When the Song Has Ended

Angela Foster was familiar with rejection, but only in the giving of it. By the age of sixteen, she had broken up with two boyfriends. By the age of eighteen, she had broken up with three, one of whom she had cheated on first. It was not her fault, she thought, that she ran through boyfriends like the latest fashion trends. She knew she was very pretty, and if boys wanted to date her, then she could not say no, especially if the boy happened to be good-looking.

She had been adored for her beauty since she was very young. Her blond hair had started out as wispy when she was little, and when she was older, it was described as “luxuriant” by her hairdresser. Her face was soft, though over time, one might have noticed a certain hardness in her expression, which often comes from arrogance. She had a good figure, and she had learned early on how to dress it well. The only challenge she had in the world of dating was saying no.

Angela was not shy, demure, or quiet, but gregarious, bold, and once in a while, contemptuous. She was most contemptuous when she said no to a date, as if the boy asking her was beneath her notice, and he should never have supposed that he was worthy of her.

One evening, in her senior year of high school, a student approached her in the hallway just before first period. She had never noticed him before, but when she did, it was all she could do to stop rolling her eyes to his face. In her opinion, he was terribly ugly. He was thin, wore glasses with thick lenses, and had an even thicker head of brown hair.

“Hi, Angela,” he said, smiling nervously.

She frowned. “How do you know my name?”

“We’re in chemistry class together,” he explained. “My name is Terry Evans.”

“Oh,” she said, indifferently.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go to the school concert with me tonight. It’s a country music concert,” he added, hoping against all hope that she was a fan of country music.

“I’m not a fan of country music.”

“Er, is there something you would like to do tonight? We don’t have to – “

“No.”

She turned away and walked to class. Briefly, she wondered if she should have thanked him for asking her out, but then she thought it was not much of a favor to be asked out by someone so unattractive like him. In chemistry class, later that day, she took care not to look at him.

To her pleasure, however, she was asked out by Glenn Silva. He was in her choir class, and he had a beautifully deep voice. He also had smooth, black hair and cheerful, black eyes. At the beginning of class, he had come up to her shyly and asked if she would like to go to the country music concert that night. She had informed him that she loved country music more than anything else.

“I don’t have a car,” he began.

“No worries,” she interrupted. “I can pick you up in my car.”

“Oh, ok,” he agreed. “That’s great.”

As the sun was setting, they arrived at the school stadium, and for half an hour, they sat in the bleachers and applauded McIntyre and His Country Boys a local talent but very good. Angela’s enjoyment, though, was momentarily interrupted when she waited for her date to bring back drinks. She heard a voice behind her say her name, and she turned, to look into the face of Terry Evans. He was clearly upset, and at first, she could not think why he should be upset with her. Then he said:

“You said you didn’t like country music.”

“I don’t,” replied Angela. “But my date does.”

“I see.”

Angela almost didn’t hear his last words, since they were spoken softly and drowned out by the music. But she she did jerk backwards when she thought she saw his eyes change color. They were usually a dull brown, but suddenly they were starting to redden. She was discomfited, and when Glenn returned, she tried to comfort herself by joking about him.

“Do you know what happened?” she said, smiling and confidential.

“What?”

“There was this boy who asked me out earlier today. He was so ugly, I just had to turn him down, and I left him standing like an idiot. But do you know what he did just now? Came over and demanded to know why I was here, as if it’s his business.”

She sipped her soda, disturbed that he was not laughing along with her. Instead, he looked absent-mindedly at the singers, then looked at her again, his face serious.

“I didn’t know you could be so mean,” he said finally.

“Mean?” she repeated, confused.

“He was paying you a compliment by asking you out. I could understand if you lied to spare his feelings, but you lied to hurt him, and you did everything you could to humiliate him. Are you really so full of yourself?”

“I – What?”

He stood up. “I don’t want to date you. How do I know you won’t hurt me the same way?”

With infinite shock, she watched him get up and leave her. Then she set down her cup, stood up, and went out to her car in the parking lot. She did not see Glenn anywhere, and she did not wonder how he was getting home. She only knew that he would refuse to have her take him home.

Pulling the keys out of her pocket, she unlocked the car and climbed into the backseat. How long she cried she did not know, but she must have fallen asleep at some point because, when she lifted her face, there weren’t any cars in the parking lot. Night had fallen, and she had no idea what time it was. She felt around the floor of the car, thinking she had put her purse down there, but she realized her purse was missing.

Angela sighed and wearily crossed the parking lot to the stadium, which was now a dark, empty, silent space. She stumbled through the bleachers among discarded cups and plates, nearly slipping on a pile of confetti. But it seemed impossible that she would find her purse there, and there was always a good chance that someone had stolen it. Then she gave up, sat down, and had another good cry.

It occurred to her that perhaps she was not as good a person as she had always thought she was. This self-doubt astonished her so much that she paused in her crying to consider it. Then a rage overcame her, the rage that often comes to people who have been rejected for the first time and have no idea what to do with it. She, Angela, could not possibly be rejected by anyone unless there was something wrong with the other person.

That must be the explanation to the whole problem. She had been rebuffed because Glenn Silva was – She thought hard of the right word with which to indemnify him. Controlling. Glenn was judgmental. What business was it of his how she treated other people?

She stood up, full of resolution. She would confront him tomorrow and humiliate him worse than she had ever done to Terry Evans.

When she reached the bottom of the bleachers, she stopped and listened. She heard footsteps, but the sound disappeared within seconds. Then she remembered: she had placed her soda cup next to where she had been sitting. She squinted into the dark until she saw it. Relieved, she climbed up to the spot and found her purse under the bench she had been sitting on.

“Angela.”

Swiveling around, she stared at the figure of a man silhouetted in the moonlight at the foot of the bleachers. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew it was Terry.

“What are you doing here?” she exclaimed.

“Never a polite answer from you,” he remarked, and she noted that there was no more awkwardness or hesitation in his voice.

“Are you stalking me?” she demanded.

“Does anyone ever call you Angel for short? I mean, not because you act like an angel – you act more like a she-devil, if anything. But you like the idea that people think you’re beautiful and perfect, don’t you?”

“I won’t have you following me like this,” she shouted, though her voice was high-pitched with panic. “Just leave me alone.”

“No, Angel, for that will be my nickname for you from now on.”

He started up the steps towards her, and clutching the purse to her chest, she started to back away. “Don’t come near me.”

Then she saw his eyes, and they were glowing a terrible red.

“Do you know what I am?” he asked, halting a few feet from her.

“A devil?” she whispered.

“Close, Angel. I’m a vampire.”

In two seconds, he had overcome her, and holding her easily in his arms, he drained enough blood from her to make her weak.

“You belong to me, Angel. You won’t enjoy rejecting others anymore.”