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“You don’t mind if we take the evening trolley, do you?” Irving asked. “We were meant to accompany the others in a fashionable elongated vehicle, but I simply have no tolerance for those fang-girls.”
Sage guffawed. “A fashionable elongated vehicle? Are you talking about a limo?”
“Yes, of course,” Irving affirmed. “That is the definition, isn’t it?”
“And I assume by ‘evening trolley’ you’re referring to the bus?”
“That’s it. Apologies, I’m painfully out of touch with the present era,” he confessed. “I swear, sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I was strapping my horses to the Berline. The industrial revolution really changed things.” He stared off for a moment, as though caught in the midst of a bout of nostalgia, before saying, “I can see the bus coming now.”
Sage squinted in the direction Irving was looking, but saw no bus. “There’s nothing there, Irving,” she remarked. She puzzled over his mention of horses and the industrial revolution. He sometimes spoke as though he’d lived during certain historical events. Of course, it was impossible for Irving to have been alive during the 17th and 18th centuries, when horse drawn carriages were the source of transportation and industrial revolutions occurred.
“Oh, well that’s because it’s too far away for your eyes to detect,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “I suppose it’s also too dark as well. Can you see in the dark? I can’t remember what my vision was like before the transformation.”
As they entered the bus, Sage wondered what Irving had meant by ‘transformation.’ Perhaps he’d been referring to the process of laser eye surgery. If there was one thing she’d realized about the man, it was his peculiar choice of words.
Irving made a face as they moved to occupy a pair of open seats. He sniffed, and, pressing the back of his hand to his nose, said, “I forgot how foul these moving tin containers smell. The scent is of feces and unwashed vagabonds.”
“Really? I don’t smell anything,” Sage declared.
“Be thankful you don’t,” Irving replied, choking.
Arriving at the stop closest to the restaurant, Irving eagerly vacated the bus. Sage followed suit, perplexed by his antics. The man gasped for air as though he’d been holding his breath for the entire ride. His breath puffed in front of his face in the cold air. He then announced his thanks to the ‘evening’s fragrant waft.’ His behavior was so bizarrely theatrical, Sage began to suspect he was acting under the influence of an illegal substance.
She beckoned for him to look at her before entering the restaurant. If he was using drugs, she would be able to tell by the dilation of his pupils. A sense of dread settled in Sage’s stomach.I should have known a troubled man like him would be into drugs,she thought. She gazed into his eyes, though, given that it was dark outside, his pupils would naturally be dilated. Realizing this, Sage took the direct root. “Irving,” she said, seriously, “be honest with me. Are you high right now?”
Irving cocked his head, inquisitively. “What an odd thing to ask me,” he remarked. “Yes, I suppose I am high. I stand at exactly six foot one and three quarter inches tall. If I’m not mistaken, that’s higher than average. So, yes, that would make me high.” He chortled before entering the restaurant. “Forgive me, I’ve never heard that question phrased in such a way. Normally, I’d expect one to ask, ‘how tall are you,’ but, I suppose that wording is out of date. God, the English language evolves so fast I can scarcely keep up. I remember when the word ‘literally’ meant ‘in the literal sense.’ Now it also means the opposite… literally!”
Sage was beginning to get a funny feeling about Irving. He’d always behaved differently, but tonight he was acting especially odd. Thus far she’d been able to dismiss his unorthodox speech and actions as either being related to his OCD or quirky sense of humor. Now, she was starting to think there was more to him than that.
One thing Irving hadn’t been joking about was the extravagance of the restaurant. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. There were dark rich-toned wooden panels on the walls and renaissance-style artwork displayed. Flickering candles were positioned on every table, setting a romantic tone and bathing everything in a warm glow. Instead of the usual red and green for Christmas décor, the place was stylishly decorated with gold and white, making it look nearly like a posh winter wonderland. For the time being, Sage decided to put aside her doubts about Irving and enjoy the majesty of the moment.
The two of them were guided to the table that was reserved for them. Irving courteously pulled out a chair for Sage to sit on.
When the waiter arrived, Irving simply announced, “Steak. Rare”. He hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu. Something about his unabashed assurance about ordering rare steak unsettled Sage.
She took a moment to decide before ordering her meal. The restaurant had a Christmas special, complete with figgy pudding, but she decided she wasn’t feeling overly festive and settled on a salad. When the waiter returned to take Sage’s request, Irving did something especially disconcerting. Just as the man was about to leave, Irving grabbed him by the wrist. Sage gasped. For a moment, she thought Irving was going to hurt the server. Instead he merely gestured for the man to lower his ear. “Ensure that my steak is as rare as humanly possible,” he said intensely. He then released the server, who was surprisingly nonchalant, and smiled benevolently at Sage. She smiled back, though not without some hesitance. Irving noticed this reluctance and inquired if she was enjoying her evening.
“This place is breathtaking,” she responded. She gazed at him from across the table. The light from the candle sparkled in his eyes; shadows danced across his sharp features. He was mesmerizing to look at. “You’re equally breathtaking,” Sage said with a sigh.
“I sense there’s something on your mind,” Irving stated. “You don’t have to be shy. If I’ve wronged you in some way, please speak up.”
Sage poured herself a glass of water before responding. “The truth is,” she began, “there’s a lot on my mind. Mark’s funeral, my daughter Harper, and you. I find you fascinating, but also, I’m a little frightened of you,” she admitted.
“I see,” Irving said. “I suppose that’s to be expected. I am somewhat of a monster, after all.” His chest fell as he released a woeful sigh.
“But, you’re not!” Sage protested. “I don’t understand why you refer to yourself like that. You’re a perfectly lovely man. I find it remarkable that someone as young and handsome as you would think of yourself in such a way and interested in an old bat like me.” Of course Sage didn’t really feel old, in fact, in the past few weeks she was feeling positively youthful again but she couldn't help using that phrase for some reason.
Irving grinned, tittering at her use of the phrase ‘old bat.’ The term was amusing, and so his light chuckling was an appropriate response, that is, until it turned into an explosion of laughter. His fit of amusement seemed to fuel itself. He clutched his abdomen, cackling in soprano like a madman in a straightjacket; tears streamed down his cheeks. Something Sage hadn’t noticed before was the size of his teeth. As Irving continued to be wracked with waves of convulsive laughter, she observed the abnormal length and sharpness of his canines.
Adorable as it was to see the man tickled beyond the point of control, Sage was also concerned. “What’s so funny?” she demanded when at last his laughter died down.
“You are!” Irving exclaimed. “My good woman, your use of irony there was impeccable. Old bat! HA! That’s exactly what I am. I may appear to be the picture of youth, but don’t be fooled, I’m centuries older than you. What’s more, I have no idea what I look like. Since my transformation, it’s been impossible to see my reflection. One of the many inconveniences of my condition, I’m afraid.”
“What?” Sage uttered.What the hell is he talking about?This hadn’t been the first time Irving had referred to himself as being thousands of years old. Moreover, how could he not see his reflection? Sage had assumed he’d been joking, but now she wasn’t so sure. The statements he was making were incomprehensible. Sage knew what the more reasonable explanation was, and she didn’t like it.He’s completely delusional,she concluded.
The food arrived and the couple remained silent as they took their first bites. Sage had ordered the fish, and its flavors were exquisite. Finishing her meal, she glanced up at Irving. He’d barely touched his dinner. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked.
“Always,” he responded. “I had hoped the raw and bloodied flesh of this bovine would at the very least take the edge off my cravings. Alas, it tastes appalling.”
