So I'm a Vampire... Now What? - Book 2 (Original Version)

Chapter 9.7 - So Much For the Afterglow

It should have been raining.

It was that kind of scene, Jaime standing a few feet away from me with this agony all over her face, the kind of agony that caused my stomach to drop in response. Even though things had gone so bad between us, there was still that kind of connection where I still responded to her pain on a deep level. Her eyes were red and puffy. Apparently, there had been a lot of crying going on and she was not in a good state.

She didn't even have the energy to yell at me.

"My dad died yesterday," she said, and her face screwed up as the tears came again. I hardly noticed, the news coming like such a punch in the gut that took all of the breath out of me.

There was the guilt, of course, the kind of guilt that is born out of building a relationship with someone and then disappointing them in a huge way. Jaime's dad and I had connected in a good way and he had actually liked me despite himself. He once said that he saw such potential for me but that I needed a little bit of help to achieve it, and I had respected that. I had even wanted to live up to it, even if it was just to prove him right. Maybe even impress him a little. But the drugs had been too much of a trap for me, and that had been the beginning of the end. After the breakup, he had reached out to me, but I had never responded, mainly out of shame.

And now he was dead.

Fuck.

"Were you coming to see me?" I asked, fighting that hollowness, that loss that I couldn't quite name. Jaime nodded, a sob breaking out from her and she wrapped her arms around herself, looking so lost and alone. I wanted to hug her, but I held back, not wanting to be punched.

Jaime somehow managed to calm herself.

"Can we go somewhere?"

"You want to go grab a coffee? There's a Starbucks around the corner."

Jaime broke down again, her ugly crying definitely not done with. It probably wouldn't be done for a very long time. I reached out to her this time and she didn't resist, allowing herself to be folded into my arms.

"Okay, maybe some rum would be better," I said, not wanting to admit how damn good it felt to hold her again. "For both of us."

Down the block, two men staggered onto the sidewalk, trading blows. One of the men seemed to be limping as if he had been punched in the balls.

***

We went to the pub across the street from the Tim Hortons instead. It was all dark wood and crisp white aprons, an oddity in this neighbourhood of dive bars and questionable, but good Shawarma restaurants. Another sign of the gentrification that was "reclaiming' parts of the city, another word for "kicking the previous tenants out and renting higher to some trendy moron with too much money to burn." It was dimly lit, perfect for hiding tears. Strings of yellowish Christmas lights had been strung up on the walls above all of the booths, but they looked more at home than being festive. It was that kind of place.

"Dad liked you, you know that, right?" Jaime said as she downed her third shot and grimaced at the taste of the tequila. "Ack, how do you even drink this stuff?"

"I guess you never told him about..." I let the question dangle in the air, that great pain between us of a child that never was. "You know," I finished lamely."

"No," Jaime shook her head motioned for the bartender to pour her some scotch instead. "That would have been too much for him. He'd just gotten the diagnosis so it... it was just was bad timing all around."

"I liked your dad too," I admitted. "I would have liked to have seen him before he died."

There was a distant look on Jaime's face, a battle of emotions and pain that she tried to shut out and failed.