Happy Anniversary

“We’re just too different.”

Daniel slips his withered hand out from underneath my own. He gives my shoulder a squeeze and groans as he picks himself up from our shared Sertapedic. He crosses the room and pauses at the door to pull his cane from around the knob. I close my eyes and smile. We’ve had this conversation before, and in the past, I may have fought to change his mind. Today, I let him pause and look back at me.

“Take care of yourself, Marv.”

The soft thump-thump-thud of his footsteps down the stairs disappears. The front door creaks open and clinks shut. I pull the wine stopper Daniel had given me moments before from my pocket. Silver with a black rubber wrapped around it, the topper is faceted glass shaped into a diamond. It sparkles in the dying sunlight beaming through the tinted bedroom window above the reading nook. The gold-bordered pocket watch with silver vines wrapped around mini diamonds lies forgotten, inscription up on the bedside table.

Daniel,

my heart remains

yours always and forever.

A lifetime together

cherished.

Our framed wedding photograph is standing behind the watch; Daniel was eighteen and strapping. I glide to our bedroom doorway, tightening my robe around me; on the wall opposite hangs our family portrait before Teresa disappeared, and I doubt Daniel noticed it went askew. I push it gently back in place with my pinky as I move to the stairs. Years with my husband meet me in reverse as I scuff down to the kitchen.

I open the deep-seated, double-wide drawer holding memory-filled gifts of the past. A folded-up emerald-colored apron, a gold set of measuring spoons, sapphire-inspired oven mitts, ruby-handled kitchen gadgets, coral dishcloths, a pearl sugar bowl, and thirty-five-year-old polished silver. I place the stopper inside, thinking how Daniel somehow knew exactly the gift each year that would tickle my fancy and my love of cooking. I lift my head and take in my reflection through the glass doors covering the cabinets that house fine china and crystal glasses. 

My dark skin is smooth as glass and soft as velvet; obsidian hair shining, faded to the skin around the ears, and the curls on top are an unruly bush. The ivory in my eyes reminds me of the years since they were a rich mocha brown, the only sign to prove I’ve aged these last 65 years.

“Mr. Lockley?”

Jeremiah, Daniel’s live-in aide, a godsend youth in his early twenties, speaks quietly; if my enhanced hearing weren’t so potent, I’d not have heard him call. He enters the kitchen with a cotton rag hanging over his shoulder.

“Mr. Farlow is taking his evening tea on the porch. He insisted I fetch you.”

“Yes. It must be the new flavor.”

“Caramel nougat. It’s quite a delight.”

“Thank you, Jeremiah. Before you turn in if you wouldn’t mind.”

I gesture at the leftover food not packed in Tupperware and on its way to our adopted grandchildren’s dormitory mini-fridges. The counter lacks the usual small stack of missing-person flyers to replace the ones from the previous year. Their father, Avery, our son-in-law, looked healthier today than I’d seen him in years since Teresa’s vanishing. 

“I found someone, Marvin.” Avery had said, “Sarah and Jackson love her. I love her. I’ll always hold a place in my heart for Teresa. I just…”

On behalf of Daniel and myself, I gave him our blessing. In truth, it had taken Avery much longer than expected. I suspect he had loved Teresa and accepted us for what we’ve been. Good, she’ll be thrilled to hear it.

I push through the screened door of the kitchen and step onto the wrap-around porch. I stroll along the railing, noticing chipped paint, and make a mental note to visit the hardware store and choose a new color—perhaps a natural wood, like teak, with walnut trim. I round the corner and pause to watch Daniel on the porch swing. I sniff the air, and my heart breaks to know there will be no need.

He presses on his toes and heels in rhythm as he slides back and forth, holding his teacup and dish to his white-bearded face and blowing the steam into the coming night. He’s grown thin after many years of holding on to the robust figure his forties had bestowed upon him. There’s hardly a weight difference when I sit next to him, but he startles anyway before he realizes.

“Marv, give this a try.” Daniel reaches for the teapot and a fresh cuppa. His hand shakes, so I move swiftly to keep him from burning himself, and we pour together. We sit back and relax as the stars begin twinkling one by one in the clear night sky, and the old man of the moon pokes his head over the horizon, mirrored in the ocean.

“He’s almost as beautiful as you, Marv,” Daniel says, “I’m going to tell my parents about us tomorrow. We’ll be married by summer's end.”

“Daniel, my love,” I say, “I’ll wait for as long as it takes. There’s no rush.”

True to his word, when he turned seventeen, Daniel introduced me to his parents. It was the last day he ever saw them alive, and he was grateful to see them buried shortly after. Interesting enough, their screams about his queerness were similar to those just before I drank them dry. They are the last I have fed on at his request while we are still bound to this world.

The sweetness of the caramel is lovely, and I shed a tear as I sense Daniel beside me. I set down his tea alongside my own and take his chilled hand. Despite his weakening pulse, I try and rub some warmth back into him. He leans his head onto my shoulder. 

“We had a good run, Marv,” Daniel whispers.

“I’ll remember you always, Daniel,” I whisper back as he breathes his last breath.

Inside, the house phone chimes, and I hear Jeremiah pad through the house and answer on the third ring. A moment later, he’s on the porch in his bare feet and pajama bottoms.

“Forgive my appearance, Mr. Lockley.” Jeremiah takes in the scene before him and puts a hand to his heart.

“Jeremiah, bless you,” I say, “Would you be a dear?”

“Of course, Mr. Lockley.”

“It’s just happened. Peaceful as could be.”

“I am glad to hear it, sir. My condolences all the same.”

Jeremiah hands me the telephone and shifts Daniel’s corpse. I pry myself away and close the still-open front door as I press the phone to my ear.

“Marvin? Has he gone? Oh, what a silly— of course he has, your grief, I’ve not felt something so powerful in years. Georgette? Was it? Spring, 1773. Darling, I’m coming home immediately.”

“It’s broad daylight, Teresa,” I say, “Besides, I’ve Jeremiah here.”

“Well, don’t kill him before I arrive. He sounds delicious.”

“Goodnight, daught— sister. By the way, your hold on Avery has finally passed. Well done.”

“Yes, weeks ago. You must meet my new beau; she sings opera.”

“Perhaps, I will.”

“Ah, I see. So you’ve decided then.”

I remain silent, and it is enough to answer her. 

“Very well.”

“Do come by, though, Teresa.”

“No, I won’t be. Happy Anniversary, Marvin.”

She disconnects the call, and I smirk, knowing she won’t be able to resist, and I dial emergency services. I tell them of Daniel’s death and Jeremiah, how I heard him slip on the stairs, presumably in his rush to inform me. I let them know he is still breathing, but I’m at a loss as to how to help the poor boy; it looks as though his neck has broken. They tell me to keep him as comfortable as I can without moving his body and that paramedics are on their way. I thank them and put the phone back on the receiver.

“Is it time then, Mr. Lockley?” Jeremiah says from the doorway.

I’m behind Jeremiah in a flash, and he sucks in a gasp as the gust of wind that follows my movement sweeps through the room. I wrap my arms around him. He sighs and locks his fingers around mine. He turns his head to face my profile and plants a kiss on my cheek. I caress my incisors with my tongue. They elongate and brush along his neck until I’ve located his jugular vein. 

Jeremiah breathes heavily through his mouth and says, “I’m ready, Mr. Lockley.”

I release a low hiss and sink into his skin. His blood fills my mouth with a warm sweetness caramel could never. My lips press into his neck firmly so no drop escapes, and energy travels through my body that I haven’t felt in years. My eyes are no doubt teeming with chocolate once again.

Jeremiah moans, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Mr… Lockley…ah.”

His body goes limp. I lick his neck and my lips clean, and I drop him unceremoniously to the floor. I purse my lips, scowling at him, watching his chest rise and fall with increased weakness. I could let him die for poisoning Daniel. Jeremiah’s impatience had been growing steadily, either despite or due to my promise that he would live forever. I elect not to fault the boy; in the end, he’s performed a humane kindness I could not.

Crouching next to him, I open a vein along my wrist and press it to his mouth. My wound seals shortly after, and I lift his head and snap his neck with a relished flourish. How pleasant it might have been to spend eternity with Jeremiah if not for the tea. That’s when Daniel’s face becomes all I can see, and any other future will never be.

I climb the stairs to the attic and wait. Watching from the windows, men and women take Daniel’s body and Jeremiah into their vehicles with flashing red lights. At least Jeremiah will wake again to a feast.

Daniel, the love of my immortal life, I already miss him so much. Not once in our time together did I enthrall him to my will. I will never be so content with another being. Despite his rejection of my many proposals, Daniel remained steadfast by my side, and mortality suited him just fine.

As the sun rises, I finish my note for Teresa with instructions for maintaining the property and caring for and teaching Jeremiah our ways, which I know she’ll ignore, but he won’t. I set it by the phone and strip off my robe and slippers, I step outside, and my skin immediately sets aflame. 

I walk on, and in the distance, I see my sandy-haired young man stretching his hand to welcome and love me for all time.