Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 3

The following morning, she called Ian to let him know he was in charge while racing through traffic to our shopping destination. It had been nicknamed Designer Boulevard for the numerous brand name—expensive, high quality brand name, I might add— clothes and accessories available. Everything from Louis Vuitton to Versace, the up and coming Lollipops accessory brand to Dolce and Gabbana, could be found on the boulevard. I had been to several locations of similar grandeur when I was younger and throughout high school, but had never been to this particular shopping locale.

Unexpectedly, I was actually giddy about it. I guess I hadn’t changed as much as I had thought, and perhaps all I needed was a break from it all before I could remember what I loved most about shopping was mostly trying on clothes that made me feel beautiful, powerful, somehow invincible. I loved the feel of the different fabrics and the look of a well cut dress or pair of pants. Not to mention the shoes, oh my word, the shoes. Shoes to compliment party dresses and shoes in which to run the world; shoes that make you want to dance right there in the store.  So maybe there were many things I missed about shopping.

Later that afternoon, weighted down with what she insisted was only half of my new wardrobe—some of the bags already crammed into her car—we sat down to lunch at a cozy café, comfortably warm inside considering the growing chill outside.

“So, before you ask, this is also most of your Christmas gift,” she said, opening the menu to peruse her options.

I ordered a mixed fruit tea and citrus salad. I was usually appalled by girls who only ate salads, but when I was shopping, it was the only thing I wanted to eat. Weird, yes, but that was me—I just hadn’t seen this side in so long I was surprised she still existed. Caroline ordered a Monte Cristo sandwich with fries and a cherry cola.

“How can you even afford it?”

“Oh, my parents,” she said simply. “They insist if I don’t want to live their lifestyle, I should at least live mine in a decent apartment and designer clothes. I think they want me to spend my inheritance before they’re gone so I regret not spending more time with them. What about you? Ian told me you weren’t sure about going home.”

I shrugged; “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?” She rested her chin on her interlaced fingers.

“Maybe I’ll explain some other time, or you have my permission to ask Ian about it.”

The waiter delivered our drinks and she took a long draw from the straw. “I already did. I just wanted to know if you would tell me.”

It felt like I was being cornered; it wasn’t so bad I couldn’t tell her. I just didn’t want to ruin the day. But what choice did I have now? She already knew, but now she wanted to hear it from me. And I could understand that perfectly.

“The last time I saw my mother, I told her she didn’t deserve her daughter because she was being a freak about dealing with the changes in my behavior. Instead of asking me about it, she was going to lie and pretend she could bake a cake,” I said, finding the anger formerly surrounding the memory was replaced with indifference. “Turns out she’s not even my real mother. The last time I saw my dad was when he told me the story of my mom—my biological mom. About how they met and how I came into the picture. He also told me I was the only reason he could stand to miss her. That I looked a lot like her. Then I ran away, not even thinking about how they would feel about it. I haven’t seen them since.”

“Did you ever meet your birth mom?” she prodded, sitting back so our waiter, newly appeared, could set her food down.

I glanced up at him, not wanting to speak while he was around—he didn’t need to know about my issues—and noticed he wasn’t half bad so far as looks were concerned. He had a soft voice, but perhaps that was more because he didn’t want to disturb our conversation. His hair was a sandy blonde and styled similarly to how schoolboys were often portrayed in movies. He had sea blue eyes and sharp features. I couldn’t figure out why I was so drawn to him; I didn’t realize he had left and I was just staring into space until Caroline waved her hand in front of my eyes.

“What?” I asked, snapping back to reality.

“You were staring,” she said, sounding almost disinterested. “Do you like him or something?”

I shook my head, certain that wasn’t it. “There’s something funny about him. Something I can’t discern.”

“Elemental? That could be it.”

“Yeah…maybe.”

“But, about your birth mom, did you meet her?”

“In captivity,” I said. “She was my cell mate.”

Her eyes widened. “How was she?”

“Mentally…not all there.”

Wincing, she touched my forearm and sympathized, “I’m sorry, Abs.”

“Don’t be,” I said, not needing another reason for her coddle me. “For as long as she’s been there, she could have been worse.”

A strained silence fell between us for a while before Caroline broke it by querying, “Where do you want to go next?”

Shrugging, I said, “I have no idea.”

“Accessories it is, then.”

When we finished our lunch, we dropped off our bags in her car—fast becoming full—and headed to the many accessory shops on the boulevard. By the end of the day, I literally had a new wardrobe. I kept some of my older clothes—those I loved to death—but most of them Caroline dragged off to donate along with a good deal of her own. Going through my additions, I realized how much I missed shopping and having new clothes. It had gone from being a solid constant in my life to not existing in it at all. It was something that definitely helped my mood. Perhaps this finding myself wasn’t as hard as I was making it.