An Almost Impossible Love (On Hold)

2. Starting My Human Life

The good part of being new at somewhere is the feeling of weird anxiety that triggers anything you learn and you do. I have never been down the Equator Line before and now I see how short minded I have been.

Maybe it was just not the best time in my history to come down here. I am sure my life was not like this about a hundred of years ago, though.

The nightlife of this São Paulo city, a South American place which is used to many kinds of faces and faiths is just what I need for having a normal kind of human life, which is going to be lived at night only.

While I patiently wait for my bag at the airport conveyor belt, I find myself holding my briefcase as tightly as I can, as it's at my own future I'm grabbing to.

The international airport of Cumbica is crowded and emanating an intense and exotic scent that mesmerizes my senses and makes me mentally wander around the facility.

Such scents are different exotic fragrances of perfumery, groceries and also people of different ages and genders.

I close my eyes and focus my listening to each one of those people at a time and get acquainted to small bits of each of them, pieces of their expectations and their lives.

I smile tenderly to myself, happy for having chosen to be here and start something new and exciting by my own.

Dealing with Sephora was something else. She has been a good companion for km whole life as a vampire, giving me all the room and the privacy I've asked for.

She was happy enough just knowing I was there, somewhere close where she could sense me and know I was well.

I was sure that having an ocean between us would be very uncomfortable for her, so I've decided to release both of us from our partnership as companions. I must confess the weird glint in her eye was something unexpected. However, she tried to hide it well and I have pretended it passed unnoticed.

When I finally open my eyes, I realize that my brown leather bag is the only one circling around the conveyor.

Moving slowly at night is also something I have got to get used to.

Pretending to be human means being slow, hesitant and frequently clumsy. It is going to be fun, except for the hunger I might keep under control.

The scent of a young lady that crosses my path while I turn away from the conveyor belt reminds me of how hard it can be keeping the thirst at bay if I am not committed enough. But I'm sure I can do this also.

I need to get myself some... food. No! I need to buy myself some food.

I catch the first cab that approaches, ignoring the line of people that was already waiting for a cab. The cab driver just drives away as I slide inside, in an obvious urge to avoid any kind of arguing while we leave a bunch of upset faced people behind.

If they just knew the favor I'm doing to them.

- Hotel Paulista, por favor. (Paulista Hotel, please)

My well-trained Portuguese would make me pass as a native if it wasn't for my height over the average, my dark thick red hair and a couple of too large and too light green eyes.

Even though the city is a medley of people from almost everywhere around the world, I'm sure I'm something that looks pretty alien.

- Deixe-me no supermercado mais próximo do hotel, por favor. (Get me to the supermarket that is the closest to the hotel, please).

I need to get something to eat before I get in the hotel, locked in a building filled with warm blooded exotic tasting people.

Looking back at me from the back mirror, the cab driver gave me a quick glance before turning his eyes back to the road in front of him. "Who would think of doing the supermarket at the middle of the night?" crossed his mind just before a mental list of supermarkets that would be available now popped up.

We parked a few minutes later in front of a Pão de Açúcar named middle market where I certainly would get what I needed.

As soon as the cab stopped, I fluidly grabbed my belongings, reminding soon enough that humans don't move as fluidly.

- Fique com o troco. (Keep the change.)

As soon as I enter the market, the smell of fresh meat catches my attention and drags me to where it is emanated. On my way to the meat section, I patiently gather some useless type of human food, which I carefully put inside a metal kind of basket bag.

In front of the butcher's section, I ask for what seems to be closer to the kind of food I very much need now.

- Cinco quilos de bife de fígado, por favor. (Eleven pounds of liver steak, please).

The skeptic look in the butcher's face reminds me that maybe it's not a regular ordering... But it's just the amount of this kind of meat I need to get fed enough for the night.

I keep myself acting as much natural as I can while the scent of blood emanating from the cow's guts fills my nostrils.

When the butcher finally finishes stuffing the piece of meat in a plastic bag, I get myself stretching my arm too fast for a human. Fortunately the man wasn't paying much attention what is a relief and a disappointment at the same time.

I fight the urge to tear the plastic bag open and eat the raw gut right in the same spot I stand at.

Pretending to be human has been challengingly annoying so far.

When I finally get myself out of the supermarket, I focus on a mental map to the hotel where I can finally hide in my room or anywhere available to eat.

The smell of blood emanating from the bag I carry and the exciting anticipation easily blows my mental map away from my head while I walk to the hotel too slowly for my taste and need in hands.

The hotel comes to view while my hunger comes stronger to my throat and I can't avoid accelerating my pace.

- Boa noite. Reserva para Duncan Leonard O'Riley, por favor. (Good evening. Reservation for Duncan Leonard O'Riley, please).

The attendant's polite smile transpired something I was already much used by now. It's weird how a hungry vampire seems attractive to ladies about this receptionist's age. Nevertheless, my presence was certainly giving the male attendant reasons to fidget as a rabbit near a bear.

- The l'eau, please?

I ask, anxious enough to forget that I shall use Portuguese and that hotel attendants use to be fluent in many languages.

- It's just after that corridor, sir. May I keep your bags in the meanwhile?

Of course not!

- It's not necessary, thank you.

I hurry to the toilet; a behavior that I assume is something quite normal for humans to do.

As soon as I close the door behind me, I grab the bloody plastic bag and tear it apart with my teeth. I swallow the chunks of liver carefully enough to not stain my clothing with cow's blood.

A couple of seconds later I was fed and frustrated. Eating pieces of old animal guts was like eating paper, I guess. Sephora would certainly and violently laugh at me if she could see me now.

Feeling pitiful and lonely, I walk my way back to the hotel's balcony and to my new life of a night living human.