23/11/2009

"Hi, Ed, it's Michael." "Oh, hi! I was going to call you. About the thing." "Oh, okay." "Yeah, I've got it here, with me, so you can come pick it up." Ed felt like she was rushing. Damn. "Right now?" "Oh, there's no rush. I got it already so whenever." Awkward, awkward, awkward. "You got it?" She wanted to get over the feeling that the phones were bugged. Relax. "Yeah, I got a whole ounce so we could split it." "Oh, well, thanks for that." He paused. Did he want more than that? Crap. "What are you doing right now?" "I was watching a movie. I've seen it before, no big deal." "So, I should come over?" "Yeah, sure." "It'll only take a minute, I've got a car." "Oh, okay." Was he just going to run in and out? Oh, well. Whatever. Whatever. "Alright, see you in a bit." "Bye." The phone clicked. She sighed. Might as well split it up so he didn't have to waste time. He probably had things to do. She didn't have scales but she just eyed it, pulling out an extra bag. That was good enough. She tried to handle it as little as possible but it felt sticky to the touch, and she regretted breaking off any crystals. She hadn't tried the new stuff yet, there was still a couple small buds of the old stuff. She'd offer him some when he got there if he didn't just run for it. She left his bag on the table and got up for a glass of water. Shake it off. She turned the movie back on and leaned back into the couch. Pphhhtttt. She shook the pack on the table and fished out the last cigarette, took a drag, then wanted to put it out. Wasteful, she thought, tapping it out on the glass ashtray. Let him hurry up and put her out of her misery. It wasn't misery. It wasn't any big deal. He was a nice guy. A nice prompt guy who knocked. Edna jumped up, then took a beat to walk to the door. "Hi, come in," she said as soon as she cracked the door. For a second, she was worried it wasn't him and she had just invited a stranger in, but she saw him in the same black coat as the door swung open. He was smiling. "Hi. That didn't take too long, did it?" "No, it was quick. Here." she gestured at the table. "It's all ready." "Oh, okay," he said, pulling out his wallet. "So," he lingered, "did you want to smoke some with me?" "Oh, sure. Yes." "Have you tried it yet?" "No, not yet." Was he being polite? He was polite. A nice guy. Michael went over to where he had sat previously like assigned seating and opened the bag. "Do you have..." he gestured for a tray. Edna reached for the box. "Did you want papers or a pipe?" "Let's just try the pipe to taste it." "Okay." "You like the pipe?" "It's easier and quicker, and it's less wasteful, I think. I don't like to overhandle the pot. How about you?" "It's okay," he said, handing over the loaded pipe, "but I like rolling. I like the ritual." The smell of the new stuff hung in the air. "Tasty. Do you want me to wrap it in something else. It really stinks." "Yeah, maybe." he said, taking the pipe. He inhaled deeply. "I don't think it's going to be a problem." he said, exhaling, passing the pipe. 'I'm just going straight back to my place." He paused, rubbing his hands on this thighs. "Did you have any plans for the evening?" "No, not really." "Do you want to come over to my place?" "Oh," she started, "Oh, sure. Okay." "Because last time we were here, so now it can be my turn." "No, okay. Sure." Edna looked around, kind of scatty, looking for her coat. She handed him the pipe, pointed at him and said, "Finish." then got up and grabbed her coat. "Sorry, I , uh, didn't know if you wanted to just get the pot and go." "And thanks for that," he said, "taking care of everything. I really appreciated that, not having to go through a bunch of people or waiting around." "It was no big deal, really." "I really mean it though. Saving me the hassle means a lot to me. It's not always easy having to go through certain people--" "Did you want more? Because I just went for the ounce. If you want to do it again, it's no problem. We can just keep it like this." "Yeah, great." He was smiling that brilliant smile. "It's finished. Do you want to go?" "Yeah, I'm ready." Edna clicked off the television and pulled on her coat, spotting her keys on the counter. He put the bag inside his coat and was out in the hall in one smooth movement, waiting for her to lock up. "My car is this way," he led. Edna knew nothing about cars but it looked nice, black and shiny with silver lining parts of it. "It's unlocked." he said, climbing in. The seats looked like leather and it was clean inside, no dust. She wondered if he was one of those guys really into car maintenance. "It's not far." he said. "Nothing is." she murmured reflexively. "It's true." She relaxed into the seat as she realized the new buzz. "Can you feel it?" she asked. "Yeah, it's good." he said. "As good as that other stuff. Thanks again." "Yeah." She liked being in a car at night, watching the lights pass by, just being the passenger. "Are you okay to drive?" she asked a bit late. "I can always drive." he said. They seemed to be going a bit fast, but she trusted him not to get pulled over. It wasn't a busy street, but a quieter one that went around the edge of town. Town looked deserted and she liked it that way. It seemed sudden that they were slowing down. "Is this it?" she asked looking around. "Here," he said, pointing up, turning into the driveway. "You have a house?" she said, surprised. "A whole house?" It was dark, so it looked brown in color, with no lights on, with three stories and a porch that went around the side of the house she couldn't see. "It belonged to my family. It's why I came here, because I inherited the house." Why shouldn't he have a house, she though, he could be really old or really rich. The car was slowly pulling around back to where she could see the porch end. "Do you live with any one?" she asked. It seemed a bit silly since no lights were on but maybe they were out. It looked deserted, and old but not in bad shape or with any thing in disrepair. There wasn't much foliage around but none of it looked overgrown or untended. "No, it's just me. There is a cat that comes around who is starting to get friendly but that's it." There were concrete steps up to the back porch, where Michael unlocked the door with what looked like one of those old skeleton keys. The knob was oval with a big plate, and it creaked predictably as the door swung open. "The wiring isn't completely reliable. It flickers in some places." "Wow, it's big." Edna said, looking around the room. There was a door immediately to the right that swung at Michael's touch as he passed it. The ceiling was high and the only thing in the room was a large dining room table with three chairs with their backs against the furthest wall. One parlor doors was slid closed, the other opened into a room with a ceiling light that flicked on as Michael passed into it. She followed him into the better lit room which turned out to be two uncovered bulbs. Michael was lighting candles lined up on a carved stone mantelpiece of a fireplace that looked to be working. "I'm going to make the fire." he said, wincing at the overhead light. "I need to get a cover for that thing. It... sucks." Edna peered into the other rooms that opened into the lit one. "Let me get the fire started and I'll give you the tour." Michael said from his position crouched in front of the fireplace. He couldn't be too flammable, Edna reasoned, with all the smoking and fire lighting. Maybe that wasn't true, but it wasn't like he was going to catch light like a pair of polyester pajamas anyway. Everything looked clean enough but she skirted touching anything as if it were covered in dust. She felt like they were playing house in an abandoned building, which felt exciting, but it was his house, so he said. The couch and chairs in the room were made of carved wood with pale blue patterned cloth on the seat and back. The pale blue made it seem faded, from sunlight or age, but this room didn't have any windows. It opened into two rooms, one with windows to the porch and a desk with a chair, as well as what looked like a daybed. "There's a little fireplace in here, too." Michael said from behind her, making her jump a bit. He was holding two big cream colored candles in candle holders with handles, handing one to her. "They're more reliable than the lights. This is the writing room, I guess. It gets a lot of light during the day." "Oh, really?" Edna blurted. So he could be in daylight? "I don't use it much." He said, moving into the other room. "And this one is the day room. It's got big windows, too. It opens up onto the porch. You go through here and it opens up into the foyer and the stairs. There's another set of stairs in the kitchen." He walked back into the room with the fireplace, checking on the fire. A small but steady flame burned under a blackened log, a blue glow wrapped around two thick sticks that propped it up. "This is the kitchen." he said, pushing open the swinging door they had passed in the first room. He gestured around with his free hand. "I guess this is the dining room. This way," he said, holding open the swinging door. The kitchen was large, with a big gas stove and a white enamel sink with a spigot that looked like the end of a pipe. Counters ran on either side of the sink under the windows. A wooden island took up the center of the room. "This is the pantry." Michael said, pointing his candle at the wooden doors. Edna was curious but she didn't want to snoop. Was there food in the cupboards? Did he use the kitchen? "I don't use it much. And these are the back stairs." he said, walking to what had looked like an arched doorway but turned out to be a skinny flight of steps. "They open up to a small room upstairs. I think it's a linen closet." He walked back through to the dining room door. "I have to keep an eye on the fire." Alone in the kitchen, Edna looked around quickly but followed him back into the fireplace room. "On the other side of the foyer there's stairs to the basement, around the backstairs, too, but it's really dirty down there. There's bedrooms upstairs. Some of the lamps work. Now the fire seems to be going." he said, poking at the log with a poker. "Can you get the light?" He pointed the poker at the wall switch. Edna killed the overhead light. "That's much better, don't you think?" he said, putting the poker on its stand. He picked up two chairs and placed them close to the fire, then turned to grab an end table. It was carved wood also and had a drawer which Michael opened. Edna sat down, swinging her legs a little. Michael pulled out some papers and shut the drawer. The little table shone in the firelight. Edna put her candle down on it lightly, wondering if she should. Michael looked up and nodded, taking back the candle he had place on the mantle piece and putting it next to her candle. He walked into the day room and came back with a silver tray. Pulling the pot out of his coat, he eased out of it, draping it on the chair, sitting on it. After pulling a long bud out of the bag, he sealed the bag and put it in table drawer. "This is nice, having a fire." said Edna. It felt somewhere between having a bonfire and camping. "It's the weather for it. I love a fire." "How long have you been here, in this house?" "It's been a few years now." He was breaking up the bud with his fingers in a methodical way. "Really?" She looked around the room. "It doesn't look ever lived in." he said. "I don't have a lot of people over." "Oh." There was a smell of dust and ash, but the chair she was in looked clean and wasn't musty at all. "I need to fix a lot of things like the light." he gestured upward. 'What is that in the writing room, is it a day bed?" "I think it's a chaise lounge." "So you don't do a lot of writing?" "Nope. And," he said catching her eye," I'm sensitive to the light." "Sensitive." "Bright light hurts my eyes. I can't stand it. Do you want some water?" "Um, yes, I do." "Be right back." He was up and out of the fire light like a flash. A great thump and groaning sound came out of the walls, then the sound of water splashing into the big sink. He was back with two glasses just like that. "The plumbing is old but it works. The water is fine." He handed her a tall glass. A pattern of tiny leaves twinkled in her hand as she turned it around. He barely took a sip and seemed to hold it in his mouth, putting the glass on the floor. "I forgot coasters." "That's okay." Edna watched him resume rolling the joint as she sipped her water. She expected a mineral taste like the kind that came out of her own pipes unfiltered but there was none. She looked up at him just as his tongue peeked out to lick the paper. It glistened. It must have been why he got the water. Did he not have saliva? The joint was perfect and he waved it in front of the fire to dry it a little before dropping it onto the tray and starting another. "You're really good at that." "Practice." The next one he rolled very quickly, in a fluid movement she almost missed, pausing only to lick the paper. "Ready for more?" he asked, the first joint pointed up between thumb and forefinger. "Sure." she said, wondering how off her sense of time was. He'd only breezed through the first floor rooms and the car ride hadn't taken very long. She knew better than to start worrying about it, it was a lost cause. They hadn't smoked all that much, just a couple of hits, so it could be wearing off. Edna was comfortable in her chair by the fire. Things were different and exciting. He handed her the joint to light. She automatically pulled out her own lighter but saw him put a thin stick into the fire, to light the joint for her. She accepted with a long pull, passing it to him. She hadn't smoked a joint in a long time, she realized, quickly settling into the ritual. Blue smoke curled off the joint. Waste, she thought, but they both had a lot of pot, so there wasn't really a worry. He drew in the smoke slowly, so it burned evenly. "It tastes good. So far I like this stuff. It's a body buzz but it doesn't floor you. What do you think?" "The same." "Do you get dry mouth?" "Not really. It's different." Edna braced herself for the explanation, if explanation was coming at all. "I use water to keep my mouth moist but it doesn't dry out. It stays... soft. But I like to keep it moist because it's more… human. It feels more human. Like when I was human." He passed the joint. "It's why I like pot. It feels like when I was human. I feel more human when I'm high." "How long since you've been human?" "Around five years." "Is that all?" Edna was shocked. "Yeah. Why?" "Well, that doesn't seem long at all. Doesn't that make you pretty new?" "I don't know. Is there a difference?" "I wouldn't know." "Who would know?" "Other vampires?" "I don't know about that." "Do you know any other vampires?" "Yeah. Some." "So how come you're not with them?" "Because they're a bunch of assholes."