They arrived back home in the early morning hours. Once they walked through their door, they went to their own rooms in silence. She hoped Des really was okay. She didn't know what happened with Des and Renato, but it was too late to think about it anymore. Elise served herself water as she processed Des' story.
She didn't know what to believe. She needed Tylenol, according to Miranda, and to take the small vial of medicine with it. Elise felt uncertain about it, but according to Miranda: 'Club Vesper owns a well-stocked medicine cabinet for times like these. We got the traditional medicine, but this bit of house-made homeopathic meds won't hurt you, either.' When Elise asked what it was and what it did, Miranda said it was a specialized mix of water, salts, and proteins to 'help with blood vessel repair' and 'erase' the bruising. Des had vouched for it, and Elise had promised to take it when she got home. Miranda told her to keep it out of the light and cold until ready for use. Warm it up in between the hands for thirty seconds and it was all good. It was in her fridge, neatly put away in a paper bag, for now.'
It was too late, too early, for anything else besides bed. She wouldn't press for more tonight, but she did ask Des if she was okay, again, apologized for the car ride, and went back to her own room. She knew Des. They'd been roommates for two years, friends for more, and she wasn't telling her the whole truth. She'd try to talk to her again later.
'Fucking Des,' Elise thought, as she stood in the open doorway of Des' room in the afternoon.
She was gone. Des had left her a voice note three hours ago about 'needing to visit her parents, be back next week.' She tried calling her back-to-back, to no avail. She sent her texts and Des never opened them. The more she remembered things about the night, the more she felt it was all wrong. None of it made sense. There were no stories or reports about Club Vesper. Danielle and Jaidyn had responded a few hours before she woke up, but they hadn't seen the most recent ones after she discovered Des' absence. She didn't know who to reach out to. Elise never had to deal with cops before. There was never a need to until Renato. The one from last night had claimed to be a supervisor and they seemed professional enough to her.
'But why did he let them go home so fast? Shouldn't they have called a...a medic, or an ambulance, or someone-...for Des?,' her mind whispered to her.
Regret burned a hole in her stomach. Why didn't she say anything? She felt like a pendeja. She felt guilty for fighting with Des in the car, too, even after apologizing. She really was a pendeja, sometimes. The stress of the night took its toll on her body, and now, shame had joined it. A hard mass of emotion began to push its way up her throat. It choked her as she paced in her apartment. Des' disappearance and ensuing silence had her freaked out. Briefly, she contemplated asking Miranda about the security that had held Renato back, but Elise quickly discarded the idea. Human's willing to fight vampires couldn't be normal people.
Their drinking water was running out in the house. Elise cursed as she saw the heat wave warning for the weather report. She didn't want to leave her apartment for the rest of the weekend, but it looked like she needed to. Even if her vision seemed fine, she wanted to get it looked at. She considered Miranda's medicine for a moment, before she placed it back in the fridge. She liked natural medicine, but she didn't even know what it was called. Des' silence had her freaked out, too. The events at the club last night had Elise on edge. Nothing good came from vampires and she was afraid of Renato coming to find Des, eventually. What would she do if that happened?
She loved Des. They've been friends since they were in college together. But she had thought about it for a long time, before last night, and she wanted to move out. Whatever Des was doing, she hoped she would figure it out soon, but Elise probably needed to start thinking about finding another roommate. Sooner than planned, too. Because getting thrown off a roof for running around on a vampire was not her life. Their lease was up near the middle of November. It would be a tight schedule, but Elise would try to research and save up till November. But before that-...the rent. She needed to figure out what to do in two weeks when it was due, because she didn't have it.
The rest of her weekend passed the same way every night- she ate alone, watched TV alone, and clutched onto the wooden stick she normally used to lock up, as she dozed in and out of consciousness. When the work week began, she called off to stay home and take care of her eye. Aside from the bruising and swelling, the clinic had given her a green light. Her eyesight had been spared, thankfully. When she got back home, she stayed in. Every night, she talked herself down from anxiety, every night she saw Des falling to the ground in her dreams. After three days of this, she began to smudge and pray.
By Saturday, she had somewhat relaxed into her new routine. Her friends had eventually gotten back to her, and they each had received the same message from Des. Elise told them what happened. That conversation lasted a good two or three hours. She hadn't heard from Des, or the police, to no one's surprise. When she called about the incident, she was told it was 'ongoing' and not to worry. She didn't keep her hopes up.
At least tonight she felt like she could breathe a little easier. She was watching an old sitcom on syndication, one from right before she was born. It was comfortable and familiar. And in-between laugh tracks, the walls of her apartment exploded. When the sound faded, she could still feel it in her ears. Contrary to what she had experienced, nothing was broken in her home, nothing out of place. She was crouched down on the floor. Her heart pounded in her ears. She could hear other voices outside as they began to shout. She didn't want to get up, but it sounded too close. The shouts were getting louder, and she heard 'FIRE' over and over again.
Something was on fire. For the second time in the span of a week, her survival instincts kicked in and she left behind the last safe place she had. Once she got outside, she could see the smoke as it billowed into the air. One of the upstairs units in the building next to hers was on fire. She could barely feel the stairs beneath her feet as she fled. Near the blaze, there was a man who stood facing the ruined second-floor apartment as his neighbors ran out. He looked dazed and completely out-of-it. She met his eyes for a second, then he turned around, and walked away.
When the firemen arrived, they ensured everyone had been evacuated and accounted for. The police and media interviewed them, in the midst of the clamor. Elise declined to speak to the local news, while her downstairs neighbor happily jumped in to give his take. None of the officers were familiar to her. She was asked a few questions, but she didn't know any more than anyone else. She confirmed which direction he had gone, the same way other neighbors had seen. When he was done with her, she walked away and stood to watch the emergency services as they gained control of the situation. They were told it would be a few hours until they could return. The fire was out, and no one was injured, but they didn't know how much damage had been done to the other units.
Some people were going to the restaurant down the block while others stayed to watch. She had been forced out of her apartment by the explosion almost forty minutes ago. With nowhere to go, she walked to the little park within the complex and sat down. There were two or three families there. Their kids had split off into different groups of play. Their feet kicked up sand and she winced as she saw one or two go barefoot. Their small peals of laughter and toddler-chatter provided a semblance of normalcy, despite the late hour. The peaceful lull of the night soothed her nerves as she sat away from the others.
A weight settled next to her, suddenly, and it startled her back into awareness. She blinked at the young man who sat next to her. She could barely make out his face from where the shadows caught on his features. She turned back to the sandpit, but she could still feel his eyes on her. After a few seconds, she debated between leaving or asking him qué le pasa.
"I couldn't see you until now," his voice broke the awkward tension.
"Did I just pop out on you?," she huffed out a laugh, "Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya."
He had short, dark hair. A white boy. He had an accent she couldn't quite place. The kids were waving some kinds of toys in the air. They laughed and shouted as they passed her. One of them said 'hi' to her as they ran by, and she waved back.
She asked him, "Do you live in one of these apartments?"
He nodded. He looked young. Just around college age. She wondered if he was one of the neighbors that was forced out of his home, like her.
He regarded her for a moment, then asked her, "Were you there earlier? When the explosion went off, and we were run out by smoke and fire?"
"No. Were you there?," she exclaimed. He nodded again and she gasped. He had her full attention now. She went on, "I live in one of the buildings next door, but I think my place is fine. Did you get hurt? What happened?"
She looked him over. They had said no one had gotten seriously hurt and, aside from a few marks on his pajamas, he seemed fine. Inwardly, she winced at the stains they would leave. It looked like it was a nice set, all white and comfortably loose.
"I am unharmed," he said. After a moment, he added, "The apartments that were below and next to it are no longer safe, but it is only the smoke that's on me."
She grimaced, "Your place didn't make it?"
He shook his head, "I'm afraid not."
"Damn, I'm sorry. What are you going to do?," she said with sympathy. At least, her place had been far enough away that it seemed to be spared from the damage.
"I have a place to stay. It won't be an issue," he reassured her.
"You do?," she asked.
He nodded, then smiled, "My brother."
He said 'brother' with a slight emphasis on the 'b' and 'th' sounds. She thought it sounded cute.
"That's good. You're lucky you got family to turn to," she said.
He tilted his head in agreement, then gave her a small, hesitant smile.
She waited for a bit to see if he would introduce himself. When the silence continued, she broke it, instead, "I'm Elise."
That seemed to encourage him, "I'm glad to have met you, Elisa. My name is Jonah," he returned.
"Elise," she corrected softly.
"Elisa," he tried again. She noticed he tried to hold back on the 'a' sound, but there was still an upward lilt at the end. She felt a flash of shame when she realized it was his accent. She pushed forward, instead.
"What do you think happened?," she asked Jonah.
He turned his head away, briefly, "I heard they said it was butane," he replied.
"Butane?," she questioned.
He nodded and tilted his head to examine her. She glanced towards the playground again. The kids were running across the playground's bouncing bridge.
"I do not know what for. Something about hash?," he said, then, "Your bruise is old. Not from tonight."
'Is that a question?,' Elise thought. She couldn't help the look on her face and she quickly explained it was from a week ago. Her fingers twisted the ojo 's in her bracelet around, "One of my friends was in a little trouble last week. So, this is what happens."
"You must be good friends," he remarked.
Her smile felt a bit strained as she said, "Yeah, we've known each other a long time."
She looked around. The conversation was a bit strange. The kids were still playing while their parents sat nearby. She assumed they were done speaking to each other, so she pulled her phone out. She was ready to send a text to her friends- the ones who still answered her messages- when Jonah spoke up again.
"I apologize," he said, "I didn't mean to upset you."
She shook her head, "You're good."
He watched her for a moment.
"Your 'malocchio' charm, it is..pretty," he said.
"My what?," she asked.
He gestured to her wrist. She brought her bracelet up. The misshapen eyes were barely visible in the dark.
"Oh, my 'mal de ojo'?," she said, "Thank you. What did you call it?"
"'Malocchio' is Italian," he explained, "Does it protect you?"
She smiled at him, "Man, I hope so. I need it to work for me right now. 'Malocchio,' huh? It almost sounds the same."
She looked over his face, he didn't look like it, but-
"Are you Italian?," she asked to be sure. His accent sounded different, too. She went on, "I can't really place you."
He shook his head, "I was born in France."
"Really? You're French?" she asked. His accent didn't match, but what did she know?
"I am not, but I was born there a long time ago."
"But doesn't that count?," she asked, confused.
He shook his head, "No, not for me. I have lived in many cities since I was a boy. Though I admit I prefer the languages of the North."
"Really? How many languages do you speak?," she asked.
At her insistence, he demonstrated his fluency of a few. Of course, it impressed her.
"I would love to do that, too! Travel around, I mean," she said, "You've done that your whole life?"
Jonah nodded.
"Geez, I'm jealous. Can I have your life?," she joked.
A corner of his lip lifted in a half-smile. His eyes studied her face and she looked away.
He spoke again, "Tell me where you're from, Elisa. I cannot guess, either."
"Oh, I'm 'something else'," she joked. She kind of liked her name better the way he said it. It sounded cuter that way.
She told him she was mixed with Latino and Native, for the most part. Her tribe was out-of-state. When he asked her if she spoke another language, she told him she only spoke two-and-a-half. She was okay in her mother's tongue, but she still missed out on a few things during a conversation. But to her pleasure, he knew Spanish. He was actually more fluent in it than her and had a nearly perfect accent, to her chagrin.
"Bueno, el baboso nos quería venderlo por quince," Elise laughed, "Y le dije, '¡No manches, güey! No lo quiero, ni por cincuenta centavos.' La bolsa estaba todo descosido, la neta!"
Jonah smiled at her.
"¿Qué significa 'no manches' y 'la neta'?," he asked, sincerely.
She laughed, again, and happily explained.
At some point, they were given the 'all clear' to return home. She and Jonah stayed seated while everyone else filtered out. They had been talking for almost an hour, it seemed. His phone went off at some point and he answered it. The language he spoke sounded rugged. It was a brief call.
"My brother worries too much," he said, once he hung up.
"Didn't you just get blown up?," she pointed out.
He laughed.
They told each other a bit of their everyday life. Jonah worked in an office. He told her, "I was busy at work this week. I am meant to be at work tonight."
"Oh, do you do night shifts?," she asked.
He smiled, "Yes. It can get repetitive, but there are still enjoyable times."
"Where do you work?," she asked.
"It's a lot of paperwork in an office. I'm afraid it's not very interesting, I get bored thinking about it," he said, his voice low and quiet.
"I also work in an office. I'm on the computer a lot, so I get it," she said, "What kind of job is it?"
He said to her, "It's not open to the public. It monitors dangerous traffic in the city."
"Like the traffic from cars?," she asked.
A dog interrupted their conversation as the owner chased after the leash that trailed behind their pet. She turned back to him and suddenly noticed how close they had gotten on the bench. She shifted away and her fingers danced on her palm for a few seconds before she managed to stop it. She tried to remember their discussion.
"So, you said...I mean, what do you do for work?," she asked.
Jonah stared back at her blankly and said, "I pass my work off onto my subordinate."
She leaned away from him in surprise, "Oh! You do? How's that going for you?"
"I think she may have tried to blow me up tonight," he deadpanned.
Elise grinned, "Shit, I would have, too! I don't blame her."
He smiled back, "I will have to thank her later. I'm enjoying my time with you."
"I like being here, too," she returned.
Their quiet confessions led to a comfortable silence. Absently, she gave him a quick once over. She still planned on leaving, especially now with exploding drug labs in her area, but there was no harm in it. She would have to see him in the light, but so far, he seemed cute enough and she liked the sound of his voice.
"You know, you're young now, but those night shifts are doing hell to your body. You should change to a day shift once you're closer to thirty," she said.
He gave a short laugh, "I will keep it in mind. But I believe you and I can still handle the night."
She gave him a look, "I am not working nights. That was in my baby years. I already did my time."
Then, she asked, "How old are you, anyways?"
He tipped his head to look into her eyes. She studied the slope of his nose. After the pause, he continued, "I turned 21, before today."
She held back a laugh. Yeah, no. Almost too young, for one. In less than three years, she'd be in her thirties, and he'd still be under twenty-five. The plan was to leave soon, anyways. When her life was this uncertain, she shouldn't even be thinking about dates. At the rate it was going, she might have to move back to her grandma's house. There was no one else she had.
"Oh, happy birthday!," she exclaimed, voice a little too high. She pulled it back in, "That's a fun age. Did you go out yesterday?"
He shook his head at her.
"Why not?," she asked.
"I had work," he said simply.
"Really? That's too bad. I like to get the day off, myself," she said, "You're still too little to be that dedicated."
"I am not as 'little,' as you think," he stated simply.
His words hung in the air for a moment before she registered it.
A small laugh came out from her and Jonah relaxed in response. She adjusted herself into a more comfortable position. They sat together in the quiet of the night. All there was was the sound of children at play and crickets as they chirped in the grass. When she excused herself, he offered to walk her back.
"No, that's okay. I live close," she said.
"Are you sure? It would be no trouble to me, I have enjoyed your company, so far," he said. He shifted where he sat and his eyes searched for hers. She looked away. She really thought it was cute now, the way he spoke to her. It was respectful. He went on, "After tonight, I would like to see you home safely."
She gave in, "If you insist."
She could humor this a little longer, just a little. ' It's good practice for him anyways ,' she thought. He rose and held his hand out for her. She was struck by the amount of self-possession he held himself with. She accepted the gesture, and they began their walk. She noticed the way he had followed the line of her legs when she stood, and her ego took a boost. The right attention from the right person always felt good. She snuck a glance at him. He was compact and lean. They spoke quietly on the way back, too. When they arrived, the smell of the ruined apartment was still in the air. The fire had burned a hole in the roof of the second-floor apartment where the explosion had originated from. Its neighboring units suffered damaged from the force and blast, and she winced at the sight.
"Your apartment got wrecked," she exhaled, "How are you so calm right now? Wasn't your life in there?"
Jonah stayed silent for a moment, "What is there to do? I am here, right now. Nothing that has been lost will cost me more than this achievement."
She nodded her head, "That's a good outlook. Still sucks, but very good."
They walked away from the damaged building towards hers. It was only a few feet they had to go, but they stopped again.
"He really tried using butane to extract hash oil? That is so stupid. And I thought it was a bomb! Or something in the city busted open. I should've known when I saw him! I knew that boy must've been cookin' somethin' to run like that. Did you see him when he was outside? His hair was all standing up and smoking, skin and hair all blasted! I couldn't even see his face. All I saw were his eyes like-...," and she placed her hands around her eyes, like goggles, and opened them wide.
Jonah watched her for a beat. Before the embarrassment could set in, his face softened with humor. She pulled her hands back down and tried to reign herself back in. Why was she talking so much? 'Ya callate,' she berated herself.
"He won't make it far," Jonah was certain, as he said this, "I saw him. He left a trail of smoke behind him like this-"
He used his finger to make a winding path away from himself, and Elise imagined the guy from earlier running with his bomb shocked, smoky hair through the streets. A startled laugh burst out of her at the image, and they chuckled together. She tried to stifle it, when it went on for too long, but she just choked on it. He started to laugh harder at that, too, to her embarrassment. His voice was quiet and soft. It felt like such a relief to talk to someone else. Tears of relief and stress begin to pool in her eyes. But she was still smiling, when they quieted down.
They stopped close to her building. She didn't want to go up yet. But she needed to let him go. It was a nice end to her night, after the emergency from earlier. She said, "I live here. Thank you for walking me back."
In the lights around her apartment, she could see his face now. The prominent structure in his cheeks and jaw gave her a glimpse into the more sculpted look his face would have in a few years. He was trying to look into her eyes, again. She shifted her focus to the arch of his brow. It was usually easy to avoid someone's eyes. Elise could focus on their eyebrows, the bridge of a nose, the inner corner of their eyelid…- no one ever noticed. But she had a feeling he could tell the difference, somehow. Hell, he'd been trying hard enough during their conversation. If she ran into him again, she would have to tell him about the courtesies around eye contact her tribe believed in.
They were too close together, again. There was a slight whiff of smoke from the poor pajamas. But she could smell the fresh scent of soap coming from his skin. The top of his head was eye-level, so she checked his hair and saw it was clean, too. She inhaled and took a step back.
"Um- I'm going to go home. It's getting late. See you later?," she said, without real intentions.
He shifted a bit and said, "I would like to see you again."
Maybe she had led him on a little too much. She opened her mouth to excuse herself for the last time.
"Elisa," Jonah began.
She closed her mouth.
"The perfume in your hair...is it from clover leaves?," he asked.
"My hair?," she said, "No? Why? What does it smell like?"
"Sweet," he said, "Like grassy vanilla."
She sniffed at her hair.
"Oh, that's the sweetgrass, I think," she said, "They smell similar to each other. I'm always smudging my house with it. It must have stayed in my hair."
"Sweetgrass?," he said. There was another pause, before his face lit up in recognition, "Ah, luktegress. I remember it now."
"What is 'luktegress'?," Elise asked. Her tongue stumbled over the word, slightly.
"They are the same thing. Your people call it sweetgrass," he explained.
He spoke quietly, his voice slightly rough and more animated than before, "In certain areas of Europe, luktegress is kept with clothes. It's been so long. I had forgotten about it until now."
He inhaled again and his eyes shut. She watched his lips part. They shone pink and bright in the night. He opened his eyes and exhaled gently, "On you, it reminds me of summer fields."
"Thank you..." she trailed off, "It's one of my favorites."
His gaze was strong, and the quiet rasp of his voice continued, "I think it will be one of mine, too."
A flare of heat ran through her. 'They're blue,' she thought. Distantly, she recognized that their eyes were locked together. 'Blue like the shadows on storm clouds.'
"I would like to see you again," he said. His lips quirked with a smile, the corners of his mouth turned up softly.
And she smiled back.
Ch 3 Translations
pendeja: dumb/unintelligent (fem. form of 'pendejo'/literally: a pubic hair)
qué le pasa: what's wrong with him
ojos: eyes (in the context of the sentence, she's talking about the charms on a 'mal de ojo' bracelet/a protective talisman against sickness from envy)
malocchio/mal de ojo: evil eye/created through envy (Italian/Spanish)
Bueno, el baboso nos quería venderlo por quince, y le dije, '¡No manches, güey! No lo quiero, ni por cincuenta centavos.' La bolsa estaba todo descosido, la neta!: Well, the dummy wanted to sell it to us for fifteen, and I told him, 'No way, dude! I don't want it, not even for fifty cents.' The bag was all torn apart, the truth!
¿Qué significa 'no manches' y 'la neta' en este contexto?: What does 'no manches' and 'la neta' mean in this context?
*'no manches' and 'la neta' are slang:
the former can be used to express surprise, disbelief, or to tell someone to stop kidding/being silly; la neta is used the same way as 'no cap'
luktegress- 'scent grass' (Norwegian)/sweetgrass
**This explosion really did happen IRL in one of the apartments I used to live at lol no one was hurt, don't worry, the 'butane hash' guy really did look as described, too, btw