Blood Doll (18)

Sanguinarian love.

Ang arrives soon after me. My parents reside on the back patio among the many plants though dusk has fallen. Because of this, I refrain from wasting my breath shushing the speech-filled Ang. Her interrogation of my date remains unanswered until we are safely shut away in my room.

            With Ang’s tall form sprawled out on my bed, I gently lay Mason’s trench coat on a chair and dig through my Munster-esque dressers.

            “Come on, Eve!” Ang whines. “Spill now, or forever hold your peace.” She flips onto her stomach, chin resting on a Teddy Scare as I unhook my corset and don a Glow-in-the-Dark Halloween shirt. “You must be totally dying to tell me everything.”

            Once I have traded my skirt for sweatpants, I join her on my bed.

            Her eyes have glassed over by the time I finish a Sanguinarian-less revision of my date. At first, I think I have lost her, but soon she says, “I wish Andrew would do something as sweet as that. And you and this guy aren’t even dating yet.” In a flash, she is sitting, eyes trained on me suspiciously. “Or is there something you aren’t telling me? Spill it, missy.”

            Holding up my hands in surrender, I reassure her. “Nothing else happened, I swear. It was just dinner and the kiss.” Heat highlights my cheeks as I review my first kiss.

            Satisfied, she sinks onto her back once more and picks at her chipped turquoise nails. “I want to meet him, this Mason kid. I need to lay down the law: You hurt my friend, you end up at the bottom of the Nile.” Her fists she waves warningly in my face.

            Straining to suppress a chuckle, I say, “Yes, of course you do.”

            “No, but seriously. When do I get to meet this handsomely mysterious figure?”

            This I contemplate. “I don’t know yet. Perhaps sometime after next Saturday.”

            Ang’s owl ears perk. “Next Saturday? What’s happening then, huh?” When the only response she receives is an uncontained grin, she fist-pumps the air. “Eve’s got a date! Eve’s got a date!”

            Quickly, I shush her. “I haven’t told my parents about it.”

            “And why not?”

            “What do I tell them? I met him at a club when I said I was sleeping over at your house? That won’t go over well, Ang,” I tell her. “No, I’m keeping it a secret for a bit longer.”

            Scrutinizing me with her large eyes, she finally acquiesces. “Don’t you have to go to the doctor’s tomorrow?”

            “Oh, crap. Thanks for reminding me. It’s at eight.”

            Raising my stuffed bat above her head and wiggling it around, Ang asks, “Mind if I tag along? I promise to be my namesake.” She bats her eyelashes at me and draws a halo over the top of her head with her finger.

            “As long as you let me get some sleep now,” I assent. “If they take blood, I need to be rested.”

            “Aye, aye, Captain!” Angel removes and throws her bra to the floor then wriggles under the covers with me.

            “You’re going to be so cranky tomorrow, having to wake so early,” I tell her. Stretching to reach the scarf-covered lamp on my nightstand, I flick off the switch.

            “Yup.”

            As expected, it takes ten frustrating minutes to wake a groggy Ang and usher her into the shower. By the time I have gotten us both ready and in my rusted automobile, we are threatened with being late.

            Poodle-like blonde hair meets us as we rush into the doctor’s office, approach the front desk. The receptionist, sporting such hair, slides open the glass window separating us and notifies the doctor of my arrival. Once through, I hustle Ang to the waiting room. Shortly, an unfamiliar nurse struts in and announces my name. Poor Ang giggles at the nurse’s booming voice, and I regret stopping by Starbucks for her.

            The room I am led to after my height and weight have been taken is decked with rainbows. As the sanitation paper crinkles beneath my bum, the nurse takes my temperature and heart rate. Without a word, she departs, leaving me to assume the doctor shall come.

            Three lengthy minutes later my door creaks inward. Filling the doorway is the stout, plump Dr. Reese. Her lab coat has been left unbuttoned, advertising a slightly faded lilac blouse and tan slacks. She hefts herself onto the spinny chair and proceeds to press her stethoscope to my flesh.

“Any pressure?” she asks. Opposed to my nurse, Dr. Reese’s voice is soothing. “Fullness in your veins?”

I nod. “It’s not as bad as it usually is, though. I didn’t really notice it until this morning.”

            While recording my heart rate on her clipboard, she asks, “Have you done anything different lately? Different eating habits, daily schedule? Heavier menstrual cycle?”

            “No.” That word is short, despite my attempts to appear nonchalant. Dr. Reese peers up at me, obviously skeptical.

            “We have been open with each other for all of these years, and you pick now to be evasive?” Bits of humor dot her speech. “Come on. It’s completely confidential unless you are hurting yourself. You can tell me.”

            For a moment, I bite my bottom lip. Finally, I admit, “I let someone drink my blood. He’s a Sanguinarian.”

Dr. Reese nods with understanding. My face must appear dumbfounded because she laughs jovially. “Didn’t think I knew about them, did ya?” When I shake my head, she continues. “You did it safely? Used sterile equipment? How much did he�"it was a he?” With another nod of my head she, requests to see the wound.

            “Plural,” I correct as I lift my tank top.

            If she had not fully understood what ‘plural’ meant, she does now. She nods, pleased as my cuts pass the inspections of her fingertips and eyes. “They are healing miraculously. Just be careful. I assume you are going to do it again?” I give her a noncommittal face and replace my tank top. “Do or do not; be careful either way. It can be a good thing for you to do that anyhow.”

            “Because I make too much blood?

            Dr. Reese rolls herself via roll-y chair to the sink and thoroughly washes her hands. “You coming here every month to be tested costs your parents a whole lot of money.”