask.
“The best analogy I can use for you would be coffee.”
I tilt my head; furrow my brow and try to wrap my head around where he’s going, “Coffee?”
“You love Café DuMonde coffee, correct? The chicory infusion is your favorite.”
“Yeah, of course.” I smile; I do love Café DuMonde coffee.
“Imagine drinking some regular old homemade watered down coffee pot coffee.” He says; I make a disgusted face. “Exactly, it’s diluted and lacks the full flavor of the coffee bean.”
“Are you saying I’m like a diluted vampire?” I giggle a little.
“Extremely diluted; you eat food, very little, but you do. Your gifts are gifts, but diluted gifts. I can’t speculate exactly on what will transpire should you make the choice to change, but I’ve been researching here and there. I just hope once it happens you come directly home so you can be protected until your stability resumes. And by home I mean here, with me.”
“Where else will I be Daddy, I live here.” I say jokingly obvious.
“Who knows where you and Cian end up; you could be in Europe when it happens, you just never know.”
I laugh and my Daddy is eyeing me again, “Sorry, Daddy I was thinking of the way Cian came over from Europe.”
“Oh, yeah? I haven’t heard this one.”
“No?” I’m surprised, but I continue, “He hitchhiked in one of the soldier’s coffins after World War II.”
My father clasps his hands together and laughs heartily, “That man is resourceful; isn’t he?”
“After two thousand years, I would suspect so.” I stop and make my move, “Checkmate!” I cry out and pump my fists in the air above my head.
I hear quiet clapping from the door. I turn to see Daddy’s coven has arrived. I rise from my seat as Alistair and Flannaghan, Estella, Angelique and Dat, flanked by Sophia and Xavier glide into the billiards room, all of them dressed impeccably well. I kiss my Daddy’s cheeks and hug Estella. Alistair and Flannaghan are all business. They set up behind the bar with paperwork, but they are polite, smiling as they pass me by.
I bend down to talk to Dat, “Henri has missed you.” The little vampire smiles at me. The two boys get along wonderfully, even though Dat is sixty years older than Henri. I smile sincerely at the sisters and Xavier on my way out. I close the door behind me and ascend the grand staircase. I realize what my father and I discuss these many nights are the revelations I need to hear but subconsciously already knew; I’m different, strange and most importantly; unique.
I’m tingly at the thought of simply being in town; after thirteen long years. I take a deep breath and there it is, mixed into the salt smell, him. Cian, he is here; Justus was right. I make a quick stop at the grocery store for a few things until tomorrow and continue driving on until I get to the Bogue Sound neighborhood of Watersedge. I make a left onto Lu lane and slowly creep through Watersedge looking for Mr. Everett’s house. I pass the Hilliard’s and sure enough there in the driveway is a refurbished 1966 Cadillac Coop DeVille. The satin paint job is spectacular in Midnight Blue and if the windows weren’t tinted to the lowest percentage I could see the interior; I look in my rearview mirror as I realize I’m holding up traffic gawking at the steel beauty.
I hold my hand up to signal my absentmindedness and move on. I hope I get a chance to see the interior, I think to myself. At the end of Lu lane, at the beginning of Jamie circle is Mr. Everett’s house. I pull my car in and wave to my temporary neighbors as I exit my car. I climb the few steps and lift the coral to a pair of keys underneath; one small, one large. I open the door and survey the area; thankfully Mr. Everett’s daughter already turned on the air conditioning.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
See who I pictured when I wrote Babet's Epiphany on Pinterest.com
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He opens the door to his room and it’s definitely different from the rest of the house. Justus’s room is virtually black and white. Off white walls and dark wood floors stretch throughout. All the furniture is dark as well. His ornate black bed frame with black and white geometric bedding and pillows is quite contemporary. There is a black and white geometric rug underfoot and a modern black couch with chrome trim sits facing a pair of French doors, the upper balcony on the front of the house. Justus has been holding out, this room is beautiful. The rest of the furniture is decorated with black and white bottles; and for a guy, the room is pristinely clean. I look up on the wall and my painting of the Burgwin-Wright house hangs over the headboard.
I gasp, “Justus!” He had it framed on his errands; the house looks spectacular wrapped in a black baroque frame. “It’s beautiful in here!”
“It’s perfect, yes?” He beams. “My father bought the house this morning; it’s his to do with as he pleases.”
“Yes.” I mirror him. “Wait…your father just up and bought the house?!”
“Of course.” He says like his father buys a house a day.
I sit on his bed like he does mine, grabbing the remote to the flat screen TV, I flip it on and the last thing Justus watched was HGTV. The host of the currently playing show is describing how to refurbish your deck at minimal cost. I change the station to music television, I look up Justus is staring at my presumptiveness, “What?” I say like he would.
He smiles and closes the door behind him; bounding onto the bed beside me. We hunker down and watch television until I see the sun coming up; I nudge him, “Justus.”
He groans into his pillow, “Huh?”
“Watch the sun rise with me before I go.”
He throws his heavy arm over my legs, “No.” He says, barely audible.
“We can’t go through this again, come on.” I push his arm off.
He moans again and rolls out from under the duvet, “Okay. Okay.”
I’m up and dancing around like I have to pee, “Come ON!” I prance out of his room and run down the stairs quietly. Justus is lagging behind, “Time is of the essence.” I whisper; directing him down the stairs like an air traffic controller.
I open the door and step out, I leave it wide behind me. Justus finally exits and after rubbing his eyes he clasps his arms around my neck, my back to his front. We watch as the sun comes up over the reeds and water.
I take a deep breath and Justus kisses the top my head before saying, “I’m going to miss you.”
I grab his forearm, “I’m going to miss you too.”
“Come on, it’s up.” Justus rushes into the house and back up the stairs. He closes the bathroom door behind him. I follow up to my room and grab my linen sack; I hear the faint sound of my cell alarm and reach into my bag to pull it out. I dismiss the wake alarm and snooze the reminder to call Mrs. Hilliard for another hour. It’s way too early to discuss rental properties.
After I check my phone I go downstairs, drop my bag the steps and start a pot of coffee, Henley hasn’t arrived yet. I look up at the wall clock, it’s nearly 6:30, where is he?
Just then I hear the door open, “I’m here, I’m sorry sir.” Henley darts into the kitchen, “Oh Hey Babe; I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“I don’t have lodging yet, besides, I need to cash my wages check.”
“Yeah, got to have money to travel.” We both laugh and nod.
I hear the sounds of Justus carrying my tubs down from my room, I bolt into the foyer, “You don’t have to do that, I can handle it.”
He smiles, “I know.” He winks before walking out to my car a duffle bag over each shoulder and his arms stuffed.
“Keys?” I chime.
“Got ‘em.” He calls back.
I go back into the kitchen to fix my coffee. I select a large cup from the cabinet, mindful to bring it back in October. Henley is moving around the kitchen on a mission and I try to keep out of his way. I stop him and kiss his cheek, “See you in October, Henley.”
Henley clasps onto my arms, “Be careful Miss Babe, you come back safe to us, ya hear?”
“I will.” I smile at him.
“She will; she better.” Lars enters the kitchen in his bathrobe.
“Lars,” I say walking over to him, I kiss both his cheeks, “Thank you.”
He gently taps my nose, “You earned it.” He winks, like father like son.
“Are you not working today sir?” Henley asks handing Lars a cup of black coffee.
“Writers, Studio issues, you name it. Long story short, I’m off today.” He says smiling while sipping his coffee. “Do you mind staying Henley; I need to make some calls during Soren’s quiet times.”
“Yes sir; of course.”
“Oh, here,” Lars reaches into his robe pocket and hands Henley a check.
“Thank you sir.” Henley graciously sticks the paper in his pocket.
I take my coffee outside where Justus is still trying to figure out how I got all this stuff here. Standing with my arms crossed, cup in hand, I watch while he shifts and moves things here and there; he catches me, I raise my eyebrows and smile.
“Enjoying yourself?” He says sarcastically.
“Thoroughly; can I help?” I put my cup on the top of my car and begin to remove Henri’s car seat. I round to the trunk and place the seat by the back tire.
“Excuse me,” I gently shove Justus aside and pull the shallow tubs from the trunk. Justus holds his arms out for me to start stacking, “Thank you. Will you put them in my back seat?” He smiles and shakes his head, “What?” I ask.
“I could have been very rude just then. Shame on you for trying to set me up like that.” He jokingly sneers at me.
I realize the joke and laugh, “You’re getting better.” A smile sneaks off the side of my mouth but it slowly, weakly diminishes. My brow furrows because even though I want to go, so desperately, by the same token I want to stay. The supposedly philandering arrogant actor I met weeks ago is not so at all, he is sweet and attentive. He cares what people think of him even though upon first meeting you wouldn’t guess it in your wildest dreams. I’ll admit it, I listened to Henley’s inaccurate information without hesitation, formed a “judge a book by its cover” opinion on Justus and there is a shame on me. Shame on me for listening to gossip and taking it for what it’s worth, I have always been open minded to any and all. Even if I don’t agree, I’m not on this Earth to judge anyone. In fact the basis for more than one of my friendships is solidly founded on never listening to the terrible things people say about each other.
Justus secures the tubs and closes the back door, he turns to me smiling and when he sees my tumultuous facial expression his smile diminishes. He lunges toward me but steps back, grabbing both sides of my body, “I will ask one last time, okay? Are you okay?”
I snicker and nod before taking one of the deepest breaths I have ever taken and I swear I get the Penhaligon’s scent in my nose, like I can smell him; Cian.
Justus attempts to take me in his arms but I pull away, “I have to make a few calls, thank you for helping me.” I retreat as fast as I can around the house to the beach; I look up at the back deck; no one, good. I take another hard, long, and deep breath. It’s there, his scent. Over and over, I take in air; the scent of salt and sand is gone, all I smell is him. I bound up the staircase to the deck and into the house to grab my linen sack; Soren is now up and all the men are quietly staring at me from the breakfast table. As I creep back out to the deck I hear Justus say something to Lars in Swedish; Soren busts them cold, and I know they are talking about me when little guy calls out, “Broder love Babe.”
I can’t think about that right now, it’s definitely a decent hour to discuss renting a house. I call Mrs. Hilliard, my former landlord in Emerald Isle and I literally have my fingers crossed for two reasons. Number one, I hope I don’t wake her. Number two, I hope her house is vacant.
“Hello?” The sweet voice on the other end is already up and raring to go for the day.
“Mrs. Hilliard?”
“Yes?”
“This is Babet Beauregard, do you remember me?” I have my fingers crossed and now one eye is closed.
“Babet…Oh yes, of Babet, Frankie and Molly, right?”
I sigh in relief and I grin like the Cheshire cat from ear to ear, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, hey sweetie! How are you?!”
“I’m well; I hope you and Mr. Hilliard are?”
“Oh yeah, we’re still plugging away!” She laughs, sweet and kind Mrs. Hilliard.
“I’m glad to hear it; Mrs. Hilliard, I’m coming into EI to do some painting and wondered if your home was available?”
She is silent for a moment before she says solemnly, “I’m sorry honey; it’s occupied until November. Cute young man too, very handy; but…” she trails off.
“Mrs. Hilliard, are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry. Well, now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. Don’t get old honey, it’s the pits.” She laughs again.
I mirror her before asking, “Do you know of any other houses in the immediate area available?”
“Let me check with Randolph…” faintly I hear her and her husband discuss the possibility of other vacancies in the neighborhood, “Babet?”
“Yes!” I say expectantly.
“Mr. Everett’s house is vacant; if you’re interested, I can call him?”
I am over the moon, Mr. Everett’s house is up the street from the Hilliard’s and while the neighborhood pier is okay, it lacks the privacy the Hilliard’s pier offers, “Yes ma’am, please!” If I end up successfully renting Mr. Everett’s, I’ll then ask permission from Mrs. Hilliard to use their pier.
She laughs, “Okay sweetie, and is this your cell number?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’ll call you right back.”
“Thank you so much Mrs. Hilliard, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it!”
“Glad to help. Talk to you soon.”
“Okay, good bye.” I hang up the phone and sigh, wheels in motion. I cradle my phone in my hand while looking out over the water, the hot wind blows over me while I rock back, and I would rock forth, but my chair has stopped. I crane my neck to see Justus holding the finials decorating the top of the chair. I roll my eyes and look back over the water, “How long have you been there?” Okay, so he’s still a little rough around the edges; eavesdropper.
“Long enough to know you are almost ready to leave.” His tone is deep and ominous.
I rest my arm on the chair and my chin on my hand, Justus releases me and sits in the chair next to me; I tilt to face him, “Not quite, waiting for a call back. Besides I have to go to the bank before I head out of town.”
He perks up, “I can take you.”
“To the bank?” I make a face.
“Yeah, why not?” He rises from his chair.
“I guess I’m not doing anything else at the moment, okay; let’s go.” I get up and follow Justus in the house.
We cross the great room and Justus calls to Lars of our soon to be whereabouts, he turns to me and says, “Your purse?”
“Oh, yeah.” I scoff at myself; dip down and grab it and sling it over my head. It hits my rear end hard and I forgot I packed all my electronics in it. I scoff at myself again as I get into the Jeep. I put on my seat belt and start the endorsement process on the back of my check. Justus pulls into the bank parking lot and instead of asking me my preference drive thru or inside; he automatically pulls under the drive-thru canopy, “I don’t have an account here.”
“It’s not a problem, they know me and my father here,” He says taking the clear cylinder from the vacuum tube, he opens it to me.
“Okay.” I drop my check and driver’s license into it.
He slides it closed and replaces it, sending it soaring through the vacuum tube. The bank teller grouchily greets us but after making eye contact with Justus the young woman flips her switch, “Oh, hello Mr. Gunnar.” Her tone is suddenly breathless.
Justus is polite, “Good Morning.”
“How would Miss Beauregard like her…uh, sir, this is entirely too much to send through the drive-thru, would you please come inside.” She is giddy at having to request such an inconvenience.
“Of course.” Justus smiles, he knows what he is doing.
I roll my eyes, “You do this shit on purpose, you know.”
He continues to smile his radiant smile, “I know.”
I take a deep breath as he parks in front of the bank. He attempts to come with me but I halt him, “I’ll be right back.” I say holding my hand up.
He settles back into his seat, resting his long arm out the window. He thinks I don’t see, but he watches me until I’m inside. Upon my entry I’m greeted by a manager type, suit and tie, glasses, stress balding and clearly stress eating. He offers his chubby hand, “Miss Beauregard, I’m the Bank Manager; Preston Cleary.”
I shake his sweaty palm and when he’s not looking I wipe my hand clean, “Babet.” I say as I follow him into his office.
He shuts the door and offers me a seat, “I apologize for the inconvenience but this large sum is…well, must be handled differently.” His tone is condescending.
I’m not impressed but I use the opportunity to play with him a little, “I’m aware of that, I asked Mr. Gunnar to park, but he insisted…” Preston Cleary cuts me off.
“Say no more, we’ll have this taken care of for you. I assume you want all cash?” He asks like he’s had to do this with other nannies.
I decide to make him think, “No; please give me a thousand in cash, all hundred dollar bills and the remainder I would like in a money order; paid to the order of Pierre G. Beauregard.”
He is taken aback, “Um, yes of course,” he grabs a pen from the conglomerate on his desk, “Pierre?”
“Yes. Pierre, with two R’s.” I sit properly in my seat. He pulls my check close to him to write out Beauregard.
Preston Cleary smiles snidely before he gets out of his chair, “I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly.
Twenty minutes later Mr. Cleary returns with my money order and a white envelope I assume is my cash and driver’s license. I handle it a little after he hands it to me and my assumptions are correct. I shove the two into my back pocket. He takes his seat as I vacate mine and as I head toward his office door he says, “Tell Mr. Gunnar we appreciate his business.”
“Will do; have a nice day Mr. Cleary.” I reply and close his door behind me. On my way out of the bank four female tellers leer at me, the one in particular, the one from the window, is extraordinarily disappointed that Justus didn’t come in with me. I can almost feel the invisible daggers she is firing from her eyes. I duck quickly through the double doors and the second set of doors.
Back in the car Justus is listening to the Rihanna and Chris Brown duet “Cake” and when he sees me open the door he spins the volume dial down. He starts the engine and backs the Jeep out of the parking spot.
“Your phone was ringing.” He says. I reach down to fumble through my bag for it.
Mrs. Hilliard called twice and left a voicemail, “Thanks.” I say. I press the button to dial her back and thankfully I get her.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Hilliard? It’s Babet, I’m so sorry I missed your call.” I say looking at Justus who is smiling big.
“Hi Babet, I talked to Everett and he is more than happy for you to rent his house. How long were you thinking of staying in town?” She sounds like she is about to take notes.
“I want to come in today and I will be heading back to Wrightsville Beach October fifteenth.” Justus snaps his head in my direction and furrows his brow at the date. I hold a finger up to silence him.
“That will be fine, the next tenants aren’t due in until Christmas week. Some people like to have Christmas by the Sea, interesting notion.”
I laugh, “Yeah, very interesting.”
“Anyway, his daughter will drop the keys off; she hides them under the boulder of coral by the door. There is a shed with chairs and other beach toys; it’s locked but that is the small key on the ring, okay?”
“Okay great, how do I get money to him?”
“His daughter comes by to get the mail daily, put your check in his box by the entrance to the neighborhood and you’re all set!” She sounds joyous and I can’t get over how wonderful this woman is.
“Thank you so much, again Mrs. Hilliard; you have been an absolute angel as usual.” I smile thinking of her motherly ways while my girls and I lived in her sound side beach house. She would lovingly cook and bring us a meal at least once a week; I think she missed her own daughter and enjoyed our company as much as we did hers.
“Of course, darlin’…I hope to see you while you’re there.” She says inquisitively.
“You know where I’ll be.” I reply.
“Bye-bye Babet.”
“Bye.” I hang up my phone. I look over at Justus; he’s studying the road but behind it I can see he’s pondering something, “Do you mind if we drive for a bit?” I ask.
He seems to lighten up, smiling as he says, “Sure. Where to?”
“The post office? I need to mail something to my Daddy. Will you roll up the windows please?” I say while rifling through my bag. Justus turns on the air conditioning and rolls up the windows closing out the heat. I pull out the remainder of my care package from home and begin to roll, what is called a “hogleg”. I wrap the bag into a cylinder and hold it out to Justus.
“What?”
“For you.” I say flopping it at him.
“I can’t take your last…”
I cut him off, “It won’t take long to acquire more, please.” I’m still holding the bag, but he doesn’t take it. I sigh and lift the center console cover and place the bag under a handful of cd’s. “Be sure you take it out before your dad gets in here and smells it, or worse.”
Justus takes a deep breath, nods and drives me to the post office. I go inside and Priority mail the money order with a note to my Daddy, which cost a bit more than two pieces of paper should, but the amount of money on said piece of paper is worth the high priced security.
I get back in the car and Justus drives toward the house on Lumina Avenue but he passes it and heads in the direction of the Coast Guard Station. We don’t go that far, and I realize where we are going, the public beach access where I took his pictures. He parks and we find that same little spot hidden from the populace. He sits on the sand; his knees up to rest his arms on, I hand him the joint and drop my bag before I take a seat beside him.
The burning sand is hot on my legs but I don’t mind it, since it will subside momentarily. I pull the lighter from my pocket and blocking the wind, I successfully light the joint. It burns and runs a little; I lick my finger to stop the run. Justus is watching me and holds his hand out expectantly after I get it going.
He hits the joint and holds it gazing out over the blue water. In this spot we are alone, like we are stranded on our own little island and we luckily have one last joint. It’s ironic though, as if said island is our short relationship and the smoke is the signification of its end. Granted I’ll see him to celebrate his birthday, but from there, what? He will go back to Hollywood and then Sweden and I’ll go back to New Orleans probably never to cross paths again. He hands it back to me and I feel moisture on my hand when he does so. I look up at him, in my reverie and inner thought I hadn’t noticed, Justus sitting right beside me, has begun to cry. I see another bauble race down his cheek under his aviator sunglasses, this one he lets fall on the sand.
I pull my hair to one side, since it’s been whipping me in the face, and lean to rest my head on him. He maneuvers his arm out to wrap it around me and pull me closer to him. Before I know it he is sitting behind me as I rest myself against his chest. I snuff out the joint and hand him the butt, instead of burying it, he tucks in into his shirt pocket. I brush the sand off my rear and as he rises his button up shirt billows in the wind giving me one last look at his gorgeous back.
“We should get going. I need to hit the road.” I can hear my own less than convincing tone.
Justus walks ahead of me toward the car; I watch his shirt dance in the wind on his back. His gloriously developed muscles contort with every step he takes trudging through the sand. We drive back to the house and I hug everyone good-bye. It’s official; I have vexed the Gunnar sons; Soren is throwing a moderate fit and Justus looks like someone just ran over his puppy. I give them all one last smile before dropping my sunglasses onto my face. I wave and honk my horn; each yielding another salute from the Gunnar’s.
I start my shuffle payer and to my surprise there is an added mix on it, titled, simply “Justus”. I listen to it as I drive out of Wrightsville and Wilmington. The song titles he selected are “Summertime Rolls”, by Jane’s Addiction, “Blood Sugar Sex Magik” and “Sir Psycho Sexy”, by Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Lounge Fly” by Stone Temple Pilots, and “Paparazzi”, by Lady Gaga among others. The last is a joke regarding our first meeting and I laugh out loud over it. All the songs are funny or sexy until I get to “What Do I Have to Do”, by Stabbing Westward. I begin to tear up while I listen to the heart wrenching lyrics and before the song can finish I turn it off. I don’t turn it back on until I get on 24 from 17, with no traffic problems and as I pass through Swansboro I roll my windows down and take in the difference a few miles makes. The humidity is less heavy here and I can feel a slight coolness as the wind blows over the bridge into Emerald Isle.
I begin to recall the conversations with my Daddy after work each night, prior to the arrival of his coven. Daddy and I sit in the billiards room, face to face across the chess table. Low classical music plays, Bach and Beethoven, Souza and my Daddy’s favorite, Handle. It became like ritual; a friendly chess game played over awkward conversations about vampire blood bonds and a further explanation of why I am the way I am.
I draw my foot up to rest on the seat of my chair, I rest my chin on my knee and move my black knight, my father watches intently, eyeing me with a smile out of the corner of his mouth, “You’re artistic ability is more than a God given gift. Granted, the women on my side of the family have always had an eye but you have an exceptional one. You paint what you see, point blank, period. The lifelike quality of your ability is extraordinary, but there is a difference to it. You see more than what meets the eye, like you paint who they are instead of how they look. As far as what you’ve done since you’ve been home; the speed at which you work, is breathtaking.” He stops to move his white queen in position; I immediately knock her out with my king.
“You did that on purpose.” I say smiling at my Daddy, “Well it’s hard to sleep while visions of Mora dance in your head. But I digress, go on.”
“Internally all your senses are heightened, but you see more than the average human, and that may be your extension from life gift. Externally; your eyes are intimidating. When you were little, I used to watch you focus on someone and slowly watch that person become increasingly uncomfortable. Almost like you were looking right through them; seeing all their flaws.”
“It used to hurt my feelings the way people looked at me.” I mention sadly.
“That’s something else; your moods and emotions have always been volatile and dominating.” He says not looking at me but at the chessboard.
“Volatile?”
“When you loved something, you loved it with all your heart; it consumed you. On the rare occasion you hated something or someone, you hated it or them, to death. With you there was no gray area, it was always black and white, yes or no. Oh, and telling you “No” was never an enjoyable experience.” He takes a deep breath and his eyes widen at the thought.
“Do tell.”
“Don’t you remember the puppy?” He asks.
I laugh because I wanted a Siberian husky puppy so badly; I was going to name him, “Apollo.” I say and my Daddy begins to laugh along with me.
“Yes; Apollo.” He smirks, “You were angry with me for weeks.”
“I remember.”
“Talk about emotional overload. Excitement, wanting, anger…your mother said you were quite the handful in your teen years.”
“Yeah, I had to apologize in French…a lot.” My Daddy laughs, recalling his quirky gesture getting him out of trouble with my mother.
“She said you found a way to cope but she didn’t want to tell me what it was.” He’s eyeing me, waiting for me to confess my secret.
“I did”, I say but I’m not ready to admit to smoking marijuana to my father just yet, “So everything I went through, everything I am is because of what you are? And what Cian did to help?”
He takes a deep breath, assuming I’m angry, “Yes, baby girl and I know it’s been hard, but look how far you’ve come and how great of a mother you are. Until Mora interfered you had it all; unbeknownst to you that is.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you didn’t know about Cian or the bonds and you were happy with Griffin.” My Daddy rolls his eyes and takes a gulp of his blood cocktail. He hated my husband, but I think it’s a long historical story I don’t care to get into.
“I was happy, but I won’t lie; there was something missing. Something more I felt I wanted…” I trail off.
“Babe?”
I shake the reverie of Cian’s face flashing through my mind, “I was going to say, that when I met Cian; that, wanting, went away.”
“Wanting.” My Daddy says quietly, I let him have his moment. He sees me waiting and smiles, “Yes, when you want something, you would work any angle you could, come hell or high water you would do your damndest to get it; within reason that is.”
I nod, “Apollo.”
My Daddy mirrors me, “Yes, Apollo.”
“Anger…anger for you was dangerous, I can only imagine how bad it got when you were a teenager.”
“I remember secluding myself a lot and it was very difficult to overcome.” I admit.
“Are you going to tell me or not?” He says smiling.
What have I got to lose, nothing. My father will still love me, he might not like it, but if it helped me steer clear of a murderous rampage. “Fine; I started smoking cannabis.” I say closing one eye expecting the worst and I specifically call it by its genus because something in the back of my mind says my Daddy will appreciate the intelligence of it.
“Whatever works, right?” He’s smiling but I can see underneath he’s slightly disappointed.
“It worked, but it ostracized me from people further.” I ignore his tone.
“The friends that stick around are the ones that count.”
“Agreed, can we talk about the good things again?” I ask implying we’ve diverted from positivity.
“Of course, baby girl; there are a-plenty.” He draws out his Creole accent.
I smile, “Like?” I fish.
He smiles back, “Well for one; your wit. At a young age you had a come-back for every tongue lashing. Your Sunday school teacher always said how special you were.”
“Special? Huh, yeah that’s nice coming from Deena Smalls.” That woman used to grab the back of my arm and dig her nails in the meat on the underside.
“She died, you know.” My father says with a devious smile on his face.
I don’t miss a beat, “Hmm, rest in peace; I suppose.” I roll my eyes and move another pawn. “What else?” I smile.
“Let’s see…hmm, your intelligence, your cunning and your beauty.”
I blush at the last sentiment; I’ve never been one to take a compliment graciously.
“What it all comes down to, baby girl, is that you were born to be, what may be; but, you have the choice to stay who you already are.”
I stare at my Daddy blankly, that was overly cryptic; “And if I want to be more?” I ask.
“Then you have made your choice. Just know that the gifts you have grown into and possess are a diluted version of what you will experience if you become what I am.” He cautions.
“How diluted?” I ask.
“The best analogy I can use for you would be coffee.”
I tilt my head; furrow my brow and try to wrap my head around where he’s going, “Coffee?”
“You love Café DuMonde coffee, correct? The chicory infusion is your favorite.”
“Yeah, of course.” I smile; I do love Café DuMonde coffee.
“Imagine drinking some regular old homemade watered down coffee pot coffee.” He says; I make a disgusted face. “Exactly, it’s diluted and lacks the full flavor of the coffee bean.”
“Are you saying I’m like a diluted vampire?” I giggle a little.
“Extremely diluted; you eat food, very little, but you do. Your gifts are gifts, but diluted gifts. I can’t speculate exactly on what will transpire should you make the choice to change, but I’ve been researching here and there. I just hope once it happens you come directly home so you can be protected until your stability resumes. And by home I mean here, with me.”
“Where else will I be Daddy, I live here.” I say jokingly obvious.
“Who knows where you and Cian end up; you could be in Europe when it happens, you just never know.”
I laugh and my Daddy is eyeing me again, “Sorry, Daddy I was thinking of the way Cian came over from Europe.”
“Oh, yeah? I haven’t heard this one.”
“No?” I’m surprised, but I continue, “He hitchhiked in one of the soldier’s coffins after World War II.”
My father clasps his hands together and laughs heartily, “That man is resourceful; isn’t he?”
“After two thousand years, I would suspect so.” I stop and make my move, “Checkmate!” I cry out and pump my fists in the air above my head.
I hear quiet clapping from the door. I turn to see Daddy’s coven has arrived. I rise from my seat as Alistair and Flannaghan, Estella, Angelique and Dat, flanked by Sophia and Xavier glide into the billiards room, all of them dressed impeccably well. I kiss my Daddy’s cheeks and hug Estella. Alistair and Flannaghan are all business. They set up behind the bar with paperwork, but they are polite, smiling as they pass me by.
I bend down to talk to Dat, “Henri has missed you.” The little vampire smiles at me. The two boys get along wonderfully, even though Dat is sixty years older than Henri. I smile sincerely at the sisters and Xavier on my way out. I close the door behind me and ascend the grand staircase. I realize what my father and I discuss these many nights are the revelations I need to hear but subconsciously already knew; I’m different, strange and most importantly; unique.
I’m tingly at the thought of simply being in town; after thirteen long years. I take a deep breath and there it is, mixed into the salt smell, him. Cian, he is here; Justus was right. I make a quick stop at the grocery store for a few things until tomorrow and continue driving on until I get to the Bogue Sound neighborhood of Watersedge. I make a left onto Lu lane and slowly creep through Watersedge looking for Mr. Everett’s house. I pass the Hilliard’s and sure enough there in the driveway is a refurbished 1966 Cadillac Coop DeVille. The satin paint job is spectacular in Midnight Blue and if the windows weren’t tinted to the lowest percentage I could see the interior; I look in my rearview mirror as I realize I’m holding up traffic gawking at the steel beauty.
I hold my hand up to signal my absentmindedness and move on. I hope I get a chance to see the interior, I think to myself. At the end of Lu lane, at the beginning of Jamie circle is Mr. Everett’s house. I pull my car in and wave to my temporary neighbors as I exit my car. I climb the few steps and lift the coral to a pair of keys underneath; one small, one large. I open the door and survey the area; thankfully Mr. Everett’s daughter already turned on the air conditioning.
http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...
Babet's Epiphany
Augusta Fern
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