Vampire and Single

4. The Family Gathering

Sunday

3.12 p.m.  I disliked family gatherings before I became a vampire. No matter how hard I tried to wriggle out of them my mother would always find a way of making me attend them.  Nothing has changed on this front. Today my entire family is squashed into my Aunt Polly and Uncle Don's tiny living room. 

Some family members are pushing revolting looking buffet food around paper plates whilst casting worried expressions at their partners. Nobody knows what Aunt Polly does to food. It's like she tortures it. I came up with a variety of impressive excuses not to come today; a stomach ache, a persistent head ache, a fear of being surrounded by a lot of people who have annoyed me over the years and a troubling urge to sink my fangs into someone's neck. 

My mother's response was 'absolute rubbish, Sasha, please be at your Aunt and Uncle's bungalow for 2pm.'

My Aunt Polly is one of those people who complains about being permanently cold. To look at her you would think that she had enough body fat to keep her warm for a decade. Aunt Polly developed an obsession for meat pies and chips during her youth. 

Despite her roly poly shape she still struggles to get warm. As a child I learnt the art of ignoring Aunt Polly moan about how blue her hands were and how one cardigan was never enough. 

Aunt Polly has a close relationship with her central heating thermostat. When she's not cooking up a delight in the kitchen she's cranking up the temperature. As soon as you walk into her living room the stifling heat and Uncle Bob's foot odour problem hits you in the face. Within seconds you are wiping a layer of sweat from your brow and wishing Uncle Bob would go see a doctor. 

Their taste in room decoration; a complicated and heavy floral wallpaper, is a shock to your eyes too. Going round to Aunt Polly's house is a nightmare for all your senses. Uncle Don is a dull man who has stinking feet and likes to talk. The worst combo for any relative.  

He hunts you down, plonks himself next to you and starts to tell you about his day, in granular detail. There is nothing he won't tell you; the number of cars in the queue at the traffic lights, the amount of times he had to change gear and the time it took him (in minutes) to get from his house to the local DIY store.

He likes DIY, even though every piece of furniture in their bungalow is falling down. No one has the heart to tell him that he cannot make wooden cabinets, put up shelves or decorate properly.

These family gatherings were torturous before I was turned into a vampire. Now they are a form of hell.  The heat seems to drive my killer instincts wild and the smell of lots of bodies in close proximity makes me sit and claw at my jeans.

I am sat squashed between my Uncle Don and my Aunt Polly on their purple floral sofa. My body is starting to stiffen and my jaw is starting to hurt.  All I can think about is how I need to escape from this family gathering before I kill someone.

Uncle Don is explaining to me the different sizes of nails in his toolbox, whilst my Aunt is complaining about how cold she is to my mother, who is sat on a stool next to the sofa.

I am starting to do a weird tongue lick thing and my eyes have become fixated on the large bulging green vein in Uncle Don's neck. It quivers slightly as he talks. I have to stop thinking about what his blood will taste like. I must focus on what a nice Uncle he has been to me over the years, how he bought me that pink Barbie bike when I was young and how he offered to decorate my flat when I first moved in. 

I tell myself that he maybe a little annoying but he doesn't deserve to die.

3.15 p.m. Ok, so the fascination with the vein in my Uncle's neck is now so bad I am leaning closer and closer to him. I cannot stop licking my lips, which is really worrying me. His vein looks thick with blood. I am now gazing longingly at it.  He is too busy telling me about his nail collection to notice that I am practically drooling over his neck vein.

This is sick. I must get a grip of myself.

'Sasha, love - what are you doing?' asks my mother, making me snap out of my neck obsession and sit back quickly.

'What was she doing, Joan?' asks my Aunt Polly.

'She was staring at Don's neck,' whispers my mother to her sister.

I can hear them talking about me. Tact and diplomacy are not something my mother or her sister are strong in.

'She does look a little strange today," hisses Aunt Polly, giving me a concerned look. 

'I can hear you both,' I say, trying not look at Uncle Don's vein.

'Any sign of Mr Right?'  asks Aunt Polly, passing me a plate of under cooked sausage rolls. 

'No,' I snap. Becoming a vampire has put a stop to any plans I had for finding Mr Right.

'He'll come along shortly, Sasha,'  reassures my Aunt. 'You are still young so you don't have to worry about missing your baby window just yet!' she says tapping me on my leg and making me flinch.

Baby window - ha! I think I have more important things to worry about than missing that. Somehow I think finding a man to take on me and my vampire ways will be a bigger challenge.

'I don't think I will be having babies,' I snap. It causes a gasp from both my mother and Aunt.

'Sasha you are our only child,' states my mother. 'As I have told you on many an occasion, your father and I are expecting grandchildren,' she snaps.

I hate the pressure my mother puts me under about having kids.

'I can't wait to hold my first grandchild,' gushes my mother with twinkling eyes.

I try to visualise my mother holding my baby and making some comments about the shape of the baby's teeth and glowing eyes. Managing that future situation is going to be tricky.

'You will be an amazing grandmother, Joan,' cries Aunt Polly, reaching out to give her sister's arm a squeeze.

I can't take this anymore.

'Sasha, let me tell you about the types of tools I will be using to fix that cabinet,' says Uncle Don, pointing to a wonky wooden cabinet in the far corner of the living room.

Here come my fangs! I clamp my hand over my mouth and try to stifle a growl.

"Sasha,' cries my mother. 'Do you have to burp in Aunt Polly and Uncle Don's house?'  she snaps.

'Is she drunk?' whispers Aunt Polly to my mother.

'No I am not drunk.'  I say, feeling uncomfortable and unable to stop looking at my Uncle's neck.

'Drugs perhaps?' hisses Aunt Polly.

'No I am not on drugs,' I say, before rising from the sofa.

'Sasha, sit back down,' orders my mother.

'I am an adult and I have had enough,' I bark, stifling another growl.

'Definitely drugs Joan, look at her eyes,' whispers Aunt Polly, before biting into an odd looking pork pie.

I leave the room and leave the bungalow, slamming the door on my way out.

Today I dislike being a vampire and family gatherings.