Making It Work

A Story by D. Burgher

Love is hard, real relationships are harder, and loss hurts. Even for vampires.

She said "no", again. I should have expected it, I did expect it, but I always hope that something will happen to change her mind. My question has become part of our routine, like how we do laundry or complain about the neighbors or check the times for sunrise and sunset. I ask her every year on the night after our anniversary. Every year she gently refuses, and how can I resist those eyes. Twenty-seven years, last night. My God, has it really been that long? How has she put up with me for all those years. But she still refuses. She won't join me, she says one lifetime is enough for her. She's seen the life I lead, and said a long time ago that it's not a life for anyone. I thought the years would convince her otherwise. Instead, she nearly has me convinced.

She's asleep now, and I slide silently out of bed. I came to bed with her tonight, like every other night. We held each other while I kept my body heated to living temperatures, talking and caressing until she fell asleep. I stay with her a while longer tonight, remembering all the other times like this, then I go to the basement and get to work. I'm an accountant these days. Tonight I'll audit a few companies' transactions, and make calls to the overseas offices. After that, I might just fly for a bit, to clear my head. It needs clearing much more often, lately. It's cold outside, too cold really to fly, but I can expend a bit more energy on heat. I'm more worried about the cost of heating oil for our home, to tell the truth. Being a creature of the night doesn't relieve me from the any part of the daily grind.

Maybe she refuses because of me. I've never really been comfortable with my condition, and never kept that a secret from her. The books make vampirism out to be this great thing, and I guess for some it is. I've known a few that reveled in it, the "freedom", the power, even the damned blood. I'm just not that type, though. Half of the things I can do are nearly useless to me, and the other half are frustrating limitations. Physical strength is good to have, but doesn't put a roof over your head. Mesmerism can make life much easier, but I've never been able to see it an anything but unethical. The only practical use I've had for controlling the beasts has been to keep the neighbor's mastiff from digging up Adelle's garden. God, Adelle, what am I going to do with your garden?

No daylight is a rule, but one that can be bent. I used to make a game out of it, seeing how close I could get to walking out into the sun until my need to survive pulled me back. I used to do all sorts of stupid things like that, before I met Adelle and found my purpose. Blood cannot be denied, but nowadays I view it the same way as heart medication or an inhaler. The hardest part is trying to get a consistent supply. I remember back when Adelle and I were newlyweds, and I was still hunting in the clubs. I don't know how many people tried to warn Adelle that I was cheating on her. It nearly ruined our marriage and cost me my life. Now I just go into the hospitals and blood banks to do my weekly shopping. All things considered, I'd rather still be able to just have a bowl of soup.

In all, I suppose it balances out. Some things in my life are made easier, some much harder. For the truly important things, though, vampirism has hardly made a difference. The hardest thing I've ever done in my one hundred sixty-four years was to marry Adelle and stay married. The bravest thing I ever did was propose to her. The bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do was Adelle saying "yes". I remember meeting her at night school, hanging out after classes. Before I knew what had happened, I was in love and so was she. I tried to break it off, but never quite managed it. When she found out, she walked away silently. I was terrified and a little relieved. When she showed up for dinner the next day, I was shocked.

Twenty-seven years, good and bad. We've fought and loved and made it work, to my eternal gratitude and amazement. Our friends think we're eccentric in our habits to say the least, and our home decor is big on heavy drapes. Our finished basement is where we do most of our living. I cook for our friends, but don't eat. Adelle smoothes over any awkwardness with a polish I can only envy, then effortlessly moves the conversation to the latest politics in her department, and who's getting tenure. Most of the time I just try to keep my mouth from hanging open. I love her, and would do anything for here. She loves me, of her own free will, and would do anything for me. Except join me.

I still can't understand why she won't join me. Maybe it's because she's seen how I have to live. Maybe she feels deep down that I am a monster. No, that's wrong. She's told me a thousand times, she loves me for who I am, all of me, and vampirism is just another part. I wish I could see what she sees. I wish I could understand, and speak to her in words she will understand. I wish she would say "yes", and I know I'm selfish for wanting it.

Adelle will be awake soon. I love these winter mornings when we can share breakfast in the kitchen. We'll go over plans for tonight's dinner with Pastor Dan. I'll tell her to drive carefully. She'll tell me to keep the shades closed. The same thing every morning, another little ritual. Then I'll hear her car pull out of the driveway. I can usually hear what song is playing on her radio a mile down the road. That's another thing vampirism grants, inhumanly acute senses. I used to like that part best, but today it's the part of it I hate most of all

I could hear her heartbeat change a few days ago. I can hear that it's not right, again. I can smell the sickly sweet odor she had before the remission. She knows, I know, the doctors will know soon. I'm the only one who could do something about it, but she won't allow it and I won't go against her wishes. She's going to leave soon, and I just can not accept it. I lived through too much without her, lived too much in her warmth. She is going to leave, and I'll be alone again. I wish I could stop it. I wish I could stop caring. My mother used to say she would meet my father in heaven. I can't even draw on that thought for comfort. Adelle will go there, but I never will. This is the worst part about being a vampire. It's not being a monster, I've learned to deal with that. The hell is that I remember I'm still a man.