doesn’t do me any favors, however. But that could just be poor lighting on white skin. Nothing a bit of Photoshopping can’t take care of.
• A stake through the heart will kill them – Really, wouldn’t that kill anybody? I have no heartbeat though, so there’s no telling at this point. Let's just hope I never have to find out.
This experience has been a lot like learning the ugly scoop about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and Ziggy Stardust all in one truth-revealing go-around. Only in this case, I’m sort of happy to learn that whatever I’ve come to believe about the magical land of Vampiria was going to be less magical than all the fictional mumbo-jumbo had let on. I would much rather have heard that Santa and Ziggy were real and vampires were bogus, though; in that scenario, everyone makes out like a bandit and no one craves anyone else’s blood. Just cookies and super-bad haircuts. But you don’t always get to choose what ends up as fantasy and what turns out to be reality. Sometimes you have to ride the wave you land on and dodge the rocks as best you can.
For the moment, I’m just hanging ten until I hit the shore.
After talking to Don, I realized that this was going to be a long-haul sort of thing. There will be no quick fix; I’ll have to tough it out, and somehow fit it into the life I’m still determined to have. The vital statistics don’t lie: as far as my major systems are concerned, I am not entirely living anymore. That means a whole lot of things will be different for me, all of which I’m still discovering as I go. And as isolating as it feels sometimes, I am not doing this entirely alone. I’m getting by with a little help from my friends.
One friend, at least. Now that he knows what’s going on.
I had fully intended to devise a way to hide the Vampire Within by covering up the Vampire Without. Once I had a handle on what the situation would be – even if was bound to change up a little as it progressed – I could at least fall back on a standard collection of lies and excuses that I would have at the ready. Who’s good for a full day of Warped Tour? Sorry, guys… three more ultraviolet rays and this freckle will be a melanoma. Join us for happy hour at the Samurai Ham On Rye? Not after the last time, thanks – previously undiagnosed fish allergy. You’re looking a little peaked… are you okay? Iron deficiency… just need to up my spinach intake. I could totally play this off, with my workmates, my family – just about everyone.
But not with Hube.
And anyway, after everything I’d learned I knew I had to unload on someone. Aside from my sister, who would be hard-pressed not to share it with the rest of my family, he’s the only one I would go with something so enormous. Fortunately, I didn’t have to go to him.
He came to me.
He showed up one Wednesday night and walked right in, which isn't anything different for him. I thought maybe I’d missed another practice, but I saw right away he wasn’t here for music. His hair was combed, his shirt buttoned up to his chin. He looked stern and sort of preacherly, like he'd been rolling through the neighborhood passing out postcards with Biblical scriptures on them. He was even carrying a little black book. When he laid it on the table, I read the title: How to Conduct an Intervention .
Oops.
Then he began conducting. “Hey, Joseph.” He never calls me Joseph unless he has a point to make. “I think we need to have a talk.”
I started in with something sarcastic, then decided it probably wasn’t the best approach given the touchiness of the situation and changed course. “You’re right, Hube. We do.”
I don’t think he expected that. “I’ve been worried about you lately. You’ve been… different… since you got sick .” He made little air quotes when he said it. “I thought you’d be better by now, and then you blew off the doctor… do you want to talk about what’s going on?”
“Dude, it’s
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