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“And you won’t even think about coming back home?” Mama asked.
“Mama, you remember what it was like when I lived at home. I think one of us would go insane,” I said. “And I don’t think it would be you.”
“Well, if you’re going to be that way, I’m not going to stay here and be insulted.” She exhaled her “You don’t care how much I worry about you” martyr’s sigh. She tucked her handbag under her arm in a prim gesture and made her way to the door.
“John?”
Daddy shot me a bewildered look and rose. “We’ll talk soon, honey.”
“’Bye, Daddy.” I kissed his cheek. “Love you.”
He squeezed my hand and winked at me. “Love you, too, pumpkin.”
“John!” Mama yelled from my front porch. As Daddy walked out, Mama poked her head back inside. “Just pop that pot pie in the oven to reheat at three-fifty for thirty minutes.” Then she disappeared, leaving me and Aunt Jettie gaping after her.
I flopped down on the couch. “I’m adopted, right? Or maybe Dad had some torrid affair with a brilliant but sensible humanities professor. I was the result of their passion, and Dad forced Mama to raise his bastard child as her own?”
“Nope,” Jettie said, shaking her translucent head. “She’s your mother. I asked. Plus, you do look a bit like her. When you’re angry, you both get these tense lines around your mouth…Look, there they are.”
“You’re lucky you’re dead already,” I said, chucking a throw pillow at her. It went right through her torso and bounced off the TV cabinet.
“So, you didn’t tell them,” Jettie observed as I stomped into the kitchen, my bare feet slapping loudly on the tile.
“Nothing gets by you,” I muttered, whipping the aluminum foil cover off Mama’s pot pie. “I just couldn’t. Did you see the looks on their faces? They’re already freaked out by the whole ‘unemployed spinster daughter who lives alone’ thing. I don’t think I want to add ‘dead’ and ‘drinks blood’ to the mix right now.”
“You have to tell them, Janie,” Jettie said, in a firmer tone than she normally takes with me. “‘Did you hear Jane’s a vampire?’ is not something you want your parents to overhear at the Coffee Spot.”
“I will tell them at some point. I just need to get a better fix on my powers, my schedule…”
“Fraidy-cat,” Jettie muttered.
“Poltergeist,” I shot back. The pie was still warm, the gloriously flaky golden crust buckling under my fingers as I scooped out a bite. But it smelled off, as if the cream of chicken had expired. And the onions were strong enough to make my eyes water.
“Honey, you don’t want to do that,” Jettie said. “Look, there are strings attached to this pot pie.”
“I haven’t eaten solid food in three days,” I told her.
“I don’t know if I can watch this,” Jettie said, blanching. “Pot pie is not a finger food.”
“Shhh.” I shoveled the rich, warm pie into my mouth, expecting the pleasant childhood memories I normally associated with the meal to come flooding back to me. Pot pie was one of the few meals Jenny and I could agree on, so Mama made it often. The meals tended to be tension-free because my mouth was full and I couldn’t argue with anybody.
Instead of the homey flavors of my childhood, I tasted dirt. Ash. Dirt. Gym clothes. I spat the casserole out and yelled something along the lines of “Bleh! Blech! Blah!” and ran for the wastebasket. After I’d tossed up whatever was left in my stomach, I wiped my tongue with a blue gingham dishtowel.
“It tastes…Bleh, it tastes like disappointment and feet. It tastes like you cooked it.” I shuddered.
Jettie frowned. “I don’t see why that comment was necessary.”
“The truth hurts.”
“So, no solid food, then?” she asked brightly. “I guess I’ll just empty that box of Hostess Cupcakes into the trash. You can’t eat them after all.”
“Now, see, that’s just mean.”
5
While it’s tempting to try to resume your normal social activities with still-living friends, you must understand that some people will have difficulty adjusting to your new condition. Warning signs that loved ones may be planning to stake you include a sudden interest in carpentry and staring at your chest to gauge where your heart is located.
—From The Guide for the Newly Undead
