Hey, Jude!

The sky with grey clouds, pregnant with water; leaves that break off at the slight stir of wind; all suggests that today was a prelude to cold, wintery weather. Not that Jude could feel any of the slightest variance in temperature. How many centuries had it been? When was the last time he could remember the warmth of a July sun or the dampness of a wet, rainy day? He could neither catch the faintest sniff of a pumpkin pie from a homely kitchen nor taste a drizzled-laden caramel latte from the local baristas. Even the warmth of a woman’s touch or the moistness of a kiss was lost on him. It was an eternal death that hid these common pleasures from Jude. Jude was a vampire.

Jude had moved to Salem three weeks ago in hopes to settle down without distraction or trouble. Salem, Massachusetts had plenty of cloudy skies where the salty and dense air overwhelmed the titillating taste of blood. But there was a peculiar charm to this small town wherein the churches hardly sowed their crop. In this little suburbia neighborhood there stirred not a pompous bishop; zealous prophet; or watchful minister. He only knew of one lowly looking chapel building that had no more than a handful of vehicles parked outside every Sunday. Yes, Jude’s new home resided a few blocks down from this chapel but thankfully, no cross had yet perched the slanted roof. A cross was bad enough but the complete crucifix scarred his body at a moment’s glance. An insane pain would overtake him and a horrible premonition would invade his mind; an image of a bright, red sun scorching his naked body; a great branch shaped in the form of a stake protruding through his chest, blood and guts gushing from the abysmal wound, hung and left to dry. The image haunted him but he could not decide if it was a memory, things yet to come, or simply a nightmare.

Evening was Jude’s preferred time to make his errands and enjoy the suburban sprawl. Moving to a new town would kick start a whole new lifestyle with new routines but there were a few things that never changed. An evening stroll at eventide commenced the nocturnal cycle followed by little hobbies and projects; any pursuit that might have caught his attention that decade whether it was DIY landscaping, writing memoirs about history’s events, painting model cars, or reading. At the moment, he was taking up gardening, visiting with an elderly lady on that street of his. Her name was Lily and she was anemic. Later on, as he would enter the early morning hours, Jude’s time was spent in the 24 Hour Breakfast Café where the aroma of roasted beans and greasy bacon permeated the air. Other dangerous smells could not compete. By 5:00 am, Jude would walk back, passing by the familiar spots; Billing’s Barber, local bookstore, the abandoned warehouse on Potter Street, and the shabby chapel with no steeple.

His favorite part of that routine was the evening stroll. A walk around the block cleared his mind; broke him out of the indoors. Thankfully, in this domain of suburbia, the population consisted mostly of elderly couples. Few walked outside at this time and those who did could not tempt the thirst. A young child or energetic young man would cause salivation sometimes but the most dangerous of all was the young female whose physical beauty could kidnap his psyche. It birthed a deep longing that would swell and ache inside. The desire was insatiable. Isolation had racked his soul for many years. This horrible vampiric curse had stolen any hope for intimacy and love. The smell of a woman tortured him. It was an eternal reminder of what he would forever desire and never obtain; forever despise but never escape. And a kiss, that blessed seal of communion, that first sign of budding love, that gateway to pleasures beyond; Jude could never do it. For every kiss turned into betrayal. Every woman he ever kissed, buried in a tomb of never-after’s, their bodies embalmed before the coroner’s gloved hands could check their pulse.

It was dusk; the glimmer of street lamps illuminated pastel suburbia; fog settling into dark crevices. Jude was walking back when he saw a shadowy figure clothed in winter attire. The figure crossed the threshold of a crosswalk. Jude jumped at the sight. He strained hard to see what type of person resided under the pink hoodie. The head hung low, probably fighting the biting wind. The clap of footsteps caught the person’s attention and they looked up. The sight gripped Jude’s insides. A woman. A young blonde woman. A soft, petite face with bright blue eyes; a small pointed nose; rosy cheeks that blushed at the wind; and a figure that curved and sailed through the air. The biting cold did what it could to mask the intoxicating smell. It was not successful. Their eyes met for a split-second.

She stopped. “I know you… you are Jude on Potter Street, right?” She asked. 

    Jude was taken back, unnerved by the chance encounter with so beautiful a woman. “I, ugh…” His voice was coarse. When had he last spoken? “Ugh…”

    “Yes? You ok?” She smiled.

    “Ugh, yes, that’s me. My name is Jude.” He replied.

    “My name is Margaret. I live with my grandmother across the street from your house. She always mentions how nice it is of you to stop by and help with the garden. She says you are quite knowledgeable.” Margaret said.

     “Ah yes, Lily is your grandmother.” He now realized who she spoke of.

     “Entering the garden every day is comforting for her. It’s an escape from you know...” She glanced around. “… Everything going on I guess.” Margaret bit her lip and looked up, that face luring him on.

     “I enjoy her company too.” Jude responded. 

      They both awkwardly stood for a moment, the silence thickened between them. “Would you want to get coffee at some point?” Jude blurted out. Wait, no… what had he done? But that face, those eyes, and the delicate sopranic voice. He eyed her red, moist lips as he awaited the response.

“Ugh, yeah, I would like that.” She nodded her head “How about now!” She responded abruptly. “I’ve seen you are a night owl. You know, walking around late at night.” She smiled.

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to.” What are you doing? The voice inside interrogated him but opportunity had produced its sly face. His thirst for companionship had battered his senses like a swell of water crashing hard against the dam, bursting the spillways. Or was it a thirst for something else? Most surprising was how open she was to the invitation.

      They walked into the eventide’s fading sunset and made their way to the 24 Hour Breakfast Café at Jude’s request. A thick and heavy roasterie smell coated the air about them, greasy bacon sizzling in the background as they sat down in one of the booths. They talked of many different things that evening. Margaret resided in Salem full-time, acting as caretaker for her grandmother but she was a woman who had many aspirations and dreams. Writing, painting, singing, and anything to express with beauty the things that she saw and reflected on in life. With this love came a deep appreciation for music. A word or two would pass between them before a random lyric escaped her lips. And she would say the same thing every time.

“I’m so sorry. Sometimes it’s just feels right to sing a lyric or two. I’m just being followed by a moonshadow, a little muse that gets me going.” Her head would bob at the offbeat notes.

Jude would share bits of himself but never a full slice. For all accounts and purposes, he could not remember where and how he’d come to be a dead man. All the talk of Margaret’s upbringing in a family of two parents and as an only child made him think about his old family and his life. When was the last time he thought of these things? He had not because he could not remember.

     “Hey Jude…” She sang.

     Jude snapped out of it. “Oh sorry…” He chuckled with a nervous grin. “And what’s that song with my name in it?”

“Surely, you’ve heard of the Beatles, Jude? They are one of the greatest folk rock bands of all time. That song is called ‘Hey Jude’.” She leaned in.

“What’s it about.” Jude leaned in but not too closely. The coffee cup was set between them. The aromas protected her.

“It goes like this… ‘Hey Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better, remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.’”

“He is heartbroken?” Jude asked.

“Yeah and he needs to let her in otherwise he’ll grow cold and hard. He might never love again.” She frowned. “And on it goes, ‘Hey Jude, don't be afraid, you were made to go out and get her, the minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better.’ He’s got to go and let her back in so he can be alive once more. Just taking a chance, that’s what it’s about. Because ‘For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.’” There was a tense moment. “You aren’t being cool on me are you?” She laughed. 

She leaned in a bit more and a flash of something bright hit his eyes. It was a cross… He waved his hands before his eyes to shield the sight. The slight glint had gripped his dead heart. A cool steam came from his mouth and a searing headache overtook his mind. “Are you ok?” She leaned back, the folds of her blouse and sweater snatching back the crucifix sans Jesus.

It took a moment for him to recollect himself. “Yes. I am fine. I’m sorry, I think I’ve drank too much coffee.”

“You sure you okay?” Margaret eyed him.

“Oh yeah. More than okay. I loved this.” He forced a smile. He really did though.

“Maybe we can do this again then?” She asked quickly. She might actually enjoy his company?

“Maybe, yeah.” He hesitated for a brief moment. The cross though…

“You know what, my grandmother would love to have us over for Sunday lunch I am sure. She has mentioned it before.”

“Yeah, you know that would be a great idea.” Jude nodded.

“Great! We can first go to church at the old chapel beforehand!” She said. A lump formed in Jude’s throat. The crossless chapel on Potter Street, the one and only religious place in the suburban village and somehow he was about to stumble into its very doors. Does he say no?

“That’s 30 dollars, sir.” The waitress had returned with the check.

“30?” Jude stared at her wide-eyed.

 “It’s all that coffee you drank.” Margaret chuckled. She took a sip of coffee.

“Oh yeah.” Jude responded. “Thanks.” He snatched the receipt and took out his wallet. After signing the receipt, he sat quietly. A memory was trying to crawl back into his mind. What was it?

“Hey Jude…” Margaret said.

“Oh yeah.” He laughed. “Now every time you get my attention, that’s what’s going to come to mind.”

She smiled, “Right? How many people get a song named after them? Sunday then?” She stood up.

“Yep!” He looked up and smiled. Her grin grew. Anything for love, right? It’s just a chapel and hardly one at that. A church without a steeple could hardly be called a church. At least, that’s what Jude would tell himself that evening and the three days that followed before that Sunday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The date of October 30^th felt final to Jude. The future was unwilling to let him look past that morning. The skies were bright with grey light and the air was boisterous; the wind cracking off leaves and sweeping the streets. Though the sun tried to break through the gloomy clouds, the grey sky held its stance. Jude appreciated this; no sun to fear.

As Jude approached the stark white Chapel on Potter Street, he noticed all the elderly couples and townspeople. He slowed his pace until he could find Margaret and her grandmother. For several minutes he looked until he spotted the only young woman around. There she was dressed in a beautiful red skirt, white pantyhose, and to Jude’s disappointment, a white turtle neck. There was no cross around her neck.

She ran up to Jude and hugged him. “Hey Jude!” The rest of the lyrics danced in his mind as she ushered her grandmother to come say hi.

“Well, hello, Jude. Beautiful weather today. I believe the sun might come out later this morning.”

Jude glanced up. “Maybe. You never know I suppose.” They walked inside.

“Maybe we will come out of Sunday service and it will pop out for all of us!” Lily exclaimed. Jude hoped not.

Jude could feel the tension as he entered the large oak doors, the clamoring of voices echoed in the sanctuary. A red carpet filled the foyer and sanctuary. Religious pictures hung on walls; none of which had Jesus. One specifically had the Apostle Peter with a net. Peter…always so popular in these circles. Jude scoffed. And then there were the greeters. They handed out bulletins with information. It all felt so foreign to Jude. He had not stepped into a church for thousands of years.

They all walked into the bustle of the congregation. The congregants were dressed in their Sunday best; suits and ties, frilly dresses, stark white panty hoses, the pale tan faux leather of purses filled the cushioned pews. The elders and preacher stood upon the stage with heads bowed. A large pulpit sat on stage like a wall shielding the preacher from any devilish siege should they occur. There was no cross, only some wooden lumber lay down behind the pulpit. They all took seats as the preacher clapped his hands and ran onto the stage, his smile brighter than the blood red carpet.

“I am so glad you came.” Margaret smiled at Jude and nudged his elbow. For some strange reason, Jude could not smell her this morning. Perhaps it was the fear and nervousness inside him. But he also could not smell any perfume or the elder blood that sat among him.

The preacher exclaimed in a soulful voice, “Welcome all to Chapel! I’m Brother Jonah and it is fantastic to see you all here! And to have new visitors with us!” He winked at Jude. As the service progressed, strange songs, loud singing, and clapping filled his ears; its cacophony finale culminating in a sermon delivered by Jonah. Jude watched on with rapt attention as the rituals progressed, the voices and amens echoing up and down the aisle.

“Today, we speak of betrayal, a horrible betrayal that we should beware of, a betrayal that welcomes damnation. We all experience betrayal at times, do we not?! We all understand the broken heart that comes with backstabbing. In fact, our blessed Lord and Savior Jesus Christ suffered betrayal at the night of his arrest! Who else could understand it more than Him?!” The name stung.

“Who was but one of the closest to Jesus except the man named Judas! The man who exchanged the glorious savior for 30 pieces of silver and led the Roman officers to that garden on that fateful night. In the garden, Jesus cried and sweat blood for the crucifixion awaited him! And in the dark shadows, Judas came and kissed his savior, the kiss of cruel betrayal, for Judas was unable to love without betrayal. The man who could not live with his sin hung himself in the hot son. That devilish ghoul cursed for all eternity. It came back! The memory long forgotten. Like a flash of lightening, it hit Jude. It was his life. A dark chill and shadow overtook him as he recalled that fateful night in the garden. Cursed for all eternity to never kiss without betrayal, no one to ever love without killing them. It finally all made sense to him now.

“And there are still betrayers that roam the earth, who appear godly but inwardly are ravenous wolves.” The congregants turned their faces toward where Jude sat. The elders were up front now and their hands were fastened onto large ropes that sat on the floor. “And they shall never forget the Lord who judges the living…and the dead.” A shout, an exclamation, a glorious hoot rose up from the crowd as the elders pulled on the rope and the lumber that laid upon the stage rose from floor to ceiling, a cross now standing erect, a crucifix transfixed in the middle.

Jude screamed as the crucifix image burned in his mind. He should have known what was coming! The betrayal, the curse of eternity, the incessant worm that gnawed at his soul! The crushing guilt burdened his body as he scrambled out of the pew and fell into the aisle. A blood-curdling chant came from the congregation, a hellraising call for his execution. Fresh tears stung his eyes and he thought of Margaret in those final moments. It hurt.

“Hey, Judas!” Margaret’s sopranic voice rose above the tumult. Oh Margaret! He turned and she kissed him passionately but quickly pulled away. The sharp end of a stake stuck out of his chest pointing skyward. He felt his entire body lifted up, his body slid and stopped on the jagged stake. Judas’ eyes widened and rolled back as the skylights above sprung open and the bright October sun filled the sanctuary. He thought he could see a black bat descend and rest upon his head, blood dripping from its white fangs.