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“Why doesn’t he eat you then?” Sofia asked, hands on her hips.
“You want to know, huh? Well then,” he said with a smile, turning around for a few seconds. “Because he only drinks the blood of beautiful princesses like you!” He hissed, baring his teeth like a vampire. The girls screamed in delight and jumped out of the van, scattering out on the front yard. Christian got out too and chased after them until he’d tickled each, hissing like a vampire as he did. The girls squealed and laughed.
“Girls!” Their mom appeared at the front door. “Stop bothering your brother!”
Christian straightened his back, held his waist, and pretended to be out of breath.
“All right, we’ll have to finish this some other time, beauties,” he said. The girls each came running to give him a hug. This was one of the moments that made the whole struggle worth it, seeing the smiles on their faces and hearing the joy in their voices. His eyes went to his mother, who was watching the scene with a sad smile.
“Girls, please go and clean your dishes,” she said. The girls all sighed, but one by one ran inside to do as they were told. His mother waited a moment longer, watching as the girls disappeared into the kitchen, then she turned back to Christian.
“You can’t keep staying here,” she suddenly said.
He looked away. “Not this again, Mom.”
“It’s not fair for you,” she continued calmly, pausing to catch her breath. “You should move to the big city, go to university, and live your life.”
“I’m living my life, Mom,” he responded and walked over to her. “You and the girls are my life.”
“You should study and find yourself a wife, have children, Christian,” she said.
He reached to take her hand, but she moved it away, setting it on the scarf around her neck.
“I could never just leave you. Father would want it this way, I know it.”
Her face grew soft again. “Your father would agree with me, that’s what I know.” She took a deep breath. Christian cast a concerned gaze at her. She looked at him and sighed. He saw that sad look in her eyes and smiled.
“Enough of this talk,” he said. “Today is a good day, I can feel it. I’m sure there are lines of rich tourists waiting for me as we speak.”
His mother raised a brow at him, but Christian grinned even wider and cleared his throat to imitate a woman’s voice: “Where is that handsome young Romanian tour guide, Christian? The one who got his good looks from his mother. I want to give him all my money to take me to Dracula’s castle.”
His mother laughed.
“Business is picking up,” he lied. “I mean, I’m taking a British family out on a tour today and they’re going to pay good euros for it. That’s something, right? And I love the job.”
The hopeful look in his mother’s eyes brightened.
“I just need a few more of these,” he continued, rubbing the back of his head to distract himself from the lies. His mother grinned brightly, the smile lines on her face drawing together.
“I better go now. I don’t want Luca, that slimy snail, stealing my tourists again. I love you.”
She reached out and patted his hand. Her palm was rough and cold as she smiled at him. “Yes, go, that Luca is as slimly as they get. God will be with you,” she said, her voice steadier and much more relaxed. He leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“I’ll be back for lunch. Or maybe dinner,” he said.
On his way to the van, he heard his sisters’ playful voices coming from the inside of the house, so he rushed into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Once inside, he looked at himself in the rearview mirror and sighed deeply, a frown on his face.
That British family would have been nice to have, he thought to himself, but he knew that it would be a regular day of fighting over the tourists with the other guides—and their vans were new and shiny and had working AC.
Christian started the van and drove off before his sisters could jump him once more. The bus bounced down the road past lush green hills and dense forest. It was a beautiful day. His destination was a small historic town that would bring all the tourists from Bucharest on the train. It was about an hour from his own small village. He smiled as he drove in, taking in the sights of the town. Its colorful medieval buildings lined the cobbled stone roads. Little businesses popped up around the various corners, tables surrounding bright umbrellas and carts full of shiny trinkets and fancy souvenirs for tourists. Flapping flags of blue and yellow hung over the streets. Christian smiled and remembered when his father used to take him to town when he was younger. He would stare at those flags and enjoy the laughter and haggling around him, and the smell of fresh food and fruits.
Things had changed since then. The cities and larger towns were where young people went now, replacing the crowds of the Romanian countryside with tourists. He thought about his mother’s words while he drove.
“I can’t leave,” he said aloud, the gearshift creaking as he pressed down on the clutch and switched gears, flooring the gas pedal, which grumbled noisily without a significant increase in speed.
“They need me,” he muttered as if trying to convince himself. “I can’t leave.”
***
