I'm an old man, although to look at me, you would think I was in my mid-twenties. My appearance doesn't get a lot of second looks, which is how I like it - showy vampires tend to attract attention, and that's not a good thing. I've got sandy brown hair and pale skin, and I'm well over 6 feet, which was tall in my time, and not unimpressive today. Other than my height, people don't notice me, and that makes me laugh.
People are so sure of their own perceptions that they can look a monster in the eye and never see anything at all.
I've always been a quiet man, and I keep to the shadows. That made it easy in the early years when I needed to feed more often. Now, it's just habit. I like to go out, but I prefer quiet places without a lot of people. One of my favorite places to go in the evenings is the art museum. Americans have never appreciated art, so I often have the place to myself. I was surprised to hear someone speak to me.
"Hi," she said in a soft voice.
"Hello," I responded.
She had warm, honey blonde hair and hazel eyes brimming with confidence. Her beautiful cupid's bow mouth had an intriguing smile. She looked at the bench I was sitting on with an expectant look on her face.
I realized she was expecting an answer.
"No, it's not taken. Please sit down," I said, gesturing toward the bench and hoping I answered the right question.
She made herself comfortable "I'm Elizabeth,"
"And I'm Stosh," I replied
"That's short for Stanislav, right?"
"It is. How did you know?"
She smiled. "I've been to eastern Europe. Slovakia, Hungary..."
"What made you go there?" I asked, dreading the answer to my question.
"Well, I was always fascinated with the history of the region. Plus, I was 'one of those kids'. You know, all black clothes, weird makeup, clove cigarettes. Eastern Europe seemed like the place to go,"
"A Goth kid."
She smiled and nodded.
I grimaced. "Let me guess - you went to Transylvania, right?"
Her light, musical laugh made me feel bad for being cynical. "No. I stopped when I got to Budapest," Her smile was amazing. "But I tell people I've hiked the
Carpathian Mountains
," she said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Despite myself, I laughed with her.
I noticed that she was quiet again, and had the same expectant look on her face. I'd fallen into her eyes.
This time, I had no idea what she'd asked me, so I took a chance. "I'm from Poland," I smiled. "I haven't been home in a long time."
She gave me a knowing half-smile, and I realized suddenly that she knew who, and what, I was.
Normally, Goth kids, even grown-up Goth kids with beautiful eyes annoy me. Most people think of us as fiction, just another romantic fantasy, and that suits me fine
.
But Goth kids know better. They're drawn to us. They've read too much Anne Sexton. They've watched too many episodes of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and
True Blood.
They've fallen in love with the idea of us to the point that our reality is somewhat disappointing.
Except for the parts that scare the shit out of them.
Goth kids are the ultimate fans, and they're always annoying. So why wasn't I trying to get out of this conversation?
We began talking about the art exhibit, but our conversation soon drifted. We lost track of time until a sour-faced security guard came over and advised that the museum would be closing soon.
I stood and gave her my hand to help her from the bench. She flinched a little as she took it. "Your hand is so cold... I guess I should have expected that, huh?"
I smiled and didn't say anything. Elizabeth still held my hand as we began to walk toward the exit.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and smiled at me. "So... you're Stosh,"
"Yes, I am."
She giggled. "You know it's refreshing that you're not calling yourself something grandiose, like Vladimir or Stefan or..." she seemed to gather her courage. "...Lestat," She giggled, and I smiled back at her.
"I don't call myself Dracula, either,"
She held her breath for a moment.
"You really are the real thing, aren't you?"
I stared deeply into her beautiful eyes and took a moment to consider my next response.
"What gave me away?"
"Well, your hand is like ice. Your skin is really, really pale. And your eyes... I've never seen eyes that glow like that,"
Leave it to a Goth kid to notice what everyone else doesn't see.
"Very observant," I said. "Yes, I'm really real. But I'm also just Stosh. I'm old, and I'm from Europe. Other than that, I'm not interesting,"
I locked eyes with her, not sure what I was expecting.
She blushed and dropped her gaze. "I think you're very interesting."
"That's only because you have hiked the
Carpathian Mountains
!" I said, with a broad, Lugosi-esque accent.
She laughed and I grinned like an idiot.
We were quiet for a moment. I could hear her stomach growl, and Elizabeth blushed.
"Are you hungry?"
She laughed. "Pretty obvious, huh?"
"Yeah, it is. Would you like to get something to eat? How do you feel about pho?"
She looked surprised. "I like it. But do you... I mean, you can't really...
eat
, right?"
I laughed. "There's a place a couple of blocks away that serves just the bone broth with raw meat on the side. I don't eat the noodles, but raw beef is okay,"
She looked surprised, but pleased. "All right,"
It was a short walk to Pho Mai. The restaurant was quiet, almost deserted. We were able to sit at my favorite table, next to the giant aquarium. The owner walked over to us with a big smile. "Mr. Hold-the-Noodles, good to see you! And you have a friend! Hello!"
He bowed stiffly, and Elizabeth gave him an awkward smile.
The owner patted my shoulder. "Your friend is new. Should I get the menu? I'll bring you a menu," He bowed again and walked away before we could say anything.
Elizabeth smiled and looked impressed. "You must come here a lot,"
I said, "I love the taste of bone broth, and it's hard to find a meal with raw beef in this town,"
Pho is a Vietnamese noodle soup, and as far as I'm concerned, it's one of the most wonderful meals humans ever created. A bowl of near boiling bone broth is brewed with all sorts of wonderful things. It comes to your table accompanied by a plate of fresh herbs, peppers and lime so you can season it to your liking. The soup is served with rice noodles and raw, thin-sliced beef that is meant to cook in the broth on the way to your table. But if you're nice, and you tip well, you can get the meat on the side.
It's been a long time since I had to read the menu at Pho Mai.
Elizabeth smiled at me. "How often do you eat here?"
"Occasionally,"
I asked Elizabeth about herself.
"Well, I grew up in a small town on the other side of the country. I decided I wanted to come to the east coast for college, and our parents thought it would be a good idea to move here so my big sister could keep an eye on me."