“I’d be afraid of the werewolf,” Teri says.
“I’d let the vampire change me,” Matt says.
“Why?” I ask him, although I’m pleased at his remark.
“It’s clear the vampire has more up his sleeve. I’d trust him as my master more than the werewolf.”
“The human is not choosing either one as his master,” Teri tells him.
“But he is,” I say. “These are ancient beings, and they know only a master-disciple relationship. When he chooses to become a werewolf, the man knows he must obey his maker or else be destroyed. But that’s the choice he makes. Almost immediately after his transformation is complete, the werewolf tells the man they have to hunt down the vampire and kill him. The man doesn’t want to. The vampire has done nothing to them. But the werewolf says the island isn’t big enough for two masters, and he threatens the man. In the end, the two seek out the spot where they believe the vampire rests during the day. They soon find it, too soon. The ease should have made the first werewolf suspicious, but he’s too intent on killing the vampire. He puts a stake to the vampire’s heart and goes to pound it in. But suddenly the vampire leaps up and breaks the werewolf’s neck. Then the vampire is alone with the man, who’s only been a werewolf for less than a day. The man begs for mercy, and the vampire says he would let him live but he can’t.” I pause. “Do you know why?”
“Because werewolves and vampires are natural enemies,” Teri says.
Matt disagrees. “No. That’s not the point of the story. At the start the vampire says there’s no reason they have to be enemies. That it’s foolish.” He nods to himself. “But I know why the vampire has to kill the man.”
Teri glances at both of us. “Why?”
I nod to Matt. “Tell us.”
“The vampire’s merciful but wise. He knows to show mercy twice—to someone who’s already rejected it—would be foolish. Because the man didn’t understand the vampire’s mercy to begin with, over time it’s inevitable that he’ll begin to doubt it again. For this reason the vampire has to kill the man.”
I silently applaud Matt and open the magazine to the last paragraph of my story. There, I let them read my vampire’s reasoning. It’s identical to what Matt has just said. Teri doesn’t know who to be more impressed with.
“I absolutely love that story,” she says.
“It was good,” Matt has to admit.
“Not great?” I tease him.
“Maybe,” Matt says. “There’s one point I didn’t like. You changed the rules of the mythology. Vampires can’t function during the day. If you’re going to do something like that, I think the werewolf has to know ahead of time. To be fair.”
“But I was fair. At the start I said the vampire was wise, and you interpreted that to mean he had an ace up his sleeve he wasn’t showing. You were right. The werewolf and the man underestimated their foe. And that’s why they both died.”
“I wish the vampire had let the man live,” Teri complains.
“The man made himself the vampire’s enemy,” Matt said, staring at me with fresh appreciation, nodding. “You’re right, Alisa, it’s a great story.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
Teri smiles. “I guess it takes a genius to recognize a genius.”
Matt continues to stare at me.
“That’s true,” he says, and I know I have won him over.
FOUR
On the ride back home, I feel the effects of the six Scotch and Cokes I drank. I have to focus on the road to stay on it. But a much more powerful cocktail plagues me: the mixture of happiness and guilt I feel in my heart.
Sitting with Matt and Teri, drinking, talking, eating, listening to Matt play his music, simply being in their company, made me feel like I was with family. What a strange and wonderful experience. It created a mysterious bubble. Even though the club was packed, it was as if the three of us spent the evening alone around a delicious fire. Most of all, it made me feel we belong together.
So says my heart, while my head shouts, Beware! Nothing good can come from interfering with their lives. Plus there is nowhere for the relationship to go. In the end my energy would overwhelm them, my money, my immortality. I am too much of a boss—long ago I recognized this flaw in my character—to hold back from directing their lives. Already I want to call people I know in the entertainment industry and arrange auditions for Matt. He has the talent—he just needs a break.
How easy the fantasies roll inside. How rich his life would be if he was able to work full-time in a field he loved, producing beautiful songs, selling millions of copies while making millions of dollars. Teri wouldn’t have to sleep in a dorm, but could have a house of her own. She could go to Harvard for her undergraduate degree and then go on to Yale Medical School.
Yet all the glorious things I imagine I can do for them are exactly why my brain shouts for me to stop. A young man like Matt could lose his inner confidence by not struggling for success. And Teri’s humble beginnings molded her into the sensitive human being I love. It is difficult for most people to realize, especially parents when it comes to their children, but suffering is often a great gift, not the curse most humans assume it is. The people I admire most have all suffered.
There is a spiritual dimension to struggle as well.
Krishna once said that few people focused on him intensely except when they were in pain. Of course, the remark was impersonal. Krishna was not referring to his form, the events of his life, or even his words when he spoke of himself. He was not a god in need of praise. His idea of worship was infinitely flexible; he saw all deities as himself. Nevertheless, he felt pain gave humans the greatest incentive to focus on the supreme.
It helps me, simply to remember Krishna.
I suddenly feel more balanced.
I come to a compromise inside. I’ll see Teri and Matt for a few years, maybe ten, no more, and then I’ll vanish from their lives before they realize I’m not aging. Under no circumstances will I ever let them know who I really am. Also, I’ll limit how much I spoil them. They’ll never enjoy their success if they don’t have to fight to get it.
By the time I reach home, I feel I can make the relationship work.
I’m fifty yards from my garage when I hear a faint whistle sound.