like you can’t just hang around the house being all single and shit. There must be a thousand pretty little things out there just waiting for you to come along and sweep them off their feet.”
I had put the thought of Chloe aside as much as I could lately, but the ghost of our non-existent romance still hovered nearby. “Someone’s sitting kind of heavy in my heart right now. Until I get past her, I think I’m stuck where I am.”
He didn’t seem to think it was as complicated as I did. “Does she know you like her?”
“Yeah, she knows.” I think.
“Is she a vampire, too?” He was suddenly in eHarmony mode.
“No. I hear that doesn’t work out too well.”
“Is she banging someone else?”
Oh, brother – the imagery of that. “She’s engaged to another guy.”
“So they’re not married yet?”
“Not that I’ve heard.” God, I hope not.
“Then go get her.”
What? Just like that? “I can’t just go get her.”
“Why not? You like her; she ain’t married to the guy. She might just be riding on his donkey until something better comes along.” Great – more imagery. I might need a hypnotist to get this shit out of my head. “Sounds like you just need to try a little bit, Joe. She might like riding your donkey better. You should just try.” Holy cow. That wasn’t wisdom by any means. It was even better; it was common freaking sense. And yet I hadn’t done it.
Why hadn’t I done it?
Oh. That’s right. “She doesn’t know I’m a vampire.” That’s why.
“So tell her.”
Tell her, he says.
Think about this: the woman you believe you might be thoroughly in love with, someone with whom you’ve flirted hard core for what feels like a thousand years but is really only a little over one, finally lets you know in the form of a get well card that she might have the same feelings for you, too. Then, instead of actually getting well as the card had suggested, you find out you’re a vampire – permanently – and she moves on with someone you thought she was preparing to dump in order to move on with you instead, all before you even have a chance to tell her exactly how deep your feelings are or give her a chance to tell you what she meant by We should talk… Would it seem sensible for you to then explain to her about your supernatural condition, thereby throwing yet another monkey wrench into a works already fairly littered with other wrenches? Or would you opt instead to not have her think of you as a freak of nature for the rest of her life, just throw up your hands in resignation and let things between you die without saying anything?
No, really – this isn’t a rhetorical question. I’m looking for an answer.
I don’t have one.
Bo seems to think I should do it, just throw caution to the wind and out myself, and see what happens from there. So does Louise. She said as much when I told her all about how Bo and I came to be buds.
That part she wasn’t thrilled with.
“First of all,” she started in, all protective and maternal, “and I’m a bit surprised to have to say this, but I would warn you against spending time with someone who originally broke into your house to kill you. Even if you weren’t a vampire, that’s not a very good idea.”
“Yeah, I hear you. But we’re past that now, and it’s turned out for the better. He’s actually a good guy… all things considered.”
I don’t know if she believed that entirely, but she could have peeked into my head and seen that it was true if she wanted to. “Secondly, I think I would have to agree with Bo. If you feel as strongly about Chloe as you seem to – and, let’s not kid ourselves here, you won’t be moving on with your life anytime soon if you don’t clear this hurdle – then you owe it to yourself, and to her, to tell her the truth about how you feel… and the truth about being what you are. It’s only fair.” Only fair? None of this has been only fair, not for a flipping nanosecond. “And after you tell her, I think it’s about time you tell your family.” Them, too?
I didn’t argue too much, because I knew she was right. As always. If I was waiting for the right time to do it, I would