VamZombie WereWitch Girl and Demon Boy

7 - Love Comes Out

Enjoy and Vote :)

-November 25, San Diego CA-

Today’s Thanksgiving.  I have invitations from both my parents and Rebecca, who should I spend it with.  Rebecca claims her mother makes the best turkey and stuffing, and since she still lives with her mother it’s at her house, about a half an hour from mine.  On the other hand my parents live up in Chino—LA, yes I would see my little brother and sister and get to spend quality time with my family since leaving about eight months ago, but Chino—that’s two hours up to fifteen which seems to be pretty hard to come by when you’re without a car.

No work today, restaurant’s closed.  I haven’t been in since Saturday, that’s almost a full week of me being MIA, I have work tomorrow, Friday, my regulars are all gonna have questions—where I went for nearly a full week.  That’s something else about today, seems Mr. Insurance guy failed to realize today was Thanksgiving when he was telling me when he’d come over to look at the car—so that’s been pushed to tomorrow morning. 

With my car going by slowly and me being unable to make it to Chino, Rebecca is the only option for spending my holiday.  I would have much preferred my parents’ house; I miss my little sister, but I just can’t get there.  There’s going to be a long soppy phone call of why I couldn’t make it sometime tonight, they already know I’m not going.  With no car Rebecca is coming to pick me up, she almost spent the night last night but said she had to go home to help her mother with the cooking. 

I acted sad that she had to leave, but really I felt it was better than her staying over—God knows the next time Aleniese decides to show up and brutally killer her again.  And maybe the next time he does it the world won’t come back to me.  Maybe next time she actually dies—and that scares me the most.  Would he really kill her to prove a point? That scares me.

I see her pull up into my spot.  I dressed up for her mother, it’s the first time I’m going to meet her.  I have my hair brushed to the sides and used a bit of jell to keep the glossy appearance, I have black slacks much like the ones I wear for work on and collared blue button up shirt I spent the last ten minutes ironing all the wrinkles out—it’s still warm. I polished and am wearing my work shoes, which look much like dress shoes and made sure to shave the gray shadow I’ve had for the last two days.  A little of the cologne I was given last Christmas, and I was ready to go—a restaurant-bought pumpkin pie under one arm.  I had to walk down the street for the pie, but the diner at the corner sells their pies each day and I’m not going to lie—they’re pretty good.

“Hey Sweetie!” Rebecca says as she rolls down the window.  I walk over to the passenger door and open it to let myself in, making sure to set the pie on the back seat.  Yeah, it seems our language changed once Rebecca finally confessed to me.  Any other time in the world and I would have been ecstatic of her confession, wanting nothing more than for her to move in and for regular late-night sessions in the bed.  I saw her die though, I saw her brutally torn apart, and that just won’t leave my mind.

I smile as I sit down, “Hello, how’s the dinner going?”  Small talk, that’s how I’m going to survive the journey to her place.

She pulls out and starts down the road telling me it’s going to be wonderful, she goes over every gooey detail of the feast, even a few new recipes her mother is testing which look fabulous.   This ‘about the feast’ conversation wastes a good twenty minutes of the drive.  With ten minutes left a break comes then she asks out of the blue, “Do you love me?”

My heart skips a beat.  Yes, I’d like to think I do, but—it’s just.  I was afraid she’d ask that question eventually, I know I have to respond fast otherwise she’d get worried.  “I’ve loved you for a long time.”  There, a way to say it without representing my current feelings.  In truth I’ve loved her for a better part of the last two years I’ve known her, just never made my stance with her known.  It’s only just recently that I’m more afraid of a relationship with her instead of just begging for one.