Stranger in the Night

Marianne Redding pulled her 87’ Dodge Shadow into a covered parking space. She turned the rickety engine off and carefully pushed the door open, trying to keep the rusted hinges from creaking too loudly. The top light flickered on. She glanced at the back seat to check on her three-year-old son Evan. He slept soundly in his car seat, surrounded by bags and boxes. She looked at her watch. It was eleven. Marianne got out of the car letting loose a heavy sigh. It had been a very long night.

***

Michael watched from his apartment window as the young woman unbuckled her disgruntled child, laying him on her shoulder. Her eyes were bloodshot. He wondered what it was that had been making her cry. He probed into her mind, catching her name. Marianne…and the child’s name was Evan. She had just recently left her husband… Jared. He could see the tale, tale signs of pain and abuse in Marianne’s memory, clouded with lingering unresolved arguments and events.

Not much had changed over the years in this regard. Like Marianne, he'd seen many women running from mortal monsters. He pushed the thought from his mind, knowing it would only make him angrier. There, on the child’s cheekbone, was a swelling bruise about the size of a golf ball. Michael probed into the child’s memory.

An image of a large man loomed before him, full of hate, raising a hand. The mother moved in front of him, screaming and pleading. The man shoved her forcefully away. Her head smacked against the arm of a couch. The child was crying and confused. The man’s face was red. Michael could sense the pungent aroma of liquor. The man raised his fist again, this time bringing it down on the child.

Michael tore himself away from the child’s thoughts and watched as the two walked up the metal staircase to the apartment just above his. His bright blue eyes glowed up at them through the glass.

***

Marianne leaned back, propping Evan up on her hip while she fished through their overnight bag with one hand in search of the keys. Her friend Natalie was in New York, traveling with her performance group. She knew how bad things had been getting with her and Jared and slipped Marianne a spare set of keys to her apartment in case she needed a place to go.

She found the keys and pushed the door open. The apartment had that airy new carpet smell that aggravated her already pounding head. She searched along the wall for a light switch until her hand bumped into one. A lamp in the living room flickered on, illuminating what Natalie liked to call modern nouveau furniture, which consisted of a long, black leather couch and loveseat, a shiny black rot iron and glass coffee table, and one large black and teal painting.

Evan stirred in her arms. she rubbed his back gently and made her way to the master bedroom. She laid him down in the center of the bed and then slumped down, dropping the bag to the floor. She thought she would go back out to the car and start bringing stuff in, but that didn’t seem necessary anymore. She felt the heavy weight of sleep and gratefully surrendered to it.

***

Evan tugged at his mommy’s arm.

“Mommy, Mommy.”

Marianne reluctantly opened her heavy eyes to the prompting of her exuberant son. Evan’s face was bright with excitement.

“Come see, balloons!” he rushed over to the bedroom door, waving for his mom to follow him, before disappearing down the hall.

Marianne sat up feeling a rush of blood flow to her now pounding head. She stood up, slouching against the side of the bed, and adjusted her rumpled jeans before making her way into the living room.

She stopped in the doorway gaping at the display before her. Dozens of bright-colored balloons attached to baskets and filled with gifts adorned the room. Evan struggled to detach a Mylar balloon with a bright sun smiling and a pair of sunglasses over its eyes.

Marianne walked over to each basket and searched for a card or some clue as to who they were all for, but there was nothing. Her mind raced with possibilities, but none of them made any sense. Nobody knew where she was, except maybe her jerk husband. She made up her mind last night that he would soon be her jerk-ex.

An unnerving thought came to her that whoever did this came inside. Perhaps they were all for Natalie from one of her many admirers. She walked over to the door but found it locked. She looked over at her son, who had successfully untied the sunshine balloon and ran around with it gleefully. She felt glad to see him smile. After the last two years of Hell, they had been through. Anything was worth seeing a smile on his face again.

She opened the door and peered outside, looking down the stairs at the Van Gogh, Starry Night welcome mat. She spotted a mailbox just to the left of the door. A tiny blue envelope poked out from under the brass lid. She snatched it out and tore it open. The same smiling sun design beamed up at her from the card. She opened it and read the inscription.

~For Marianne and her son: -From a friend ~

Marianne slowly stepped back into the apartment and closed the door. Her eyes welled up with tears. A kind of warmth embraced her heart. Something told her not to worry to relax and enjoy the gift.

***

Michael lay on his bed with his hands tucked behind his head. His bright blue eyes concentrated up at the ceiling and towards Marianne. He was putting those suggestions in her head and could feel the minute she stopped worrying.

Hundreds of candles lit the room with a warm golden glow. He listened to the pitter-pattering of Evan’s feet dancing around the living room with the balloon he'd picked out, especially for him. Michael smiled, but a lingering sadness held him confined to his room. He got up and walked to the computer in the corner of his room. He would introduce himself soon, but first, he would make dinner reservations at Rafael’s’. It had been a while since he had company for dinner. He thought back on how long it had been since he took a woman out. There was something special about Marianne. He’d always been a sucker for damsels in distress. A trait other men among his kind found repulsively old-fashioned. But Michael was all too familiar with her situation. He would have to approach this delicately or he might frighten her away.

He set the reservation for Friday night. It was Monday, which would give him time to arrange a meeting. Wednesday would be the night he’d ask her. Michael smiled to himself. This woman and her child would be his redemption. It had been so long since he cared about anyone and he needed someone to care. A kind of excitement ebbed in the back of his mind. He never had a family of his own. His chances diminished considerably many years ago when he was cursed to live in eternal darkness.

****

The week continued without any further surprises. Evan played with the toys from the baskets and watched cartoons. Marianne relaxed, taking naps every chance that she got. She took Evan to the community park nearby and for brisk evening walks.

By Wednesday evening, she decided to kick into gear and get some cleaning done. She was beginning to miss work. She owned her own clothing store called Tres Beau. She was afraid to show her face at the store, knowing that Jared might be there waiting for her, so she conducted all her business over the phone and promoted her sales clerk to manager.

Marianne tied off the garbage in the kitchen and flung it over her shoulder. Evan was asleep on the couch with his favorite blanky draped over him. She quietly opened the front door and closed it behind her. Making her way down the stairs, she headed quickly over to the dumpsters. She picked up her pace as she headed back to the apartment, feeling nervous about leaving Evan alone for even a second.

As she turned the corner to the stairs, she gasped, bumping into a man that was coming out the other way.

“I am so sorry,” she said, taking a step back.

“That’s alright,” the man exclaimed, extending a greeting. “My name’s Michael.”

She shook his hand, watching his face warily.

“So, do you live around here?” She asked.

“Yes, in number 28.” Michael stopped himself before he said just below yours.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” She replied anxiously, wanting to get back to her son.

She started to head up the stairs.

Michael watched her as his chance almost slipped away. She had not been as receptive to him as he first anticipated.

“I hope we bump into each other again sometime,” he called up to her.

Marianne stopped and turned around halfway up the stairs. She looked down at him and smiled. He stood still for a moment keeping his eyes steady on hers. A breeze ruffled his dark brown hair. She had never seen anybody’s eyes look that blue before. Her heart leaped up in her chest, fluttering lightly. She felt stupid all of a sudden, realizing how rude she must have seemed. Michael walked up to the edge of the railing and leaned against it.

“Perhaps we could meet again under different circumstances,” he said.

“I would like that,” Marianne replied before she realized what she was saying. She hadn’t noticed how tense she was until her muscles loosened up, and she found herself slowly walking back down the stairs to him.

“I’ve always hated meeting new people by chance and then never seeing them again,” he chided. “Perhaps you could join me at Rafael’s Friday night at seven. I would be honored to have a woman as beautiful as yourself accompany me.”

Marianne couldn’t peel her eyes away from his. She felt transfixed. He sounded like someone from another time and tried not to laugh. Men didn’t talk like that anymore, at least she hadn’t heard any, and before she could stop the word sure seemed to fumble out of her mouth. She was standing on the bottom step now.

Michael smiled. Seeing her blush was the most incredible thrill.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you then,” Michael took her hand and kissed it. Marianne tried to withhold a laugh again and questioned why she had just accepted a date from a man who acted as if he was from the nineteenth century, but dressed like a movie star.

He kept his eyes on hers, then turned away and walked back down the stairs to his apartment, disappearing behind the door. Marianne felt the strength come back into her body and gasped, taking in a deep breath as though she hadn’t been breathing for the past few minutes. She shook her head, feeling a little dazed, and looked down at Michael’s apartment door. She felt like a high school girl just asked out on her first date and couldn’t help but feel that Friday would be a nice break from all her stress.

****

Marianne rushed back and forth from her room to the bathroom, desperately trying to look right for her date.

What am I doing? She chided, picking out a simple pink spaghetti-strapped dress.

I just left my husband. I’m in the middle of a divorce. She had her lawyers’ office subpoena Jared only two days ago. In addition, she had a restraining order in the works.

I shouldn’t be going out with anybody. She thought.

Evan stood in the doorway with a sucker in his mouth, watching his mommy get ready. She slid the dress on and started picking at her hair.

“You look bootiful, mommy,” Evan said, walking up to her and hugging her leg.

“Ah, thank you, sweetheart,” Marianne replied, stooping down and wrapping her arms around him.

“Now, you behave like the good boy I know you are for the babysitter, okay?”

“I will. Can I watch a movie?” Evan asked, looking at her with soulful eyes.

She brushed his cheek with her hand and couldn’t help but say yes.

“Alright, one movie, but you go straight to bed afterward,” she replied.

Evan enthusiastically rushed out of the bathroom and into the living room, where a box of his movies lay open.

The doorbell rang. Marianne hurried into the living room and opened the door. The babysitter walked in. She was a young nineteen-year-old blond girl with a sweet voice-the result of two years working in daycare.

“Hi Evan,” she waved at the exuberant three-year-old. “Are we gonna watch a movie?” she asked, watching him fish through the box.

“Thanks for coming at such short notice, Holly,” Marianne said while she headed back down the hall to the bathroom, “I hope this doesn’t cause any problems at your work, being Evan's Preschool teacher and all. I didn’t know if asking you to babysit would cause any problems?”

“Oh, no problem, Mrs. Carlson,” Holly said.

Marianne stopped applying her lipstick for a moment at the mention of her last name and looked in the mirror. Tears threatened once more, but she choked them back.

No, I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to start blaming myself.

The doorbell rang again.

“Do you want me to get that?” Holly asked.

“No. I’ll get it,” Marianne replied. She grabbed her purse and headed to the door. Michael stood there in dark glasses and a dark suit. The scent of foreign cologne blew lightly into the room and then disappeared like an apparition teasing her senses.

“May I come in?” he asked.

Marianne stood back suddenly, feeling like a princess in some fairy tale.

“Of course, please. I would like you to meet my son.” She couldn’t help but get the feeling that she had let something from some other world enter as he walked into the living room. She had been used to jeans, T-shirts, the smell of gasoline, and Mavericks. Never had she encountered a man like this before. She had to do everything in her power not to lose her composure. She smiled at him, pleased that he didn’t freak out at the mention of a child.

“His name is Evan.”

“Well, hello there,” Michael smiled at him.

Evan just glanced at him and said, hi then resumed to the business of his movie. Marianne walked over and gave Evan a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay.” Evan wrapped his arms around his mommy’s neck, kissed her on the forehead, and then giggled.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Holly reassured her. She looked at the man questioningly, then back at Marianne, “We’ll be alright.”

***

Marianne felt like a misplaced puzzle piece. This man is way out of my league. She thought as they approached his car. It was a shiny black viper. She had seen it there the first night they moved in, and she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a man lived in an apartment complex like this and drove a viper.

He opened the door for her. She felt herself blush again and quickly slid in.

They rode in silence most of the way. He would look at her every now and then. She could feel his eyes on her, even through his glasses. Fur Elise played soft and low on the radio.

“So what do you do for a living, Michael?” Marianne asked, anxious to eliminate the uncomfortable silence.

“I’m what you might call an entrepreneur.”

Marianne laughed.

“Oh, really, and what do you, entrepreneur?” she replied, putting exaggerated emphasis on the word.

“I own a few small businesses in the valley, mostly antique shops.”

Marianne tapped her glossy fingernails on the brim of her purse.

“They must do well,” she said.

“You could say that.” Michael turned the car into the restaurant’s parking lot.

The lighting in the restaurant created an intimate glow; candlelight flickered brightly on the center of the tables. Faux grapevines intertwined within plastered columns. The low, harmonious sound of an accordion playing classic Italian tunes drifted from hidden speakers.

Marianne’s practical side wanted to roll her eyes and laugh at the odd situation she’d found herself in. This was like something out of a soap opera or a movie. Men like Michael and restaurants like this didn’t happen in real life. However, her romantic, old-fashioned theatrical side was eating it up.

She had been a student of the creative arts back in her college days. She majored in fashion and minored in theater. Shakespeare, red wine, and roses had been her dreams. How she ever ended up with Jared, she didn’t know. The only thing she did know was that she got the best part of their torrid relationship, and he was at home right now watching Disney movies and probably eating ice cream with Holly.

The hostess led them to a booth at the far end of the restaurant. Michael took his glasses off and set them on the table, then rubbed at his eyes, concentrating to control the color and dilation of his pupils.

“Are you alright?” Marianne asked.

“Yeah,” Michael looked up at her, “just allergies, I think. So, what’ll it be?” Michael asked, picking up a menu.

“I don’t know. I’ve never eaten at a place like this before. What’s good?” Marianne asked.

Michael skimmed over the menu, pretending to be interested.

“The cheese balls with raspberry sauce are my favorites. The ravioli’s good too.”

Marianne put her menu down and took a sip of her water.

“That sounds great. I think I’ll have both,” she said.

Michael laughed, determined to keep the conversation going.

“Sorry, I’m just very hungry,” she explained.

He sat the menu down and picked up his glass, taking a drink.

“So what brings you to The Springs apartments?” he asked.

Marianne looked down at her glass.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to share that much information with a stranger right now. It’s just that… it’s complicated. I hope you understand,” she reassured him, “Perhaps that story could wait for another night.”

He nodded his head.

“Fare enough,” he replied, secretly grateful for her honesty. She could have made up any lie, but she was honest. He liked that. She didn’t really need to tell him anyway.

“What about you? What kind of successful entrepreneur decides to live in an apartment? With your level of success, you could easily be living it up in some high-rise somewhere.”

Michael picked up his glass of water and took another sip.

“I enjoy being around people, meeting you, for instance. That wouldn’t have happened if I kept myself cooped up in some stuffy, lonely old high-rise. I’d probably end up sitting in front of a large fireplace with a pipe and an old book about the civil war. I much prefer the company of friends.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” she replied. Marianne felt her cheeks go hot again. Michael was gazing at her. His eyes seemed to get brighter in the candlelight.

“What do you do, Marianne, for work?”

“I’m the owner of a retail store called Tres beau. We sell clothing designed by popular French designers.”

“Magnifique,” Michael exclaimed jokingly.

“Do you speak French?” Marianne asked.

“Some, but not enough to carry on a conversation,” he replied honestly.

The waiter approached the table and took their orders. They spent the rest of the evening in casual conversation while they ate.

A new song came on the speakers, and Michael looked up at Marianne. Her cheeks glowed with warmth. He could sense that she was having a nice time.

“Would you care to dance?” Michael asked, standing up and holding his hand out to her.

Marianne looked around, feeling slightly embarrassed, but the restaurant was virtually empty, and there was a small tiled area in between the aisles, just for such an impulse. She smiled at him.

“I would love to,” she exclaimed, accepting his hand. Michael spun her out onto the floor, guiding her steps.

She immediately felt self-conscious, realizing that he really could dance. His hands felt cool against her warm flesh. A shiver raced up her arms. Michael pressed her even closer to him, closing in the gap that she intentionally tried to keep between them. She looked up into his face. His eyes were blazing brighter; an unnatural blue hue glowed around the black of his pupils. He smiled down at her gently. She felt a sense of excitement and panic writhe up within.

He was so handsome. Something about him made her forget about all of her other worries. She felt free with him. Marianne laid her head against his chest and released a heavy sigh. He smelled so good, she thought, letting her mind relax.

Michael brushed a hand over her hair while they swayed slowly. He worried about her being so close. She might notice the unnaturally slow rhythm of his heart. He looked into her mind to see what she was thinking, feeling a little guilty by doing so, but he needed to know how she was really feeling about him if he was eventually going to do what needed to be done. He grinned secretly. She did want him and by no magic of his own.

****

Later that evening, Marianne lay in bed. Moonlight cast itself across the ceiling. Evan breathed softly and snuggled in the blankets next to her. She rolled over onto her side and watched him sleeping. Gently, she brushed her hand across the already healing bruise his father had left on his face. This time she let the tears come. She thought about her date with Michael and wiped the tears away from her face.

He seemed almost too perfect, too nice. She had called her lawyer and already got the legal work going on the divorce, but she would have to wait to start up anything serious with another person until it was over. Evan sighed and giggled lightly in his sleep. Marianne grinned at him. He had been so happy here the last few days. She wanted to provide a better life for him.

A sound outside the front door pulled Marianne out of her thoughts. She sat up, startled, and reached for Evan’s baseball bat, leaning against the wall. She laughed, wondering what kind of damage she could do to an intruder with a plastic bat-probably not much. She stopped in the hallway and listened for a moment. Something that sounded like a bottle clinked against the ground.

“Marianne!”

Marianne froze. It was Jared, his voice slurred. She leaned against the wall and held her breath, contemplating if she had locked the balcony doors and all the windows. She quickly glanced back down the hallway and at her son, still sleeping soundly on the bed in the master bedroom. Then back at the front door, only a few feet from where she stood.

“Marianne, I know you’re in there.”

She could hear him pulling himself up from off of the ground. The doorknob turned and stopped. She continued to hold her breath, trying to remember where she had put the cordless phone last. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. She could hear it beating in her ears.

“You can’t hide from me, Marianne. Jus’ come on home an’ this’ll allll be over!”

Marianne spotted the phone. It was sitting on the coffee table in the living room. She set the bat against the wall and quietly made her way to the table, praying that Evan wouldn’t wake up and start crying.

“MARIANNE, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!” He pounded his fist against it, rattling the hinges. Marianne’s fingers shook as she started to dial the numbers 9, 1; she messed up hitting the two, scared out of her mind, and started over; 9,

“What the hell!” Jared shrieked.

Marianne dropped the phone. She wondered how Evan hadn’t woken up from the noise.

She froze again.

***

Michael stood at the bottom of the stairs. His fingernails elongated into talons. His teeth gleamed like polished ivory. A deep-throated growl hummed in the silence. His eyes slit and narrowed as two daggers.

“Get away from me, freak,” Jared screamed .

***

Michael walked up the stairs. Jared backed up against the wall. Michael used all the energy he had to keep his presence masked from the neighbors peeking out their windows. To them, it would simply look like a crazy drunk hallucinating.

Marianne made her way to the door and pressed her ear against it, listening, wondering if she should still call the police.

Michael stood in front of him. Jared shook uncontrollably. The stale scent of urine wafted in the air. Michael grabbed him by the throat and forced him down the stairs. He found Jared’s truck parked halfway on the sidewalk and forced him in through the driver's side door. Michael climbed in next to him. The truck revved to life. He screeched out of the parking lot. They drove in silence for about ten minutes. Jared huddled himself up against the door staring in disbelief at the creature sitting next to him.

“What the hell are you?” he asked.

Michael didn’t answer but sped up. Jared clenched tight onto the seat and door handle.

“You’ll never hurt Marianne and Evan again,” Michael snarled at the trembling man.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I swear,” Jared cried in sober desperation.

“I'm sure Marianne's heard that lie. Too late,” Michael seethed. He grabbed the man by the arm and forced his hand onto the steering wheel. The truck swerved and skidded off the road. Michael leaped from the vehicle landing softly on the ground only feet away. He watched as it slammed into the large trunk of an oak tree and burst into flames. The fire danced brightly in Michael’s eyes. It licked up the tree and moaned as it engulfed the branches and the man trapped inside.

***

Marianne worked up the courage to open the door. It had been quiet for a long time. The night was silent. Only the sound of crickets in the nearby park disturbed the otherwise sleeping complex. She closed the door and locked it. She leaned against it putting her hand on her forehead.

Did I dream it? she questioned, but no. It had been too real. She made her way back to the bedroom and checked on Evan. He smiled in his sleep, dreaming of candy and toys. She returned to the living room and sat on the couch, turning the television on. There was no way she’d get any sleep now.

Marianne woke up to the sound of knocking. The morning sunlight peeked through the slits of the balcony door blinds. She pulled herself up glancing at Evan who was sitting at the dining room table with a box of Captain Crunch dumped on it. She opened the door and stared, barely conscious, at two police officers.

The eldest of the two removed his hat and spoke with a gentle but scratchy voice.

“Good morning Mrs. Carlson. May we come in?”

“Yes, of course,” she said and pulled the door open wider. “What’s this about?”

“There was an accident last night a few miles from here. Your name came up among one of the insured on the truck. We haven’t been able to identify the body of the driver yet. Forensics is looking into his dental records, but it will be a while before we get the results back,” The police officer paused for a moment.

Marianne sat down, covering her face with her hands.

“We had a little bit of trouble locating you but found this address in a book at your house. Your husband wasn’t there either. I know this can be very difficult, Mrs. Carlson, but is your husband here?”

“No,” Marianne managed a whisper. She sat up, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes brimmed, red with tears. “We separated almost a week ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied.

Evan ran over to his mommy and sat down by her.

“Are you alright, mommy?” he asked sweetly, looking up into her face.

Marianne wiped the tears away from her eyes, sniffling.

“Yeah, baby, I’m alright.”

Marianne stood up and followed the police officers to the door.

“We’ll let you know when we get the results back. Will you be here later this afternoon?”

“Yes,” Marianne replied.

The police officers left, and Marianne curled back up on the couch, pulling a blanket her son had left on the floor over her body. Evan turned the television on. Elmo’s world was starting.

Her eyes welled up with tears again. She closed them and let herself drift back to sleep.

***

That night Marianne stood on the balcony with a blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders, looking out at the sky. The stars shone a bit brighter tonight. She couldn’t believe it. Her husband was dead. It was hard for her to feel sad that he died after what he did to her and their son, but the tears came all the same. She felt guilty because they weren’t entirely tears of sadness. The fear she felt for their life was finally gone. She leaned against the railing, resting her head in her hands. She hadn’t told the police about the odd things he started screaming before he left. It didn’t seem necessary. They found enough alcohol in his blood to account for the reason behind the accident.

Marianne heard a door open and close. She stepped away from the balcony.

“Marianne?” Michael called up to her.

She peered down at him.

“Hey,” she waved, still wiping tears away with her other hand.

Michael mustered a concerned look.

“What’s the matter? Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ve just had a really bad day, that’s all,” she said.

Michael put his hands in his pant pockets.

“You look terrible; do you want me to come up?”

She laughed, clutching the blanket tighter around her chest.

“You can't start making comments like that until after the fifth date," she laughed."

Michael smiled."Fair enough," he said.

No, I’ll be okay. I need some time to get it together.”

“What happened?” Michael kept his eyes locked on her. She was shaking. She didn’t answer but started crying harder.

“I’m coming up,” he replied and headed up the stairs.

Marianne opened the door a little reluctantly. She didn’t know how she was going to tell him about everything.

“Do you want a cup of coffee or something?” Marianne asked, heading for the kitchen.

“No, come here.” Michael took her gently by the arm and led her to the couch to sit by him.

Marianne proceeded to tell him everything up to the events that occurred earlier that day.

He put his arm around her as she started to cry harder. He never completely understood why women could still have feelings for men who tried to kill them. He ran his fingers through her hair softly, petting her head.

“It’s alright now. He can’t hurt you anymore,” Michael whispered. Marianne laid her head on his shoulder and released a ragged sigh.

“I am so sorry to unload all of this onto you. We’ve just met, and I’m already a burden.”

“You’re not a burden to me, Marianne. You mean a lot more to me than you could imagine.” Michael lifted her head off his shoulder and looked into her tear-streaked face. He leaned in to kiss her.

His lips were soft and gentle. She felt the passion he felt flow into her, relaxing every thought. After a few more moments, he pulled away. Marianne’s head was reeling. She felt light-headed and dizzy.

“I think I should probably go now,” Michael said. His voice sounded huskier than usual. He immediately stood up and headed for the door. Marianne followed him, feeling confused, and opened it before he could get to it.

“Thanks for coming up,” Marianne said, “and for making me feel better.”

Michael smiled at her, keeping his teeth concealed. It was just then Marianne noticed that his upper lip looked a little swollen.

“I’d like to see you again,” she whispered. Michael nodded, then quickly headed back down the stairs disappearing around the corner.

***

He stopped for a moment, leaned against the side of the building, and looked up into the night sky.

I almost gave myself away. He thought and pushed away from the wall, then started walking down the path, angry with himself for not feeding earlier before going to see her.

A small pond trickled nearby, surrounded by tall leafy trees. Michael walked up to the edge of it and stared into the water. His bright blue eyes glowed back at him. He picked up a rock and threw it at his reflection. It splashed loudly, distorting his image.

How am I going to pull this off? I only have a couple of weeks left before I lose my chance.

The soft scent of cheap perfume wafted in the breeze toward him. He turned his attention to a young eighteen-year-old girl walking to her car. He could feel the all too familiar sensation of hunger shoot through his body and into his upper gumline. He grimaced in pain. Hatefully aware of what he must do, soon though he could be human again.

Every hundred years, it was the same. On the anniversary of the night he was turned, he would have only one chance to become human again before the hour of his creation. He would have to feed from a willing donor, not just any willing donor. The person had to love him.

He suffered many disappointments and heartache each time, having to erase his existence from each woman’s mind.

He longed to live and die with the one he loved though he would never have a normal life having lived longer than he should have.

If only Marianne could look past it. He would have one last chance. Michael promised himself that this would be the last hundred years he would spend on the earth. If he failed this time, he would end it.

***

Marianne got off the phone with Natalie. She would be coming back in a few weeks. It had been a few days since her date with Michael, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She walked over to the fridge. A single half-gallon of milk sat on the shelf.

“Just great,” She exclaimed, slamming the fridge door closed. She hadn’t gone to the store in over a week. She’d need something to feed Evan in the morning. It was eight in the evening. She quickly made up her mind to call Holly.

***

The store lights hummed. An occasional, obvious bachelor passed by Marianne in the aisles with a pack of beer in one hand, and a basket of buns and hamburgers in the other. She mused, realizing that she, too now, was among the single adults of the world.

She turned onto the cereal aisle when she spotted him and suddenly felt insecure, like a girl in High school bumping into the boy at school who she made out with the night before. Michael stood at the end of the aisle with a grocery basket. She pretended not to notice him while skimming over the cereal boxes.

Michael grinned, amused. He could hear her heartbeat pick up the moment she saw him. He grabbed a box of cereal, put it in his basket, and then casually made his way toward her.

“Hi, Marianne.”

She pretended to be startled.

“Michael, what are you doing here?” she fumbled over her words.

“Just doing a little shopping,” he replied, motioning to the basket. “Do you mind if I stop by a little later tonight? I have a surprise for Evan.”

Marianne twisted her purse strap between her fingers. “Not at all. I’m sure Evan would like that.”

“Great, I’ll see you then,” Michael said and turned to leave.

Marianne released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “What’s wrong with me? I’m allowed to have these kinds of feelings,” she thought.

When she got home, Marianne quickly brushed her hair and put on a fresh coat of light pink lipstick. Evan had fallen asleep on the couch again. She pulled his blanket over him and sat on the loveseat, waiting for Michael. She glanced at the clock. It was nine-thirty. She hoped he would get there soon. She’d been in the habit of getting to bed earlier and hated to break her habits.

The doorbell rang. She jumped up and answered it.

“Hi,” she exclaimed, inviting him in.

“I hope it’s not too late,” Michael replied, handing Marianne a bouquet of red roses laced with white gardenias. He knew that she liked gardenias.

Marianne stared at the bouquet, surprised.

“I thought you said the surprise was for Evan.”

“Oh, I have something for him too, but that can wait.” He noticed him sleeping on the couch.

“He’s always gone to sleep early; I just didn’t have the heart to wake him.” She explained.

Marianne walked into the kitchen and pulled a vase out from under the sink. She filled it with water and put the flowers in it. Michael walked into the kitchen and leaned against the wall looking at her.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your husband.”

Marianne turned around after setting the vase of flowers on the counter

“That’s alright. I feel sorry for him more than I do for myself.”

Marianne walked over to the coffee maker. “Would you like to have some coffee with me? I only have decaf?”

“Sure,” Michael replied, sitting down at the dining table. “How long do you think you and Evan are going to be staying here?”

Marianne tilted her head to the side and thought about it for a moment while she filled the coffee pot with water.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t decided yet if I want to move back into that old house. There's a lot of bad memories there, you know. I might get it fixed up and rent it out. We’ll probably move into a nearby condo, someplace close to my shop.

“Good. I was worried you’d disappear on me, and I’d never see you again.” Michael cupped his hands, sitting them in his lap.

“Would you like something to eat while we wait for the coffee?” Marianne asked.

“No, thank you, I ate before I came.” Michael leaned back in his chair and watched Marianne fumble nervously through the cupboards for a snack. His presence seemed to be rattling her nerves.

“Here, let me make you something,” Michael offered. He stood up and walked into the kitchen. “I make a mean spaghetti. Would you like that?” Marianne stepped out of the way as he reached into the pantry pulling out the needed ingredients as if he himself lived there.

“Well, you seem to know your way around a kitchen. I think I’ll take you up on that.” Marianne eyed him suspiciously. “Let me get you the pa…”

Michael had already opened the cupboard in which the pans were located. He stopped realizing that he had let his guard down.

“Never mind, you seem to know my friend's house better than I do.” Marianne folded her arms across her chest and tapped her fingers on the sleeves of her sweater.

Michael stood up and set the pan on the stove. He could see the questions in her mind. Michael smiled reassuringly.

“That’s funny. I’m used to the way I have things set up in my apartment. I guess I’m lucky she has things put in the same places.”

"I guess so." Marianne sat down, still suspicious, as he continued to cook.

"I hope you like things spicy. I have a tendency to overdo it in that department." Michael smirked at her. She couldn't help but smile back.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do like things a little spicy." She kept her eyes locked on his, challenging him. His grin widened.

They ate and talked the rest of the evening. Marianne had to leave the room once when Evan woke up. She carried him back into the bedroom and noticed the clock on the nightstand. It read one a.m.

I‘d better wrap things up, she thought. I wanted to try to make it to work later.

She quietly made her way down the hallway. Michael was already putting his jacket on.

“Leaving so soon?” She feigned disappointment.

“Yeah, I have a very important meeting later today. I really should be going. Besides, I don’t want to keep you up. You have a son, and I hate to be the cause of his mommy’s irritation in the morning.”

Marianne laughed knowingly.

“It’s true; I’m not the sunniest personality in the mornings.”

“Nor am I,” Michael replied, hugging her before he headed for the door.

“I’ll see you again this weekend, say about eight. We could catch a movie,” Michael offered hopefully. Marianne’s face lit up, which he took as a good sign.

“Sure, a movie would be great,” she answered.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you then.” Michael blew her a kiss and disappeared out the door.

***

The following two weeks went by fast. Marianne found herself growing closer to Michael. He even escorted her and Evan to Jared’s funeral and was there to comfort her after she had to explain to her son that his dad had died. Evan didn’t take it as hard as she thought he might and started crying again when he asked if that meant he wouldn’t hit him anymore.

It was Saturday. They had another date, and Marianne was waiting for him. Evan was staying at a friend’s house from their old neighborhood. He had been begging all week to play with his friend Alex. Marianne finally gave in, seeing it as an opportunity for her and Michael to be alone. She didn’t know yet what they were going to be doing, so she chose a soft, black chenille sweater and a pair of blue jeans she had just bought.

She pinched at her cheeks, desperately trying to get some color into her ivory skin. Earlier, Michael acted mysteriously about his plans. She hoped it wasn’t anything too classy. All of her nice gowns were at the dry cleaners.

The doorbell rang. Michael walked in with another bouquet of flowers. This time they were purple and red roses. She had never seen such an exotic display before.

“Thank you,” she said, having grown accustomed to his gentry habits. “So, what did you have in mind for tonight?” Marianne asked, replacing the old flowers with the new ones.

Michael closed the door behind him and slipped his jacket off. Tonight was his last chance to find reprieve. He would have to act quickly. It was nine-thirty, and time was running out.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Michael said.

Marianne turned around and met his eyes. Her heart began to thud uncontrollably. He took a step towards her and took her hand.

“Maybe you should sit down first,” Michael implored.

“That’s alright; I’ve been sitting at my desk all day,” Marianne exclaimed, pulling her hand away from aware that by the look on his face, it wasn’t going to be something she’d like. Panic surged through her nerves. “Whatever it is, I think I’d be better off standing.”

Worst-case scenarios raced across her mind. He’s probably married. He’s going to break it off with me. Oh, crap, I shouldn’t have been so depressed the other night. I shouldn’t have cried all over him.

Michael shifted nervously and looked into her panicked face, although she was trying to conceal what she was thinking. She was one of the easiest women in his long history to read.

“Marianne, it’s not bad, it may sound a little odd, but it’s not bad,” he reassured her.

“Do you mind if we talk in the room? I know it seems forward, but I assure you my intentions are purely honorable.”

Marianne watched him with a quizzical expression.

“Sure,” she replied, feeling like an idiot for agreeing to such an odd request. She walked in front of him, leading him to the room, and sat on the edge of the bed, watching him closely. Michael paced back and forth with his hands cupped behind his back. She blushed, trying to repress her thoughts, wishing he would grab her and kiss her, but nothing more. She wasn't ready for that yet. She shook her head clear of those thoughts and tried to appear thoughtful.

Maybe he was going to propose. Oh, gosh, she thought. What would I say? I couldn’t say yes. It's way too soon. My husband just died. That would look suspicious. No, he wouldn’t propose. We haven’t been going out long enough.” Marianne tried to quit thinking and refocused her attention back on him. He stopped pacing and turned to look at her.

“Marianne, what I am about to share with you may shock you, even frighten you, but I want you to understand that I will not hurt you.”

Marianne’s guard went up. Oh, great, she thought. He has a record. He’s done time, murder, or something.

“Michael, maybe now isn’t a good time to tell me this thing…whatever it is.” Marianne stood up and started walking towards the door.

“Marianne, wait,” Michael grabbed her gently by the wrist and pulled her to him. It was nine forty. Time would soon be out. “I have to tell you this now, or I will remain what I am for another hundred years.”

Marianne wrenched her hand out of his and stepped back.

It’s worse than I thought. He’s a psycho.

She tried to compose herself, reserving judgment. His bright blue eyes shone at her. Michael was letting his guard down. He could sense the unequivocal fear that the rabbit had for the fox. All of his senses honed in on her.

“Please don’t run,” he pleaded.

Tears swelled up in his eyes, making them seem impossibly liquefied like two bright blue moons shadowed over a vast ocean. Marianne caught her breath. Her thoughts drifted to Evan, probably asleep by now at his friend’s house. At least he wasn’t here in case anything was to happen to her, but Michael wasn’t attacking her. He kept his distance, moving to the other end of the room. Tears flowed down his impossibly perfect face.

Marianne’s knees felt weak. She sat on the edge of the bed. Keeping her eyes pinned on his.

This can’t be happening. This is the sort of thing that happens in movies, or books, not in real life.

“Marianne, I’m a vampire.” Michael stood still as time itself seemed to for just a moment.

The words shocked her like lightning. Of all the things she had been expecting. This wasn’t it. She inhaled a short breath. The air around her felt electrified.

“You’re what?” she asked, still unsure of how to react. Her words shook as she spoke them.

Michael looked away, dismayed.

“I became a vampire four hundred years ago by a man who found me sick and dying. He took pity on me, but I didn’t know what had happened until the following night. That’s when he told me that if I ever wanted to return to my mortal state, I would have to find someone willing who loved me to feed on and that it would have to be on the night of my turning.”

Marianne listened, wondering whether or not she should run screaming out of the apartment and call the police, but beyond all reason, she didn’t move.

“Frankly, Michael, this is all hard to believe,” she stood up and approached him cautiously. “You need to put yourself in my shoes. If you were human and someone you barely met came to you one night with a tale as radical as that, then asked you to let him or her drink your blood so they could become human again, you might question their sanity?”

“You’re right Marianne, but this is the only chance I have to turn things around, and no matter how crazy it sounds or is, I can’t escape it, and whether or not you believe it, won’t change how true it is, but if you do believe me, you could change the rest of my life.”

Marianne looked intently at his face searching for a twitch or some indication of madness, but no malice seemed to linger there. Then again, if he were insane, he would believe every word he just told her.

She felt a little tension ease in her body. She’d never discounted the possibility that such creatures could exist. Nervously she made up her mind, bracing herself for the consequences of her reply.

“You’ll have to prove it to me,” she folded her arms across her chest and watched him skeptically. Michael’s eyebrows rose. He'd had women scream and run, call the police, and throw things at him, but he'd never had a woman ask him to prove it.

“Are you sure?” he replied grimly. “You have to promise me you won’t run and trust that I won’t hurt you,” he said.

Marianne looked up at the ceiling and released an exasperated sigh, thinking for a moment before looking back at him.

“Yes, I’m sure, and I promise I won’t run.”

Michael let his canines grow slowly as they jutted down, lingering slightly above his bottom lip.

Marianne jumped back, but she kept her promise and did not run.

“Oh, gees,” she pressed her hand to her chest. “Those aren’t prosthetics…alright, that’s pretty impressive.” She held her hands out in front of her, gesturing nervously. “Wow. They could sure use you in Hollywood.”

Michael chuckled slightly then stopped, realizing how that must sound.

“Marianne, I’m asking you to help because I have fallen in love with you, and I don’t desire to keep living this way. I want to be with you, but there is only one way I can do that and in five minutes, my chance will be gone, so I need to know. Do you still feel the same way now that you know what I am?”

Marianne looked down at the floor, rubbing her arms nervously. She’d never had these feelings for anyone before, and something inside her told her that he was telling the truth and didn’t want to hurt her. She glanced over at a picture of Evan by the clock on the nightstand. Michael followed her gaze and released a defeated sigh.

“I’m sorry, Marianne. I shouldn’t be putting you through this. I’ll leave now,” he started to head for the door. It was two minutes to ten. Marianne cut him off short, thrusting her arm across the doorway.

“Wait,” her eyes trailed up to his. “Yes. I’ll do it,” she closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest. “I don’t want to lose you either; I’ve never felt safe with anyone until I met you.”

Michael bent his head down close to her ear and whispered.

“I love you,” then sank his fangs into her throat.

The clock struck ten.

***

The next morning Marianne awoke to the smell of pancakes and bacon. The sun shone brightly through the blinds. It had to have been late in the afternoon. She threw the comforter off, having not remembered going to bed. The bouquet of flowers Michael gave her the night before sat on the nightstand. Marianne rubbed at her eyes, trying to remember what happened, but she couldn’t recall anything from the moment she put the flowers in the vase.

She stood up and walked down the hallway, embarrassed to still be in her clothes from the previous night.

Evan sat at the table playing with a new Power Ranger toy Michael bought for him, happily gobbling down a plate of sticky pancakes. Michael stood in the kitchen, holding a spatula. He set it down and walked over to her.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him and giving her a passionate kiss. “I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in this morning. I wanted to surprise you and Evan with breakfast. His friends’ mom dropped him off this morning around nine.”

Michael walked back into the kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the balcony doors and spilled into the kitchen. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him in the daylight before. He really was very handsome.

Marianne sat at the table, picking up a freshly brewed cup of coffee. She shrugged her questions away for the time being and smiled up at Michael.

“No, I don’t mind at all. It smells delicious.”

His soft blue eyes smiled back at her.

The End