If You Could Live Forever...

After the old man across the street died, his house went up for sale. The sign came down after the first day.

For three weeks landscapers made the neglected lot respectable while crews toiled inside the house. Carpeting, drywall, and fixtures were hauled off as it was stripped to the studs. A steady stream of deliveries brought electrical and plumbing fixtures, wood flooring, appliances, drywall, and lumber.

Early in the morning the day after the crews left, a moving van arrived, followed by a short, muscular African American woman in jeans and a tight t-shirt. She organized the movers, telling them what went where. The furniture and boxes were in place by the late afternoon, and the van left. The woman was still in the house, no doubt arranging things.

Being the good neighbor I am, and not because I’m inveterately nosey, I carried over a bottle of wine to welcome her to the neighborhood. Before I could ring the bell, she opened the door and invited me in. “Well hello, neighbor! I saw you walking up.”

“Hi, I’m Adrian Delacroix,” I said. “I live across the street. Just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

A thin sheen of sweat played across her broad features, her skin a warm reddish-brown, hair up in large puff at the rear. She smiled a broad grin when she saw the wine bottle. “Come in and have a seat while I get us some glasses, neighbor Adrian. I’m Ivy.”

“Thank you.” I sat on the sofa in the renovated front room. Hardwood floors, colored walls with white trim, new stairs and bannister to the second floor, granite countertops, and tasteful everything. It looked more like a magazine ad than an actual house.

She set down two wine stems and pulled the cork on the wine.

“I can’t believe how quickly you turned this old house around. The previous owner didn’t take care of anything.”

She smiled as she poured the wine. “The bones were good, so my employer thought it would be worth bringing it back to life.”

“Oh, you’re not the new owner?” I asked.

“No, I’m her caretaker,” she said. “She’s arriving next week, so I’m getting everything ready.”

“So, what does a caretaker do?” I cleared my throat. “It’s just, this isn’t exactly the sort of neighborhood where people have live-in help, and I picture a caretaker as watching over an unoccupied mansion or something.”

She laughed. “Nothing like that. She has medical… needs. I play housekeeper, gardener, and nurse.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Does she have someone else as well?”

“No,” she said, “I’m it. She’s overseas with… family right now, though.”

“Ah. So…,” I foundered, trying to get the conversation on to a more comfortable topic, “are either of you from this area?”

“Moving up from California,” Ivy said, pouring more wine. “Katherine… Ms. Boyle, can’t be out in the sun much. She got tired of the heat, so Washington seemed like a good choice.”

We finished the bottle and I got a tour of the renovated house before I left. The upstairs had been turned into two large master suites with walk-in closets and massive bathrooms sandwiching an office with a dizzying array of computer equipment. Ivy told me that Katherine worked for a stock brokerage in the U.K., but the equipment seemed far beyond what that would require. I wanted to know more but I remained the good neighbor and didn’t press her.

As I work from home myself, I saw that Ivy got into a routine right away. An hour run around the neighborhood at 7:00 a.m., rain or shine, followed by yard work, then inside at 11:00, where I imagined she showered and took care of housework. I saw her every afternoon when the mail came as all the mailboxes were on her side of the street, and we both picked up our mail as soon as it was dropped off.

“Adrian, Ms. Boyle came in last night and said she’d like to meet you,” she said. “Dinner at 6:30?”

“Sure,” I said. “Should I bring anything? Some wine?”

“Nothing so formal,” she said. “We’re having burgers, so if you brought some beer, I’m sure she’d be delighted.”

“Sure thing, see you then.”

I arrived and Ivy opened the door as I approached. She took the six-pack of local microbrew and invited me to have a seat in the front room. The smell of grilled meat wafted through the house, making me salivate. I was studying the ornately carved bannister when I felt a presence above me.

Then I saw her, Katherine Boyle. She was short and slight but had an air of authority, making her seem far larger. Her skin was ghostly pale, her hair, including eyebrows and lashes was purest white, her lips had the faintest hint of color and her eyes were a pale pink.

She smiled and I felt myself torn between being taken in by her unexpected and unconventional beauty and being terrified of the air of dominion she radiated. Some part of me felt as though she would overwhelm me, consume me, reduce me to nothing.

“Welcome to my home, Adrian,” she said, lighting on the last step. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I pushed the terror down. I told myself it was just my own unconscious biases at play. She’s a beautiful woman and she’s just said hello, speak up, dummy. “Ah, uh, hello Ms. Boyle. Thank you for having me.”

She sat in one of the wing chairs. “Katherine, please. Ivy tells me you work from home as well?”

“Yes,” I said, “I’m a digital marketing strategist.”

Katherine smiled. “I don’t know what that means, but let’s not discuss work. What do you do for fun around here?”

“Except for going to concerts once a month or so I’m mostly a homebody,” I said.

“I understand that. Home is where we feel most comfortable, after all.” She rose and offered her hand. “Come, dinner should be ready any moment.”

Her hand was cold but smooth and I felt a wash of relief when I took it and stood. I held her hand in a stupor for too long, then came to my senses. “Oh, excuse me, I kind of spaced out there.”

She smiled and led me to the dining room. The table was set with white linens, fancy plates, and far too much silver cutlery. The burger and fries on the plates, along with the bottles of beer seemed wholly out of place. I looked for a bottle opener on the table but there wasn’t one. Katherine took my bottle, placed the edge of the cap against the corner of the table, and opened it with a sharp rap.

“Neat trick. Reminds me of college,” I said.

Katherine laughed and opened her own bottle.

I woke in my bed with a pounding headache, weak and woozy. It was the first hangover I’d had in over a decade. I tried to remember the previous night. We’d had dinner, then talked about music over scotch. Katherine had roused me, helping me across the street and into my house. I couldn’t remember how I got undressed and into bed, but I remembered the way her cheeks and lips were flushed, and her hands warm as she helped me up the stairs.

There was a cup of hot tea sitting on the nightstand next to my bed. In front of it was a note. “That scotch can be a little brutal, here’s something to help you through the day. — Ivy”

She’d obviously been in here in just the last few minutes. Is that what woke me? I sniffed the tea. It smelled heady and floral. I could see Ivy walking back across the street. When she reached her yard, she turned and waved. I sipped the tea, letting the warmth spread through me as I watched Ivy work in the garden. Katherine stepped out in dark sunglasses, stood in the shade of the entryway, and spoke to her. Ivy nodded and Katherine looked my way and waved. I waved back and she smiled before going back inside.

After Ivy’s miracle tea I felt much better. Still a little weak, but the headache was gone. I later thought it might be a bug rather than a simple hangover, though, as over the next few days several neighbors complained of similar symptoms. When I ran into Ivy at the mailboxes again, I apologized for my behavior, and thanked her for the tea. I asked for the recipe and she gave me a bag of it instead.

Katherine texted me, inviting me over for dinner again. I didn’t remember exchanging numbers, but hers was in my phone with a picture of her, so I must have done so while drunk. Once again, I found myself approaching Katherine’s door with Ivy opening it as soon as I was near. “Come in, she’s expecting you in the back yard.”

She sat on a blanket under a large shade umbrella, a picnic laid out. I joined her there and noticed she seem weak. Rather than bring it up I felt it better to just be there for her.

We had a quiet dinner while the sun set. After dark Katherine poured us wine. “If you could live forever, what would you do?”

“I would probably invest,” I said, “spend a few decades building up wealth, maybe real estate, so I could have something that kept me funded on its own. Then I’d want to travel — everywhere.”

“And after that?”

“Well, there’s languages to learn, instruments to learn, there’s always something to learn.”

Katherine smiled. “I think we could be friends, for a very long time.”

“I’d like that.” As soon as I said it I realized it was true. There was something compelling about her, something I couldn’t ignore.

We began to spend more evenings together, usually at her place, sometimes at mine. I made a point of getting to know Ivy as well and began running with her in the mornings before work. Every passing day more and more of my waking (and sleeping) thoughts were centered on Katherine.

I ended up getting entirely too drunk with her on more than one occasion, but the tea always made it better in the morning. Whatever bug had gone around the neighborhood seemed to pass for a couple months before starting up again. Oddly, except for the occasional hangover that was solved with Ivy’s magic tea, I didn’t catch anything. Even during flu season, when I would usually end up sick for a week or more, I stayed healthier than ever.

Indeed, I grew stronger. My runs with Ivy, difficult to finish at first, were becoming a warm-up followed by lifting weights before work. The weights that had gathered dust since the previous Christmas were, very soon, light enough that I was doing sets of sixty or more repetitions of each exercise.

I noticed that while I had built some muscle definition, the faint lines I’d been developing around my eyes began to fade. Despite the hangovers, which were milder each time, I felt better in the days following each than I ever had. Perhaps the tea was magical.

“Remember when you mentioned real estate, if you were to live forever?” Katherine asked.

“Yeah.” We were drinking beer, the TV on mute. My poorly furnished living room in the drab, off-white rental house was worlds away from her place in terms of class, but she made it feel comfortable.

“It’s a wise choice,” she said. “The house behind mine just went up for sale and I bought it immediately.”

“Income property or just because?”

“Maybe some of each.”

“What will you do with it?” I asked.

“Same as my place.” She raised her beer and an eyebrow. “Tear it out to the studs and the subfloor and rebuild the interior.”

“So, you’re loaded.” No sooner had I said it than I wished I hadn’t.

She snorted and chugged her beer. “No, but I do have a pleasant buzz.”

I laughed. “I’d like to kiss you,” I said.

She leaned towards me. “Then do it.”

Her lips were soft and cool, and my heart hammered as the kiss that started off gentle turned passionate. I pulled away reluctantly and was mesmerized by her eyes, reflecting the light of the TV.

“If I asked you to go with me to Istanbul, what would you say?”

“When do we leave?”

“And what if I said tomorrow night?”

“I need to go pack and cancel the rent on my house.” I meant it, with everything I had and somehow, she knew.

“Good. That may happen.” She grabbed another beer and opened it on my belt buckle. Katherine knew more ways of opening a beer bottle than anyone I’d ever met, and she managed to make it both elegant, and in this case, erotic.

“If you could live forever, would you want to?”

“If you’re there,” I said.

“And leave everything else behind?” She held a soft, small hand against my cheek.

“Everything but you, yes.”

“How old do you think I am?”

I realized that she wanted an honest answer. “Twenty-eight, tops.”

“I was born in 1619,” she said with absolute seriousness. “I was not always this way.” She held her pale hand in front of my face. “It came with the change.”

“The change… to what?”

“To what I am now.” Katherine held my face with both hands. “I’m going to show you something. You’re ready for it.”

My gaze was drawn to her mouth, where her canine teeth extended into fangs. I looked into her eyes and I could see concern, perhaps for how I would react. “Y—you’re a vampire?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry.” She touched my forehead and said, “Remember.”

I closed my eyes and the memories poured in; drinks, pain as her fangs sunk into my neck, a rush of euphoria that seemed to last for hours; her strength as she carried me up the stairs and tucked me into bed, her figure next to mine as I slept.

I opened my eyes and met her gaze. Her eyes stayed locked to mine. “Is this a problem?”

It took me a few seconds to admit it, but the answer was, “No, it’s not. I love you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Will you join me?”

I nodded, unable to speak. I leaned into her and presented my neck. Her teeth sunk in; the pain far less than I remembered but the same rush of euphoria. The world spun as my vision darkened. I felt her pull away, then warm and moist on my lips, a taste of copper and iron. I latched on, drawing it in; strength flowed throughout my body. She pulled away and my heart broke, until she scooped me up and carried me to my room.

“The change will be gradual, but you’ll need to feed in the next week.” She brushed my hair back. “I’ll help you.”

The only response I was capable of was a weak nod. I felt both stronger and weaker than I ever had; like Superman encased in kryptonite. She handed me a cup of tea I didn’t recall her making.

As I sipped the tea she said, “This will pass. The weakness will wane throughout the day.” Morning light poured through my window. I’d missed half the night. “I need to rest. Ivy will check on you. When you’re feeling better come see me. Don’t knock, just come in.”

Ivy woke me again a few hours later with another cup of tea. “Here you go, Mr. Delacroix.”

“Thank you, Ivy,” I said, “and please, just call me Adrian.”

She watched as I sipped the tea. “So, she was serious.”

“How’s that?”

“I knew Ms. Boyle fancied you, but I didn’t expect she’d…”

“Turn me?” I asked.

Ivy nodded. “I suppose you’ll be around even more now?”

“How do you mean? We spend most every waking minute we can together.”

“Did you know she sneaks over here while you’re sleeping to lie next to you?”

“I do now.” It didn’t bother me; in fact, I found it endearing. “Will she be upset with you sharing her secrets?”

“If she was, I’d already know.”

I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I left it alone. “I’m feeling much better already,” I said. “Thank you again, Ivy.”

“My pleasure,” she said. “Should I set you a place for dessert?”

“Please.” I realized I smelled of sour sweat. “I’ll be over after I’ve had a chance to clean up.”

“See you then.”

I took my time in the shower, the water felt far hotter than normal, every drop traceable on my skin. My scalp tingled as I washed my hair and the smell of the shampoo was strong, as though the bottle was up my nose. I dressed up for the evening. The smells of cotton, leather, and linen mixed with the smell of lilies from the laundry detergent.

When I entered Katherine’s home, she was wearing an evening gown, and Ivy was setting desert on the table. I closed my eyes and savored the smells of coffee and chocolate, cream and cognac. She served tiramisu on silver-rimmed plates. For a change, Ivy joined us.

I took my time with it, savoring the flavors. The richness of the mascarpone and the bitter of the chocolate played off the sweet of the sugar and cognac. “This is the best tiramisu I’ve ever had.”

Katherine smiled. “It’s just the beginning,” she said.

We spent the rest of the evening lying in her back yard, watching the stars wheel through the sky. Katherine grabbed my hand, hers no longer felt cold to me. Still watching the stars, she asked, “Come with me to Istanbul?”