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“I cannot eat food, that is true, but if Anita finds something truly delectable, then I am able to taste it without consuming.”
Andria giggled.
“What are you laughing at?” Dad asked.
She shook her head, but her shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.
“What is so funny?” he demanded.
Her voice came out gasping as she said, “Don’t ask.”
“I did ask, twice, and I expect an answer.”
Andria shook her head and turned so her parents couldn’t see her face, but even silent laughter is hard to ignore when your whole body is shaking with it. I had no idea what had amused her this much, but I also knew better than to ask if she didn’t want to tell us.
Of course, Dad had never known when to stop asking us questions. Growing up it had usually been me that got in trouble for answering questions when I tried to avoid them, but tonight it looked like Andria’s turn.
Dad kept pushing and finally Andria answered him. She was so out of breath from laughing that they didn’t understand her at first, but finally she gasped out, “He doesn’t swallow.”
“He’s a vampire, of course he can’t swallow solid food,” Dad said.
Andria’s shoulders started to shake again, and then she got up and fled to the bathroom. I moved as if to get up to follow her, but Jean-Claude’s arm tightened around me. The vampire king of America didn’t want to be left alone with my parents. Andria would have to fix her makeup and her control on her own.
12
The rest ofus managed to finish ordering our meal by the time Andria returned to the table. Her makeup was perfect and she was back to her usual sober and controlled self. She even managed to finish ordering her meal before Paul the waiter walked away. At least the food would come out at about the same time; that was something to look forward to as my dad started interrogating Jean-Claude.
“Have you ever been married before?”
“Once,” Jean-Claude said, settling his arm more comfortably around me. I put my hand on his thigh. We could do this.
“Did you divorce?” My very Catholic father asking a very Catholic question.
“No, she died.”
“Did you kill her?”
“Dad!” I said it with Andria duetting me.
Judith said, “Fredrick!”
“I meant your bloodlust getting out of control, not deliberate murder.”
“Oh, that makes the question so much better, Dad,” I said.
“It’s just when they first wake, the bloodlust is all-consuming, so it was a natural assumption.”
“Jean-Claude does not lose control of his bloodlust every night, Dad. That’s just antivampire propaganda.”
He looked uncomfortable. “They sleep in a coffin away from their loved ones for a reason, Anita.”
“We sleep in a bed together, Dad, just like you and Judith.”
“My wife died in childbirth,” Jean-Claude said.
“Oh,” Judith said, “I’m so sorry.”
Dad looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t know what to say, and then he jumped in his chair. I think Judith had kicked him under the table; good for her. “I’m very sorry for your loss, of course.”
