Vampire’s Second Chance

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Please hand in all of your essays to Ms. Chamberlain. If you have any questions this weekend, direct them to her as I will be unavailable.” Professor Gilson’s nasal monotone grates on Honor’s ears as she struggles to appear approachable and interested for the benefit of the still surprisingly fresh-faced undergrads. She almost remembers what it felt like to be in their shoes. Almost. Six years of school really beats that bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed spirit out of you.

Honor plasters on a smile and accepts the essays, attempting some semblance of order as they are tossed on her table with little regard. She knows they don’t respect her, she’s just the TA. They will learn. Honor makes a mark on the papers of those students who make eye contact, make an effort to be polite, or even mutter a greeting as they drop their essays in the stack.

Unless the papers are terrible, Honor will give them a little grade bump. Professor Gilson turned her on to the practice when she was an undergrad and now it only seems fair to teach these kids the same lesson. It’s important to treat everybody with kindness because you never know when they’ll be your boss. Or your doctor. Or the doctor of somebody you love.

Professor Gilson watches the last of the students leave before approaching Honor for a real conversation.

“What do you think, Hon?” He grins warmly and leans over to help her straighten the papers into a neat stack.

“They have potential,” Honor replies. “A few will fail because they haven’t taken you seriously.”

Gilson chuckles. “That’s always the case. I’m surprised we only lost two in the first few weeks. Maybe a few more will get the picture after your hard-ass grading.” He winks.

“Mmhmm. Your boring professor routine has had zero impact on them thus far,” Honor observes.

“That is disappointing.” Gilson agrees. “Should we end the experiment?”

“You know, most of these kids take this class because you are exciting and fun. They are just biding their time.” Honor dumps the essays into her bag and puts on her jacket. “Maybe just start teaching the class the way you like to teach it?”

“Sometimes I fear you lost your sense of humor, Honor.” Gilson shakes his head, his eyes suddenly sad. “How’s your mom?”

Honor sucks in a breath before answering. “She’s okay.”

“In case I haven’t told you lately, I’m really grateful you agreed to be my TA this semester.” Gilson reaches out and squeezes her arm.

“Thank you.” Honor changes the subject before she could fall apart in the lecture hall. “I’m sorry, I have to get to work. Those lattes won’t brew themselves!”

She spins on her heel and bolts from the room. Honor doesn’t have to relive her father’s death right now. Even if Gilson was on rounds when they brought him in, even if he helped try to save him, even if he got her back in school and provided her with a TA job that wasn’t in her major just so she would return to school. No time for that. Honor knew full well that he would keep trying reach her. It’s just the type of guy he is. A good one. It helps that he and his wife are friends with her older sister; it gives Honor’s family the illusion that he’s keeping an eye on her.

Honor hops the bus to Westlake and walks to the coffee house on 4th. She loves this city, the way people see you but don’t pay attention, don’t scrutinize. Shifting through the crowds of people heading to happy hours and date nights, Honor is faceless, she blends in somehow. Her eyes flick from face to face, studying them for later use, seeking something interesting to add to her character journal.

Somebody catches Honor’s eye. She stops suddenly, a familiar face across the street. Honor blinks and squints. It can’t be. The hair is longer, a little older, same jawline, looking right at her. Travis. He’s leaning against the wall, his lips curl into a smile just visible in the beams of the street lights. She remembers that smile. Honor blinks again, ignores the people pushing around her, making rude comments about her stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

She steps forward, reaches a hand out. How can it be Travis? Why now? Honor is jostled by a passerby; when she turns back, he’s gone. She laughs to herself. He was never there. Why would she think of him now? Honor frowns and scolds herself for being silly. She shifts her bag on her shoulder and heads toward the café.

“Honor!” Carmen hollers from behind the bar. “Thank the gods you’re here!”

She’s a tiny thing, more hair and jewelry than body. Most people mistake Carmen for a gypsy but she’s lived in Seattle all her life. Honor always finds it strange that it took a random coffee shop job to bring the two native daughters together.

They both grew up on Queen Anne Hill but Carmen was home-schooled until she turned eighteen and rebelled by leaving her family and moving into a one-bedroom flat near Pike Place Market. Carmen is unlike anybody Honor has ever known; maybe she is a bit eccentric but she’s loyal and funny – two things Honor desperately needs in her life.

“Where is everybody?” Honor deposits her bags in the small employee area and reappears with an apron in hand.

“It’s you and me tonight, kid!” Carmen winks. “Just happy to see you! It’s been dead in here tonight.”

“Would you expect any less?” Honor returns Carmen’s hug and surveys the barista station. “Was it busy earlier?”

“Nope.” Carmen shakes her head and gestures toward the only customers in the cafe. “Just Pretty Little Liars in the corner over there.”

Honor snorts. “Let me guess, white chocolate mochas, skinny, no whip. Am I right?”

Carmen nods. “You’re good, but no, they went the way of the chai tea latte this time.”

Honor snaps her fingers in faux disappointment. “So close. Better question, why is this place such a mess if it’s been so slow?”

Carmen shrugs. “You got me. But I’ll help ya clean it up.”

Laughing, Honor starts pulling dirty dishes from the barista area. “I don’t know what you’ve been making but do we have anything clean to work with?”

“We’ll be fine. Nobody’s coming in,” Carmen assures her. “We can do the dishes later.”

“How do you always know?” Honor arches an eyebrow at her friend.

“Cuz I cast a magical spell so we could just hang out tonight,” Carmen teases. She begins dancing around singing some indie rock song that Honor vaguely recognizes. Her bangles clink as Carmen flows around the café, half cleaning as she goes. “Come on, girl, let loose, have fun. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us!”

“I’ve got four hours until close,” Honor reminds Carmen. “This is my short shift and I have papers to grade.”

“Forget the papers, have some fun. You have to loosen up, Hon. You’re working too hard.”

“I have to.” Honor shrugs as she dumps some coffee grounds from the tamp into the compost bin.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re all put upon and tortured but you still need fun in your life. Come on, dance a few songs with me and then we’ll clean up.”

Honor’s eyes flick toward the teen girls in the corner, oblivious to anybody outside their little world. Her shoulders slump and she caves. A few songs won’t hurt. Maybe she is a bit overworked, it would explain her hallucination earlier.

Carmen cheers as Honor begins rocking in rhythm to the music. The tiny woman boogies into the back and cranks up the music until it reverberates through the café, no longer a subtle background beat.

They dance around the coffee shop, weaving around the tables. Honor ignores the young girls who watch them with fascination and awe. She dances, Carmen sings. Honor lets go for the first time in years. She doesn’t know how many songs it takes or when the teens slip out but eventually, Carmen turns the music back down and draws Honor back to reality – and cleaning.

“Feel better?” Carmen asks as they scrub at the coffee stained counter.

Honor nods. “Yeah, I really do.”

Carmen turns on her mega-watt smile. “See, just a little dancin’ can set you right as rain.”

“Thanks, Carmen.” Honor inclines her head toward her friend.

“Anytime, lady, anytime.” Carmen tosses her soiled rag in the tub. “I think it looks good out here, how’s about we do those dishes and head out?”

Honor surveys the café. It’s not bad, not how she would normally leave it for the morning shift but it’s going on ten-thirty and she really needs to get started grading those papers, and, s**t, she has her own paper to finish up before her first class in the morning.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Don’t go getting all tense on me again, Hon.” Carmen watches her warily.

“I’m fine. Let’s just get the dishes done and lock up.” Honor brushes off the concern. “Seriously, I’m fine, I feel so much better after our little dance party. I don’t know how you do that. Maybe you are a bad influence on me.”

“Who, moi?” Carmen asks innocently. “I just pulled you out from behind that bar and made you shake your booty until you looked chill again.”

“Right,” Honor says as she disappears into the kitchen and starts the dish water.

“I’m gonna lock up,” called Carmen through the swinging doors.

Honor washes the dishes ignoring the burning sensation along her chapped knuckles. She really should take better care of her hands.

“Hey, Carmen, you know something that can help with my hands?”

Carmen slides in beside her and starts pulling the dishes from the sanitizer. “Yeah, I’ve got some good stuff. I’ll drop it off to you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Great, thanks.” Honor’s hands are on fire so she moves faster. Scrub, check, scrub, drop in sanitizer, repeat. She and Carmen form an effective assembly line and finish early. Honor scribbles a note for the morning crew and clocks out.

“You wanna get a drink before you head home?” Carmen asks hopefully. She’s been hounding Honor to have drinks for weeks.

“I can’t,” Honor says regretfully. “I have too much to do.”

“Okay.” Carmen doesn’t hide her disappointment. “How about lunch tomorrow? I can bring you that hand cream?”

“I have class so we’d have to eat on campus.” It’s the best she can do.

“Deal. I’ll meet you by the food trucks, ‘kay?” Satisfied, Carmen gives her a quick hug and takes off.

Honor turns toward Westlake to catch her bus. She may have to wait a bit. There’s less traffic on the sidewalks now, though the restaurants and bars offer enough music to fill the streets with sound. Honor watches the faces that pass her, struck with the urge to stop and work in her journal. Surely there are character options in these crowds.

But the essays. Her paper. Honor keeps moving, catches her bus and finds it mostly empty. A few drunk college kids occupy the back and a homeless man seems to be sleeping in one of the handicap seats toward the middle. Honor selects a seat near the front and watches the city pass her by. The drunk passengers exit the bus loudly, pulling her out of her stupor in time to avoid missing her own stop. She pulls the wire to alert the driver. He barely pays attention as she exits the bus, even when she thanks him.

It’s dark on her street. They still haven’t replaced the bulbs in the two streetlights in front of her building. Nice. Honor trudges up the walkway to the house she rents. She wonders if Greg is home. For a second, she hopes he isn’t. There’s a light on in the living room but the house seems quiet. Honor fumbles with her keys and unlocks the door of the old Victorian. It creaks despite her attempt to open it quietly. She pauses to see if Greg calls out to her. He doesn’t. Honor shuts the door. She thinks she sees something in the darkness but dismisses it and locks the door behind her. It’s been a strange night.

Dropping her keys in the bowl, Honor notes Greg must be home since his keys are already present and accounted for. He must have gone to bed. Honor shakes off her jacket and hangs it on the hook. She could use a shower but that would wake Greg for sure. Then they would have to talk and probably have s*x and Honor just couldn’t deal with all that right now. Not that she didn’t love her boyfriend, she does, it’s just that lately things feel forced. Honor pushes the thoughts aside, drops her bag on the worn leather sofa and heads to the kitchen for a glass of wine. Dear god, does that sound amazing. She uncorks a fresh bottle of Cab and pours a generous glass for herself.

Settling into her favorite spot on the sofa, Honor sets her wine down and pulls out her laptop. The blue screen comes to life and in minutes she’s writing again. Some bullshit about existentialism and its impact on modern literature. She vehemently disagrees on this topic but her prof is not one to accept alternate viewpoints. If Honor intends to pass this course and finish her MFA, she desperately needs Professor Conway’s blessing.

It pains her to write the words. To praise somebody for writing about nature as if it were something more than just that. Good thing she poured wine to help her through this heaping pile of manure. Conway will love it though. Honor finishes up her own paper before starting on the essays for Gilson’s class.

She refills her glass of wine and digs in. The first few aren’t bad. Honor’s eyes start to burn with fatigue but she needs to finish a few more before calling it quits. She contemplates sliding from the couch to the floor so it’s more comfortable to use the coffee table but opts to settle back into the pillows, it feels so much better.