A Tiny Bit Mortal (7 page)

After opening the large suitcase on the bed I found a large portion of my wardrobe, along with most of my bathroom items in a plastic waterproof zip up bag.  I also found my nesting dolls I previously had sitting up on top of my dresser in my my apartment.  I thought it was an odd thing to pack, but after I un-nested the dolls and placed them on top of the bedroom dresser, I felt comforted. 

After placing an outfit for the day onto the bed, I unloaded the rest of the clothes into the empty dresser.  I then gathered my clothes, and my bathroom things, and headed across the hall.

Emerging from the bathroom, I felt fresh and clear headed.  I stepped down the stairs, and into the hall, listening.  I could hear some papers shuffling in a room off the hall.

“Emily.” said my Dad.

Walking towards his voice,  I entered a small office room with bookshelves full of what appeared to be record books.  He looked up from his desk.

“Peter called a bit ago.” he said.  “He was leaving Portland airport. He should be home in about an hour.”

My rush of excitement was followed by anxiety.  I was worried he’d be mad at me, for getting discovered by his mentor.  I didn’t know what to expect, but I could help but feel ecstatic about seeing him again.  I had missed him so terribly.

After leaving my dad to his work, I headed into the kitchen.  It felt strange to look through the cupboards even though I was invited to do so. 

Peering into the pantry, I found some radiatore pasta. There was fresh basil and garlic bulbs in with some fruit in a big basket on the counter.  I stopped and ate an apple, slowly, staring out the window over the sink at the yard.  It was growing dark outside.

Returning to the pantry, I found some olive oil.  I grabbed a pot hanging from the wrought iron rack that held several pots and pans near the stove.  I had everything I needed to make a meal.

After putting together the pasta dish, I heated up a baguette that I found sitting on the counter.  Rummaging through the cupboards I found the plates and silverware and set three place settings out on the counter.

Connected to the kitchen was a long table with benches on the long sides, and chairs on the ends.  As I gathered all the place settings and began arranging them on the table,  I heard the front door open.  Looking over at the clock, I knew it had to be Peter.

I heard the rustling of a coat in the hallway, and shoes plunking down onto the floor.  He stepped into the kitchen, and found me standing there, holding a plate.  He rushed toward me, and wrapped his arms around me, the plate pressing between us. 

“Oh Emily.” he said, breathlessly.  “What is going on?  How did Nicholas find you?”

My dad appeared in the doorway of the room.

“Nicholas found his own daughter asleep in the doorway of our Jewelry store.” said my Dad.

Peter let go of me and turned to face my Dad.

“
Your
daughter?” asked Peter.

I set the plate down at the table, feeling the tension rise in the air.

“Why were you at the Jewelry store?” Peter asked.

“She was being hunted.” my dad said. “By the Corrupt.”

Peter stood there silent, clearly stunned.

“How…” said Peter.

“I have been aware for some time,” said my Dad. “That there are some of The Corrupt in this town. They watch us, through human spies.  You’d never know you were being watched.  If you were seen with Emily, then you brought her to their attention.”

Thinking of our time together, I remembered how we’d gone out to a restaurant for dinner.  I shivered as I thought of some creep watching us.

“It’s all my fault.” said Peter. “I am so sorry.”

Peter looked like a wounded man.  He stood there with his head hanging, and his hands together in front of him as my Dad approached him, placing his hand on his back.

“Peter, it’s okay.” he said.  “I just wish you would have come to me.  She needed to be with us.  She was becoming more aware of her immortal side, and they would have noticed her at some point and found her.  If she hadn’t gone to the Jewelry store and stayed in its protection, she would be with them as we speak.”

Peter’s shoulders relaxed, and he asked “Can I be alone with her for a minute?”

“Alone with my daughter?” asked my Dad, sharply.

Peter stood there, silent, and looked down at the ground.

“It’s wrong.” said my Dad. “Whatever you’ve been doing with her, is wrong.  I’m thankful you led her to us, but no, you cannot be alone with my daughter.”

The word “wrong” stabbed through me.  Everything about Peter felt right to me.  I took it as an insult.

“
You
are wrong.” I said to my Dad, angrily.  “Who are you to say what is wrong with me, or him, or
us
?” 

I emphasized “us” because there was clearly an us whether or not he liked it.  I let that hang there, and Peter gave me an agreeing look and said “I love her.  Your daughter or not.  I’m not going to stop loving her.”

His word “love” hung in my  mind.  We’d known each other for less than a month, but I was sure.  I was in love with him.  “I love him too.” I said.

My dad stood there, expressionless and silent.  Peter and I waited, patiently.  Peter grabbed my hand with his and I felt relieved he was there. My worrying about him being upset with me was laid to rest. 

“Okay then.” said my Dad, softly.  He turned and left the room.

Peter turned and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the floor with a hug.  I laughed as he set me back down onto the floor.  We looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, both of us smiling.  He stroked my cheek and then kissed me.  He pulled away, smiling, and looked into my eyes again.

“I am so glad we are here together.” he said.  “These past few weeks have been painful.”

“They were awful.” I said.

“I’m sorry.” he said, though the words didn’t seem like enough.  I still felt heavy inside. 

“I went back to my parents to research.” he said.  “My mom is one of the elders at the Hall of Elders, which has a great library of the history of our people.  I read and read, and also carefully asked my mom questions, trying not to arouse suspension.”

“The Pure have rules,” he said.  “and the few times in the past few hundred years that they were broken the human turned out to be completely mortal.  The Corrupt have tried for a long time to make one like you, but they’ve always failed.”

His words were all very excited, quick, and I had to interrupt to satiate my curiosity.  “What do you mean they have tried?” I asked.

“They are infertile.” he said.  “They only grow their number by turning the children of the Pure to their side.  We have laws that prohibit us from consorting with humans.”

“Why?” I asked.  “What makes them infertile?”

“No love.” he said.  “There are special conditions required for immortals to conceive a child, and love is one of them.”

“Love is just an emotion.” I said. 

“Is it?” he asked.

Furrowing my brow, I contemplated love.  In my mind, love was tucked neatly into its category of “feelings.”  I couldn’t see how it played a role in fertility.  Maybe it was different with the immortals, but there were plenty of mortals making babies together without any sort of love.

“Anyway.” he said. “I believe we have a very good case to keep you in our world... meaning
my
world.  I was very worried they would hide you away somewhere, and make you forget me, and forget us.”  He grinned.  “I believe even more so now, from what Nicholas just said.” 

His smile faded.  “Though I’m not sure what to think,” he said. “about him being your Dad.  I’d wondered about who your Dad could be, where he was, and why he’d left you alone all this time.  Are you angry with him?”

“We spoke today, about it.” I said.  “I feel like I understand though it does hurt a little.”  I left out the part where it hurt a little like when he left me those few weeks ago.  I didn’t want him to feel badly.

Peter left the room and returned with my dad to eat dinner together.  No one said much though they did both thank me for putting together a meal.

Peter and I kept exchanging looks and smiles.  I occasionally looked over at my Dad, and he was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, and just quietly tolerating it.  As the evening wore on, we all sat in silence in the living room.  Peter and I continued our silent conversation of glances and smiles. 

After I announced I was getting tired and got up to go to bed, my Dad asked Peter to sit and talk with him for a while.  Feeling nervous about that, I headed up the stairs.

George greeted me with figure eights around my legs when I entered my room.  I glanced over at the nesting dolls on top of the dresser.  Reaching up to my chest, I felt the locket that rested there.  It was still there, and Peter was there as well.  I felt very comforted.

Softly humming, I made up songs as I stepped into my pajama bottoms and then crawled into the bed.  George hopped up with a
thwump
and a
prrrrbt
.  I reached over and pet him, and then fell into a deep sleep.

Settling In

Cracking open my eyes
,
I felt something heavy on my head.  That something shifted, and I felt the pad of a kitty paw on my cheek.  That was how George woke me up when I’d slept beyond his breakfast time. 

Throwing back the comforter, I stepped out onto the cold hardwood floor.  I found one sock on the floor from when I’d stripped them off in the middle of the night.  After fishing around under the blankets for the other one, I put my socks on while George rubbed up against my back.

After filling George’s food bowl, I gathered up some clothes for the day and headed towards the hall bathroom for a bath.  Peter was standing in the hall, right outside my door.

“How long have you been there?” I asked.

“Awhile.” he said with a smile.  He wrapped one arm around me and swept my hair back from my face with his free hand.  Then he leaned in and kissed me.  After that he pulled back, looked me in the eyes, and smiled.  Smiling back, I leaned in and put my forehead against his.  I had one hand around him, and the other on his chest.  We just stood there, embracing, as minutes passed by.

After sensing a presence behind me, I grew uncomfortable.  Peter must have felt it too because he pulled away and took a step back from me.  I turned around to see my dad, standing there with his expressionless face.  There was something very intense about that face he made.

“I, uh.” I said. “I was just on my way to the bath.”

Darting across the hall and into the bathroom, I closed the door behind me.  My dad’s silent disapproval seemed worse than if he’d just complained out loud.  Sighing, I turned the knobs on the tub and pushed in the stopper.

Climbing into the tub, I thought about how to go about the day.  I needed to bring up with my dad the fact that I needed to show up to work on Monday - which was the next day.  I also wondered when I would be able to go back to my apartment.

Sitting in the tub until my fingers and toes were like prunes, I decided I had no idea how to talk to my dad.  I tried to imagine him and my mom together.  He seemed so reserved and quiet.  She was so extroverted, and outspoken.

After I brushed my teeth and combed out my hair, I then stepped into a fresh pair of grey tights and a cotton black dress.  Looking into the mirror, I smiled at myself.  It was still such a novelty to see myself so clearly.

I walked back into the hall.  Peter was gone, probably whisked away by my dad. Stepping down the stairs, I paused at the bottom step, listening. 

My dad appeared from around the corner.  “I’m going to head down to the Jewelry store for a few minutes.” he said.  “Peter is already there for the day.”  He looked me intently in the eyes.  “Don’t leave the house.”  He then turned on his heels, his shoes already on, grabbed his coat and closed the door behind him.  I didn’t have a chance to get a word in. 

Sighing, I stared at the closed door.  The door seemed symbolic to me.  I felt like a prisoner.  I knew it wasn’t like that.  I knew my dad was protecting me, but I couldn’t escape the feeling.

Pulling my shoes from out from under the bench, stepped into them.  I wrapped my coat around me.  After opening the door, I let it slowly swing open while I looked out.

It was cold outside, but the sky was blue.  There was a bit of frost on the edges of the plants and the tree branches.  I stepped out onto the porch, carefully, like I might have burst into flames at any moment.  His words “don’t leave the house” echoed in my mind.

Stepping off the porch and down the steps, I meandered onto the pathway toward the street while I took in my surroundings.  I looked around at the quiet yard, enjoying the scenery, until I instinctively stopped just short of the curb at the end of the pathway.  The around me felt like it was saying “not safe.”

Aware of a figure approaching in the distance, I froze where I stood and focused on my instincts.  I didn’t feel the same chill that I felt at my office when The Corrupt were hunting me.  I felt okay, so I stayed where I was and watched him approach.

He was sharply dressed, wearing a grey suit with a white button up shirt, unbuttoned at the collar.  Walked with one hand in his pocket, he had a cadence to his step that seemed carefully engineered to be sexy, just like everything else about him.  His hair was light brown, short on the sides, but long on the top where it was tussled.  He looked like a male underwear model.

Stopping just short of the pathway, he stood on the street facing me.  I instinctively took two steps back.  He didn’t move any closer, but gave me a smile that made me melt a little inside.  Shaking it off, I scolded myself mentally for falling prey to it.

“Why do you stay here with them?” He asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked.

He laughed.  “Don’t you find them a little puritanical?”

I didn’t answer, but asked “Are you The Corrupt?”

He laughed again.  “That’s what
they
call us.” he said, nodding his head up toward the house.  “That is their opinion.  I would call us ‘The Fun.’”

He looked me up and down.  “You are beautiful.” he said with a smirk.  “Though your wardrobe could use a little work.”

Not having any ideas about how to respond, I just stood there silent.  He seemed snarky, but not threatening.  Not having seen The Corrupt when they were in my office hunting me,  he didn’t exactly fit my vision of the creepy sort of character I’d imagined.

“If you come to us, willingly,
we
will show you a good time.” he said. “Promise.”

He held out a card.  “Call me.  Anytime.  I will come rescue you from this.” he said, waving his hand at the house like he was shoeing away a fly.

He stayed on the street behind the curb and held out a business card.  Approaching him, I stopped just before the edge of the curb again.  Reaching out to where he was holding the card in the air, everything seemed to move in slow motion.  Hearing my heart beating in my ears and my shallow breath, I noticed just how blue his eyes were.

Quick as lightning he grabbed my hand.  I felt a wave of terror, instinctively pulling back but unable to escape his grip.

“Relax.” he said, with his own posture and expression relaxing.  As he smiled looked thoughtful, kind, and genuine.  He didn’t seem to be pulling me his direction, so I complied.  He leaned forward, and kissed my hand, softly, on the top of my knuckles. 

Time continued to move slowly as I studied his face.  He looked up at me as his lips rested on my knuckled, and the whole moment felt charged with an energy I didn’t understand.  Clinging to the moment, I wanted to know more and to explore that feeling. 

As I became aware of myself smiling, I remembered Peter.  Feeling torn, I focused on my feelings for Peter, shoving the present moment away in my mind, and felt him release his grip on my hand.  I quickly took two steps back, thankful for whatever force was keeping him from crossing into the yard.

“I hope to see you soon.” he said, locking eyes with me.  Looking into his icy blue eyes, I felt lost in them for a moment.  Turning and looking back over my shoulder, I watched as he walked away and disappeared down the street.

Running back up the pathway, I bounded up the porch steps and into the house.  Slamming the door behind myself, I plopped down onto the bench just inside the door.  I held my hand to my chest, feeling my heart beat quickly.

I took off my shoes and my coat and ran up the steps to my room, closing the door behind me and locking it.  Opening my hand, I stared at the card he had given me.  It was a plain white business card with a single phone number on it.  I walked over to the dresser, opened the largest nesting doll that was sitting on top and placed the card inside.

Sitting on the edge of my bed with my arms crossed under my chest, I replayed the event in my mind.  I felt guilty for leaving the house when my dad told me not too, but I wasn’t sure that it was wrong.  Nothing about the male underwear model looking guy felt wrong.  I wasn’t sure I trusted him, but I wasn’t sure I trusted my dad either.

It wasn’t long before I heard the front door opening.  I came down the stairs to find my Dad had returned, hanging up his coat and removing his shoes.  I wanted to talk to him before he ran off again.

“I need to go to work tomorrow.” I said.

“I know,” he said. “But we need to discuss that.  We will take turns protecting you while you work for the next few weeks, but we can’t keep that up forever.  I have a business to run.  I’m going to need you to hand in your notice.”

“But my career.” I said.

I certainly didn’t define myself by my career, but it had been such a huge part of my life for so long.  I couldn’t imagine my life without my work.

“I’m sorry Emily.” he said.  “If things had been different, if I had known, you would know how to protect yourself by now.  It’s just not safe.”

“Okay.” I said.  “Then what about my apartment?”

“Again, I’m sorry Emily.” he said.  “I’m going to need you to put in your notice with your apartment as well.  I’m working on getting your land-line number transferred over to a cell phone.  You should probably give your mom a call.  She left a message on your voicemail, worried.”

“What should I tell her?” I asked.

“I don’t want you to lie,” he said.  “but I need for you to think of something to tell her without telling her about us.  I believe you are clever enough to handle that.”

I felt sick.

“I’m so sorry Emily,” he said.  “I know this must be very difficult for you.  Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?”

“Will you at least stop hating the idea of me and Peter?” I said.

He stood there, expressionless.

“I love him.” I said.  “And I barely know you.  I don’t understand what your problem is.”

He didn’t move, and he didn’t say a word.  Grabbing the rail on the steps behind me, I sat on the third step from the bottom.  I figured I would be there awhile.

A grandfather clock chimed in the living room.  Several minutes passed.  I looked down at the floor, finding his statue-like stillness unnerving.

“I don’t hate.” he said.  “I just don’t want you, or Peter, to go through what I went through with your mom, Ellen.”  He said “Ellen” breathlessly, and full of emotion.  A tear trickled down his cheek.  I had no clue he had felt so strongly.  He’d spoken about it before like it was just something that “happened.”

“If you could go back in time,” I said. “would you have stopped yourself from seeing my Mom?  Would you have never approached her?”

“No.” he said.  “I’d do it all again.”

“I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t.” I said.

He looked at me and actually smiled.  “I’m glad you are here.  I truly am, Emily.  It’s been painful all these years watching you from a distance, but never being able to speak to or even hug my own daughter.”

I got up from the steps and approached him.  We embraced for a moment, and he stepped back.

“Should we make some sandwiches for lunch?” He asked. “And go eat them with Peter at the Jewelry store?”

I grinned and said “I’d love that.”

Things from that point on became less awkward in the house.  My dad stepped back a bit with me and Peter and just stayed out of the way.  Peter and I spent hours in front of the fire with our feet up, talking.  It really softened the blow of losing my career and my apartment all at once. 

I went into work that Monday morning and handed in my notice.  Rick seemed taken aback at my explanation that I wanted to spend time freelancing, and that I had found some opportunities that I just couldn’t pass up.  We had shared in so much success recently, he didn’t understand why I’d leave him.

On my lunch break I signed the paperwork to end my month-to-month rental agreement with the apartment.  I did all of it with Peter quietly following me around everywhere I went.  Forgetting I was the only one seeing him, I kept catching myself looking at him and smiling and then seeing him smile back but shaking his head at me. 

While driving “home,” which I was trying out calling it, Peter was sitting in the passenger seat with his hand on my thigh, with his pinky finger resting under my skirt.   I thought of the “puritanical” description from the male underwear model looking guy and laughed.

“What?” asked Peter.

I looked over at him and smiled, and then back at the road, attempting to concentrate.  Traffic was busy, with everyone getting off work.

We hadn’t exactly “gone all the way,” but there was definitely not a lack of heated, passionate encounters.  Peter seemed to have the control to end things
right
when we started to take each other’s clothes off.  I respected that, even thought it was bordering on a form of torture.

We arrived home to the smell of dinner being cooked.  We followed the smell into the kitchen and found the table set.  “Just pulling the bread sticks out of the oven,” said my Dad.  “I’m ready when you are.”

Peter and I took off our shoes and coats and joined my Dad at the table.  We were all in good spirits, and my Dad sure could cook a good meal.