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My mother said hello to Connor and came across to hug me. She felt the same as she always had, looked the same as she always had. I suspected if I hadn’t grown up with immortal and unchanging parents, I’d have found it weird. But that immutability had been a comfort as I’d grown up, as I’d changed, matured, and tried to find my own place in the world.
“What’s all this?” I asked, gesturing to the boxes when she let me go again.
“We were cleaning out the basement storage area,” my mother said. “And that reminds me...” She rustled through an open box, then pulled out something very pink.
“Oh, no,” I muttered. “No. You can just put that back.”
It was a floppy-armed doll with a bright pink dress and a bare plastic head. My mother held it out by its arms and made it do a little dance.
My parents were vampires. Political, powerful, wealthy vampires. But they were still (save me) parents.
“I thought you might want your favorite doll,” my mother said, and offered it to me.
“Why doesn’t it have hair?” Connor asked, regarding it with mild horror as I snatched it away from her.
“She chewed it out,” my parents said simultaneously.
“Wow,” Connor said, brows lifted in mock horror.
“I was three,” I said, walking back to the box and stuffing it (gently) back inside.
“There’s some OK Kiddo merchandise in there, too,” my mother said.
Connor’s eyes went wide as he turned to look at me. “OK Kiddo? The boy band?”
“We don’t need to see that,” I said, putting the lid back on the box. Securely. This wasn’t as scary as fighting an army of ghosts, but it was exponentially more mortifying.
“We’re good,” I said, turning back to them. “That’s more than enough nostalgia for one night.”
“I think it’s very sweet,” my mother said. “I’ll just put the box in your room.”
“That would be best.”
“We’ll be discussing this at length later,” Connor whispered.
“Oh, we’re never discussing this again. Unless you want to discuss the Super Mullet.”
Connor was an undeniably handsome man, and he’d never been not handsome. But there’d been a few months of awkward when he’d let a girlfriend cut his hair. He’d gone from shoulder-length waves to what Lulu and I deemed the Super Mullet. For very good reason.
“I do not,” he whispered.
“Does anyone want a drink?” my dad asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. Two double shots were still echoing in my bloodstream. It was the sweetest echo.
“Connor?”
He held up a hand. “No, thanks.”
My father nodded. “We should probably get to business. Let’s sit,” he added, and we moved to the seating area.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Uncle Malik said, and I repeated the tale, and apparently with enough detail that Connor’s grip on my hand tightened with concern.
“Any chance you’d like to become a stay-at-home vampire?” Mom asked, her fingers linked tightly with Dad’s.
“It had a certain appeal last night,” I admitted. “Much less ghost ooze.”
My mother looked as horrified as I probably had. “I don’t care for that word.”
