Nobody looks good naked. That's why I started taking the night shift.
Okay wait—that's an awkward place to start. Let me back up. I'm Bradley, but you can call me Brad. That sounds cooler, right? Anyway, I’ve been working as a lifeguard at this town outdoor pool. It’s a pretty sweet gig. I literally get paid to watch people all day. And let me tell you, there are some characters in this place. The only downside is that I'm not allowed to not look at people all day. And to get back to my first point, nobody looks as good in a swimsuit as they think they do.
The night shift—it's different, you know? I can still see people, but just the shape of them, walking around. The voices start to sound different when there isn't a clear face to attach them to. A couple of old ladies come and start their water aerobics, and instead of seeing three particular old ladies with names and certain hobbies it's like—as long as I can't see them clearly, they could be anybody. It's like they are everybody who ever used to be and everybody who will come after. Sitting up in my super tall chair, watching a bunch of shadows sit around and talk, listening to the bugs in the woods make as much noise as they are physically capable of—I don't know man, it's eatheral or something. Like I'm zoomed out from this small town and seeing the kinds of pieces that make up all groups of people anywhere.
Oh that's right—I'm in Fire Creek right now. I came here for a summer job after my third year of college and just never left. "Why would you do that, Brad?" you say, "Why drop out right before your last year in college?" Well listen, I wasn't going to graduate in one more year. And there's something about this place—I don't know any other town this size with enough of a night life to need a graveyard shift lifeguard. The old people here are the perfect flavor of crazy awesome. I wasn't gonna let this opportunity go to waste.
So anyway, a couple weeks ago I'm up on my like, high chair thing. And I've got that long red floaty stick that I could throw to save a drowning person or something, and I'm just kind of sitting and staring like I always do, when I hear this knocking. Knocking, like somebody was at the door. Except there wasn't a door, because I was at a swimming pool. There was like, a fence and a gate around, sure. But that was made of metal, and you know, that kind of rattles when you knock on it. This was a wood knock. And the only thing wooden around was my seat. So I look down.
There, standing at one of the little poles that hold me up, was a girl. I mean, girl as in young woman. She was probably my age. Her hair was flat and black, and she had a grey wrap on over her bathing suit, which I thought was super weird. Most girls’ wraps are pretty colorful. Also, since I like watching people so much, I feel like I know everybody in town, but I totally didn't recognize her at all.
So anyway I'm just feeling super curious about this chick when she looks up at me and says, "Excuse me, good sir—would you assist me with something?"
I stick the floaty down on the seat behind me and immediately start climbing down from my throne. It's not every day I get called sir. And anyway, helping people at the pool is literally my job. When I get down to the bottom I kind of flip my hair as I turn to look at her because people think it's stupid when I do that, and she has a hand clenched around one of the seat supports like she really needs to calm down
“What’s up?” I ask.
"I need to investigate something,” she says, pointing vaguely into the distance, “But it’s off in the parking lot and—and I'm scared to go alone."
I glance around the pool. Nobody seems to be dying right now. "Okay," I say, because sue me, I like to be helpful. "We can't go super far though, and I can't be gone long. I gotta make sure everybody swims safe and stuff."
She nodds, the picture of seriousness. I think that she should get a job in a library, and a pair of glasses, and just force everyone to be quiet all the time by looking at them with utter sincerity. Then she turns around and walks toward the gate.
I follow right after her, kinda standing on my tip-toes as I go to look over the fence. See, I'm trying to figure out what's going on in the parking lot. Like is there some guy there that she needs to talk to and she's scared of him? Am I gonna have to fight somebody? But all I can see over the fence is parked cars.
The girl gets to the gate and tries to open it, but there's sort of a trick to it. You have to push the button to make it open at the same time as you pull on the handle, but she's pushing the button and then reaching to pull with the same hand, and the system is timing out.
"I've got it," I say, and I kind of reach around her to push and pull at the same time, and the gate comes open, and she looks up at me like I just broke the strong dude hammer machine thingy that they have in cartoon fairs.
"That was wonderful," she kinda whispers, and then she's slipped past me into the parking lot and I have to hurry after her.
I can't quite figure out where she's going. I don't see the light on in any cars, or any people standing around in the shadows, but she's moving forward with purpose. As we get farther from the dim overhead lights at the pool it gets harder and harder to see her. It's really only her movement that makes her stand out. I'm just thinking that I should stop her and ask if she does have a problem with somebody, if I'm gonna have to confront somebody I can't see, when she stops moving. She's standing in front of a car window that’s pulled down just a little, and she’s peering in through the slit.
"Did you lock yourself out of your car?" I say.
A dog barks, super close, and I startle. I hope she didn't notice. Then I see light glinting on eyes, and I realize that there's a dog inside the car.
"Oh!" I say, "That's Randy—he's Rob Miller's dog. He's fine—he's got water in there and everything. Rob loves his dog, he's just not allowed in the pool. He'd shed everywhere."
The girl steps away. "Oh," she says, "I heard a dog barking and I thought—well, this isn't my friend."
I shrug. "If you want to pet him, you could talk to Rob. He'd probably let you. Is that it? If you don't need anything else then I should be heading back."
"No, that's all," she says, "Thank you very much for accompanying me here."
"Girl, I'd accompany you anywhere," I say, because her voice is actually kinda pretty and also I have a really big mouth.
She blinks—I can see the glint in her eyes vanish for just a split second. Then she says, "Really—anywhere?"
"I mean," I say, because I can't figure out how to turn this conversation back to where it was before I made it awkward, "Did you have someplace in mind?"
She nods. "My father's house. Would you come in two days, at sunset?"
So anyway, that's how I found myself driving out of town on Sunday evening. I wasn't really sure if this was supposed to be a date, or if she had some other problem to fix that she was scared to confront alone. Honestly, I was cool with either option. The chick was too timid to open a pool gate. She probably needs to get out more.
As I keep going, the street gets darker and darker. I'm getting farther away from the town center, and there are less and less houses with lights out front. I can still kinda see some in the distance, shining through between the black trees, but at this point it isn't enough to light my own path. Luckily I've driven at night in the country before, and my headlights are super bright, and I'm taking everything slow. The roads are windy, and I haven't been through this part of town, and I don't want to hit any deer, you know?
The ground starts sloping up, the road starts switch-backing, and I'm just thinking that this chick must have a rich dad if her house is way up in the hills looking down on the rest of town, when the trees pull back and I bring the car out into a parking lot. It's not a super big clearing, but it's bigger than a residential house—maybe about the size of the community pool lot. There's a couple streetlights, but they're dim, and one of them is flickering. I pull the car into a spot and park it. There are other cars here, and I can make out the shadowy shapes of a couple of people filing out and down the rows.
At the end of the lot is a building, old enough to have character. That's how most things in this town are. In college I had gotten used to flat concrete, to stores that all looked the same except for the little logo attached to the front to tell you what it is. This building has a pointed roof, and painted wood. There's a porch out front with steps on one side and a ramp on the other. I can't quite place it—it's too formal to be a house and too informal to be a business.
I get out of the car and lock it and start walking the same direction the people had gone, double checking the map on my phone as I go. This doesn't seem like the place I'm supposed to pick up the girl at. But as it turns out, I'm so far out that I don't have any signal, so the map can’t reassure me. I'm gonna have to go inside and ask these people for directions. So I turn off my phone and pocket it and look back up at the porch I'm about to walk up on, and my eyes catch the corner of the roof. There's a little steeple with a cross on top. This place is a church.
Why are people coming to church at night?
"You're welcome inside."
I look up. There's a heavyset man standing in the doorway, holding the door open and looking at me. In his other hand he has a stack of papers—some kind of pamphlets.
I used to go to church as a kid, and there's pieces that I remember. I know that it's normal for there to be greeters at the door. So I walk up onto the porch, and I smile, and I ask, "Is there wifi inside? I think I'm lost."
The man steps back, and I follow him into the front hall. It's much lighter inside, but it's a warmer light than I expected, not the icy brilliance of fluorescents. I'm just about to completely sidetrack myself and ask where they got their lightbulbs when the man speaks up again.
"Can I have your name?" he says. But before I can respond he bursts out laughing, slapping me on the shoulder like he's just made a terrible pun.
I don't really get it, but I smile and nod anyway. My Grandma always told me that I had to let people be weird—that I'd miss out on life if I got upset every time I encountered something I didn't understand. And her advice had always panned out for me before.
"What should I call you?" the man finally says
"Brad," I say, "It's short for—"
"And I go by Willow," he interrupts, "Like the tree. Are you Brad from the pool? The Grey sisters told me about you—you’re the lifeguard on the night shift! You must be here for Elise!"
"Elise?" I say, suddenly realizing that I had never gotten a name out of the girl. Was this her father? Was I in the right place after all?
“Are you staying for the service?” Willow asks, and there’s something a little eager in his tone, like those people who stand outside grocery stores and try to get you to buy candy for charity.
“I mean it’s up to her,” I say, because that’s the truth. “I said I’d take her anywhere.”
Willow kind of leans forward and points around a corner to another hallway. “I saw her head into the sanctuary. You’d better go find her. Don’t keep a woman waiting—not when you’ve given your word.”
I peak around the corner. The hall ends abruptly in a wide room. A small crowd of people are milling about there. “I’m not going to interrupt, right? Sorry, it’s just that I’m not very religious. I don’t want to get in the way.”
“I said you were welcome here,” Willow says, “And I don’t lie. You’ll be alright so long as you don’t eat the food.”
I nod and turn to head into the sanctuary. There must be a closed potluck. If only Elise had told me that I needed to bring a side dish. But maybe she had just wanted me to pick her up here, and we were headed somewhere else anyway. Did she have a car? I hadn’t asked.
The sanctuary isn’t that big, and the number of people assembled inside makes it feel a little suffocating. All along the walls, there are these sections of rough wooden boards, like they’re covering a bunch of broken windows. But I’m not sure they are for windows, since the boards at the front of the room behind the podium kind of stick out from the wall, like they’re covering something that protrudes. I stand there for a second, puzzling over it all. I’ve been inside churches before. I don’t remember boards as a component. Maybe this place is under renovation?
“You stood me up.”
It’s Elise’s voice. I startle, sure that she’s mad at me, but when I spin and spot her she’s facing away. I can just see her straight black hair, her long and simple purple dress. I wish she’d turn around. It was dark at the pool, and I still haven’t gotten to see her face clearly.
“There was a real and definite emergency,” another woman says. She’s facing Elise, gesturing wildly as she talks. Her wild brown hair strikes out from her face, like she was hit by lightning, like she is the lightning looking to pounce.
Elise crosses her arms. “If this is about a squirrel again—“
“There were three deer! Three deer, Elise! In my yard! I had to chase them right away!”
I’m not really sure what else to do here, and it feels weird to eavesdrop like this, so I decide to walk over to them.
“Melissa. You were going to meet me at the pool,” Elise is saying. I have to walk around another group of talking people to get near them, and the angle lets me see her face for the first time. Her eyes are big and gorgeous and very sternly focused on her friend’s face. I can’t see anything else. She’s wearing a medical mask. Has she been feeling sick?
“I was going to!” Melissa says, throwing up her hands. “It’s not my fault the deer led me to a chipmunk!”
“Hi guys,” I say, finally near enough to address them. Then I wave at Elise, a sort of small and awkward motion. I’m feeling very awkward right now.
Elise smiles—I can see it in the way her face moves around her eyes. “Hello,” she says.
Melissa clasps her hands over her mouth. “Oh oh oh my goodness!” she says, “You’re the guy from the pool! The helpful lifeguard! But I thought you were going to be tall? You aren’t even as tall as Junior!”
“Melissa,” Elise grits out, “I am going to kill you.”
“No you won’t,” Melissa says, wagging a finger. She grins for the first time, and her teeth aren’t straight. “You don’t do that anymore.”
Before anything else can happen, the piano starts playing. Melissa’s eyes go wide, and then she turns and runs, flopping down at the end of the first empty pew.
“I do apologize for the state of my friend,” Elise says. Then she grabs my hand.
I’m so shocked by the gesture that by the time I can think to do anything about it she’s already dragging me across the aisle and into another pew. We sit down, and I stick my hand in my pocket to warm it up. Elise’s skin is ice cold.
“Did you have trouble locating this place?” Elise says.
“No,” I say, “Wait—maybe yes. I mean, I didn’t get lost, but I thought I had.”
Elise stands up, and so does everyone else. I jump to my feet too—there must have been some kind of signal that I missed. Reaching into a sort of wooden pocket attached to the back of the next pew, Elise pulls out a hardback book.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to see probably the tallest man I have ever met. Like he’s not impossibly tall—I’m not exactly widely traveled—but it’s definitely his most notable feature. “Victor,” he says, and he holds out a hand to me.
I take his hand, shake it. “Brad.”
Everyone starts singing. I don’t know the song, and I can’t read music, but the book Elise grabbed turns out to be a hymnal, and I read the words over her shoulder. Immortal invisible and mold me and make me and Adam’s likeness now efface. I don’t really understand most of it.
After a couple of songs everyone sits down. Elise grabs my arm to make sure I know to sit, and I’m not ready for the touch this time either. The piano plays, but no one talks. Victor stands up and leaves, and a minute later I see him handing around a collection basket. I can still feel the place where Elise’s hand was.
“I hope you don’t find this too overwhelming” Elise asks, “Is there anything you would like me to explain?”
I shake my head. “It’s—I mean, it is a little. But I’m resilient. And actually yeah, what’s with the boards?” I point forward, to the bulging wood in the corner behind the pulpit. I still haven’t been able to figure out a purpose for it.
“That’s the crucifix,” Elise says.
I kinda squint. “Why did they cover it?”
Elise looks away. “It was—painful for me to see.”
I bite my lip. That makes sense actually. I feel like it could be kinda weird to look at an image of somebody being tortured all the time, especially if it was somebody you respected. But this answer did spark another question.
“Why are there so many?” I say, and I point to the walls where the boards lie flat.
Elise blinks. Then her eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, why those are the windows!”
I’m just starting to think that this place must have been hit by a heck of a hurricane when Elise continues. “We can’t let the light in.”
I’m about to ask like fifty more questions, but Victor comes and sits down again, and some guy I don’t know starts walking up to the podium, and I figure it might be time for me to shut up. When the podium man starts talking I realize that I do know him. I mean, not really know know, but he's a regular at the pool. I've heard him talking with the water aerobic ladies in the times when it's too dark to see faces. I guess church people do get out sometimes.
With that thought, I start looking around at the other people in the pews. I've missed looking at the way people dress. I think it tells you something about them—what they like, how they want you to see them, if they're organized enough to keep their wardrobe in good order. A lot of that information is just absent when you're wearing a bathing suit. I'd forgotten how much I missed this aspect of people watching. Overall the people here are pretty eccentric. Some of them look like they walked out of a history book. It's probably because they're religious. Traditions like that can have a sort of preservative effect on superficial aspects of a culture. I start visualizing this building as a giant pickle jar, and I imagine what flavor of pickles it would make. Probably that sort of sweeter dill flavor. Anyway, I end up enjoying myself so thoroughly that I honestly kinda space out for most of the sermon.
Eventually I tune back in to reality and notice that Victor is holding a strange platter. It's got a partial loaf of bread in the center. Along the rim are little holes, and slotted inside them are tiny cups of a crimson liquid. Victor pulls off a piece of the bread and picks up one of the cups. He makes eye contact with me and raises his hand like he's making a little toast. "To the new humanity," he says. Then he passes me the platter.
I'm about to do the same thing—my Grandma said that if I was in a new social situation I should just go along with the strange but harmless parts of it—but then I remember Willow at the door. There hasn't been any potluck, so there's a non-zero possibility that he was talking about whatever this is. I pass the platter to Elise.
While Victor is eating his miniature meal, Elise grabs a portion for herself and passes on the platter. Then she reaches her empty hand up to her jawline, and my heart starts pounding as I realize she's gonna take her mask off. I'm finally going to see her face! Unfortunately, she pulls the strap off of the ear facing away from me, and she's still looking forward, so her mask hangs off of the ear near me, and it and her hair kind of get in the way of her chin. I lean forward a little to try and see better, but not so much forward that I feel like it would look weird if she turned around. And it's a good thing, because as soon as I move she does turn around.
I don't really know how to describe it. She had a face, and it was a normal face. A pretty face. I think the initial impression kind of got lost in what happened next. She had eaten the bread piece already, but she still had the cup. We stare at each other for a second. She suddenly remembers what she's doing and takes her drink like a shot. Then she must get struck by the awkwardness of it all, because she smiles, wide and toothy. Like really toothy. Her canines are super crazy long and pointed. And you need to understand, I live and work in a small town in the middle of nowhere. I've seen bad teeth. This is not anything like that.
Everybody around me stands up, and the piano starts playing, but I can't get up and try to sing. Elise puts her mask back on, and pulls out the hymnal. I don't look over her shoulder because I'm too busy sort of rotating every interaction we've had through this new paradigm that just burst over me like a thick and invisible spider web that smacks your face if you're the first person walking on a trail in the morning, but I still catch the words of the chorus. There is power, Elise is singing, power in the blood.
The guy who gave the sermon comes up and prays real quick and then dismisses everybody. Instantly, chatter fills the room. I love the buzz of conversation, the feeling that gossip and business and community is actively growing around me, but I'm kind of too stunned to appreciate it. Elise has this sort of vibe to her, in the set of her shoulders, like she can see my feelings on my face and she wants to fix it for me. I want to tell her that she can't fix what isn't broken, that she didn't do anything wrong, that if I can just think for a little I'll come all around, but I don't get the chance. Melissa slips into the pew ahead of us and slams her hands down on the backboard.
"Junior!" she yells at Victor, "When are we going to play disk golf?"
Victor rolls his eyes, but he looks more amused than annoyed. "You don't want to play disk golf. You want to play fetch."
"Exactly!" Melissa says, "I will bring back all of your disks for you. How is this not a good deal?"
"It's no fun to play alone," Victor says, "I'm too competitive. And since you don't keep a score—"
Melissa slams her hands down on the pew again. Then she points at me. "Pool man!" she yells, "Do you play disk golf? You should play disk golf! Come play with us! It's the best game! I think that you—"
"Woah," Victor says, holding out his hand in front of me, "Don't overwhelm him."
"Sorry," Melissa says, and she sort of leans away and takes a steadying breath and clasps her hands in front of her. "Honored guard of life," she says, "I hereby invite you to disk golf. Would you like to attend?"
"That depends," my big mouth says, "Do I get to bring a date?"
Everyone turns and looks at Elise. Her eyes widen, and then she's nodding. "I—I'd like that, I think," she says.
So uh, yeah that's how I started dating a vampire.