In Laymon's Terms

Several months had passed since my carnal visit from Jill. Jane had disappeared off the face of the Earth. Her co-workers had not heard from her. Her family didn’t have a clue where she was. Nobody knew where she was or what she was doing. We had no contact whatsoever after that night. We went from intense togetherness to nothing.

It was unbearable. I lost my job and alienated the few remaining friends and relatives who bothered to communicate with me. The last several months had been spent missing Jane and feeling sorry for myself. Not a waking hour passed without me longing to hold her, taste her, and make love to her. Jane defined me and made me whole. She was the totality of my life. The withdrawal from both Jane and the drugs was horrendous. Now she was gone.

Until the phone call.

It was early in the morning and I was lost deep in sleep. I had been dreaming about death and how comforting it sounded. I thought about death a lot. I even contemplated, fantasized really, about killing myself. I lived each waking hour knowing that I betrayed my one true love and how the only release from her spell would come with my death, or her return. I longed for release, but at the same time, I continued to plod through life reliving the memories of my dear Jane.

Then, the phone rang. I jerked to consciousness and proceeded to grope around the bed covers for the phone.

Groggily, I murmured, “Hello.” No reply.

“Hello,” I said again. Several seconds elapsed. I was about to press the disconnect button when I heard a slight chuckle. It was her chuckle.

“Jane,” I managed to garble in disbelief. “Jane?”

“My skin is so pale,” she replied.

“Jane...Jane?” The connection went dead.

Jane! I knew it was her. After all these months, she had made contact. She must still care, or at least she still thinks about me. The call had given me hope that my life was not over. Now, it was only a matter of waiting. I could wait forever if need be. I knew she would call back. She had to call back. I stared at the phone and cried.

I felt both pain and confusion as thoughts formed. What did she mean that her skin was pale? Was she sick? Did she need me? Was she just mocking me? Had she just made love with another man, a man who had consumed her blood, and was calling to arouse my hunger? No! I knew we had a bond that, while damaged because of my infidelity, could never be broken. I’ll just have to wait. Pale skin?

I didn’t need to wait long. The phone rang again. It didn’t ring twice.

“Jane! I love you, Jane. I’m sorry. Are you okay? Can I see you?” I pleaded between sobs.

No answer. Just a giggle and a moan.

“Jane, please. I made a horrible mistake. I need to...”

Jane interrupted, “Hello, Brace.”

“Jane, I have longed for this moment. I love you...so lonely without you.”

“Bracey, please don’t say anything else. I love you too. I know you’re sorry for breaking my heart. But, you’re a man. She was a thin, pretty girl. I was running late for my routine surprise seduction. I can understand you not wanting to wait a few more minutes. No hard feelings.”

“Jane, please don’t do this,” I interjected with emotion.

“Hush, Brace. I said don’t talk. If you talk, I will hang up the phone and you will never hear from me again. You wouldn’t like that, would you Brace? Never to hear my voice again. Never to fuck me again. Never to drink my blood or squeeze your hands around my neck. I have some ideas for our relationship. I think you will like my plans, Brace. Check your email.”

The phone went dead. I quickly pushed the disconnect button, followed by power, to get a dial tone. I dialed *69 and jotted down the number that the electronic operator recited, pressed the disconnect and power buttons again, and dialed that same number in desperation. I let it ring twenty or so times. No answer. I slammed the headset down hard.

I rushed to my computer to check my email. I had several new messages, but only one with an email address I didn’t recognize. The subject line had my name in capital letters. This was my message from Jane. I retrieved the message.

The correspondence contained two words: your mailbox.

My mailbox! Still in my pajamas, I ran to my door, opened it and jumped down the steps of my apartment to the mailboxes. Realizing I forgot my keys, I quickly stumbled back up the steps to retrieve them from the rack on the wall near the door. I grabbed the keys and rushed for the mailboxes. My hands were shaking with anticipation, body dripping with perspiration, as I located the correct key on the ring.

I inserted the key and opened my mailbox. A white, thin envelope with drops of fresh blood was waiting for me. I longingly placed the envelope near my mouth and licked the scarlet droplets from the paper. The taste was exquisite. I savored the scent of the perfumed paper as I glanced down at the single handwritten word:

BRACE