I am explaining mathematics. Just like yesterday and the day before. In the last week it has become a daily habit for her to come to the library. I no longer go to the school for her. She comes. She’s realised that even if I have to work, we can spend more time together. She often stays until closing time and then I take her home. She’s less afraid of the bike and doesn’t even mind her mother’s scolding. She’s more confident too, and I suspect it’s not just because of David’s sweaters. It plays right into my hands. I’m taking her on a trip this weekend…
The arched window lets in the setting sun, a light breeze stirs the yellowing leaves of the park.
As I write and explain examples, I delve into Alden’s memories in a way I only do when I am speaking in a foreign language or when I have to express myself on subjects I am unfamiliar with.
Talia leans on the table, her eyes following the pen’s movement, then her pale brown gaze moves from my hand to my mouth, her aura quickens.
“Will you try to solve it?” I hand the pen back, hoping her attention will return to the original subject.
She takes it, frowns and hunches over her notebook. She works hard on the equation, corrects it several times – the hurricane dies down.
I wonder if she knew what I know, how she would relate to me.
Hi, I’m your dead brother, energy vampire, and I came to kill you.
Probably the last thing that would upset her would be my nose. She wouldn’t even notice, she’d just run away.
Should I tell her before I do it? Normally I like to see the recognition on my victims’ faces, feel the gap between our species… But what if the person is wearing my nose while staring at me in horror?
I watch her concentrate. It’s as if her life depends on it.
Everything I do, nothing is good enough…
Hasn’t she suffered enough already? Doesn’t she deserve to be destroyed in ignorance, with fond memories? Especially since she will not sleep with me, even though she desires to…
“Done”, she raises her voice in triumph, but I immediately remind her to stay quiet in the library.
“Sorry,” she continues softly, “I’m just so glad I finally understood! If I keep on like this, maybe I won’t fail after all!”
“You won’t….” live that long. “We’ll make sure of it,” I squeeze her shoulder encouragingly. “But now I must go.”
As I get up, she jumps to her feet. Is she going home already?
She picks up her bag as if she were packing. Her aura is as fierce as Lili’s when she brought up she wants a child with me…
“I made this for you,” she hands me a yellow plastic box. “Mum says it should have had more sugar and cocoa and that it’s not right to fatten you up…”
I look under the lid. Brown cake with vanilla and chocolate scent. She had used white flour, a little oil, milk and four or six eggs. Judging by the smell, the top was lightly browned, but covered with a layer of powdered sugar that had molten into a shine.
I should taste it… The viscera in the place of my stomach tighten at the thought of self-induced vomiting.
And still… Something breaks inside me.
I know you better every day.
But you know nothing of me.
Guilt heats my face. Perhaps she baked a cake for the first time in her life, taking up the confrontation with her mother.
I wish there was some way I could return the kindness…
Doesn’t she deserve to die with fond memories?
I put the box on the table, walk over to her and bend down to hug her. Tightly. To make her feel how sorry I am that I am unable to eat. How grateful I am for the care with which she made it. To apologise for lying to her face only to taking her life in the end.
Slowly recovering from the shock, she wraps her trembling arms around my waist. Just like the first day on the bike, her aura surrounds me. I close my eyes so I don’t see the pink tornado engulfing me. Otherwise I couldn’t hold her any longer.
“Thank you,” I whisper in her ear and pull away. “I’ve just had lunch, but it smells great and I’ve got a long shift ahead of me. Don’t worry, it’s not the amount that would make me gain weight.”
“That… is good to hear…” She rolls a freshly washed brown lock of hair, her other hand sinking into the pocket of her ‘protective’ sweater. It’s a wonder she can stand upright in this intense cloud of lust. Instinctively, I take a step back and pick up the box. It seems heavy, like the unspoken words on my tongue.
“I’ll wait for you tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm… okay…” she nods, her voice slightly melodic, like a drunk. She puts the books on her shoulders and takes her half-zipped bag. “Bye,” she waves, then leaves with unsteady steps.
I wave back, then turn to return to my work. As I close the glass door of the adult section behind me, I sigh.
“Tutoring comes with a hug these days?” Emma teases from behind the counter. Her voice is light, but her grey aura quivers with genuine jealousy. “A bit young for you, isn’t she?”
I’m rolling my eyes.
“She is my sister.”
“You didn’t have siblings last time.” Her fingers, tugging at her pendant, draw my gaze to her cleavage.
“Yes, last time I had no idea that my mother, whom I last saw as a baby, had remarried,” I say. My voice is serious, calm. To make her understand she had crossed a line.
A dramatic silence fell over us.
“I’m sorry… I…”
Her energy field becomes more and more filled with shame, almost self-flagellating. Maybe I was too cold.
“You didn’t know,” I add kindly and hold the box out to her. “She brought me a cake, would you like some?”
Her eyes, clouded with remorse, are filled with joy. But only for a moment.
“I cannot eat sugar, my Ayurvedic diet forbids it.”
I’m not backing down.
“Maybe a piece wouldn’t hurt” she takes a slice.
The even line of teeth sinking into the brown pastry, the light on her lips… The movement of her jaw… The grey aura of her mouth wavering with pleasure…
My teeth tingle, my groin throbs.
“Not too sweet, just right. Tell your sister she made it well.”
“Definitely. I’ll leave it here. Have some more if you like it.”
I pick up a big pile of books and put them in their place. I deliberately don’t use the book cart to get the blood flowing in my arms, and the mantra of inventory numbers drives the thought of eating out of my head.