Vampires Never Cry

VAMPIRES NEVER CRY


She perched on the cement structure, her feet dangling above the raging torrent. The recent rains fed the customary disciplined river too much water too fast. It ran drunk with power.
“Do you plan to jump?” he asked coming up behind her.
“Maybe,” she replied while her gaze remained on the dirty flow. “Does it matter?”
“No.” His answer didn’t surprise her. “Want me to push you?”
“I’ll do it myself if I want it done,” she said. They shared the gift of casual conversation on any topic. It made life simple. “Have you wanted to die?”
“Many times.” He squatted at the edge of the stone fixture beside her.
A shove she thought. One thrust from her and….
“Did you ever try, you know, to end it yourself?” She twisted her head to see a cold smile cross his handsome face.
Her body warmed like it always did when he was near. They’d found each other at a nightclub, became inseparable over the next six months. The fire between them didn’t ignite, it exploded hot and wild. When did it burn down to embers?
“I’m not quite so brave.” His long auburn hair tossed in the breeze. “I lived carelessly. Expected something to do me in.” He shrugged strong shoulders under his black jacket. “It didn’t work. Well, not yet anyway.”
“I love you.” She whispered.
His hazel eyes fixed on the view before him. “They always do,” he said simply.
“Has anything ever made it through to your empty heart?”
“Some.” He turned to lock his eyes with her green ones. “Not often.”
“Me?”
“Yes.” He stood.
“But it’s over.”
“Yeah. I don’t have the luxury of a meaningful relationship. Short with little goodbye does it best for me.”
“Its a dreary night. Can't I have a better one before...well you know the split.”
He chuckled. “Impossible.”
She sighed deeply “So what of me?”
“It’s up to you. Our roads met in travel. It parts at this branch.”
“What if I choose to not accept you leaving? I could fight for more time.”
“Don’t make the attempt.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m not worth the effort.”
“If you hear crying before the dawn and it chills you to the core,” she recited, “it is best to find some light a good precaution for.”
“Vampires never cry,” he whispered. “You wrote the poem several nights ago didn’t you?”
She stood, her silken white hair dancing about her heart-shaped face. The night air pasted her gown to her backside. It outlined every curve from her shoulder to slender legs. “You’re probably right.” Then she added, “I mean about our separation.” She chose to ignore his question.
“If it’s any consolation, I love you too.” He touched a finger to her chin.
“I know.” She commenced to transform into mist. “They always do.”
Her last remembrance of him was his strolling away.