A Tale of Two, Part 2: Caroline

September 4, 1891

Father made me go into the city today. Because Mother is away at work, we cannot bother her with such a menial task, and Father must tend to the fields; it is my job to purchase food for the next week. He has given me seven pounds and sent Marie and John with me. I only hoped they would not find trouble.

I should have known better.

John ran off to watch the artists as soon as he spotted them in the square, and Marie went to touch the jewelry for sale. Both of them were reluctant to leave their fascinations. This was only the start of my frustrations.

John had hidden charcoal and paper inside his coat and began to copy an artist’s painting. The artist nearly took off his head, he was so angry. Then John thought it would be wonderful to draw an artist. Only, when the artist kept working, John became frustrated and asked if he could hold still. If I had not been there to intervene, I do not know what would have become of John. And Marie, oh do not start me!

She thought she would see what I thought of a bracelet she was going to purchase with the small allowance Mother provides her monthly, and ran away from the cart with it in her hand. The woman was incensed, but pardoned it on account of Marie’s age. The jewelry cost her everything she had. Father would not be pleased with all the mischief they were causing.

I finally convinced them to play with a group of children who were in the square with their mother; they were neighbors of ours.

The shopping was difficult. I had to haggle with several of the sellers to afford food for the week. It should not surprise you I was horrible at this and ended up spending much more than Mother would have on some items. They are horrible people, those in the London market. If they could help it, they would not spare me halfpence.

It was the last seller who gave me the most trouble. I had only a bit left to spend and he would not lower his price. I was ready to concede when a kind gentleman approached us and asked after the problem.

“This woman has not the money to pay for my bread. She wants me to lower my price but cannot give me good enough a reason to.”

“I shall purchase it then,” he said reaching into his jacket for his coin purse.

“I do not need it that badly,” I hurriedly said, turning to leave.

“No, I insist. A meal is nothing without bread.”

The seller handed him the bread in exchange for the money. The gentleman handed me the bread. When I did not accept it, he placed it in Mother’s shopping sack with the rest of our goods.

“Thank you,” I said, gazing down. The hair on the back of my neck was raised as he continued to stand there considering me.nMother had warned me of men purchasing things for women they have never before seen. He wanted something.

The laughter of children running past stirred me. Everything was bought; now I needed to locate John and Marie and return home to start supper.

He followed me as I walked through the streets searching for them.

“For whom are you searching?”

“John and Marie,” I replied, not noticing I had spoken.

His head bobbed up and down as if he understood.

“Your children?”

I looked at him properly for the first time, my eyes large.

“Not your children.”

“I am dreadfully sorry; that was rude.” My cheeks burned.

“Not at all. It was my fault for assuming.”

“Caroline! Caroline!” Marie shouted, running down the street toward me. I knelt to pick her up.

“What is it?”

“John was chasing me with Robert’s knife.”

“Now why would he do that?”

She shrugged. “Robert told him I was an Indian, like the ones in America, and he needed to scalp me. Then he handed him a knife and he chased me.”

John came running up then, stopping dead in front of me and trying fruitlessly to hide the knife behind him.

“Hand it over, John.”

“But Robert said I was to scalp Marie for being a savage.”

“I do not care what Robert said. Hand it over.”

“But…”

“Do you want me to tell Father?”

“Oh, all right.”

Marie stood beside me as I set the knife in the shopping bag and turned back to him.

“We’ll return it to Mrs. Cole on the way home. But I do not want you accepting any weapon from Robert again. Robert does not know of what he speaks.”

“But Robert said a man is supposed to scalp a savage when he sees one in America.”

“Has Robert ever been to America?”

“No.”

“Then how does Robert know?”

“Caroline…”

“Do not whine. If you whine, I shall tell Father everything.”

“Do not do that! He shall take away my charcoal.”

“Then behave. I do not want you running off somewhere on the way home.”

“Yes, Caroline.”

“I want to eat, Caroline. When is supper?” Marie asked.

“I shall start preparing it when we are home.”

I took her hand and had just begun walking away when I remembered our “guest.”

“I am dearly sorry,” I said, turning to face him. “This is Marie, and this is John.”

He smiled at them. “And you are Caroline.”

“Yes, I am Caroline. But I know not who you are.”

“Josef Calloway.”

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Calloway, but we must be going.”

“I understand. It has been a pleasure.”

“It certainly has been.”

“Shall I see you again?”

“I do not know.”

“Where do you live?”

“On a farm. You undoubtedly live somewhere in London.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“The country dirt would soil your finery.”

“I suppose you are correct.”

“Caroline, may we go?” Marie whined, twisting her face to an odd distortion.

“Do not twist your face, Marie. Or it shall stay like that forever.”

“Well, may we?” John asked, burrowing his hands in his pockets and staring holes into his toes.

“Yes.”

“What is your father’s name?” Mr. Calloway asked.

“George Smith.”

“The man who harvests the best winter wheat annually?”

“That is what they say.”

He smiled—a rather brilliant sight; “I shall hope to see you again soon.”

I turned to Marie and John; “Say good-bye.”

They muttered their farewells as I wished him my own. I was nervous as we started home. My heart would not settle. It kept fluttering around in my chest. But I was not sure what it meant. I had never felt that way before. Of course, now I am better.

Mrs. Cole thanked us for returning her best cooking knife and promised us Robert would have a talk with his father. Marie and John kept inquiring about Mr. Calloway all throughout supper and until they were tucked soundly in bed. I answered the same thing every time. “He is a man who did our family a service today. We should be grateful.” I was too ashamed to tell them what exactly he had done. That would mean admitting I was horrible at shopping and that would shame Mother.

Whatever his reason for helping me today, I would not mind knowing. But what it will cost me, I will pay. It is, after all, my fault.

Eternal: Chapter Six, Part 3

“Why did you dye your hair?”

Shrugging, she replied, “I just wanted a change. You see so many people with blonde and brunette and others who try to pull off the red-head and—I just wanted to physically appear different. Since I am anyway…even if they can’t know that.”

“Understandable.”

“When you were in high school, did you ever just want to stand out?”

“I wanted to; I wanted to be on the outside who I felt I was on the inside, even before I knew who I really was,” I said, trying not to think too much on what things had been like, or how quickly they had changed for the worse. “But things were safer where I was…or so I thought.”

“Do you ever wish you could have changed? That you had risked a little and been who you wanted to be?” she pressed, her blue eyes widening.

“Some days I wish I had—that I hadn’t been so scared of…what it would have meant to be my own person. Because having to be my own person on someone else’s terms was not easy. Not that it would have been easy on my terms, but it would have been my choice then.” My gaze settled on my clasped hands in my lap; her questions were bringing to the surface many emotional memories I had been avoiding. Although I could blow off her questions, I didn’t want to. If I could give her my truth, perhaps it would help her find her own. “Other days, I’m somewhat grateful for my cowardice, because I honestly could not imagine if things would have been better the other way. I can only see them ending up worse in my situation.”

Again, silence seemed to fill the space between us and I hated sounding like such a damper. My situation was different from hers. I thought it was great for her to express she was different in a way that would draw attention but not from the wrong people. I personally couldn’t guarantee that if I had made the same decision to be different, my actions wouldn’t have drawn the wrong attention. She had the advantage overall; she could handle herself, and she had already learned to deal with and accept having an elemental power. At her age, I was just discovering mine.

“I think what you’re doing is great,” I finally said, unable to stand the silence. “It’s good to be able to express yourself in ways that don’t endanger you. Drei and the rest would be really proud of you.” I smiled at her.

“You, too?” she asked, glancing at me before diverting her eyes sheepishly.

I couldn’t help but smile; I would never have kids but it felt like they had been mine, especially that first year. I was their temporary mom, their older sister, their liaison to the occasionally unfriendly and intimidating vampires. That was me. “Of course. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of all of you.”

Xenia hugged me, and I hugged her back. She had grown up well over the past couple years and I really was proud of her. Instead of taking out whatever angst she may or may not have had by doing something stupid, she was being smart about it, even if it never felt like enough. It was refreshing for me because it proved to me why I was doing this.

“It was really good to see you again,” she said, pulling back.

“We’ll be in touch. But I shouldn’t keep you any longer from your friends.”

“Talk to you soon, Leirba.” At my pleased but shocked look, she added, “Yeah, Valetta told me about that, too. It’s different. Pretty…but different.” Then she was off to the boutique.

I sat for a while longer, just wondering how many other elementals felt as trapped as I had and she did, and how many were capable of breaking out in some small way like Xenia had. It hadn’t occurred to me until then how many there might be. I mean, I had felt trapped, but I was more worried with fitting in than standing out and fulfilling my own need to be myself. But hearing her put it that way, seeing the way she was settling to handle it, gave me even more motivation—if that was even possible—to succeed. If I could, no elemental would ever have to settle for being less than who they were again.

Eternal: Chapter Six, Part 2

Xenia was next on my list, not because I couldn’t find Jake first but because I wanted to save Jake for last. I knew there was probably going to be more for us to talk about; I would like to think I wasn’t avoiding the inevitable, but giving myself more time to prepare for it. I knew the likelihood of that being true was slim to none.

Valetta had found Xenia’s home, school, and even managed to find out her plans for the weekend—which involved some shopping, a movie, and dinner with friends. It was easier for Valetta because she hadn’t changed at all from when they had last seen her, but it was no use being bitter. I would have to figure out how I would talk to her alone and avoid keeping her from her plans for too long.

I sat in the middle of the mall, watching people pass for a while, wondering why I wasn’t seeing her anywhere. Then a group of giggling girls walked past and Xenia’s name was mentioned. There wasn’t a single blonde in the group, though. All of them had either dyed their hair blue or green, except for one girl who had chosen purple.

“I seriously did it;” the purple haired girl laughed, and I knew it was Xenia. Her looks may have changed, but her voice hadn’t—not much anyway. “I was not going out with him. He thinks we dyed our hair to make a statement about society and stickin’ it to the man.”

“But that’s not it at all;” one of her blue haired companions giggled.

“Exactly.”

Xenia whipped her head around for a moment in my direction before turning to her friends. “I’ll meet up with you at the boutique. There’s someone I have to see real quick.”

Her friends agreed and continued on as if this wasn’t unusual for her to be running off for a moment; she watched them for a short while. When they had all done their peeking over their shoulders and were back to laughing and gossiping, she turned around and took a seat next to me.

“She wasn’t kidding when she said you’d look different;” she crossed her legs at the knees, resting her chin on her hand.

“So she told you I was coming?” I asked, turning to face her.

“Of course she did. How else do you think she knew what I was doing today?”

“Makes sense;” I nodded slightly. “Did she tell you what I was coming to talk about?”

She shook her head, the purple locks escaping over her shoulder; she pushed them back behind her ear. “Valetta said she’d leave that for you.”

I debated whether to jump straight to business or not. I didn’t care to, but at the same time, she had already segued into it. But I wanted so much to ask about her hair. It had been a beautiful gold color and now, though still beautiful, it was purple. I was curious as to what prompted the change, especially since it wasn’t just her that had changed.

Then I remembered she was here with friends and my goal wasn’t to monopolize her time. If I had time at the end I’d ask, but she had already cut to the chase.

“I’m beginning my movement soon,” I started, deciding to just put it all on the table and see what she’d make of it. “Right now I’m recruiting everyone, yourself included. Don’t feel like you have to say yes; you don’t. It shouldn’t interfere with school, but you’d mostly be there for opinions and other kinds of input. The only downside is we have two years.”

Xenia nodded slowly, sitting back and crossing her arms, her eyes downcast as she contemplated my words. “Two years, is it?”

“It’s all I can guarantee.”

“And I’m guessing you’re going to say what this movement is about when everyone is together?”

“Of course. As soon as the school year is done for everyone.” I studied her carefully. If she didn’t say yes, I didn’t know who else I would choose. I had my mind set on her helping, but I’d ultimately have to respect her decision.

“I like the sound of a challenge,” Xenia said after a moment. “I don’t get enough of one as is, and it’ll be kind of fun to see some of the others again.”

“You don’t have any concerns?” I didn’t want to leave her with questions if I could help it—other than the main one, that is.

“Nope. It’s straightforward enough. I’m kind of looking forward to it,” she said, nodding her head, sitting forward on her hands.

Silence enveloped us despite the hustle and bustle of the crowds. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t help but ask—I knew if I didn’t soon she would excuse herself.

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.

Elemental: Chapter Two, Part 10

The thought of facing Drei still terrified me. He had tried to prepare and help me, but I was too stubborn to listen. Ever since the bounty hunter and the less than comforting chat with my mother, I didn’t want to admit he was right. It hurt my pride enough to realize my own ignorance; I wanted to hold off hurting it any more.

School finished in a blur; class elections, junior prom, graduation and finals slid together into a solitary block of random images that made no sense to me. I missed my games but was timorous at being caught or attracting unwanted attention. For me, there was no escape from the mundane everyday life I faced, the life I had once invested so much in.

Even summer was just a sequence of parties, appearances, and shopping trips to New York, California, and Paris. My friends were going through senior madness: a “disease” our school had dubbed the craziness for jumping the bones of anything alive the summer before senior year. Their exploits were recounted in vivid detail over overpriced coffee. If questioned myself, I played a similar tune of countless faces passing through my door, but never offered tales of specific encounters without prompting. After all, there were none in reality to spare. It wasn’t me and I wasn’t ready—not to mention the thought still brought flashes of my birthday back a little too vividly.

Part of me wished I could have enjoyed the summer more, but I couldn’t pour my heart into a half-life. It felt like all summer I asked myself if any of it was worth it. Was this petty existence worth anything at all? And every time I asked, the answer was no.

Mother filled the weeks before school with college visits so I could learn which colleges best suited me. I felt more relaxed and involved as I went from one campus to another, comforted by the less superficial atmosphere. It was promising me something more of a life. And while I strolled through lecture halls and parks, I forgot myself. I felt more at peace in my skin, putting aside any disturbing realities of my life. I am somewhat ashamed to admit I had forgotten Drei in that time as well. In fact, all of it had been forgotten.

I returned for the start of school with my new resolve and feeling less troubled. My worries consisted mostly of finding time for my three advanced placement courses, seven clubs, four volunteer commitments, and anything else that would keep my mind from everything I had forgotten. Of course, then, I hadn’t realized that was the purpose for my over-involvement.

A couple of months into the school year, I found everything slipping from beneath me again. All the control and the careful steps I had taken to stay ignorant were stripped from me. All with one disastrous event.

Elemental: Chapter One, Part 2

The curiosity and desire to remain naïve warred for days until I decided I had to know for sure. That Friday night, I waited up for him, my mystery man. Part of me was petrified at the mere thought of meeting him. Another part, a stronger part, was determined to follow through. I stayed awake all through the night, occupying my time with books, music, and various apps on my phone. He let me down. The one night I needed a friendly confrontation was the one night he never showed up.

I tried sleeping through most of the morning and reluctantly dredged up the energy to climb out of bed around noon when Emily called for a girls’ day out—which meant shopping. The whole troupe was showing up because it turned out Richie had been dating both Emily and Sara without either knowing—how that was possible, I never really found out—and was honest about it when he broke up with them that morning. According to their rabid babble, he had invited both of them for morning coffee. It was a surprise when both girls showed up at the café at the same time to see the same person. Upon demanding an explanation, he said something about it was time they knew the truth and their self-absorption made it easy. Sara mentioned something else in passing about how he cheated because they were vapid. (Though I don’t like to admit it, I hadn’t been much different.)

Shopping, by the way, was one of our most common pastimes. When we were collectively—meaning at least two of us—depressed, infuriated, ecstatic, or other emotional extremes, we shopped. After a good day of gossip and rumors, we shopped. It was our thing, as shallow as it sounds. My one saving grace was books. Though I rarely bought those on our excursions, unless there was a new fashion magazine out and then going to the bookstore was excusable. But only then.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Emily and Sara were livid the entire shopping spree, seemingly determined to max out their credit cards. Sara had elaborated on the “vapid” comment while trying on what seemed like hundreds of sweaters, blouses, skirts, dresses, jackets, and various other articles of clothing. Supposedly, he had no idea they were friends until after he started the double girlfriend antics. (I say supposedly because that detail was hard to miss considering our pack-mentality.) She informed us he had blatantly told them he would never have purposely dated the pair of them simultaneously had he known they were so much alike in personality—meaning they were more obsessed with how they looked and acted and the latest gossip than with the latest New York Times Bestseller. Suffice it to say, Jennifer, Heather, Rachel and I received an earful and several repeated remarks throughout the entire afternoon. Such a waste of a crisp October day.

Instead of my usual self-turmoil to consider that night, my mind was filled with all the vengeful ideas the two had tossed around while trying on clothes. I almost pitied Richie. Almost, but not quite.

Much to my surprise, my mystery man came to lull me to sleep. He didn’t allow me to chew him out for not coming the night before. He did, however, apologize. He said, “I am sorry to have disappointed you. I cannot permit our meeting. It is still too early for me to know if you are who I am seeking.” A few nights later, he said he had to go. “I will watch over you,” he assured me before easing my mind into another deep slumber.

At first I thought he was kidding. I thought it was all a game to make me regret ever thinking he was a vampire and staying up that night. For being a semi-shallow person even though I could be more than that. I wasn’t sure what the wrong was, but I was certain one had to exist.

That’s what I thought for about a week before it finally dawned on me he wasn’t coming back.

I forced myself to forget all about him and replaced his soothing voice with the tasteless sleeping pills my mother offered. With those I was guaranteed six hours of sleep; with an alarm clock set loud enough, I could have had a minimum of five hours. I never felt as refreshed, but it aided in putting him behind me.

What proved more difficult to replace was his scent. It never occurred to me I expected it and found it as much a comfort as his voice. Even if I could sleep thanks to the pills, it didn’t stop me from missing that smell. I did what I could, keeping fresh flowers on my bedside table. They weren’t anywhere close to satisfying my longing for his scent, but they would have to do.