Copyright 2014 Wanda Lotus.
Part 5
We decided to go to Dinosaur Barbeque, where the low lights and rowdy atmosphere would allow us to chat without being conspicuous. We placed our orders, then I asked, “What did you want to talk about?”
She giggled, a charming sound that made me smile. “You take everything literally, don’t you? I didn’t mean there was a specific thing I wanted to talk about. I just wanted to get to know you better and let you get to know me better. You intrigue me. Oh, don’t give me that look!”
One of my non-supernatural talents is the ability to raise just one eyebrow and look highly skeptical. She was just as sincere as she had been in the store that afternoon, but I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. “What you mean is, you like a challenge, right?”
She shrugged and swirled her straw around in her soda. “I’ve never met anyone like you. People who don’t like me usually go out of their way to remind me of it. You didn’t do that, and you even came to my rescue the other night. I don’t get it.”
“I told you, I don’t want you dead. I just don’t like your attitude.” I waited for the waitress to finish serving our food. “Where are you from, anyway?”
“New York City.”
“Why in the world would you move from a place that big, with so many people, to a little place like Liverpool? You don’t seem cut out for small-town living.”
She cut her eyes at me. “I needed to get away from some folks.”
“Made more than a few enemies in high places, huh?” She shovelled huge helping of pulled pork into her mouth and took her time chewing it. I knew I had struck a nerve. “Come on, you’re the one who wanted to talk, so talk.”
“Only if you promise not to lecture.”
This time I laughed. “Okay, I promise. Spill it. What happened?”
“Like I said, my mom died when I was 12 and I never knew my father. I bumped around in foster care until I aged out of the system, then fended for myself.”
“Not to cut you off, but what happened to your mom?”
She gave me an icy glare. “I don’t talk about her. Don’t ever ask me about or mention her to me again.”
I whistled softly as her energy spiked dangerously. “Okay, sorry. Go on.”
“Anyway, I met some other folks like me and you, but they wanted to tell me what to do and not to do. I got sick of it. I was bossed around enough at home to last a lifetime, and I had to fend for myself in every foster home I was ever placed in. So I just did things my own way. A couple of months ago one of the people I fed off of happened to be an EM. He’d been talking a hell of a lot of smack. He was asking for it, so I caught him with his guard down. The others didn’t like it.”
“So they ran you out of town?”
“Something like that.”
I bit down the lecture I felt stirring in the back of my throat. “You didn’t have anyone to take you under their wing and guide you? No one’s an island, not even people with our powers. How do you expect to survive in the world without help?”
“What part of ‘I’ve always fended for myself’ did you not understand? I don’t need help.”
“You did the other night.”
Now she was starting to bristle again. “What do you care? You act like you’re worried about me or something.”
I sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, I am.”
She put down her fork and stared at me. “For real? I thought you hated my guts.”
I shook my head. “Do you always read so much negative into small statements? All I said was I don’t like your attitude and I want to be left alone to live in peace. I don’t hate your guts. I certainly don’t want you dead. If I did, I never would have jumped out of my car the other night to help when I realized you were in trouble. I knew from the way your energy had dimmed that you weren’t going to make it unless I stepped in. If I hated you, I would have kept driving.”
She let that sink in for a moment. “So why’d you leave in such a hurry instead of offering me a ride?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t like confrontations, so I just wanted to get the hell out of there once I knew you were safe.”
“An EM who isn’t confrontational? Now that’s a first,” she muttered. “All of the EMs I’ve ever known love to start fights, especially with a kid who’s all alone. I had to keep my guard up and dance around their damn egos all day, every day. The only thing that kept me safe was the fact that I eventually realized I was more powerful than them. Once I gave them a good scare, they left me alone.”
“You were hanging around the wrong EMs. The ones you ran with were assholes. That’s not how we’re supposed to do things.” I made a mental note to speak with my connections in NYC. It sounded like I needed to make a trip back down there, and soon. We might not have official clubs or schools, but there have been times we’ve come together to diffuse a trouble spot within our community. “If you’ve always done your own thing and never been close to someone like yourself or me, that means there’s a lot about being an EV you don’t know, yet. That’s why I’m worried about you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You promised…”
“Not to lecture, I know.” I smiled. “I’m trying really hard to keep my promise, too.”
“I’m impressed,” she said dryly. “But what about you? Where are you from? Why are you here?”
I shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I grew up in LA. My family was a bunch of jerks. When I finished high school I went to NYU to study English and get the hell away from them, then I moved up here to work. I’ve been here ever since.”
“Your folks beat up on you or something?” Sympathy pulsed through her like a gong. I figured either her mother or a foster parent had abused her.
“Not physically, but they took pleasure in seeing me cry every time my feelings were hurt. I taught myself to read their energy to avoid being made fun of.”
“What do you mean?”
It was my turn to shovel a mouthful of food into my face and refuse to talk. I wasn’t sure I wanted her to know what I could do. She placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward, her chin in her hands. “I told you about my background. It’s only fair you tell me more about yours.”
“You didn’t tell me everything.”
She laughed. “You don’t have to tell me everything. Just tell me what you mean by reading energy. Is that how you knew I was thinking about attacking you in the bookstore?”
What the heck; it wasn’t like she could do anything to me, if she knew. “I can discern people’s intentions from their energy.”
“How?”
“A person’s energy is different depending on what they’re thinking and feeling. It’s like how someone’s voice changes depending on their emotions. By the time I was 11 or 12, I could read my parents’ and siblings’ energy with pinpoint accuracy, along with the energy of my schoolmates. Neither I nor my family knew anything about energy and reading others’, so we all assumed I was merely intuitive. Whatever it was, it helped me avoid a lot of trouble, both at home and at school. It wasn’t until I got out in the world that I learned what I am and that there were more people like me.”
“Fascinating.” She looked at me with added respect. “How old are you?”
“45. You?”
“No wonder you like to lecture. I’m 38.”
“Wow, that’s a few years older than I figured. I pegged you at 32, tops.”
She grinned. “You know what they say: black don’t crack.”
We finished our dinner, which she insisted on paying for to thank me for my help the other night, then I drove her home. She seemed like a good person underneath her bravado and deadly impulsiveness. Deep down I appreciated her wanting to get to know me. I didn’t have many friends, and none of them were my kind. It would be nice to have a friend whom I wouldn’t have to pretend to be normal around. I hoped at some point she’d lighten up off the ego trip and let me share some of what I knew with her. That wasn’t going to happen that night, though. She’d nearly lost her temper before I admitted I had been worried about her. I could see how she ran afoul of our NYC community with a fuse that short.
Before she got out of the car I gave her my card. “If you decide you want more information or want to talk, call me. I’m not going to come looking for you, but I’m around, if you need help.”
She grinned. “I told you I don’t need help, but…thanks.” She shoved my card into the back pocket of her jeans and opened the door. “You know what? I like you, in spite of the fact that you’re too bossy for my tastes. I just might call you one day, after all.” She hopped out of the car, shut the door, and waved as she entered her apartment building.
That was how we started to get to know each other. She’d seek me out and speak to me when I came to the grocery store, and we went out to dinner a couple of times a week. I started to look forward to our date nights. Her fun-loving personality helped thaw me out, too. For most of my years in Liverpool I had kept to myself, allowing my standoffish, big-city demeanor to keep people at arm’s distance. But now I was smiling more and had been pleasantly surprised to feel an extra bounce in my step. I had thought I could teach her about being part of our community, but I realized I could also learn a thing or two from her about being part of wider society.
“Do you ever go out?” she asked as we ate tacos one evening.
“I’m out now.” By then I liked her enough to be sarcastic with her. I was also attracted to her, a fact that drove me mad, especially once I picked up mutual, intense attraction from her, too. I was sure there was no way in hell I was going there with her. She was still too dangerous.
She nudged me under the table. “You know what I mean. Do you like to dance? Some of my coworkers told me about a small club on East Water Street in Syracuse that I’d like to check out. Want to come with me?”
“I don’t do clubs.”
“You don’t do a lot of things. Come on, it’ll be fun!” She nudged me again. “I like hanging out with you. You’re the first person I’ve ever known whom I’ve been able to really trust. I want to do more than just eat when we’re together.”
“Mmm, I don’t think so. Thanks for the offer, though.” Syracuse was a college town. No doubt the place would be crawling with frat bros and sorors. To say I was not interested was an understatement. “I’m 45, not 25. I wouldn’t fit in.”
She rolled her eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not 25, either. I’m told this place is only for 25 and up and for all sexual orientations. Dress to impress. There’ll be lots of different kinds of people there.” She suggestively looked me up and down, taking in my modest everyday clothing. “It would be nice to see you all dolled up for a change.”
I blushed. “No thanks.”
“Well, if you change your mind, and I really hope you do, here’s the address.” She slid the club’s card across the table at me. “I’m going next Friday night. I’ve been here a few months and haven’t been out on the town, yet. I could use a little fun.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Remember what happened the last time you went out to ‘have fun’? Please be careful.”
“Please don’t lecture,” she huffed.
“I’m not lecturing. Just take care of yourself.”
“I always do.”
<- Part 4
Part 6 ->