It's Been a While, Part 4

It's Been a While
Part 4
an4@anon.lelnet.com

Barbara and Jim were sitting on the couch, wrapped up in one another 
watching Pretty in Pink. 

"Do you still have those cigars that Dad gave you for your birthday or did 
you give them away ?" It was a very coy question, as Barbara knew that he 
not only had the cigars, but that two of them had already been smoked. 
Every year, Dad gave Jim a box of cigars, which he usually gave to his 
friend Ken. But he'd kept them around this year. 

"Yeah," Jim said, "why ?" 

"Oh I was just thinking about when I was a kid. Dad would light one of 
those cigars and Juliet and I would cuddle up with him and watch television 
while he puffed away. I used to really like that." 

"I hope this is a little different," Jim said with a smile. 

"Yes, it is. But is there any chance you want to rekindle some of my 
childhood memories ?" 

"It's an odd request," he said, but then he thought about. He liked to make 
love- hell, be honest he thought within his thoughts- he liked to have sex. 
So did Barbara, but sometimes she liked to cuddle instead, and that was 
something he more descriptively endured. He just didn't see the- oh hell, 
what difference did it make ? He owed her, and anyway, cuddling was about 
all he had left in himself. They spent the better part of an hour having 
sex. A blow job, twice in the missionary position, and for the first time 
in a year, once from behind. "But not that odd. Sure. I'll be right back." 

He walked- somewhat gingerly- back to his den. There was the cigar box. He 
picked it up, intending to take one out but then decided to just bring it 
back with him. When he got to the living room, he set it down on the table 
and opened it. 

Oops. 

Inside was the silver cigar cutter that Juliet gave him before she left. He 
had forgotten all about it. 

"I guess that Juliet left something behind for you, eh ?" Barbara asked if 
she hadn't already seen it. 

"Well, she said that it was better than biting the end off. A lot cleaner. 
She told me that when you bite the end off, it just fucks it up." 

"She's right," Barbara said. She thought about the two of them, sitting on 
the back porch, sharing a cigar- and 

And that could wait. Nights like this were special. Nights you made 
progress in your marriage, not matter how weirdly obtained, were not nights 
to question everything and trust no one. Not after a three year decline. 
NO, whatever truths were out there could wait. 

He snipped off the end, put the cigar in his mouth and she lit it for him. 
He did a tolerably good job of puffing obediently on it, getting it going. 
She made sure the ashtray was in easy reach and then she settled back 
against him. He pulled on the cigar, did a nice job of holding the smoke in 
his mouth, and then released it. 

That smell brought back memories, as well it should have, since they were 
the same ones Dad smoked. Settling against him, she felt more comfortable, 
more at home here than she had in a long time. Usually the sort of sex 
they'd had tonight would have made her sleepy but she felt more awake and 
alive than she had in a very long time. 

Jim brought his arm around her and squeezed. All the anxiety flowed from 
her in that moment. She was at peace. 



JC sat up abruptly. 

She'd been having the sort of unfocused dreams that would drive any sane 
woman to wake up at- 

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was four am. She climbed out of bed, lit 
a cigarette, and determined to walk downstairs and undo the lock. It wasn't 
keeping anything out. It was locking herin- into the rest of the world and 
out of it at the same time. It was easy to believe in vampires, in 
Colleen's story, if you just made one wholly illogical leap in your thought 
processes. 

JC couldn't do that. The lock was a representation of every irrational 
thought she'd ever had. She had stood on the edge and in a fever she had 
been willing to accept the fantastic but in the dead of night, clarity 
beckoned. 

She thumbed on the clock radio. 

"It's been a while since I fucked things up the way I always do," the radio 
hummed, Stained, the acoustic version, unedited. It was four am, after all, 
although she thought that fuck was never an acceptable radio word. Let 
someone call the FCC. She liked it. JC walked around and smoked, allowing 
herself to wake up. 

"It's been a while, but I can remember just the way you taste." 

JC walked down the stairs. 

She had no light to guide her save what was coming off her cigarette and 
faint light bleeding through the windows, street lamps dulled to a few 
candlewatts. But when she reached the door, there was just enough light 
coming in through the four-pane window in her front door to see the 
numbers. She twisted the dial twice left, then right 16, left one full turn 
and then 22. 

And she stopped. A cold hand had grabbed her spine and she froze in place. 
Right. Turn the dial right. 

But the number did not come floating to the surface of her mind. She knew 
it, but because she wasn't going to use it she did not give it form. 

She drew on her cigarette again, exhaled the smoke lifting her head but not 
her eyes. 

The smoke drifted upwards in the cool of the air-conditioning. 

Michelle watched it rise, drank it in as it reached her. She had tried to 
extend her mind to JC's, but she had not drunk of her yet and she had not 
touched her so there was no bond to draw on. She looked down on the woman 
from where she was pressed up against the ceiling and fought the urge to 
sigh. 

It had been too easy. The key not having been changed on the front door 
lock. The fact that she had lived here before and could simply walk through 
the front door. Only to be stopped by four dollars worth of metal- the lock 
on the latch she herself had added to the door. 

She could take her here and now, but- 

No, the timing was all wrong and she would be something she worked very 
hard to never be- a suspect. 

She could crush the lock but then JC would know. Of course, the time would 
come to be indelicate. Digging up the concrete wasn't exactly going to be 
stealth work. 

But something like that would need to be slow and considered and- 

What's the rush ? she thought. It's been over two years already. 

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, JC walked away and back up the 
stairs. 

Michelle waited half an hour and then let herself out. 



"What happened to your neck ?" 

Ursula rubbed at the bandage. "Bee stings. Two of them. They were kind of 
sore and swollen, so I covered them up." 

Kirsten stopped walking so she could light her cigarette. "Do you want me 
to take a look at them ?" 

"I didn't know you were a doctor," Ursula quipped. 

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look so great this 
morning. 

The day was overhung with mist and the girls had pulled their hair back 
into ponytails. Ursula was almost as white as the brim of her cap. She'd 
noticed she was paler than usual this morning, but she felt great. In fact, 
she had never been so energized. It was like that coffee she'd had last 
night had been spiked with a shot of double espresso or something. 

"I slept funny," was all the girl said. "I had a weird dream about that 
neighbour of yours." 

"JC ?" 

"No, the other one." 

"Mrs. Marple ? The widow ?" 

"No," Ursula said, searching for the name. "Michelle. The one who used to 
live where JC is now." 

Kirsten trimmed, inhaled, blew smoke. "That's funny. JC and I were talking 
about her last night." 

"Why ?" 

"I guess she left a box of clothes in the attic." 

"Anything good ?" 

"Don't know. But it's weird you'd have a dream about her." 

"Not really. I saw her at the coffee shoppe last night." 

"I thought you were going straight home to go to bed last night." 

They were walking towards the shoppe right now. It was only six thirty and 
they didn't open until seven but Kirsten was hoping Mike would let her in 
the back door and coffee them up. 

"It is on the way-" Ursula said defensively. 

"Yeah, and coffee is a great bedtime beverage." 

Ursula took a deep drag on her cigarette. "Yeah, that was a mistake. I'm 
still all jazzed up." 

"You know, I forgot that I've seen her in there late in the evening. She 
must live a few blocks from the shoppe. I'm so stupid. I should have told 
JC that." 

"Well, your head was probably just full of math anyway." 

They walked around to the back of the coffee shoppe. There was an outdoor 
patio, another area where the smokers tended to congregate. Ursula stood 
and waited, smoking and thinking back to her strange dream. Kirsten walked 
up the steps and went to put her cigarette out in the standing ashtray by 
the door. 

Mike saw her and then Ursula. "Don't waste half a cigarette, Kirry. Just 
come on in. You guys looking for some coffee ?" 

Kirsten trimmed and stepped inside, Ursula right behind. 

"Yeah, if you don't mind." 

"Nah. I always start up one pot when I get in. Hope you like French 
vanilla. If you don't, ts." 

Kirsten smiled. Mike's first- and just about his only- rule was never be 
rude to the customers. But ts had become the shoppe's code phrase for some 
of their less-polite and more demanding customers. 

"I bet you're looking forward to when I start taking summer courses, huh ?" 

Mike thought about that for a minute, then remembered seeing her name all 
over the July schedule for opening to ten am shifts. 

"That's right. You're going to be opening up and I'm gonna be sleeping on 
the beach." 

"Just make sure it's low tide," Kirsten quipped as she took two cups of 
coffee from Mike. "Thanks." 

They put cream and sugar in their coffees and headed back out into the 
misty morning. Kirsten had found that the combination of cigarettes and 
coffee was both potent and enjoyable and she felt herself actually 
relaxing. Then she looked at Ursula. Something was odd about her friend but 
she couldn't quite place what it was. 

They were walking up the street, smoking and laughing- Ursula was in rare 
spirits for sure, when the sound of a well-tuned engine purred up along 
side them. Added to the sound was an electric window winding down and when 
Kirsten turned her head she almost fell over. It was Bobby Cutter. 

"Hey- it's nasty out this morning. You two shouldn't be walking to school. 
Hop in." 

Kirsten looked at her cigarette, which was only two-thirds smoked. 

"You can smoke in the car- I do, and so does my sister. Come on." 

As they got in, her lit a Marlboro Lights 100. He rolled down their windows 
and started off again. 

"How come you're headed to school so early ?" Ursula asked and Kirsten shot 
her a 'don't be rude' look. 

"I'm supposed to meet Rick Fortune and study for the math final. I suppose 
you guys are already set in that department." 

Ursula laughed. "Yeah, we studied together last night- which is our little 
code for Kirsten explaining everything to me while I get all glassy-eyed." 

"Oh yeah," he shot back "that A- you're carrying into the finals obviously 
is the cry of a woman who needs lots of help." 

Kirsten resisted the urge to reach out and put an hand on his shoulder. 
"Come on, Bobby. You have an 88 average, If you get a 94 on the final, that 
will raise your grade to A-. And Ms. Tompkins likes you." 

He tried not to react to that. His girlfriend- his ex-girlfriend, that was- 
thought Ms. Tompkins liked him a little too much. 

Kirsten finished her cigarette as they pulled up to a light. She thought 
about whether or not to smoke another one, thought the ride would last long 
enough. She pulled one out and as she brought it to her mouth, Bobby picked 
up his lighter and deftly lit it for her. Their eyes met. His were deep sea 
green, intelligent and understanding, not like most of the rich kids in 
school, who never looked twice at Kirsten unless they wanted help with 
something. Then her cigarette caught and she drew on it, turned her head 
and exhaled. 

Behind them, Ursula cleared her throat. She also had a cigarette poised in 
her hand and between her lips and Bobby lit it for her. 

Then the light turned green. 

There was a pregnant silence that ensued, punctuated only by 3rd Eye Blind 
on the radio and the sounds of smoking. 

Until Bobby looked at Kirsten again. Their eyes locked. 

"Hey, I know this is like so totally out of the blue, but do you have 
anyone to go to the Endtime Bash with tomorrow ?" 

The Endtime Bash was the last social event of the season at the school, a 
big dance the weekend after finals started. It went all night and into the 
morning, almost like a second prom, but without the expensive clothes and 
the limos. 

Kirsten wasn't sure if he was asking her to the dance or just asking if she 
had a date. She was pretty sure he did. 

"No. Ursula and I were going to go-" 

He looked at her. 

"Just as friends. You know, hang out." 

"She asked me if we could do it as a date," Ursula added, "but I had to 
turn her down. I want to keep our lesbian love affair a secret until senior 
prom." 

Bobby didn't exactly ignore Ursula but he didn't do much to acknowledge her 
either. 

"I'm serious. If you're not busy-" 

"Don't you have a girlfriend ?" Kirsten asked. She was worried that maybe 
he was trying to pay back Rick Fortune for helping him study. Rick was 
cute, but he was also annoying. And she didn't want to bruise her own ego 
by suggesting that was what he was after. 

"No." 

"What about Kelly ?" 

"Kelly ?" 

Kirsten wondered what was going on here. 

"Yeah, Kelly, your girlfriend who you were recently seen at the prom with 
?" Kirsten drew on her cigarette, flicked ash out the window. She was 
annoyed. When Bobby had offered them a ride she was thrilled but this was 
taking on the trappings of the games the rich kids played. 

"Oh, you mean my ex-girlfriend Kelly. We finally broke up a few days ago, 
but it had been coming for a while. I guess I should be a little more 
clear- I'm asking you to the Bash, as my date." 

Kirsten was- surprised. She let the words roll around in her head- 'as my 
date.' 

Her brain didn't engage at first. Just sound, bouncing around like Scully's 
voice in that tunnel in Paper Clip. Then the mind and the flesh coalesced 
and she did speak. 

"Bobby- any girl in school- including most of the seniors- would love to be 
having this conversation with you, but-" 

Ursula reached around the outside of the seat where Bobby couldn't see and 
punched her friend in the arm- hard. 

"-can I ask why you and Kelly broke up ? You guys were together- well, like 
forever." 

"Yeah. That's fair. You want to know what my motivation is. Promise none of 
this leaves the car-" 

Both girls agreed. 

"It's like you said, we've been together- hell, our parents have been 
working on us since we were eight years old. It's creepy. Our families are 
vacationing together this summer- four weeks in an estate outside London, 
four weeks in a villa in southern France. They've gotten us pre-accepted to 
the same small prestigious school in Upstate New York. It's like they've 
drawn out all these end points and they don't care how the fuck we get 
there." 

Kirsten noticed that they were circling the school but she didn't complain. 
She just smoked and listened, prodding him a little because he had stopped. 

"What do you mean ?" 

"I just feel like- well, you know, Kelly's real good at playing by the 
rules. I hate to even go here, because this is just going to sound like a 
rich kid complaining about his little tiny problems, but she's just like my 
parents. It's all about the right clothes, the right parties, the right- 
you really have to keep this to yourself-" He looked at his cigarette. "I 
suppose that I'm a hypocrite for saying this because, hell, I've been 
smoking for a year and an half, but she's snorted more of Mommy and Daddy's 
money up her nose the last six months than you can imagine-" 

He sighed, smoked, looked for a way to frame his word. Then he looked at 
Kirsten, who was taking a long drag on that elegant white cigarette and he 
was glad he was doing this. She exhaled and he thought he could watch her 
do that forever. 

"I think it all became clear when I had to take her home the night of the 
prom around twelve-thirty . She was all lit up- her limo driver, our limo 
driver, hooked her up- she was pretty fucked up- she said some nasty 
things- she's smart and clever but totally fucking mean, especially when 
she's stoned out of her gourd. I went in and told her parents exactly what 
happened and they looked at me and smiled and they said they understood- 
but of course they didn't. They said it was just a phase." 

Kirsten trimmed, exhaled. 

She hated to admit it, but she was enjoying this. 

"It was the same thing when I told my parents I wasn't going to be seeing 
her anymore. You want to hear something fucked up- I told them before I 
told her. That's how programmed they have me. They just looked at each 
other like 'We knew this would happen'. I told them I wanted to stay here 
this summer and take some courses at the college. They just did the same 
thing that they do with everyone- they just cut me a deal, put the problem 
off. They said they'd pick up the tab for some courses in July and then I 
could meet them in France. Like if I had a month to think about it, I'd get 
it right and see it their way." 

"What do you want ?" Kirsten asked. 

It was a broad question but he had the answer. "I want to go to the beach 
in an old pair of jean shorts and a ripped t-shirt and listen to the sea 
and the gulls and read a novel and not have to answer twenty times whether 
someone's tan lines are perfect or justify why I didn't bring more beer. I 
want to be with someone who is both special and normal, not neither." 

"And here I thought that you were going to ask me to go to the bash with 
Fortune." 

Bobby laughed. 

"He's a great guy and I'd love to find him a date- but not you-" He turned 
and looked at Ursula. 

"Don't get me wrong. It floors me that you aren't with somebody, but-" 

"Well, geez, now that my first date stood me up- we can talk about it 
later. Maybe you want to drop me off so that you can finish this in 
private. Not that I mind being a voyeur, but-" 

Bobby pulled into the school and found a parking space. He looked at 
Kirsten and smiled. 

"Look, don't answer now- just think about it and catch me before school's 
out. And if I'm out of line here, just say so." 

"I don't need to wait, and you sound like you might be getting back in line 
with yourself. Just tell me what time you're picking me up." 

So he did. 



Lisa pulled into Anna's driveway. She wasn't there, of course. It was 
finals at the high school so there had been no way to get the day off. 

Just as well. She'd been followed- for three hours, from the Vermont 
border. She wouldn't have bought the person that had been following her 
here and endangered Anna, but she knew how this worked. It was a vampire. 
Insulting, really. Just one. It was like they hardly had the energy for the 
effort anymore. But it wouldn't make its move until it was sure that she 
was at her destination. So she had to come here, just to get the song and 
dance over with. 

She took one last pull on her cigarette, and then stubbed it out. She 
climbed down out of the Jeep, grabbing a stake in one hand and her bag in 
the other. The car, a white Lexus with Mississippi plates, sat up the block 
in the shade of a giant oak. It was already empty but the lights were on- 
for safety- and the engine was still running. 

Only one, and it was cocky ? 

And then she was face down on the driveway. Just like that. She went from 
standing on her feet to blood flowing from her nose and forehead. She felt 
dizzy. The stake was gone. She was without a weapon and she was being 
draged under the jeep. She twisted around, her ankle spinning in his grasp 
but not being released. She managed to catch the running board with her 
hands and then look down along her own body, through the blood in her right 
eye. She shut out the metallic taste of the blood in her mouth, deferred 
until later a decision on whether her tooth was chipped. 

He was big. How he had gotten under the jeep in the first place was beyond 
her, but he was pulling her at an angle towards the drive shaft. It was 
amasing there was room for both of them along the body of the Jeep. But 
there was no room to fight if he got her under there, no- 

Squeezing hard now. The pressure would snap her ankle bones eventually. She 
could hear him breathing, loud and laboured. Sounds echoed like cannons in 
the confined space. The underside of the Jeep was hot and full of road 
smells. She saw rust and dried mud and wondered when- She stopped thinking 
so she could focus. 

This wasn't good, wasn't right. 

It was hard to concentrate, but her body seemed to know what to do. Her 
foot found something solid jutting out and glued itself to it. Now she was 
fighting him three limbs against two. Her arms were starting to burn from 
deficit. Her fingers were cramping. The bad tendon in her left thumb 
crossed over and the hand nearly released entirely. 

In the end, it was her personal hygiene that saved her. She had shaved her 
legs when she'd gotten up and now the sweat running down them, unimpeded, 
made the ankle slick. It slipped out of his hand and she shot out from 
under the Jeep, missing scraping all the skin off her forehead by less than 
half an inch. There was the smell of grease, a few stray hairs caught on 
metal and she was clear. Then she was flying, face up, watching the clouds, 
wistful, peaceful, remote but thickening. Then she remembered to twist her 
body and she landed face down again, this time almost under control. She 
rolled onto her feet. 

He was 6'5", 260. Football player big. The stake was between them. She 
considered reaching it. And that was he took a step- one gigantic step. He 
reached down and picked it up and swung it against the side bumper. It 
dented the metal and then shattered. 

"We don't need that." 

He was dressed in black, wearing a black baseball cap and dark sunglasses, 
His face was breaking out in a mild red rash. In a few moments, that rash 
would turn to open sores. 

If he's still alive, she added. Think positive. 

"You can't kill me with your bare hands, Lisa." 

"Do I know you ?" she asked, perturbed but planning. 

"I know you. We all know you. And you think just because you live in the 
light that-" 

"Oh fuck you-" Lisa said, and charged him. She drove hard and low on his 
left side and hoped she was right about how he would respond. He looked at 
her and for a split second there was nothing but amusement in his eyes. 
Then he lifted his arm and swatted her away. He caught her in the 
midsection, bruising her ribs, but she had expected it and in a way, she 
glanced off the blow. 

And then she was airborne again. But this time it was intentional. She made 
like a cannonball and sailed in through the plastic side window of the 
Jeep. The rear view mirror sliced her back open for a space of about four 
inches. She tangled in the passenger side seat but she didn't care. Her 
body didn't know which way was up yet but her hand was inside what she 
called her goodie bag. 

She found another stake, rolled herself into a ball so that she could 
re-orient herself. He was moving around the Jeep but she had time to get 
out on the passenger side. He tried to move more quickly, but his venue was 
strength, not speed. She could have just outrun him but that wasn't going 
to solve the problem. While he was upright the world was upside down and 
the truth was Lisa was just plain pissed off. 

He saw the stake in her hand and he knew the game had changed, but he was 
still confident. 

"Stand still. I didn't come here to dance, you bitch." 

"You're not going to kill me today." 

"I had you under the Jeep." 

"Had," she emphasized. "Look," Lisa said, "I'm not one of those television 
superheroes. I don't want to exchange witty banter-" 

She made her move in the middle of the sentence, fluid, staying low, 
preparing to strike upwards, staying away from his mass and strength as 
long as possible. She was almost there when he just punched out, catching 
her in the left shoulder and driving her to the ground. 

This time it really hurt. He collapsed on top of her. She thought she would 
be able to roll away but she couldn't. He didn't make an effort to control 
her. At twice her weight, he was able to simply hold her down by default. 
She was lucky to be facing upright- sort of. He pressed his face close to 
hers and the ooze from his sores, now open, slicked down her left cheek. He 
rubbed his cheek against hers and she fought the urge to scream. It was 
gross and disgusting but it had nothing to do with putting a stake in his 
heart. 

His breath was stale and fetid and she was sure he didn't floss while his 
incisors were extended. 

"Now you die, bitch", he said, his fangs suddenly the only thing that she 
could see. They caught the day's last stray sunlight and he arched his head 
back, going for the classic horror movie strike. He even went so far as to 
hiss as he pulled his head back. There was only one thing that she could 
do. She bent her own neck up, opened her mouth as widely as she could and 
bit deeply into his neck, low where it met the shoulder bone. The flesh was 
rubbery and tough but she drew blood and kept biting. 

He screamed instinctively and relaxed in panic- just enough to slip her 
right arm out from under him. She delivered the killing blow and he 
crumbled to dust. In the end of an heartbeat he went from a threat to a 
memory. Lisa stood up, brushed herself off, and went into the house. 

She wanted a shower, but there was no time. She cleaned off her face and 
then saw the blood on her back in the mirror. She wiped that off with a 
towel, did her best to cover the gash with a bandage from her first aid 
kit, and grabbed a shirt. There were times that having an assistant would 
be nice, but that just wasn't how this worked. 

Climbing up into the Jeep, she pulled on a pair of tight white gloves, then 
grabbed her cigarettes from and lit one. She looked around, she listened 
for sirens but apparently everyone was at work. There were no scared faces 
peaking out from behind curtains, no neighbours staring out of open doors. 

Lisa drew deeply on the cigarette, marveling how good it felt after her 
little workout. 

She opened the door of the Lexus, amased that anyone even rented Lexuses. 
Her initial plan was to just drive it a few blocks away and dump it, but 
then she saw the GPS system mounted to the dashboard. Lisa rolled down the 
window, trimmed, inhaled, and started off. 

The GPS system meant driving the car miles from here. She'd never really be 
able to get it far enough away to make a difference, but she wasn't going 
to make it easy on them, either. She thought about something she had read 
on the internet the day before- how rental car companies were using GPS to 
track speeding and charging huge fines. She got out on old Route 1, which 
ran down by the water. It was four lanes but lightly trafficked, so she was 
quickly able to get the car up to 75. 

It felt good at seventy-five. She sat back and smoked, enjoying the ride 
for about two minutes. Then she pulled off onto what appeared to be a 
little used side-street, parked at the end of the block, and got out of the 
car, taking the keys out of the ignition. They had a little electronic 
dongle on the end of them, which made her wonder. About that. They could 
probably track the keys as well, so why not give them an extra headache ? 

Lisa walked back up the side street and wondered at her good fortune when 
she saw a garbage truck coming. Of all things, in the two in afternoon, 
just what she needed. As it went by, she tossed the keys into the back of 
the garbage truck, took off the white gloves- the bruises and cuts clashed 
with formal wear, after all- and began the walk back to Anna's place. 
Halfway there, it started to rain, but it was just a mist, not enough to 
even make it difficult to smoke. The walk felt good. She'd was stiff from 
the drive and then getting knocked around. But it was a good stiffness, 
like she'd accomplished something, and the truth was she had- more than she 
knew. 

Still, she hated it when things started out this way. This was supposed to 
be easy, just a favour for a friend. 

Then again, this was how favours for friends usually worked out. 

Drawing deeply, Lisa exhaled into the heavy air and tried not to start 
worrying. 

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