“Just one drop of blood into the cup”
she stood there staring at me indignantly.
“If you dont let it go, then I will have to hold all this against you. Dont you remember when you were working on the farm in Montana three years ago and the clouds started to recess…”
she trailed off. No, I just stopped paying attention.
I looked out at the sky from the edge of the porch. Crisp Colorado mountain air.
The porch of a log cabin always felt masculine to me. The rough handrails and the smell of pine and sap permeating the air when you went outside. The smell was aroused especially at moments like this when the summer morning rolled in with bright sunshine and dry air. I could see the morning mist settling on the mountains- it was like eiderdown blanketing the trees.
I remembered that I was not alone on this porch.
She poked me in the side with the small white tin cup. “Just one drop of blood and then I will leave you alone. It’s really for you, you know. I dont want to have to do this, but you have put me in the position to have to make this choice. You have put me in the position to have to choose this life for us.”
She jabbed my ribcage again with the cup.
“Roll up your sleeve and let me see the…”
Her voice trailed into the air again. This time I did not look out past the porch, but I looked at her. She was all covered in shadows. It was night behind her. Her face was distorted and she had an air of business and commotion about her. Behind where she stood was my place, my log cabin. But sometimes, when the light reflected just right, there was something other than a log cabin. I saw lights, and heard the buzz of sirens. Snow started falling around her. I think some of it was in her hair.
Suddenly she was back on my front porch.
She was still asking for my blood. She was still being indignant. She pushed the cup at me and said something about this being the ‘last time’. Behind her the world flickered again and I saw groups of people walking down streets and I saw streetlights. A gust of wind brought snow all over her hair. I was wearing a t-shirt and was warm on my porch in the Colorado summer morning.
I felt like my house was cut in half. From one eye I could see the snow, I could see the people; the city. From the other eye I could see the calm summer sun and the trees- I could feel the rough wood of my porch.
She stepped away. She stepped backwards. She wasnt walking toward me. She started slowly being consumed by the shadows. One by one, all her limbs were going dark. She was still talking, she still wanted my blood. She dissapeared, her voice then trailed off into the snow and the dark.
I looked at the sun that came rising over the treetops. Glittering rays dipping their soft fingers through the trees and warming everything. The fresh smell of the morning. I thought for a second about how this was the best place to be.
I thought again, and I wasn’t sure what the best things in life really meant.