Odd Stuff (18 page)

I grabbed his shirt front and his steak breath washed over me,
medium rare, thanks
. “I need lights. I need garland. I need silly little sparkle-y things made of glass. I need this or I swear to you I am going to crack. I have taken on vampires and gotten bit in the ass, thanks to you. I have lurked in a graveyard with weirdos at midnight. I have done all of this because you got my roommate in some kind of hoodoo ass shit I cannot begin to think of rationally because you, and all of it, cannot possibly exist. I need normal, I need Christmas, and I need it now.”  

Four hundred and eighty five dollars and ninety-eight cents later I breathed a deep sigh of relief. My trunk, normally spacious, now wouldn’t hold one more string of lights. My back seat was equally stuffed, and Vance sat in the passenger side with three bags in his lap. My car looked like the Grinch’s sled before his heart grew three times.

“What does this have to do with anything?” He looked at me appalled.

“Nothing. That is the point.”

He looked at me as if I had gone mad. “Seriously—” he began. 

“It seriously has nothing to do with anything. I am stuck now with this siren thing—” 

“Which you have been your entire life—” 

I glared at him and he shut up. “I am stuck with it, and Mia is gone and scary ass people are following me and there is
you
and I need normal. I am going to put up a tree with my daughter—” 

“You bought
seven
trees, of different sizes.”

I glared again, and gritted out, “I am putting up a tree, and we are going to be normal for once this week and I am going to pretend for a few hours that my entire life has not gone down the shitter.”

He nodded.

He was silent for a minute.

Then he took my hand.

I glanced at him.

“I have walked this earth through centuries.”

I pulled into the Witch Parking Only spot, parked the car and leaned into him. He shifted my bags and held me. After a slow, sweet kiss that left me near tears, he continued. “But I don’t think I will ever understand women.” 

I punched him, and we began the tedious process of getting all of my bags and boxes upstairs.

~

Since I had seven trees, no joke, we decided to put up a few of them while Vickie slept. It was funny. I had been married for a few years, so occupying the same space with a man was not an altogether unfamiliar sensation. 

Somehow it was different with Vance. Laughing, Christmas music playing softly in the CD player, we decorated. We hung lights and ribbons and pretty glass globes. We sat out Christmas scented candles and filled red bowls with potpourri. We argued about how one decorates a tree, and I won. Each tree had a theme. One was in reds, one in blues, another in glass and gold with red plastic poinsettia accents. 

And through the whole process, he touched me when he could. He met my gaze and wasn’t afraid of me, even though I had to have been pretty creepy earlier. Then again, it probably was pretty hard to creep out a vampire. 

Who knew you could play domestic with the undead?

CHAPTER Ten

Either the sucking of auras at the bar or the amazing vampire bite left me in a darn good mood. I opened my eyes and stretched in the sunlight the next morning, smiling like a loon. Still grinning stupidly, I made my way to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee. I glanced at the clock on the pot and frowned.
Nine-twenty
. Why did that number bother me?

“Shit!” I yelped and ran into Vickie’s room. A mass lay buried deeply in the A-B-C comforter, only one gangly foot sticking out, sock half on, half off.

“Vickie.” I pulled the blanket down to see a snarled mass of blond hair. Pushing it aside, I saw her mouth hung open and drool pooled onto the pillow. “Vickie, school!” I shook her shoulder.

One blue eye opened and blinked at me. When it started to drift closed again, I tugged her into a sitting position. “Vickie, it is nine-twenty. You were supposed to be at school fifteen minutes ago.”

“Call me off sick,” she grumbled and tried to retrieve her blanket.

“Vickie Smith, you get your buns out of that bed and into the shower,
now
.” Dramatically heaving herself out of the bed, she picked a wedgie and dragged herself into the bathroom. I went to her dresser and pulled out a sweater, T-shirt, underwear and jeans, and followed her. I opened the bathroom door and put the pile onto the toilet seat, grinning a little at her off-key rendition of
Barbie Girl.
 

Back to the kitchen, I poured coffee and listened. In a few moments, I heard the blow drier. Before long, my daughter, dressed, hair somewhat tamed, and still looking bleary eyed, shuffled into the kitchen.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“An hour more of sleep?” she tried.

I glared at her.

She sighed. “Bagel, juice, yogurt, granola.”

I nodded.
The usual.
She looked around as I put the bowl in front of her. “Did Santa start visiting before Christmas to do the decorating?”

“No, honey, I was up kind of late last night, and I put some up. We can do the tree in the living room and one for your room together when you get home.”

She smiled at me, “Cool. Is this all new stuff?”

“Yeah, I figured we’re having a new start, so we could start new with this, too. I have all the ornaments you made in the trunk though. We still have to use those. Those are special.” I sat down at the table, and we chatted until she was done eating.

I wasn’t thrilled that she was late on her second day, but we were getting along better than we had for quite some time. My earlier good mood returned, so I smiled as I signed her in while my wonderful kid chatted with the secretary. Vickie could make friends anywhere, and it looked as if she was well on her way to charming another school administration. Then I heard what they were talking about. “So, last night, my mom put up five trees and we are going to put up two more tonight. She made glass bowls and wreaths and the prettiest handmade ornaments.”

Well, Walmart made them, but I was amused she thought I did all that just last night. I mean, who doesn’t want to be super mom? I didn’t disagree, I mean, I let her believe in the Tooth Fairy and Santa, why not let her harmlessly think I handmade ornaments and bowls and wreaths?

“Really?” The secretary smiled. Then
she
appeared from one of the doors in the office hallway.

Mary Cartwright graduated with Mia and me. I was a quiet kid back in the day. I had this big, super-secret and couldn’t tell anyone, so I steered clear of a lot of people. A budding witch, Mia kept her nose buried in a book to figure out more spells, floating down the hall in weird floaty skirts with rocks dangling around her neck. We weren’t exactly the most popular girls in our senior class.

Mary was class president, head cheerleader, valedictorian, and a score of other equally meaningful titles. Needless to say, we weren’t exactly in the same circle of friends. We weren’t even in the same orbit.

Mary saw me and I got the instant impression, based on the sickly sweet smile on her face, she’d heard about the divorce, embellished it, and gloried in yet another triumph against someone smaller and weaker. I wanted to either hit her with something very hard, very dull, and with much repetition, or else melt into the carpet, it was a toss-up. Instead, I turned up the wattage of my smile to soccer mom and returned her gushing,
Oh, it has been so long
, with
Yes, so nice to see you
. Both were equally authentic.

She came to the counter separating the offices from the doorway, and raised the partition to put a hand on my kid’s head. I wanted to slap it off, but I kept my fake smile in place.

“This must be your little girl. Oh, she looks so much like her father.”

I kept the smile on, and pictured her bleeding out from a thousand tiny pinpricks.

“Oh, I forgot. He left you for that doctor, I heard. So sorry about bringing him up.” No she wasn’t, the emaciated, plastic, evil woman. He didn’t leave me for a doctor, the new wife was a podiatrist. Which isn’t even, like, a real doctor. I mean, feet. Come on,
really
.

I tilted my head. “Oh, ancient history. You look so good! Did you get a nose job?”

Her smile flickered. “Oh, you know how it is. Time makes us forget how exactly someone looked. You just haven’t seen me for so long—”

“Ah, that must be it.” I smiled a little for real.
Score is at one-one, you raving bitch. How much blood are we gonna stand here and draw, because I got more where that came from.
 

“I heard your sweet little girl saying that you decorated the house last night…did you really do all that in one night?”

Okay, I could tell the truth, and shrug it off. Or I could lie through my teeth and pretend to be Harriet from Ozzie and Harriet. “Oh, it was nothing. I do
so
love the holidays.” I went with lie.

“Fantastic! We needed someone else for the school decorating committee.”

For the what?

Hang on there.
“I don’t really have much time on my hands right now. I mean, we just got in town and—”

“Oh, honey, if you did all that last night, we
must
have you! Think about the kids. That is who it is all about.” She stroked my daughter’s hair, and I barely restrained myself from ripping off her arm.

“Of course, I would be glad to—

“Great! We have the fundraiser coming up, and we sell items the moms make…you know wreaths, ornaments, baked goods in a big Christmas fair. It is next week. I will put you down for how many items?”

I looked at the sheet she stuffed in front of my nose. She was down for twenty items. “Thirty,” I blurted.
When was I going to have time to make thirty of anything?
 

“Wow, okay. Whichever mom raises the most money gets a lovely spa package, donated by the local country club.”

“It’s not about the winning, Mary, honey, it is about the kids.”

I snatched my kid from her red talons in a way that did not look like snatching and walked her to her class. I kissed her goodbye and went to the car to hit my head on the steering wheel. Me and my big mouth.

~

When I got home, Sven sat downstairs opening a Fed-Ex box of little Hindu statues. I plopped cross-legged on the carpet next to him and fiddled with one.

“Careful with that.”

I nodded and stuck the little guy on the shelf. “He sure is a tubby little guy.”

“Girl. That is a Hindu fertility symbol.”

I rubbed my hand on my pant leg, hoping to get off any fertility cooties.

Suddenly, I noticed what CD he had playing over the speakers of the store. “Who is that?” I felt shaky.

“Van Morrison. Vance loves him.”

“My dad did, too.” I knew why it bothered me. I had few memories of my father, he’d died when I was so young. This song was very seventies, really. Nothing to get upset over.

But since Vance told his story about the sirens, I understood for the first time why he died. My mother always said car wreck, but at almost forty, I found out it was probably murder.

He used to sing this song to me. Vividly, one memory of my dad sprang to mind.
Holding me, singing this song…
“What was your favorite part, Daddy?” I had asked him.

“I like the part where the sailors cry.” He tickled me. “Can you picture a bunch of sailors crying?”

“No,” I remembered answering. I remembered his eyes, green as the ocean and crinkled at the corners. “I like the floating part.”

“You would.” He had smiled and tickled me harder until I was breathless.

Then he’d held me and sang,
We were born before the wind… Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic
. I blinked back tears, thinking of his rich baritone, sounding like the musical constant of waves crashing on rock. I hit the stop button. I could breathe again.

I turned back to Sven. “Wanna go get breakfast?”

He looked up from his unpacking. “Sure, but its more lunch time than breakfast.”

“Great. We can go to Hilmack’s. My treat. I love sea food.”

“The restaurant?”

I shook my head. “Are you from around here?” I tried hard to shove off the mood the song had brought on. I grabbed my car keys.

“No, why? Isn’t Hilmack’s really expensive?”

He wore a tee today that read,
I invoke, therefore I am.
“Nope. At least not if you get carryout,” I explained. We went to my car after Sven retrieved his god-awful leopard print blazer. I made a mental note to get him a new coat for Christmas. Sven curled into my car, and I put in a happy, peppy, pop CD. He grinned, and we car-danced our way up the hill. Hilmack’s was in front of us, and I turned down a side street.

“I thought you said we were getting Hilmack’s?”

“We are.” I pulled in front of a squat building. Hardly bigger than a garage, they’d painted the big glass windows on the front with large letters advertising Lake Perch, Salmon and other fishy things. I got out and inhaled deeply. The very air smelled like grease and fish.

Sven followed me to a glass counter filled with fresh fishy-ness. A white aproned woman behind the counter passed white cardboard bakery boxes over to people lined up to the door. Hilmack’s was popular for a reason.

“Honey, we are going to
cook
?” Sven looked doubtfully at me.

“Nope. Lemme see…I want two crab cakes and some of the Lake Perch. And fries. Oo-Oo, and a big, and I am talking
huge
, tartar sauce. Whaddya want, Sven?” He still looked doubtful, but he ordered the same. “Come here.” I pulled him aside so the next person could order.

We waited a few minutes then we were called back to the counter. I paid and retrieved my white cardboard boxes. We shuffled back to the car and, as soon as I was inside, I opened my box. Steam poured out and clouded the windshield. I sniffed in ecstasy.