hm... you know that feeling when you haven't been writing a story for a while and you forget the whole plot you had planned? anyways...
BAZ
It's been twenty years.
It's like I fucking blink and all of a sudden I'm twenty years older. I would have thought time at least would pass slower when you didn't have someone to pass it with. Father's dead, and my sisters are all married. Mother's starting to get her first grey hairs, bless her. I've aged gracefully, of course (I assume it's a trait of all vampires, although looking at Nicodemus Petty you wouldn't be able to tell). I bet Snow looks like a wet and wrinkled paper sack.
I had the strangest dream about him last night—Simon, I mean. There was a lady in white, with golden hair and colorless eyes, who appeared out of the swirling mists of the Thames. Where's Simon? she asked, over and over. Where's Simon? Where's Simon? Where is he? Where is Simon?
"I don't know," I told her. "He's not here anymore."
Where is Simon? the white lady repeated.
"He doesn't live here anymore. He hasn't been here in twenty years," I said.
Where is he?
"I told you, I don't know! Try somewhere else."
He's not in the other place. It's so full of his aura, but he's not there. It's empty.
"Well, he's not here."
I can feel him here, just not as much.
"If you want, I can leave him a message for you."
There's no time… There's no time.
"What do you mean?"
If you see if him… If you see him you must tell him…
"Tell him what?"
But there was nothing, and I sat up in my bed, the coldness of the river still coursing in my stomach.
"Tell him what?" I said to an empty room.
SIMON
Honestly, Penny's far too hospitable. I met her boyfriend, Micah—well, husband now, but when I met him he was still her boyfriend—more than ten years ago, and he didn't seem to like me very much. He's a nice bloke and all, but he's very clean. And I'm… well, you know, slovenly.
"Can't you tell your friend to chew with his mouth shut?" he asked Penny one time at dinner. I was talking to Baz and he had said it quietly, but it's not like I don't have ears. I made a point never to open my mouth around him unless it was absolutely necessary after that.
But anyway, Penelope's invited me to go stay with her family. And Micah apparently hasn't protested, or maybe he doesn't know yet. Of course I said "Absolutely not, Penny" and "Are you mental?" but she threatened to buy my plane ticket, so I had to relent.
I'll be there for two months, because Penny insisted on my staying for Christmas.
It's not like anyone will miss me back home, anyway.
BAZ
The lady in white comes back again tonight.
Has he returned yet? she asks. Is Simon here?
"No," I say. "Go away."
Please, she says.
"He's not here anymore."
There's not much time.
"I don't care."
And then, she's suddenly dangling from the railing of a bridge. The river's rushing down beneath her, and I'm looking down at her white-knuckled hands.
Please. Help me.
"What if I don't want to?"
I can't hold on for much longer…
I take a step back.
Find him… please find him. I have so much to say…
She fades with the dream, and I wake up. I get dressed sluggishly and head down to breakfast. Mother's already waiting at the table.
"You're late," she says, wrapping her hands around her mug.
"I wasn't aware there was a schedule." I sit and fold my hands in my lap.
She spreads marmalade over her toast. "Did you speak to your father?"
I blink a few times. "Father is dead."
"I heard you talking in your sleep last night through the walls."
"Bad dream."
She inspects me like she would a chip in her nail. "I thought he would have visited you."
"What do you mean?"
Now she's raising an eyebrow (she's learned it from me, most likely). "You of all people should remember, Basilton."
"Well, I don't," I say, "so tell me."
She sighs in exasperation. "The Veil is lifting."
Of course. Of course.
"Oh," I say. "Of course.
"Another thing, Basil."
Of course!
"I've heard that Katalina Velasquez is in the market for a husband. Would you consider her as a potential suitor? I know you're very conscious about the age difference, but I figured fourteen years—"
I stand with such force that my chair flies back. (Sometimes I still forget about the vampire thing.) "Of course!" I shout to no one in particular, and I run back upstairs.
"Oh, what do I do? What do I do?" I mutter to my mirror, but it doesn't reply. The enchantment must have worn off. I don't bother with recasting Magic mirror on the wall! — a parlor trick, is all that is. Sometimes it helps me gather my thoughts when something talks back at me.
I can't stay here. This room is stifling. I pull open the windows and climb onto the ledge and jump to the pavement below (it's only a two-story fall). I start running, even though I'm not really sure where I'm headed.
All I know is that I'm going to find Simon Snow.
SIMON
Penny bombards me with questions at the airport. "How was your flight?" she asks. "Are you feeling okay?" "How are the books?" "Have you gotten out much like I told you last time we talked?"
"Good, Penny," I say. "Yes, Penny. Good, Penny. No, Penny."
If I get a dog one day, I'm going to name her Penny.
She introduces me to Mitch again, as if I've never met him, and we go pick up my luggage. I think fall asleep on the drive to their house (their house, not flat) because when I open my eyes, I'm sitting on a sofa and there are three little faces looking up at me.
Penny's laughing. "I used a levitation spell to bring you inside," she says.
"Oh," I mutter blearily, and rub at my eyes. "Thank you."
I finally get a good look at her. She hasn't changed much—she's grown a little plumper, is all, and her eyes somehow seem brighter. Mitch is nearby, his arms crossed. He's a little stockier and a bit more stony than I remember, but I try to tell myself that he's stony with everyone.
Penny's two boys (they look like they must be twins) continue to stare at me, while the little girl crawls into my lap. "Hello," she says. "What's your name? Are you Simon Snow? Mummy says that you have wings. Can I see them?"
"Sure," I tell her, putting her hand to my shoulder. "You can feel them, right there."
She frowns. "That's stupid—"
"Myella, I've told you not to say that word—" Penny exclaims.
"But it is stupid," Myella insists. "If I had wings, I would never wear shirts so that everyone could see them!"
I laugh. Penny's not quite sure what to say to that.
"Well, the Normals in Britain aren't so accepting," I tell her.
"Really?" Myella asks.
"Obviously not," says one of the boys. "He's never met a Normal from America, has he?"
"You're so stupid," quips the other boy, who sticks his tongue out at Myella.
Penny frowns at her children. "Mummy's going to make lunch. Do any of you want to help?"
"I'll help," I offer, sitting up straighter.
She sighs. "Honestly, Simon, you need to rest."
"I'm fine, really. I want to help." I stand and sidle between the children and couches toward the door that I hope leads to the kitchen. "Does anyone else want to come?"
"I do!" says Myella.
The boys look at each other and shrug. "I guess," mutters one. "We will," says the other.
Penny gives her husband a stern look. "You're making dinner."
Mitch flops down in front of the telly. "Deal," he says, then adds, "Tell Simon not to set anything on fire."
I give him a tentative smile, which he either doesn't see or chooses to ignore.
"Can we call you Uncle Simon?" Myella asks suddenly.
"Of course," I say at the same time Penny exclaims, "No!"
"Do you want to see my loose tooth, Uncle Simon?" Myella chirps.
"Well, if it doesn't bother you…" sighs Penny.
Once we migrate over to the kitchen, Myella wonders "if the tooth fairy will bother with a visit soon," and her brothers tell her "obviously not until the tooth's come out," and Penny gets out all of her pots and pans with a flick of her ring finger, and I'm suddenly lost because nothing feels familiar and everyone seems like they belong except for me. There's a middle-aged woman standing before me with her three children, and I'm just still Simon Snow, ordinary Simon Snow, who doesn't want life to go on, who doesn't want time to run out, who would stop the world from spinning if he could, and… everything's changed.
Everything's changed.
