Survivor (11 page)

He snorted.  “Of course not.  It was just a bit
stuffy in there.  I wanted some air.”  There was a hint of humor in his voice
that made me think he might be smiling.

“That’s one way to put it,” I said with a sigh.  I
pressed my hands to my temples, and took a deep breath of the cool night air,
hoping to soothe my building headache. 

Haine dropped his folded leg, so that they both
dangled over the railing.  “It’s hard for you to keep up with us,” he
observed.  “I wonder if Peter knows how much it affects you?”

I shrugged and dropped my hands back over the
railing.  “It’s fine.  I’m not as fragile as everyone seems to think.”

He reached out and ruffled my hair, startling me
with his familiarity.  “Of course you are.”  He dropped his hand to rest on the
railing next to mine.  “But then, vampires are also more fragile than everyone
seems to think.”

Something in his voice sounded deeply unhappy. 
“Well, we all have our issues I suppose.”  I was having difficulty thinking
around my fatigue.  “And vampires were human once.  I guess becoming immortal
doesn’t magically cure you of all your personality flaws.”

He laughed, a rich sound that danced over my skin
like a caress.  “You have no idea how right you are.  But at least when you are
human you have your freedom, you have no master controlling your destiny.” 

I sighed and backed away from the railing.  I wanted
to argue with him- after all I didn’t feel like I had much freedom, and my
guardians controlled my, er,
destiny
- but I just didn’t have the energy.
 “I’m going to head back inside.”  I paused.  “It was nice to meet you,”   I
said awkwardly.  Somehow talking to him out here had felt oddly intimate.  Like
I had known him forever.

He slid off the railing and joined me.  “I’ll come
with you.”  We made our way back around to the front of the house.  Haine
didn’t seem to mind my slow pace.  When we were back in the warm glow of the
front porch, he put a big hand on my shoulder.  “Don’t let your differences
discourage you.  I like to believe that if you love someone deeply enough, you
can overcome any obstacle.” 

I looked up at him, completely floored by the soft
sentiment.  His blue eyes were full of kindness.  He smiled and lifted his hand
to touch my hair, pulling back when Peter and Leah came through the door. 
Peter’s green eyes grew silvery as he took in Haine’s proximity to me.  The
other vampire gave him a wry smile of apology and stepped away, taking up a
place at Leah’s side. 

Leah glanced between the two men.  “Take good care
of our new friend, Peter,” she said softly.

He bowed his head and touched his heart.  It was a
formal sort of gesture, and Leah repeated it.  I got the feeling there was
something going on here.  Something vampirey.  And to think, Leah had said she
didn’t want to talk about politics tonight.

We drove home in silence.  Overall, I had enjoyed
myself.  I had been accepted by Peter’s people, and I felt like I was part of
his life.  But still, I was slightly on edge.  When we got to my place, Peter
carried me up.  Opening the door with the spare key that now resided on his
keychain, he carried me straight to the bedroom.  He followed me down onto the
bed, kissing me deeply.  I was shocked at his intensity.  His eyes had gone
silvery and his fangs were elongated.  He pulled me against his body and his
urgency lit through me like a flame.

I
wheeled into Dr. Walton’s office about
ten minutes late.  I’d forgotten my planner and had to go all the way back up
to my apartment to get it.  My visits to the old psychologist’s office were
something that I both looked forward to and hated at the same time.  On one
hand, he was knowledgeable and kind, and it was nice to be able to tell someone
how I was feeling- someone who would actually listen and give me constructive
feedback, unlike my family.  On the other hand, the visits reminded me that I
wasn’t normal, that there were countless things that were hard for me, and that
they would continue to be hard for me for the rest of my life.

As an added bit of stress, I was still trying to
figure out how much to tell him about Peter.  I couldn’t exactly explain most
of the reasons why my relationship with the vampire was difficult, but still,
maybe he could help.

Dr. Walton sat in his big leather chair, jotting a
note in a manila folder.  I made my way to the desk and he looked up with a
warm smile.  “Hello melody, how are things?”

I looked at the blue veins in the back of his age
spotted hands and wondered, as I had a million times, what his life was like
outside the office.  What would it be like to live to a ripe old age without
needing mental help?  Most people probably would have been more comfortable
speaking to someone closer to their own age, but not me.  For some reason, I
always found his age comforting.  I soaked in his calming presence like a
sponge.  He had the ability to make all of my problems seem smaller, less
immediate.

We started every session with a sort of checklist. 
“How are your headaches,” he asked, pen and chart at the ready.  I pressed my
lips together, trying to remember.  “I think they’ve been better, for the most
part.  I don’t have them as often, but when I do, they’re still pretty bad. 
Probably an eight out of ten.”  He scribbled in his chart and frowned at me,
his wild white eyebrows drawing together. 

“You didn’t bring your notebook.  Have you been
using it to write things down?”  I was supposed to be tracking these things and
brining it with me to sessions so that I was more accurate. 

I shifted in my seat.  “I forgot it in the car.  I
try to write in it every day… but sometimes I forget.”  Okay, not sometimes,
all the time.  Especially when I’m distracted- like, say, when my handsome new
friend declares himself a vampire, then starts telling people he’s my
boyfriend, then treats me to mind blowing sex- that kind of thing.

The doctor’s thick fingers paused in their
scratching and he peered at me over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses.  “How
about the fatigue?”

I licked my lips and considered saying it was fine,
but in the end, I told the truth.  I’m not a very good liar.  “Worse.  It’s way
worse lately.”

He nodded and jotted it down.  “How is your mood? 
Have you been having anymore bouts of depression since we talked last?”

I shook my head.  “None,” I said truthfully.  “I’ve
been… really happy.”

He arched his eyebrows at me, but looked relieved. 
“That is good news,” he said jovially.  Putting the chart aside, he leaned back
in his chair and crossed his arms loosely over his middle, settling in for the
real therapy, and looking like nothing so much as a professional version of
Santa Claus.

“What has changed?”  His voice was even and calm, as
he led me to explore my own head.  I shrugged and he tried again.  “Melody, you
are more tired, and when you have headaches, they are worse, but your mood has
improved drastically.  It seems like maybe you are doing something different?” 
I was silent.  “Maybe something you love, but it’s tiring?  Do you have a new
hobby?”

He knew, damn him.  I glared at him, suddenly
feeling betrayed.  He knew I wasn’t going to say I’d taken up bingo and found
it draining.  “Mom called you didn’t she?”

His blueberry eyes crinkled up at the corners and he
laughed.  “About an hour ago,” he admitted.  “She has some concerns about your
new relationship, and its effect on your decision making.”

I rolled my eyes.  “She has concerns about me ever
having a real life,” I grumbled under my breath.

He said nothing, only regarded me with that patient
expression.  Fine.  “I started seeing someone.  I met him on the subway one
morning on the way to work.  We were friends for a while before we started
dating.  He’s absolutely perfect.  Mom and Dad hate his guts.”

Dr. Walton leaned forward and rested his elbows on
the desk, still calm, but interested.  “Why are your parents concerned, do you
think?”

I sighed.  “They love me and they don’t want anyone
to take advantage of me,” I parroted.  We’d had this discussion before.  “But,”
I said, pointing a warning finger at him, “they treat me like a kid.”

He wasn’t ruffled.  “What kinds of things to you and
your boyfriend do together?” 

I shrugged and averted my gaze.  “We eat lunch together
in the park most weekdays.  He works near the library.  We watch movies
together.  Sometimes he takes me to the hospital with him when he goes to
volunteer.”

He nodded.  “It sounds like you’re getting out more
because of him.”

I tried to relax.  “I am.  But he isn’t like me. 
He’s not human.”

Dr. Walton laughed and sat back.  “Some people have
the ability to make us feel that way, don’t they?  I know it can be hard to
keep up when you have obstacles.  He understands that though, doesn’t he?  Do
you feel like he pushes you to do things that are exhausting, or that you don’t
want to do?”

I shook my head firmly.  “He is very considerate of
me.  He never pressures me to do anything, and he…well he makes me feel better
about myself.”  I grinned at him.  “You’d love some of the things that come out
of the man’s mouth about accepting myself, blah, blah, blah….”

The doctor pushed his glasses up and regarded me
seriously.  “Are you intimate with him?”

I stared at him.  I wasn’t really surprised or
embarrassed, at least not that much.  I was used to everyone knowing all of my
business all the time.  It came with the territory of not being in charge of
your own life.  I sighed.  “Yes,” I said tiredly.  “And before you even ask:
no, he never pressured me.  I’m the one who wanted to have sex, and yes I’m
safe about it, and no, that isn’t the only thing we ever do together.”  Though,
sometimes I wished it was.

Dr. Walton smiled at me.  “Good.  I’m glad you are
in a healthy relationship.”

It was nice to hear that.  Someone was glad I was
getting laid.  He wasn’t going to give me some ridiculous spiel.  I wanted to
throw my hands up and praise God for creating someone who acknowledged that relationships
and sex were a part of life. 

Then he had to go and ruin it.  “Do your parents
know that you are intimate with him?”

I rolled my eyes.  “I don’t talk about that stuff
with them.  Of course they probably just
know
he’s forcing me into kinky
sex acts and stealing my social security disability checks, the fact that he
works at a successful law firm notwithstanding.”  I could just imagine telling
Mom how far our relationship had progressed.  She’d probably drop dead on the
spot.

He sighed.  “Melody, they are your legal guardians. 
They have a right to make sure you aren’t being taken advantage of.  And as
parents, they will also be concerned about you.”

I clenched my fists, frustration and anger rising
through me like smoke from a flame.  “So let’s change that then.”

He took a deep breath, but didn’t say anything, just
waiting for me to start the conversation.  “You said before that I wasn’t there
yet,” I said tersely.  “What about now?  I want to be in control of my own
life.”

The old man took out my chart and leafed through it
to look at my injury date and his prior notes.  “Honestly,” he said slowly. 
“If you petitioned for guardianship, I would have no reason not to support your
independence.”

I felt my shoulders drop as my tension eased.  I was
there.  It was a possibility.  I could get my life back, and not have someone
constantly telling me I was too brain injured to make my own decisions.  It was
a short-lived feeling. 

“I still don’t think you should do it right now.” 
He was calm as ever, as he crushed my hopes.  “Your parents would never agree. 
You would have to petition the court for your independence.  There will be all
sorts of harsh feelings on both sides.  I think you need to consider that even
though you might be ready, your parents are not.”  He sighed.  “I know this
isn’t what you want to hear, but I advise you to wait a little bit longer.  Let
your parents have time to adjust to the thought.  You need them in your life. 
Don’t alienate them.”

If I didn’t want to lose my family completely, then
I had to continue to put up with them running my life.  I couldn’t do anything
without their approval.  I had to put up with their disapproving looks, their
constant interference in everything I did.  I took a deep breath, fighting the
helpless, trapped feeling that was engulfing me. 

*****

I awkwardly curled my legs under me and leaned
against the arm of the couch.  The microwave hummed to life in the kitchen, and
the explosion of popping kernels grew loud in the small apartment.  Peter and I
had instituted a weekly movie night.  I thought it ironic that he was always in
charge of the snacks.  The microwave beeped and I could hear him moving around
in the kitchen, arranging things and humming to himself.  Nothing was as
comforting as a content vampire.  I always felt really relaxed around him.  Too
bad he had to go and ruin it by telling me that it was all due to the hormones
he naturally exuded to calm his prey. 

Peter glided into the room and set a big bowl of
popcorn and a can of soda on the TV tray in front of me.  I smiled my gratitude
and he went to slip the D.V.D. into the player.