This is Maelwys' and Christine's first and memorable date.
I waited in the shadows of a maple for Christine. Tonight she had promised to take me out and “show me a good time”. I wondered what her definition of a good time would be. Playing twenty questions, each leading to the answer “You’re a vampire!”? Taking me to dinner and seeing if I would eat? I can be cynical sometimes. Perhaps her idea of a good time would be a moonlit walk and some dancing. Maybe she would try to get me in bed, which would be a good evening by anyone’s definition.
She was the last one out of the library, and paused to lock up. She was wearing jeans and a dark green summer sweater. Her clothes were just tight enough to accentuate her curvaceous body. I am glad I decided to go casual with khakis and the blue polo. I hadn’t asked how I should dress.
She walked to my car and looked around for me. I waited a moment before I stepped away from the tree. I knew I would be silhouetted by the streetlight falling on the sidewalk behind me. I have always loved a dramatic entrance. From the way she smiled and shook her head, she appreciated it too.
“Well you need to get over here and put the top up on your car, we are walking to our date.”
I quickly locked the Mustang after I put the top up and turned to her.
My ego was slightly deflated from not awing her with my entrance. I walked to her and kissed her on the cheek, holding her shoulders after my lips had left her face. Much to my chagrin, yet another moment was ruined when a lock of my hair fell into my face from my ponytail. Christine saved me by brushing it back from my eyes, pulling me down to her face to kiss me. I had to use every bit of control to keep my fangs from elongating, she could kiss.
When we broke the kiss, there was that moment when you look into someone’s eyes and you could go straight to bed, or savor every second of time together, even if clothed. Christine chose to savor the night and led me by the hand down the sidewalk.
I resisted the urge to ask where we were going. We turned onto Winter Street and became bathed in the light of the Strand Theater’s marquee. “Goodbye Mr. Chips” was showing, part of a summer classics program. I paused and smiled, it was one of my favorite movies. Yes, vampires love Hollywood as much as Hollywood loves us.
“Did I do okay?” Christine was smiling, beaming. She knew by my reaction that she had.
“Yes, you did indeed.”
She walked right to the ticket window and paid for two tickets. Normally I would have insisted, but this was her treat. To do anything else would have been disrespectful.
She turned to me and held out her hand which I gladly took again. We had our choice of seats and she chose to sit near the back. Like me, she was a people-watcher and as more movie-goers came in, her eyes took in every detail. I was no longer surprised she had picked up on me so quickly the first time we met. She drank in people’s appearances like a connoisseur drinks wine.
I put my arm around her and felt her warmth and softness against me. She leaned into me and I could smell her hair, lilacs.
The theater was still less than a third full when the lights dimmed. We were probably one of the younger couples, well if you counted my appearance, not actual age. Soon I was entranced by the film, just like I had when I had seen it during its original release in 1939.
If you have not seen the movie, it chronicles the life and career of Mr. Chips, a teacher in a boy’s school in England. Through the years he watches students and their son’s pass through the school. He never had a child of his own, his wife died during childbirth. The film final scene opens with Mr. Chips on his death bed, the doctor stating how sad that old Chips never had children of his own. Mr. Chips, hearing this, tells the doctor he had thousands, “all of them boys!” The scene ends with young Peter Colley, a student who died in France, appearing and saying, “Goodbye Mr. Chips, goodbye.”
I have stated before that I am not one to look upon my lengthy existence with melancholy or disdain. I have enjoyed my time, but this one scene always bring back the memories of friends, long departed. Kristine in St. Louis, who only wanted my friendship and the way she wept when I told her I must leave, not wanting her to know my true self. Veronica, a lover from New York who understood all too well what I was, and eagerly gave of herself to me. Richard, the farmer who raised pigs down the road from me when I was still mortal and how we would smoke a pipe as the sun set. Kerry, who I fell in love with, yet never spoke to. The parade of faces would stretch forever if I didn’t will it to stop.
As the lights came up, I could feel the tears running down my cheek, too late I also realized I could feel Christine’s eyes on me. I froze, afraid to move, to see her expression.
She shifted in my arms and felt her lips brush my cheek and I gasped. She pulled on my chin so I had to look at her, my tear, red and thick, still stained her lips. She now knew for certain. The legend was with her.
All contents are copyright 2006 Johnny Peregrine and David Fields