Fruit Day 3

The darkness played with the shadows on my wall, creating Grim Reapers who marched along my walls. I tried to close my eyes, and block out the fortune teller, but it was no use; her words resounded in my head. Her full lips forming the words, as she said, “You will die, soon.”
I thought of my parents, this would break their hearts. I wasn’t quite sure, how the curse played into my death. I was the seventh female who carried the vampire gene, and at my death, I would become a vampire. I wondered how was I supposed to pass on the gene, if I died without ever having children. This curse was on my maternal side, and she had passed it on to me, and it grew stronger with each recipient.
The gene was so strong in me, that I had vampire traits people thought were just personality quirks. I had been able to remember lines from books the first time I read them. I could feel colors and colors affected my moods. I craved red meat, and raw sushi was a favorite of mine. I could stay up nights, and work on few hours of sleep, and I had an uncanny ability to persuade people into giving me my way. My mother had none of these talents; she was a simple woman who enjoyed cooking, shopping and her family around her. The fortune teller had called her a breeder, I guess she was a means to an end, me, the vampire.
I had wanted to have children, but Henry would never budge on this point. This was only persuasion that I could not win, even with my art of persuasion. Maybe there was something about me that told him, I wasn’t breeding material. I guess the eighth female in line would probably be born with fangs. I wouldn’t have cared, I would have loved to have Henry’s child. My mother had me, and I was sort of normal, until I die.
A nervous, hysterical laugh to escape my chest, as I thought, “My mother created a vampire?”
Yvette Lyons Denoncourt was barely capable of watching an entire horror movie, much less giving birth to a Vampire. Yvette was a housewife that had been protected by the cruel world by her first love, Maurice. She was perfectly happy in her home. I had admired her efforts to raise three children, but I prided myself in being her opposite.
Yvetter would roll her eyes at her only daughter, and ask, “Selina, when are you going to start listening to me?’
I would bite my tongue and think, “Never.”
My mother raised with the idea of having a man to take care of her. My mother could barely make a decision without consulting my dad. My mother’s generation had no idea that there was a world out there, and that it was perfectly fine to be selfish. My mother never bought a purse or shoes unless they were on sale. She never took a trip, as long as she needed to use the money for her family’s needs.
I grew up in the eighties, where women were in control of their lives and their world. I made decisions, good or bad, based on my wants and needs, not others. I had dreams of seeing the world, and experiencing life. I had traveled to Europe, and when I returned, I met Henry, and fell in love.
Once I fell in love, life changed and shifted from me to we. I found that everything I had learned from my parents’ relationship was the way I approached love. Europe was an afterthought, only if Henry would go with me. I considered Henry in every decision I made. My first job was around the corner from Henry’s house, where we would live when we got married. Henry was the center of the universe, and as long as he was with me, I was happy. I hadn’t even noticed, I turned into my mother, and she was thrilled! Finally, I wasn’t the rebellious daughter; I had crossed over into her universe.
After Henry emotionally abandoned me for his online world, I was no longer blinded by love. I was living a life that I wasn’t a participant, but a mere drone going through the motions. I woke up when the clock rang, ate to stay alive, and slept when I was exhausted. I didn’t enjoy anything, I did it out of necessity, and that was my breaking point.
I got in my car that afternoon and drove for about an hour before I pulled over, and called Henry. For the first time in five years, I was being selfish and taking control of my life.
My voice was hoarse from crying, when I left the message and said, “Henry, I’m leaving you, it’s over.”
I heard the phone fumble, and he said a sudden, “Selina, hey!”
I felt the tears welling in my eyes, and I choked, “I can’t do this.”
“Wait! Come home! I’ll put the computer off, okay.”
I hung up the phone, and it immediately rang, and I couldn’t stomach to answer it. I went home to an empty house, and crawled into bed. It was about six months that I walked around in a daze, angry with the world for my perfect life had become Hell. I was disappointed. Yvette and Maurice had succeeded in love, and I was a failure. I took care of Henry’s needs before my own, making dinner, cleaning and arranging my life, so that I was there for him. He took my love as naivety and emotionally abandoned me for a virtual life with other women. I ate dinner, slept in a bed with a man who I adored, yet I was alone.
When I had the panic attack six months later, the fear that took over my body was that I had become my mother, and my life was not my own. Now, I knew that my days were numbered, yet I didn’t feel the panic of having my mother’s life.
I flipped on the light on next to my bed. I closed my eyes taking a deep breath, enjoying the act of air filling my lungs. I didn’t have too many breaths left.
I sighed, “At least my life is my own, even if it is ending soon.”