The Hundred Questions (part 1)

We had gone down and enjoyed the dinner in silence. I wasn’t really sure if he intended to have a chat while we ate or if he considered it improper to speak at all while chowing down. I enjoyed a real homemade meal without interruption anyways. There was no comparison between what he fed me last night and this incredible dish. It did occur to me that all I managed to eat last night was Mr. Corso’s blood, if I could consider that a meal. Again, the thought that he had red jelly flowing through his veins made my stomach flip.

That was a thought I was glad to have after dinner had been finished off.

He finally spoke up for the first time since we left my room. “Thirsty?”

“Could I have water?” That was a question I wanted to ask. What could I eat and drink? Obviously, after having his cooking, I guessed I could eat just about anything. “Is water okay?”

He hesitated before heading into the kitchen. Rolling his hands, gesturing at me in a funny way, he went over what I’d just said. “Can I have water? Are you asking me if you’d like some water or if it is safe to drink? Because I can at least testify it ain’t well water.” His posture gave me an impression he was ready to head into the kitchen once I clarified my meaning.

“May I have water?” He thrust a triumphant finger in the air, looking down, nodding, and blindly walking away into the kitchen for my request. He came back out soon with both a glass of pure water and his own black bottle of that old blood-wine. That made me curious. “How much of that do you own?”

Laughter. He lifted the bottle up, turned it around to the label and read it aloud. “Sixteen forty-one, Toulouse.” He set the bottle down on the table and my glass in front of me. It took me a second to figure out that the other bottle he had was from a year later.

That didn’t answer my question. Was he suggesting there was a yearly batch of it? How much of it? I began to cringe harder as I mulled over the quantity. Did I really want to know now?

I felt the need to wash my mouth out quickly and raised my glass to gulp a clear rinse down. “I’m not going to get used to drinking blood.”

“Okay. You don’t have to so long you’re not hurt.” He held his hand up to show the injury he’d had yesterday was long gone. “See? One draught and swig later, I’m all better.” While he had his hand up, it snatched a box of Marlboros off the top shelf. I looked away and gave the window outside a glance.

“Any chance I could go outside today?”

“Tonight? Yeah, sure.” I could hear his voice become kinda muffled around the word ‘sure.’

Recalling how he had to wear full cover from the Sun, it made me wonder. “Sunlight burns us?”

“Burns me. Fuck if I know about you. Go’fer it.” I was a little confused about something. My dad smoked, but went out to do so when he started to get cranky. It calmed him. Mr. Corso, on the other hand, appeared to get cranky after doing a puff. It made no sense.

“Why do you smoke?” He pinched the cig between his fingers and removed it with a restrained cough.

“Because I can. Problem with that?” I shook my head. It just added more questions. Ones that I thought could be left unanswered.

Getting up out of my seat, I picked the plate off of the table to carry the dirty dish into the kitchen. This was my first time walking in and seeing what all he had available. It had a stocked rack of different bottles to one side, but nowhere near as much I had thought he might have in view of what I’d seen of his consumption. If he drank like he did last night, this all would be gone within a half year, maybe.

On the counter, next to a double sink, there was a tray of cleaned dishes that still had the glistening evidence of being wet. Did he have company over earlier? I was looking at how many plates were drying in the tray when Andie yelled at me.

“Trash what’s on the plate before you drop it in the sink.” Giving the plate a closer inspection, it only had a few greasy bits left on it. Too small for it to be considered a nibble, let alone a bite. Obeying, I turned and stepped on a pedal on the trashcan, and tilted the plate down to scrap away with a fork. All while I did this, I watched for his reaction to turn the dish in for the sink. Once he nodded, I complied with a quick rinse under the faucet and deposit.

“Uh… Where is the soap?” I looked around for the detergent, expecting it to be sitting somewhere on the counter. Then I thought it might be below the sink where the pipes hung out. Squatting down, I opened that bottom cabinet up and saw what I was looking for.

“Yeah, there. You good?” I gave him a quick glance over my shoulder, seeing him jut a thumb back into the dining room to gesture his leave. Nodding, he turned and left while I got up and squirted a dot to smear its sanitation over my dishes.

This was another note on vampirism that appeared false. Running water over my hands didn’t do anything more than what it normally did. That was a relief. I really was in need of a shower for physical and emotional reasons.

First, I wanted to try going outside.

Placing the plate and its utensils in the tray to dry, I headed back to the dining room to give Mr. Corso a heads up on where I was heading. “Going to step out.” Sitting at the table again, he didn’t bother to look at me as he waved a glowing and smoking cigarette over his shoulder. He was facing the window, but keeping away from the warm ray of sunshine coming in.

It just occurred to me that the location of the dining table was no accident. That explained a lot.

I walked out and experimented with the sunlight. First, my hand. It didn’t burn. Felt warm, but certainly not close to being hot. Taking a step out, I got the full treatment bathed over me. Again, nice and warm. Maybe age had something to do with it?

Mr. Corso’s age reminded me of what he said earlier about being new at this. Walking back in, I waved at him as I re-entered the dining room. He didn’t look. Something was definitely holding his attention outside.

I turned around and backed up until I was at his distance from the window. Bending over, I tried to be in the same kind of perspective as he so I could catch what he was looking at. So far, I was clueless. Nothing was out of place and no one was around.

Turning to face him, I asked the obvious question. “What are you looking at?”

“Watching for your-- Never mind.” He put the cig back between his lips and inhaled before giving me his attention. “Well, you’re not crispy.” I nodded with a smile. “Yeah, sure, rub it in.” He waved at a seat, but reached out to grab and pull it out for me to sit in. “Sit.”

Once seated, I asked the question that was confusing me about him. “Earlier, you said something about being new at this. I thought you were hundreds of years old?”

“Yeah, yer right about that.” He pulled the cig out of his mouth and gave it a look before glancing back at me. “I meant you. I’ve never had experience with taking care of a kid before.”

“Why did you do it?” He deflated and gave me a laugh, rolled his eyes, and shook his head with a curse.

“Fuck if I know. I told you. Out of everyone in this Godforsaken world, you chose to talk to me about your problem.” Looking back at me, he was a bit more sincere about what he said next. “You didn’t randomly pick me. When I went over the options on who to tell, that was a command. I was trying to kick you out, just like how I ordered your mom to waltz right back into her house.” Waving a hand up in the air at me, he mimicked my voice. “You said, ‘I told you.’”

I was lost for a moment. What problem did I have? Searching inwardly, I tried to recall why I had originally been brought to Mr. Corso’s home. Brought… I hadn’t come here by my free will. I was forced. Maybe I could trick him to reveal who my ‘problem’ was.

Brainstorming about it for a moment, I came up with a good line that could get this ball rolling. “It’s not like I had much choice when being forced to come here.” With a shrug and shake of his head, he looked back out the window.

“If they’d done anything to you, I would have put a stop to it.” They. More than one person.

“Why didn’t you go with that rather than doing what you did to me?” I wanted to know more about who these problems were, but how he handled the situation did bug me a little more than it should have.

“After this, take a shower and clean out those fucking ears. How many Goddamn times do I have to tell you? You chose me.” After he said that, he took his time dragging out that cig he held up to his mouth. I guess I was wrong about that cigarette? Maybe it was helping him cope with something else on top of dealing with me.

Leaning my head back, I was wondering if he was smoking now because that ‘something’ happened to be my questioning. After all, he didn’t light up his cig until I spoke after dinner. Did that mean I was going to endure his attitude every time I had a question?

Feeling irritated, I shook my head and got up out of my seat. “I’ll take the shower now.” Not bothering to see how he responded, I left. It took me a minute to find the bathroom. I had expected it to be upstairs, but it turned out to be a downstairs one. Unless there was a second one hiding upstairs somewhere? Maybe cobwebs were concealing its location?

That was a project I was considering. This house needed cleared, cleaned, and sanitized. A whole lot of care was lacking here. For the moment, and day, that was going to be put on hold.