“You really like him,” I repeated, racking my brain for the best course of action. Something was very wrong with my mother and it evidently had something to do with Lars.
“I do,” she reiterated. “That should please you, right? I mean, what girl doesn’t want her parents to like her boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Well, whatever you call them these days, but you know what I mean.”
“So,” I began, trying to adopt a matter-of-fact tone and demeanor. “What all did you and Lars talk about?”
My mother actually sighed as a dreamy look came over her face. “All sorts of things, but mostly you.”
“What about me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He wanted to know all about his new sweetheart,” she said, winking at me.
“And you told him everything he wanted to know, I guess.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring out the naked baby pictures. Your pride is safe with me.”
That was the least of my concerns, but it was fine if she thought that’s what this was all about.
“Thanks,” I muttered. “So what all did you tell him?”
A far away look came over Mom’s face and I could see her struggling to think back to the conversation. When it apparently didn’t come to her, she waved her hand nonchalantly and said, “Just stuff.”
Mom handed me the chicken.
“Here, put this on the stove,” she directed.
I did as she asked, emptying out the raw ground chicken into a pan and turning the heat on beneath it.
When I walked back to the island, she was cutting vegetables for the salad. I watched her for a minute, no idea what to do or say or how much of a problem this was, though I suspected it was a huge one. Mom used the back of her hand to push her bangs out of her eyes and I saw a red spot on the cuff of her long-sleeved blouse.
“What’s that?” I was pointing to her wrist as I asked.
Mom turned her arm over and looked at it, shrugging. “Just a spot,” she answered, as if it didn’t even register in her mind.
As most people tend to do when they don’t have all the information, I took what details I had and filled in the gaps between them, painting my own picture of what had happened today, and it wasn’t good.
Pointing to the mountain of carrots and peppers on the cutting board, I addressed Mom. “Since we’re going to have a ton of food, would you mind if I invited another friend? He knows Lars, too,” I added, the beginnings of a plan taking shape in my head.
Mom smiled brilliantly. “That would be wonderful.”
Wonderful? Lars must’ve done a number on my mother. She probably hadn’t thought of anyone or anything as wonderful in three years.
“Cool. If you’ll keep an eye on the chicken, I’ll go call.”
Hurrying from the kitchen, I took my cell phone to my room and picked Bo’s number from my contacts list. It rang and rang and rang, but he didn’t answer. When his voice mail came on, I left him a simple, innocuous message and hung up, hoping he’d call back quickly.
When he hadn’t called back in about three minutes, I changed into a t-shirt and yoga pants, shoved my cell in the waistband and headed back to the kitchen.
Mom was actually humming when I sat back down at the island. It was like stumbling into a bad episode of The Twilight Zone.
She maintained her upbeat, Stepford Wife-like smile all through supper preparation. I’d wondered if it would falter when we sat down and it became clear to her that no one else was joining us, but it didn’t. All through the meal, she chattered on like this was a normal occurrence for us. Meanwhile, I used most of my energy trying to keep my eyes off the blood on her shirt.
Almost two excruciating hours later, the dishes were done, leftovers were in the fridge and Mom was sitting down to read, something she hadn’t done since I was a little girl. I excused myself to my room, stumbling over my thanks for Mom’s culinary efforts. It just seemed weird to be talking to her about dinner, like normal people.
I called Bo again as soon as I got into my room, but still I got no answer. I was starting to worry, wondering if he’d had a run-in with Lars or…something else, something worse. There was evidently a whole world out there that I knew nothing about, a world filled with dangers that seemed suitable only for Hollywood’s big screen.
Opening my window, I took a deep breath and sat down in my desk chair, toying with the idea of driving to Bo’s house. I was staring blankly at the glass heart paperweight he’d seemed so fascinated with when Bo’s heavenly scent drifted past my nose. It was like I blinked and suddenly he was there, standing in my room behind me.
Though I should be getting used to it, it still startled me, looking up and seeing him just standing there, and even though my heart stuttered a beat or two, relief flooded me. I was so glad he was safe. I wasn’t ready to give him up yet, and I seriously doubted I ever would be.
He’d been smiling when I turned, but now his face sobered. “What’s wrong?”
“Bo, what happens when someone gets turned? How does it work?”
Bo didn’t move a muscle. I think, for a moment, he didn’t even breathe. His beautiful eyes just drilled holes into mine.
“A vampire with mature fangs has to bite you and release enough venom in you to infect your blood.”
“Then what?”
“The venom starts destroying your red blood cells and you become severely anemic.”
“And then?” I couldn’t help my sharp tone. It was like pulling teeth, trying to get straightforward answers from him.
“Your body starts changing and you have to feed. What is it that you want to know, Ridley? Specifically?”
“Does it change your personality?”
“Not really. It just sort of…enhances it. Why?”
“Lars visited my mother today,” I murmured, my heart heavy with worry, this time about my mother.
Before I could even blink, Bo was hauling me up from the chair, his hands gripping my upper arms tightly. “What? What happened?”
“Not so hard, Bo,” I cautioned, prying his steely fingers loose. He relaxed his hold and rubbed my arms soothingly. “I don’t know exactly, but she’s acting like a…a…a sane person.”