The Blind Vampire Hunter (10 page)

“Oh, so tell me about her.” I said with
interest.

“Well, as I told you before you left, she was
living in D.C. where the rent was killing her. She is just starting
a new job managing a theatre. She manages the theatre graveyard
shift; that’s to say, she manages the theatre during their special
nightly showing of Japanese martial arts imports. These movies all
start showings around midnight and go until early morning,
depending on whether they are showing a double feature or a triple
feature.”

“Interesting. Maybe we should go down one
night and pop in on her at work,” I said.

“NO. I mean, we can’t. It’s in the agreement
with her that we will at no time visit her place of
employment.”

“Strange.”

“Not really, she works in a dangerous part of
D.C. at a really dangerous time of night,” Diana answered.

“Wait,
she
works in a dangerous part
of D.C. during a most dangerous time of the night?” I responded
incredulously.

“Yes, but it’s OK, for her; she is a Master
of Kung Fu. She has been studying it most of her life. In fact,
before she could get the job, she had to be tested in her Kung Fu
proficiency and prove her ability to defend herself and others.
Seems some audience members get carried away by the martial art
movies and start fights within the theatre. It’s a qualification
that all employees of the graveyard shift be well trained in
martial arts, as they may have to double as bouncers during the
movies. She’s been told it’s quite common. During her first month
as manager, she has had to stop a fight once or twice a week. She
said she has been in some in-theatre fights that have already
tested her talents in her Kung Fu training... No, we will not be
going down to see her at anytime,” Diana proclaimed
emphatically.

Remembering one of her big concerns, I asked,
“So how goes the sharing of the refrigerator?”

“We don’t. She has a mini frig in her room,
much like the one you have in the family room downstairs, and she
eats most of her meals out. She has gotten into the practice of
getting breakfast at an IHOP near where she works while waiting for
the subway to start up in the morning to get her back here. She
told me that after the theatre is closed for the graveyard
showings, she uses the quiet time to keep up with the paperwork,
and then she gets breakfast at IHOP. Sometimes she does paperwork
while she is eating her breakfast.”

“Interesting. So what do you think of...what
is her name? You have never given me her name.”

“Her name is Isabella Báthory. Isn’t that
just such a charming name?” Diana answered with a sound of envy
sneaking into her voice. “It’s just so...old English.”

Somehow that name sounds familiar. Isabella
Bathory Isabella Bathory, old English. Perhaps it’s a name from
history? Right, you have someone famous person wanting to move into
your guest room so they can afford to manage a theater at night.
Yah, that really works.

So why does that name sound so familiar?

Breaking into his deliberations, “She is just
so lovely, you should see her. She’s a tall, lean blond with such
perfect light skin tone. I swear I just don’t know why she is not
making a career as an actress or at least as a model. She has such
a lovely angelic voice. I have already tried to talk her into
joining the church choir, but she reminded me that she works
Saturday nights into Sunday morning so while church is in session,
she is getting some well needed sleep.”

Interesting. I have known her to repeatedly
turn down potential boarders because they were not churchgoers. It
also came to me that as a young twenty-something, I had a friend
who worked guard duty so late into Sunday morning that he would
arrive at church still in his uniform. He just barely had time to
rush directly to church. He come in uniform because he did not have
even enough time to change before the Sunday services began, but at
least he came to church.

So our new boarder is not a church attendee,
but she is still renting a room in our home. How interesting. Now
that I think of it, I don’t recall Di ever talking about a woman’s
looks the way she talks about this Isabella Báthory. She must be
quite a woman.

The next night after a full day of meetings,
I was so tired I just couldn’t call home. The phone call would have
to wait until tomorrow night. My inability to call home was
disturbing considering I missed one meeting while getting a nap for
the sole purpose of making it through the rest of the day awake and
mentally alert. In my last working years before my whole department
get laid off, I usually got some sleep during lunch to get me
through the rest of the day without having to battle the fatigue
brought on by the sleep apnea.

The following night I made a point of calling
home. (I was also feeling a little guilty for not calling the night
before.) Besides I was missing my beautiful wife and daughter.

When I got her on the phone and after we
shared our separate activities of the day with each other, I
remembered a concern I had about the boarder, “Di, I’m thinking
with our boarder working nights and sleeping days, am I going to
have to pussy foot around my own home during the day so as not to
disturb her daytime sleeping?”

Di laughed, “When I came home today; I could
hear music blasting inside the house before I could even get to the
front door. I burst into the house to find Chris with the stereo
blaring. My first thought was, “Isabella is going to absolutely
have a fit.’”

“Oh no, did she?” I asked fearing what was
coming.

“Not a bit. When I apologized for the loud
music, she responded,”What loud music?”

“When I told her of what I found when I came
home from work she simply waved a hand of dismissal and said,
‘don’t worry about being quiet during the day. I sleep like the
dead.’”

“That was nice and polite of her,” I
interjected.

“No, Hon, I believe her. I really think that
she can sleep so soundly that she could sleep through just about
anything. So don’t worry about having to be especially quiet during
the day because of Isabella’s sleeping.”

“So Issy is a very sound sleeper.” I mused, a
little relieved, if this was true.

“NO.”

I was startled by the sound of sudden panic
that came through the phone. Di continued, “Don’t you ever call her
Issy, EVER. Her name is Isabella or Isabella Báthory. Never Isse or
Issy or anything else. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

“OK, I get the message.”
But not the
overreaction.

“You had better, mister.”

She was really serious about the pronouncing
of Iss—I mean Isabella’s name. I’d better remember or Di sounds
like she will take my head off.

Changing back to her loving tone that I love
so well, she continued, “It’s late and I have meetings all day
tomorrow. Let’s call it a night so the both of us can get some
sleep. Speaking of sleep, how are you getting by with your sleep
apnea and all those meetings?”

“Well, I nap during lunch break, and I did
fall asleep during one of the meetings, but overall, I’m not doing
badly. When I mentioned to Tom that I fell asleep during the
afternoon meetings, he said I wasn’t alone by far. We both got a
laugh at that.”

“Well, I’ll say goodnight and sleep tight.”
With that she gave me a kiss over the phone. The phone clicked, and
the connection went dead.

Wednesday was a “meeting free” day, a day for
taking tours or just taking a break from the meetings. Tom was part
of a large group that went to Six Flags. On their return, a number
of the Six Flag goers were reported as not feeling well from
dehydration. My roommate, Tom, was one of them.

But for me, I had special plans. Before
leaving home I had noted that my Baltimore Orioles were in town to
play the Texas Rangers, so I came prepared. I took a taxi to the
Rangers’ stadium all ornamented with my Orioles’ cap, shirt and
leather belt and shiny matching belt buckle. I was ready to watch
my Baltimore boys trump the Rangers. I had everything but a ticket.
With the Rangers having a losing season, and the O’s on a winning
streak, I figured I would not have any trouble getting a ticket
because of lackadaisical attendance that losing brings on among
some fans...

Boy, I could not have been more right.
Getting out of the taxi all duded up in my O’s gear, a man on the
sidewalk asked me in a Texas twang, “You’s here for the game?”

Not being able to hide my excitement, I
replied, “Sure am.”

“Put your hand out, son.” So I did.

He put a slip of paper the right size and
shape to be a game ticket in my outstretched hand, and said,
“That’s a little old ticket for the game. Have a good time on
me.”

I sure did, especially as my boys of
Baltimore beat the Rangers with a score I’d be too embarrassed for
the sake of my Texas friends to mention. I also got back to the
hotel not suffering from dehydration. I was not suffering at
all.

Friday night was Banquet Night and while it
was fun, it just was not the same as the one in Florida with my Di.
That night, Diana and I had stepped onto the dance floor together
for the first time. We had figured, with most of the dancers being
blind, who would notice a couple of novices faking it on the dance
floor.

Saturday morning was scheduled for packing
luggage for those who had flights that same day. My flight back,
with the Russells was scheduled for late afternoon. While the same
treatment of airport assistance was given, no wheelchairs were
offered to us.

At BWI (Baltimore Washington International)
they also did not arrive to assist us with wheelchairs, instead
they had a multi-seat golf cart customized for airport use to put
us all in. We were all so tired from a busy week, which finished
off with partying until morning, that the customized golf cart
treatment seemed a real delight.

After riding over to pick up our luggage, we
were driven out into the pickup area. Nothing else sounds like the
pickup area of an airport. There was the traffic noise and the
sounds of hassled people getting picked up or dropped off while
trying to keep track of their luggage. There were also the public
announcements. They were not as humorous as portrayed in the comedy
Airplane!
, Jer’ did get a grin out of remembering how, in
the movie, there were two public announcers, a man and a woman. The
public announcements decayed into a continuation of an argument the
two must have had while on a date. He continued his happy thoughts
of the movie, remembering a another line, “And don’t call me
Shirley.”

Diana must have waved down our airport
version of a golf cart’s driver, as he drove us right up to her
car. While Diana helped us into the car, the airport assistant
loaded up the trunk of the car with our luggage.

The first stop was to the Russells’ home to
drop them and their luggage off. We were a more subdued group in
the car, leaving BWI, than we were driving to BWI a week earlier.
Us party animals were just too partied out – well, until I got my
wife home that is. After all it had been a whole week.

Chapter
Six

Meeting Isabella Bathory,
Boarder

You can believe we made up for the week of
abstinence before the luggage was even unpacked.

While helping me unpack, Diana found the
western style top I bought her. It was similar to the blouse the
sales lady was wearing. She suggested I have a closer look to see
for myself just how sexy a top it was, even to taking my hand and
showing the low cleavage of the neckline. Later, when Diana put her
gift on, she proved the sales lady was right, as attested by the
sudden tightness in my pants. For baby Elaine, there was a cowboy
bunny rabbit wearing a complete western outfit, including a wide
brim hat with big bunny ears coming through the hat’s brim.

After we finished unpacking, Diana put on her
new western top and nothing else and the horizontal bed boogie
began all over again. Man, that saleswoman was right. That was one
sexy top. Hey, can you blame us for acting like two teens in the
back of father’s car. After all it had been a whole week.

Afterward, while lying in bed feeling as
contented as a cowboy in a whore house, I asked, “So when do I meet
our new boarder?”

Diana, also sounding as contented as a well
paid whore in a Texas whore house, took a minute to answer. She
looked at the bedside clock and answered, “I guess tomorrow
morning, if you’re up early enough. She’s already gone to work by
now.”

The next morning I awoke to, “Hey, sleepy
head, time to get up.” When I reached out to grab her, she jumped
back, laughing. “Now none of that. I let you sleep in as long as
feasible. But now you have to get up and get dressed so we can get
to church on time.” The last part sounded like a song, especially
coming from the sweet voice of my lovely wife.

“So do I get to meet Miss Isabella Báthory,
Boarder?”

“Sorry, no.” She sounded disturbed.

“Something wrong?” I asked, concerned about
the tone in her voice.

“Not really. She has already come in from
work, showered and got to bed for the day. She wanted to stay up
and meet you, but she had a rough night of it and needed to get to
bed.”

“So why do you sound worried?”

“Not worried per se. I just get a little
disturbed when she comes home with blood on her clothes.”

“Blood! What the hell are you talking about?”
I replied, almost raising my voice.

“Oh, it’s happened before. Some movie goer
gets carried away with the martial arts movie, sees himself as the
unbeatable and starts a fight right there in the theatre. Then
Isabella and her ushers have to play bouncer to the
over-enthusiastic patron. In this case the guy pulled a knife and
attacked Isabella. She had no choice but to take him down.”