Max is aware that our last coupling was not as satisfying for me as the first. The expression in his eyes makes it obvious that he’s afraid he has broken something in our relationship.
I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell him that what happened was not his fault. I can’t believe how close I came to-
I don’t want to think about that now, and I don’t want to tempt fate again. Instead, I smile and tell him I’m tired. Which is true. And that things will be different after a good night’s sleep. Which I can only hope is true.
He gets up and goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. I collapse on the bed and wait for him to finish. Can’t share the bathroom anymore-especially one with large mirrors. Not when you’re a vampire. When the phone rings, it’s a little after ten.
It’s my mother. “Did I wake you?” she asks anxiously.
“No. I’m just lying here-resting. How was your dinner with Carolyn?”
“She never showed up.” Mom’s voice is a mixture of aggravation and concern. “We tried calling her, but there was no answer. Why would she stand us up? The dinner was her idea.”
After what I learned about Carolyn today, nothing she does surprises me. To my mother I respond, “Maybe she got called back to the hospital and didn’t have time to get in touch with you. I’m going to see her tomorrow. I’ll ask her what happened.”
“I got your note this afternoon,” Mom continues. “So I didn’t expect to hear from her at all, which is why the invitation came as such a surprise.” There’s a pause. “Any word on Trish?”
This is one of the things I hate most-lying to humans I love. It doesn’t get easier, and I see no way it will ever change. But I can’t share what I’ve learned with anyone yet, especially not my parents. “I expect to have some word soon, Mom. Please try not to worry. How’s Dad taking all this?”
There’s a sharp intake of breath. “Not well. He acts like he doesn’t believe Trish is really Steve’s. But I can tell he’s scared to death for her.”
A thought strikes me. “Mom, did Carolyn leave Trish’s hairbrush with you?”
Again, a pause. In my mind’s eye, I see Mom walking into the living room, looking around. “Yes,” she says at last. “It’s here.”
“I’ll pick it up tomorrow. I think we should run that DNA test. You have one of Steve’s baby teeth, right? I remember seeing it in a scrapbook or something.”
The laugh is small and sad. “I have one of yours, too. The first you lost.”
I let a heartbeat go by before responding. “Will you leave Steve’s tooth with the hairbrush? I think they can get a DNA sample from it.”
It seems to take Mom a long time to answer. But finally she does, in a soft, firm voice. “I’ll leave everything on the dining room table in case we’re not here when you come. We’re returning to full schedule tomorrow at school and I expect it will be a long day.”
I promise to call her and check in and then we ring off. Max slips into bed beside me and we snuggle together under the covers. He falls asleep first and I disentangle myself from his arms and lay staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to dull the terrible anxiety I feel for a young girl I’ve known less than a day.