Chapter 3

Jo couldn’t see over the box she held in her arms, but after being alive for more than a hundred years, she had learned a thing or two about casing her surroundings. She turned around and pressed her back against the glass nursing home door and stumbled her way inside to the front desk.

“Hi,” Jo said. “I’m here to set up for Wayne’s birthday party.”

“Oh,” a plump lady said in a thick Irish accent. She stood and made her way around the desk. “Right this way.”

The woman took the box from Jo and led her down the hall to a small room. Th e white walls were lined with folded tables covered in blue tablecloths and the windows sported blue and red streamers.

“Oh,” Jo said with a frown. “I didn’t know you guys were going to hang decorations.”

“They didn’t,” a voice behind her said.

Jo bit her lip, licked the blood away, then turned to her great-grandson and his wife. “Barry,” she said through gritted teeth. She held her arms out for him, but the man walked past her, giving her a light pat on the shoulders.

“We didn’t know if you were going to be here.” He walked over to the window streamers and tightened them.

“Why not? I’m the one who sent the invitations.”

Barry’s wife smiled. Jo was surprised she could do that after all the Botox. “Right. But we didn’t know if you would actually show. We know how busy you are with your hobbies.”

Hobbies? Jo wished Charlie was here to give them his harsh tongue, something she could never do. “Well, let me put up my decorations and then I’ll go back out and get sandwiches.”

Barry shook his head. “Oh, don’t worry. We already have the decorations covered and a pizza is on the way.”

Jo sucked in a deep breath. It was unnecessary since she was dead, but it calmed her enough that she didn’t scream at the two idiots. Instead, she said, “Why would you order a pizza? He’s lactose intolerant.” Jo grabbed the
box from the front desk lady and shoved it into Barry’s arms. “And his favorite color is green. Which you would know if you visited more than once a year.” Jo huffed, rolled her eyes, and looked over at the plum Irish woman.

“Kids; what you can do?”

The woman narrowed her eyes, clearly confused about why the girl who could be in her mid-teens was referring to the 40-year-olds next to her as kids. Jo didn’t have time to explain. She had someone to see.

She skipped down the hall, waving to the occupants of the old people’s home on her way to her son’s room.

His was the furthest down the hall and closest to the exit, which made for a perfect escape. Not that he wasn’t allowed to leave. It just made it more fun.

Jo peeked around the doorway and smiled when she saw her son sitting in his wheelchair wearing a bright green sweater and khaki pants. He was facing the window and couldn’t hear footsteps thanks to his 102-year-old ears. Jo slid out the exit door and crept around the building until she was right below her son’s window. She counted to three, then jumped up and shouted, “Happy birthday!”

Wayne screamed, slapping a hand to his chest. He tried to suck in a breath, but his airway seemed to be blocked.

Jo darted inside and was by his side in half a second. She placed her hands on his shoulders. “What’s wrong? Are you choking? Having a heart attack? What is it?”

Wayne finally took a breath. “What’s wrong is I have a mother who thinks it’s still a good idea to scare her son when he’s over a hundred years old.” Wayne shook his head, smiling. “Hi, Mom.”

Jo put her hands on her hips and raised a brow. “I come all the way across the country to see you on your birthday and you thank me by faking a heart attack? It wasn’t funny when you were in your forties and it isn’t funny now.”

Wayne dropped his hands in his lap and tilted his head, a goofy grin tattooed on his face. “Come on, Mom. I was just having a little fun. They never let me have fun here.”

Jo shook her head. “Well, if you let me take you somewhere else…”

“You know I can’t go anywhere.” He lifted his hands slowly to wave at the machines, the years behind him swiping his energy away.

Jo sighed and gave him a hug.

“I’m happy you could make it,” Wayne said as she pulled away. “Is anyone else here yet?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Just those incumbents you call grandchildren.”

“They might be a little inconsiderate and conceited sometimes, but—”

“No buts. They’re crazy.”

“But no one is as crazy as you.”

Jo gently punched his wrinkly, fragile arm. “We’re crazy. We’re a team. Remember that?”

Wayne chuckled. “Yeah, the kick-ass vampire and her son who can barely feed himself.”

Jo walked behind him and pushed his chair down the hallway. “Ah, you couldn’t feed yourself when you were little, either. That’s what mamas are for.”

She pushed him into the party room where twenty people stood, paper cups in their hands. The green decorations were placed across the table and wrapped around the red and blue streamers on the windows. Wayne reached over his shoulder and placed his hand on Jo’s. “Thanks, Mom.”

Jo patted his shoulder and wheeled him to the center of the room to say hello to everyone.

His great-grandchildren climbed on his lap or hung out on his shoulders like monkeys. “Grandpa Wayne, happy birthday,” the littlest one shouted from his knee.

She rambled about this and that while he brushed his hands through her thin, brunette hair.

Jo walked over to the corner where her grandchildren were standing. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Grandma,” said the oldest, Tommy, as he gave her a hug.

The rest of the group gave her fist bumps. The last one, even in his seventies, still remembered the secret handshake they’d created when he was a child. Oh, Jo loved her grandchildren, and she loved her great great grandchildren, but she did not like her great-grandchildren. Over the years, they had developed a hatred for her and she didn’t know why.

She glanced at the corner where most of them stood holding their cups close to their chests as though she would sneak over there and switch their cranberry juice with blood. Jo waved to them, making them flinch and tighten into a closer circle. She felt a tug on her jacket and looked down to Anthony, her six-year-old great-great-grandson.

“Nanny? Grandpa Wayne says you’re his mommy.” Anthony’s mother started making their way towards them, but Wayne held out his palm to stop her. Jo grabbed Anthony’s hand and walked with him to the middle of the room. She sat cross-legged with the kids, something she knew her great-grandkids’ forty-year-old bodies couldn’t handle, and said, “I am his mommy.”

“But Grandpa Wayne is really, really old,” Emily, her five-year-old great-great-grandkid said.

“It’s because she’s a vampire, remember?” her oldest great-great granddaughter said.

Emily and Anthony’s jaws dropped, and Emily’s older brother Charlie asked, “How old are you?”

Jo pulled Anthony on her lap. “I’m one hundred and twenty-one years old.”

Charlie, the human calculator, quickly did the math in his head. “But that means you were nineteen when you had Grandpa Wayne. My mom said you should be married before you have babies.”

Jo nodded. “Actually, I was married. The funny thing is, you know who wasn’t marrie—”

Wayne slapped his hand over his mother’s mouth. “I think we’ve heard enough about that. Any other questions?”

Charlie raised his hand. “Grandma Jo, can I become a vampire?”

“No!” Charlie’s mother screamed. She grabbed the nine-year-old and ran him to the corner.

Jo internally frowned, but externally remained unfazed. She waved her hand at the group. “You guys don’t want to be vampires. It’s really boring. I’ve already seen all the things I wanted to see and done all the things I’ve wanted to do. Now, I sit and read.”

Anthony stuck his tongue out. “I hate reading.”

Jo messed with his curly blob of hair. “Well, good thing you’ll never be a vampire, then.” She turned to Wayne. “I’m sure you have some cool stories these kids haven’t heard yet.”

Wayne was in the middle of telling one of the many stories of his youth when Jo overheard what her great-grandkids were discussing in the corner.

“I just don’t understand why he would leave his entire estate to Jo. It’s not like she’ll be using any of it. If he were a good man, he’d split it between our parents and us.”

Jo’s jaw tightened. She turned to them and said loudly, so the whole room could hear, “Hey, let’s not talk about things like wills on people’s birthdays, okay?”

Everyone in the corner scowled as they remembered Jo’s above-average hearing.

Wayne patted Jo’s arm. “Mom, it’s okay. I recently showed everyone the will so they wouldn’t be angry when the time comes.”

Jo jumped to her feet. “Why would you do that? You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

People crowded around her, everyone speaking at once. She might as well have been trying to hear someone in a high school cafeteria or at a rock concert. The pressure in her head built with every step someone took toward her. Her shoulders tensed as though someone were piling rocks on the back of her neck.

Finally, she heard Wayne whisper, “Mom?” She opened the eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed and kept her focus on him. “Why don’t we go outside?” he asked, reaching for her hand.
She grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and led him out of the room, ignoring the others’ shouts not to take him too far.

They made their way outside past the parking lot to a field of short green grass. She kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the ground, bringing her back to the present moment.

“Mom, we need to talk.”

Jo turned around and nodded. “We do. I think you should let me turn you.”

Wayne shook his head.

“Why not?” she asked, fists curled by her sides.

Wayne gestured to his body. “I didn’t want to be turned when I was younger and attractive. What makes you think I want to turn now?”

Jo groaned. “But you wouldn’t feel like you do. You would feel like you were back in your twenties. Don’t you want that?”

Her son shook his head again. “No.”

Jo crossed her arms and looked off into the distance, tears lining her eyes. “You know, I could force you.”

“I know. but I also know you won’t.”

Silence sliced through the air like a boomerang. Jo brushed her hair out of her eyes, wiping the tears away as she did so. “Why?”

She’d never asked before. Always took his no and left it at that.

Wayne frowned. “Why what?”

“Why would you want to live like this?” She pointed to the building behind them. “Living in a small place with a bunch of old people. If you let me turn you, we would be free to travel the world together. We could do
whatever you wanted.” Jo twirled around, letting the fantasy take hold of her. “You’ll be like a superhero. You can hear things, people’s secret conversations. You can smell from far away. Tonight you’re gonna have bacon. I can smell it cooking in the kitchen. Don’t you want that?”

Wayne shook his head. “Maybe in a different time, that would have been appealing to me. But now I just want to spend my last days with my family and then be reunited with my wife for eternity.”

Jo’s bottom lip quivered. “But I can’t live without you.”

“You have before.”

Jo waved him off. “That was different. I was a whimsical child, but when I held you in my arms, I knew I could never let you go.” The tears slipped down Jo’s cheeks, so she reached for the collar of her shirt to brush them away.

“Mom, please. I’ve lived a long happy life.” He waited for her to turn to him. When she didn’t, he said, “Mom, please look at me.” He held his hands out to her, which she took. “Wouldn’t you rather let me go knowing I lived a long happy life instead of guilting me into something and making me live in eternal despair?”

Jo squeezed his hands. “Of course. I choose your happiness every time. It’s just hard for me to realize how old we are. No matter how much time goes by, you’ll always be my baby.”

Wayne placed his hand on Jo’s elbow. “And you’ll always be with me.” He patted his heart. “Right here.”

Jo pinched her lips together as a pained sob tried to escape. She placed a kiss to the top of his head, then put her forehead against his.

“Mom?”

She pulled back to see glimmers of youthful hope dancing in his eyes.

“Want to run around the field a few times?”

Jo huffed. “Wouldn’t your grandchildren be upset?”

Wayne chuckled. “Screw them. If they get mad at an old man for wanting to have a little fun, then I feel sorry for them.”

Jo jumped to her feet, the energy returning to her youthful body. She ran around his chair, wrapped her hands around the handles, leaned him back so he wouldn’t fall out, and ran as fast as she could around the edge of the field.