Purple Finch Press

Ben Robison —

When I opened the front door and saw the person waiting on the other side of it, I knew it was my big brother Michael, but he looked so strange I hardly recognized him. He had lost a lot of weight, his skin pale and stretched tight over his cheekbones. He had cut his hair short and dyed it jet black, and the coat, jeans, and boots he was wearing were all black as well. 

“How’s it hanging, dude! Long time, no see,” Michael said.

I was still too stunned by his shocking appearance to answer.

“Good to see you too, I guess,” Michael chuckled. “Aren’t you going to let me in?” 

I heard my mom from behind me come rushing towards the door, squealing with glee.

“My baby’s home!” she cried, pushing past me and wrapping her arms around Michael.

“Hi, Mom,” he managed to squeak despite the tight squeeze. “I missed you, too.”

“Well, come in, come in, dinner’s already on the table. I’ll take your bags, you just go get settled, I bet you’re starving. Emerson, go tell your father Michael’s home!” Mom said, waving me away. 

I spun around and trudged down the hallway towards the dining room. I knew I should probably be excited about Michael being home, but to be honest, I was kind of worried about him. He didn’t look well. He was so pale and thin he almost seemed a little sick. I entered the dining room and found Dad placing forks and knives next to each plate on the table.

“Hey, Dad. Michael’s home,” I announced. 

“Oh, perfect timing!” Dad replied. “Would you grab the garlic bread out of the oven for me, sport?”

I nodded and followed the delicious scent into the kitchen. I grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the loaf of cheesy bread out of the oven, setting it carefully on the stove.

“Yuck!” a voice from behind me cried. “Did something die in here? What is that smell?”

I turned around and saw Michael standing in the kitchen, his My Chemical Romance shirt pulled up over his nose. 

“Um…it’s just garlic bread,” I answered. “Smells fine to me.”

He turned away to leave the kitchen and pulled his shirt away from his nose. As his shirt came down, I caught a glimpse of two tiny bruises in the area where his shoulder met the right side of his neck. He hastily covered them up with his shirt, and whipped his head back around to look me in the eyes.

“You didn’t see nothing, you hear me?” he said, his hand still holding his shirt over the marks on his neck. 

“I-I don’t…” I stammered, shocked. He looked furious, but I didn’t know why. It was just a couple of bruises, after all. 

“You tell Mom and Dad what you saw and you’re dead, you got it? Dead.” Michael continued.

I quickly nodded my head, every other part of my body frozen in fear. He stared me down for another moment. Then, eyes still locked on mine, he let go of his shirt and with the same hand held his pointer finger up against his lips. His neck was uncovered, but I didn’t dare take another look. “Dead,” Michael mouthed, and walked backwards out of the kitchen.

I took a deep breath as soon as he was out of sight, and placed my oven mitted-hand over my heart as it thundered in my chest. “What on earth was that about?” I wondered. “I’ve never seen him like that before.”

Then the idea struck me like a bolt of lightning: His pale skin, his dark clothes, his reaction to the garlic bread, the two little marks on his neck….

“Dead”

My eyes widened at the thought as my mouth dropped open in a silent gasp. 

“Emerson!” Dad called from the dining room. “I asked you to take the bread out of the oven ages ago, what’s taking you so long?”

I didn’t move. “It can’t be,” I thought. 

“Come on honey, your steak’s getting cold!” Mom called.

I grabbed the tray of garlic bread and carried it slowly into the dining room, my hands shaking. Mom and Michael were loading up their dinner plates with shrimp and green beans while Dad sliced up some steak sirloin. 

“There you are!” Mom said, turning around in her seat as I entered. “Have a seat, Michael was just getting ready to tell us all about his first semester!”

While Mom still had her back turned, Michael locked eyes with me and placed his pointer finger against his lips once more.

“I bet the food at the dining commons wasn’t this good was it, Mike?” Dad chuckled, placing a few strips of steak on Mom’s plate. I sat down at the table and put the tray of garlic bread in the center, my hands still shaking.

“Oh, no,” Michael answered. “I never ate at the dining commons if I could help it.”

“I can tell. No freshman fifteen for you I guess, huh?”

“Henry!” Mom said, slapping his wrist. 

“What?” Dad asked. “I was just pointing out he’s looking a lot thinner these days, that’s all. You do get enough to eat though, right son? Should we pack you more snacks when you leave?”

“No, that’s alright. There isn’t a night that I go hungry, don’t worry about that. I’ve just changed up some of my eating habits recently, that’s all.”

I looked over at Michael with wide eyes, but he avoided my gaze. I grabbed a couple slices of garlic bread and put them on my plate as Michael continued. 

“On the weekends there are some great little food trucks parked on the boardwalk.”

“Go to the beach often?” Dad asked.

“Pretty much everyday” Michael answered. 

“Why are you so pale then?” I blurted out. 

Everyone at the table paused to look at me. 

Mom and Dad looked over at Michael and waited for his reply. Michael set his fork down on his plate and cleaned his teeth with his tongue before answering. 

“Well, that’s because I go at night, of course,” he said, still refusing to look at me. He took a sip from his water cup and continued. “That’s when all the college kids are out and about. That’s when it’s the most fun. At night. But that’s enough about me. How’s school going for you, Emerson? 5th grade treating you well?”

Michael looked at me for the first time since I sat down. He glared at me over the rim of his cup as he took another sip of water. I looked down at my plate. 

“It’s fine,” I muttered.

The table went quiet for a moment. Mom munched away on her green beans as Dad finished slicing up another steak.

“Sorry, Mike, this one’s a little rare,” Dad said, using a knife to drop some strips on Michael’s plate.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Michael answered. “I actually like it a little…bloody.”

I slammed my hands down on the table and jumped out of my seat. “That’s it!” I shouted. “I can’t take it anymore! Mom, Dad, I gotta tell you something.”

“Emerson, sit down,” Michael said. He shot me another warning look, but I ignored it.

“You tell them, or I will!” 

“Boys, what’s going on?” Mom asked.

“Emerson!” Michael said, louder this time.

I grabbed the pieces of garlic bread off of my plate and hurled them across the table. Michael leapt out of his seat angrily as the pieces of bread bounced off his chest and landed on the floor. I grabbed my fork and knife and held them out in front of me to form a cross. 

“Stay back!” I screamed. “Michael is a vampire!”

“Emerson, knock it off,” Dad said.

“It’s true, I swear! He’s been bitten, there’s marks on his neck! Just look!”

Michael dropped back down in his seat, put his head in his hands, and groaned.

“See, it’s working! The cross is making him weak!”

Michael sat up and rolled his eyes. “You mean these marks?” he said, pulling down his shirt collar to reveal the two small bruises. Mom and Dad leaned closer to inspect them curiously. 

“Ever heard of a hickey, Emerson?”

I looked back and forth between Mom and Dad, but neither of them said anything. “But…you said if I told Mom and Dad about them I would be dead,” I said.

Michael sighed. “Yeah, I wanted to tell them myself when I was ready. But since you beat me to it, I might as well just come right out and say it.” Michael took a deep breath and turned towards Mom. “The hickeys are from a girl I met at school. Her name is Bella. And we’re kind of dating now.”

Mom gasped. “A girl? Michael, why didn’t you tell me right away?” she said excitedly. 

“Well, I was waiting for the right time,” Michael continued. “I was going to tell you after dinner, actually. I thought Emerson was going to spoil the surprise, so I told him to keep quiet. But I guess he was thinking of something else.” Michael looked over at me and grinned. “You really thought I was a vampire?”

“Well, you wanted your steak bloody!”

“I was joking!”

“There isn’t any blood in cooked steak anyway. It’s just juice,” Dad chimed in.

I thought for a moment. My cheeks filled with color as I slowly sat back down.

“Listen, I guess I can kind of see why you thought that. But, come on. Really? I’ll forgive you for throwing bread at me if we just put the whole vampire thing behind us, alright?” Michael chuckled.

“Yeah, I want to hear more about this Bella,” Mom said. “Is she cute? Where’s she from? How did you meet her?”

“Alright, alright, I remember why I didn’t want to tell you right away,” Michael said, standing up. “I’ll answer all your non vampire-related questions in a minute, I just need to get a refill,” he said, holding up his empty cup.

“Be careful it’s not holy water, Mike,” Dad said. 

Everyone laughed. Except me. I thought for sure that Michael was a vampire. But of course he wasn’t. I felt so silly. I watched him eat a normal dinner with us. He drank water, not blood. He was perfectly fine when he got hit with the garlic bread. And nothing happened when I brandished a cross. I made a complete fool of myself over nothing. I watched Michael walk away feeling like an idiot for ever thinking my own brother was a blood-sucking monster. 

But as Michael walked into the kitchen and passed by the ornate mirror on the dining room wall, I didn’t see his reflection appear in the mirror….