The Story of the Vampire, L (Completed | Featured )

Part 10 - Flight

I loved to wake up to Yuki scratching my back, because I always sleep on my belly. I woke one evening, pleasantly, to gentle scratching, to fingernails dragging from shoulderblades to the divots of my hips. I opened my eyes lazily and turned my head, and Yuki was sitting up next to me. Seeing my eyes, he proffered a piece of paper. 

"What's this?" I asked, sitting up. 

"Never mind it for a moment, you look delicious," he told me, and kissed me on the lips, so I knew it was evening. His lips were warm against mine, and so when he tried to press his tongue against my teeth, I bit it, which made him scream and laugh. "Good God, you're still bold," he said, laughing and rolling over. 

I squeezed his hip and found the letter with my hand. It was typed up on plain A4, folded twice with no address written. As I unfolded it, the baby began to stir, and Yuki got up to tend to him. 

"Tell me what it's about," Yuki said. "I didn't read it. It says 'Dear Jackie'. I respect you, even if you are always saying that I don't." Javie said something then, I don't recall what, and Yuki said to him, "That's right. I'm your 'papa', not him. That's right," conspiratorially, laughing. 

"He needs a bath. Why don't you bring up some warm water and I'll wash your hair, too?" I said. We didn't have hot running water in the apartment, or a washroom. 

"Sure." The baby had him by the face, hand on either cheek, and I watched them make silly faces at each other. The letter didn't interest me half so much. 

I let the letter sit on the table while Yuki brought the water up. Javie always slept after a bath, clean and warm. It gave me no end of pleasure to think, "I washed that baby, look at it," and Yuki liked it when I washed his hair, massaging his scalp with my fingers. By the time I rinsed Yuki's hair, the water had grown cold, but he didn't seem to mind, humming and happy. After all of that, which was enough work for an evening, he had all but forgotten the letter, so that when I picked it up, he was doubly interested. He said, "Read it aloud?"

"Dear Jackie," I read, holding the paper near my face in the neardark, and translating from English so that Yuki could understand. "How are you living? I have been asked to write to you by some of the others, though I would that they would write themselves. It troubles me and I am cautious, because I know that you don't want to see us. I told them that I wouldn't bother you until you chose to contact us, if you ever would, but they insisted. For me, these years, it has been enough to know that you are alive. Dasius told me he is receiving your Amex bill regularly, so if no one has stolen it, you are still living all right, and that is well for me."

"Who is it?" Yuki asked, going through the fridge for baby food an older Polish lady downstairs insisted on making for us. She would bring it in a box every Sunday, and "shoo" us if we protested, which was the polite thing to do. Javie, at two and two months, was getting a little old for liquid food, but he liked it. 

"It's my father," I said.

"Really?" he asked, ah bon? "You still talk to your father?"

"It's different," I whispered. "Do you want to hear more?"

"Ah sure," o bien sur, "I do. Is it positive? Would I like him?" 

I sat at our little kitchen table and watched Yukito's back a moment, in his black button up shirt. When I didn't say anything, he turned his head and raised his eyebrows. "I love you," I said, quietly.

"I love you, too," he said. "Is it that bad?"

I read on. "Lately," I read, "there is some news about Paris that troubles me. Your Leis is there now, in Paris, and he says that Laurent is much afraid for you. I protested that I did not want to know details of your life, because you haven't shared them with me, but I'm told that you have a baby. I want to know its name. Will you tell me? But that is not the matter. Jackie, Laurent is saying that someone has found out about your baby who shouldn't know, and that he wants to kill it. I must be frank with you that you must come back to America. Now. If you go to Orly, there are tickets there under Dasius's name. He has had passports made. Everything is ready for you to fly. I'm desperate. Laurent cannot protect you. You must come home. He says that Nicky has gone mad, and will not be satisfied until he kills you all. I have never met this person, and I do not know, to be honest with you, if it is that he cannot be controlled or if for some reason it has been decided that you should die. How can we know this? Only, please come home. Please come home. My baby, I would not write if it wasn't true. You'll stay with me for the time being. If you won't, some other arrangement may be made. I love you, please heed me. Ellis Q. March." 

"Jesus," Yuki whispered. He had come to stand by me while I read. "But they're people. Don't you think we can handle them?"

"They're not people," I said.

"Do you think we can wait until morning? It will be difficult to find a cab."

"Where did you get this letter?" I asked.

"I'll call the cab company. Pack a bag for Javie."

At the honk of the cab's horn, we went down. Except for cloth diapers and baby food, we took nothing with us. As if sensing danger, Javie did not make a sound, his face pressed against my shirt. 

Downstairs, on the landing, we passed a small child with long brown hair, sucking on his fingers. As we passed, he watched us silently.