Saturday, 25 March 2017

The Chronicles Of A Middle-Aged Vampire- Part 12

The doctor immediately leaped down from his chair and rushed to my side, placing a comforting arm around my shoulders. Donnie - predictably - started crying too.

"This is all my fault! MINE! I am a monster! A failure as a human, a failure as a vampire..." His weeping was not pretty. A bubble of snot expanded from his left nostril, even as a dribble of saliva meandered down towards his receeding chin.

The doctor threw him a sharp look. "This is not about you! This is about Greta. Control yourself."

Donnie continued his snivelly blubbering, but in silence.

The doctor pulled out a large handkerchief and wiped gently at my cheeks. "My dear Greta, you are still in shock. It has been too much for you." He continued to soothe me "As difficult and dark as things may seem right now, soon you will adapt, and before long you will see there is much good in this new life of yours."

"I...I can't do it! I can't BLEED people..."

"Well...You know...You can do anything you really NEED to do. You are a strong and intelligent woman. And you're not a Vegan, are you?"

A burst of laughter exploded through my tears. "NO! But Sheila is... So it's just as well Donnie made his mistake!"

Alphonse laughed too. "Yes indeed! Another Vegan Vampire is more than I could bear in a hundred lifetimes!"

I raised my head. "There is a Vegan Vampire?"

He sighed. "Oh yes...And a Satanist...I don't know which of them give me the most trouble."

I twisted his hanky between my hands. "I'm so sorry, but I just feel so lost. And incompetent. I can't imagine how I will survive, or face this alone."

"You won't. I will help you in any way I can - and Greta, you will be joining a support group and a sponsor will be assigned to you. Long lost are the days when a vampire was expected to dig his or her own way out of the grave and find their way in this world alone."

"I'll be here for you, Greta, I'll help and support you as I would my own mother - may she rest in peace." Donnie's contribution was well meant but hardly reassuring.

After all, he hardly seemed the soul of self-reliance and competence himself. He probably had trouble tying his own shoe-laces. I could imagine a near future in which I would be looking after blundering Donnie, rather then enjoying his support and protection.

"Doctor, could we continue this another day? I am exhausted, and my daughter needs me. Also, I have a body to explain, and a funeral to arrange."

"Of course, Greta." He extended a card with a hand-written cell-number. "My personal number. Call when-ever you need help or advice." He smiled, "And I'd love you to call when you don't need anything at all..."


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