Tuesday, October 30, 2007
I stand at the door to the building of my first case. The iron gate in front is rusted, the brick around it old and crumbling. The lamp above the door flickers while humming loudly. There's an intercom on the wall below it. I enter the flat number and wait.
"Yes?" says a man's voice.
"Is this the home of Caius?"
"Yes, that's me."
"I'm from IVA." To maintain anonymity, I pronounce it as instructed: Ee-vuh.
"Oh, yes. Come in."
He buzzes me in, and I enter the building, feeling nervous. The right door is one flight of stairs up. After knocking, it's a matter of seconds before the door opens, and the man I presume is Caius appears. He's a white guy who looks to be in his late twenties, has a five o'clock shadow, and is wearing jeans and a wrinkled shirt.
The studio flat has clothes on the sofa, which reminds me that these inspections happen without warning. Caius runs to tidy up, then gestures to the sofa and says awkwardly, "Please, have a seat."
Well, at least I'm not the only one feeling awkward. I place the unmarked box of appetite suppressants on the table. Deliveries are part of my duty, along with gathering information. As I sit down on the worn sofa, I open the folder containing a script and case information.
Caius. Changed last year after being attacked by a rogue Transformatis behind a bar. No family before the incident and was in and out of jobs after recovering from substance abuse-induced depression. Healthy and clean for two months before the event. Support system consists of a few friends, two of which are also Transformatis. Has chosen supplements as "nutrition."
"Here's your new supply." I gesture to the box.
He picks it up and places it closer to him. "Thanks."
There's an awkward silence. I flip to the script. Sergius gave me a rundown of my duties on Sunday, and they sounded easy enough. I had no clue I'd end up feeling this clumsy. "How are things?" I read. "Any concerns or difficulties?"
"Nope, everything is fine." His smile is tiny, and he looks tired, but his tone is light.
"Everything?" I look back at my notes. "How safe do you feel?"
He looks like he wasn't expecting that question and ponders for a while. "As long as I have these," he pats the box, "very."
'What makes you feel safe/unsafe' is the next question, so I skip it and throw in my own. Sergius never mentioned it not being allowed... Granted, I didn't exactly ask. "Did you feel safer at the center?"
"Of course. But now I can kind of get back to my old life."
I nod.
"You're new to this, aren't you?"
I'm embarrassed but fight the urge to look away. If I give the impression or verify that he's right, will he take advantage of it?
"I am too." He rubs the back of his head and gives a small smile. "So, don't feel nervous."
Despite myself, I'm comforted by his vulnerability. I return to the script. "How do the people around you seem to act in response to you?" What a weird question.
"Well, no one has come at me with a pitchfork..."
Fair enough. "Do you feel like you're pretending?"
He looks at me closely. "No. Although I can feel awkward at times, wondering 'Should I pretend to go to lunch?' or 'How much should I pretend to strain lifting this'..." He pauses. "Other than those small things, who I am... I don't feel I'm pretending."
"Is there anything you're dissatisfied with?" I ask, going back to the assigned questions.
He gives a small smile. "No."
I close the folder. "Then, that's all. If you feel any physical..." I peek back at my script, "discomfort or emotional discomfort, please contact the center as soon as possible." Having completed my task, I stand up to leave.
"Will do." He follows me to the door and opens it.
"Then," I resist bowing, "have a nice day." Having lived in Japan so long, at times, I become unsure about social protocol.
He nods. "You too."
Once in the car, I fill in his documents with a summary of his answers.
What I've learned from Case 1: Every Transformatis has a past, and changing doesn't erase it. They learn to cope and do their best to live with the cards they've been handed.
I close the folder and shift the car into drive. One down, forty-nine more to go.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Case 2 is in a relatively affluent suburban area. After I ring the doorbell, it isn't long before the door opens to reveal... no one?
Movement below my line of vision catches my eye, and I look down to see a child. Robbie (no vampire name yet). Eight years old. Transformatis. Knowing he was just a child sends shivers up my spine. Conditions of his change a year ago are unknown. Nonetheless, he coped "surprisingly well." Current support is his adoptive Nativus family, the Burtons.
"Can I help you, sir?" the freckled little boy says.
Rather than being polite, it sounds like he's mimicking a butler. "Hm..." I could ask him where his parents are, but does he call them that? Or perhaps he calls them by their names or... who knows. "Is your guardian here?"
"Are you the gardener? But Mum gardens herself."
I blink. I don't have much experience with children. But his response reminds me a bit of one of my early conversations with Hitori, and I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. "Is your mu―mother here?"
At that moment, a woman's voice calls, "Robbie!" She reaches the foyer, and worry fills in her green eyes as she scolds him. "What did I tell you about answering the door?"
"Sebastian answered the door."
"Who?"
"The butler."
"We..." Ms. Burton shakes her head, her black bob not moving an inch, and gently pushes his back. "Just go play." When she comes to the door, she looks me over and asks, "What can I do for you?" Before I can answer, she notices the box in my hand. "Oh. Oh! Please come in."
After leading me inside, she takes the box from me, and I stand at the doorway to the living room. Ms. Burton sets the box down on the end table, grabs scissors from the kitchen, and opens it. The bottle she pulls out looks exactly like children's liquid medicine. She reads its label, unscrews the cap, dips her manicured pinky in, and then tastes it.
"Good, it's grape. Robbie refused to take the cherry, and you all messed up the last order." The woman glances me over again. "Or they did, anyway."
"Ah, that's good." How else should I reply?
"Are you here for an interview as well?"
"No. Just delivery." I nearly bow, but remember, again, this isn't Japan. Damn it. "Have a nice day." The boy stares at me, watching me go. "Listen to your mother," I find myself telling him softly before leaving.
There were questions I wanted to ask. Like, why did the woman adopt a Transformatis child? Like, does Robbie know or understand he's going to be eight forever? Will experience overcome the childish structuring of his cognition? What happens when his Nativus parents die? But I feel prying into this situation is rude, so I stay ignorant and curious. Maybe Sergius will answer the last two, at least.
What I've learned from Case 2: There's a variety of circumstances in the world of vampires. And even as vampires, children will be children and parents will be parents.
Two down, forty-eight more to go.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
I'm using my lunch break to do Case 3 because it's close to work. As I make my way to the flat, footsteps follow me each flight of stairs and down the hallway. By their weight, they're probably the footsteps of a woman.
Just as I reach the door of my destination, she says, "Hold on," and steps in front of me. Her blond hair is in a ponytail, and a book bag is slung over her shoulder. Must be a college student. She eyes me. "What do you need?"
"I'm here to see Adriana."
"Who are you?" She frowns.
The flat door swings open. "Oh, he's from IVA." Another blonde girl, her hair in a messy bun, is standing in the doorway. "Come in," she says, motioning.
We do. Adriana is wearing pajama shorts and a tank top.
Eighteen. Changed by a former lover. Support includes friends. Her file didn't have much information. Why? According to a sticky note in Sergius' handwriting, "Take the opportunity to chat with your peers! wink-wink"
'Wink-wink' my ass.
"I can't believe you were about to let a man into the flat dressed like that," the other girl sighs, tossing her bag on the sofa.
'Don't worry, I have zero interest,' I could say, but that may come across in ways I don't intend it to mean.
"Sit down," Adriana tells me. "Are those my pills?"
I hand her the box. The other girl leans against the doorway. She looks at me in a judgmental way, reminiscent of some of the girls in high school.
I don't avert my gaze. Is she allowed to hover over us? Is there a risk her presence may affect the answers Adriana gives? Does it make any difference to me?
"What?" she demands, arms crossed.
"Um... what's your relation?"
"Flatmates."
I wonder if she's Transformatis as well. "Do... your deliveries come at different times?"
"I'm Nativus." Her gaze is hard.
"Oh." Ugh, damn you, Sergius.
She frowns as if confused. "Are you new or something?"
I hesitate before admitting, "Yes."
Her expression softens. "Oh."
Adriana tells me, "If you have any questions, just ask." She waves her hand at the folder in my lap. "Outside of those, I mean." Her demeanor is relaxed yet cheerful.
This clearly isn't her first time. I take her up on her offer; how could I not? "How did you two end up living together?"
"Transformatis my age are too old to be adopted but too young to be on their own. I'm eighteen. So, we get paired with a Nativus or unsupervised Transformatis who appear around the same age. They volunteer themselves. Flatmates are in high demand." She rolls her eyes. "Because we can't live with humans. Both types of vampires."
"I see." I open up the folder, ready to start the interview. She answered my question, but girls talk a lot and I can tell she's the kind of person who is hard to stop once she gets going.
"What are you? How old are you?" she leans towards me.
"I'm..." I'm more hyper-aware of it than ever, but I obviously can't say I'm half, "Nativus."
The girl from the doorway is frowning suspiciously again. "Why'd you pause?"
I ignore her and start the interview. This time, I stick to the script. Adriana does talk a lot. She's bored and can't wait to start uni in the Fall. She's mad that they won't let her contact this guy she met when she was at the Center. She is also still mad at her ex-boyfriend from when she was human because he's the one who bit her―though he's now in prison for that. She wants to be a bartender and it sucks that she isn't allowed to get any job until six months after her release.
We finally finish thirty minutes later which is more than three times as long as my first case.
"Have a nice day," I tell her, the same as everyone else.
"You too," she waves before closing the door.
What I've learned from Case 3: British teenaged girls talk a lot and overshare.
Three down, too many left to go.