Vampire

Sunday. Her favorite day. The only day, as far as Rose was concerned. She had once disliked Sundays. Everybody had. There was that rainy day feeling, that boring going-to-Mass feeling, followed by breakfast out, pancakes for everybody, then hanging around, knowing you had to do your homework, pretending to do your homework, going to school without actually having done your homework, catching hell for not having done your homework.

Sunday 2007. She did no work on Sundays now. She did not even check her e-mail. The Shakespeare club? What a laugh. She wouldn’t go.

Are you out of your mind? she asked Ben.

It was usual for Rose to stay in bed on Sunday. She was reading the complete works of Ken Kesey and joked that she would never get out of bed until she had read all his books.

Ben brought in a huge mug of coffee and begged her to get out of bed.

You’ll miss the day.

Oh, if only. I’ve been up at 5 every day for a week.

It was only 6. She cried quietly because she couldn’t sleep late. She wasn’t getting enough sleep. Nobody would believe how drained she felt, as though a vampire had sucked her blood.

In luxury she sat in her brass bed, bought after she’d moved into the new house, quilts up to her chin, shivering because she wanted the window open. Wearing pajamas and a Chinese robe, she looked like a 1920s character with her new bobbed dyed hair. That’s what her clerks, Robert and Cecilia said anyway. She was jaded from working half-time at the architecture firm and full-time at Rock Bottom. 60 hours. Crazy. She was not Ben, who did this every week. She was starting to look haggard. She wore eye makeup to hide the circles under her eyes. She wore so much eye liner that she looked like a vampire herself.

The vampire theme in real life.

Ben and Rose had household problems. Gabrielle was something of a vampire, sucking the life blood out of them. She was using Dorrie so she could live in their house. Dorrie wanted to move out and Ben was giving her a settlement so she wouldn’t need to live with them. But they could not decide who should live where. Should Rose and Ben move back to the river house so Dorrie could stay here?

And what about this Gabrielle? She was impossible. So innocent on the surface, so corrupt and degenerate underneath. She used people and made no pretense otherwise.

How would you describe her look? Rose asked.

Scorn? Dislike?

What are we going to do? Is she good for Dorrie?

She’s the only one who cares about her at all. Ben sighed.

That would be true.

It’s not fun having them here.

Gabrielle--interrupts? Whenever we’re busy? Or whenever we have company?

She enjoys it. She doesn’t want us to be too comfortable.

Maybe we could let them have the river house.

Yes, yes. She’s clean, I guess. In an addicted kind of way.

That’s a nice small house. You let Dorrie live there, she lets Gabrielle live there or doesn’t, and she spends almost nothing. And she’s safe.

Gabrielle’s parents are apparently rich.

Does that surprise you?

Both of them sighed. Gabrielle is such a bitch. She has no idealism, she uses everybody, she’s like somebody on “Survivor.” Occasionally she makes an alliance with somebody.

Well...she has an alliance with Dorrie.

Ben got into bed with Rose and Binkie. He was already dressed. He wore khaki pants with holes in the knees and an old plaid shirt. He pulled on Rose’s big sleeves; he liked to feel the silky sleeves. He decided if Rose wouldn’t get up, he would stay with her.

Binkie, no, Rose said as Binkie climbed over her to see Ben.

Ben picked up something, anything to read. He yawned. He didn’t really care what he read. If it wasn’t Shakespeare, why bother? He found something by Ben Okri. Rose had quite a pile by the bed.

Were you planning to read this because it was by another Ben?

Sure.

They sat in silence, reading, reading, until Gabrielle poked her head in.

Not allowed, Ben and Rose cried out in unison.

Oh? Am I disturbing you? I thought I’d bring you coffee.

No, Gabrielle, we don’t want coffee.

Gabrielle smiled. She wasn’t offended in the least. She was bored, so she came downstairs and ruffled and annoyed the couple in bed. Nobody, not even Megan, would burst in on them in the bedroom. They wanted to be alone. They wanted privacy. They didn’t want to see Gabrielle every day.

What was she doing ? Ben asked after Gabrielle left.

Honestly, I can’t imagine. I hate to say bad things about Gen-X, but Gabrielle really, really doesn’t know her place.

Ben burst out laughing. He and Rose, always so left-wing, were now like their parents. Baby boomers and Generation X.

Wait! Gabe! Ben hollered.

Rose wondered, Why do men always call her Gabe?

Gabrielle came back. Coffee? she said, poking her head back in the door.

No, we want to tell you something. We’d like you and Dorrie to live in the river house. If you’d like to continue to live with Dorrie, that is.

Well, of course. That’s fantastic. Awesome, said Gabrielle. Does Dorrie know?

For once she sounded simple.

Go tell her, Rose said. But don’t come back. We don’t want to know till afternoon.