Chapter 2 - Contemplation at Dusk

CHAPTER 2

I’m awake.

(hears snoring)

Who’s in the tub with me?!

Oh. It’s Oskar! Why is he here?

(didn’t say good night to him, maybe he got worried)

Hmmm. Yes, he was probably just a little lonely. ‘Cause I was gone last night and left him here alone.

. . . I like just laying here with him. Maybe I’ll just stay here awhile. Get up in a minute or two.

Nice to be warm for a change.

(can feel to his heartbeat against my back, so fast compared to mine)

Can smell him, too. What to call it? That--boy smell.

(boy like me)

Not like I smell sometimes. Not a—

(dead smell)

Sometimes I wish I just had a normal nose. That I couldn’t smell so much.

(should get away from him)

No—I want to

(inhales deeply)

—embrace it, get used to it. Love it as a part of him. I’ll call it my ‘Oskar smell.’ (smiles)

(snuggles a little closer to Oskar)

Wonder how long he’ll keep sleeping.

. . .

How tall will Oskar be when he grows up? He’ll be handsome for sure.

(and I’ll still be 12; still be a little girl-boy)

Wonder if he’ll feel the same way about me then as he does now?

Maybe he’ll want to meet a normal girl. Get married and have kids. That’d be natural. At least he’ll be thinking about it. But what could he have with me? Nothing like that . . .

(don’t doubt what you have, you know he loves you)

Maybe at some point he’ll want to be . . . like me.

(no you swore never to do that to him)

Yes, but I meant that I’d never attack him. That’s not the same thing as if—he agreed to it. Would that be wrong?

(You’re fooling yourself. You know it’d be wrong; selfish. You know what living like this means.)

But then we could be together forever. Two of a kind; him and me. Always.

Don’t know if he’d ever agree to it, though. And could I ever ask him?

Maybe I could change. I know my mind has changed since I first met him. Could I change my body?

(thinks about her hands)

I know I can change my hands just by wanting to. Could I . . . change my heart the same way? Why couldn’t I?

(you’ve tried this before, don’t you remember)

That was a long time ago. Maybe things have changed. Maybe . . .

Just need to picture my heart. See it in my mind. Then I could—will it to change, to get rid of whatever it is that causes all of this.

(tries to imagine her heart in her chest)

(exhales, holds breath and concentrates)

(normal heart normal heart normal heart)

. . .

(sighs) Oh well. So much for that.

Must think about Oskar. Be practical about this.

He’s so smart. He’s got real potential. Could be someone important some day. Not just to me—for everybody. But how could he do that if he’s here with me all the time?

He needs to go to school. Get an education. But how? No way to do that now. Not around here.

Could we move? Maybe even to another country? Where no one knows us. Have to learn a new language; that’d be hard, but not impossible. He could change his name, or we could get a false ID for him. Make up a history. Then he could finish school, maybe. But we’d have to stay in one place. How would that work?

. . .

Hate having to go out and take care of myself, leave him here all alone. Not much to do around here. He must get lonely. Does he miss his mom?

. . . He’s dependent on me for everything right now. I can’t forget that. I shouldn’t have gone to sleep last night without talking with him. He waited all night to see me, he’s been trying to stay up later for me . . .

But I didn’t feel good—didn’t want him to see me like that.

Killed that old, homeless woman behind that trash dumpster. Not sure she even saw me before I did it. Should’ve been easy, but—it wasn’t. It was harder.

(I hesitated)

. . . right before I took her. Why? I was hungry, nothing new there, so—

(because she wasn’t just . . . a thing)

She was . . . human. An old, filthy, pitiful woman, but still, for a moment, I didn’t. Couldn’t. Why?

. . .

(because . . . I’m in love with a mortal boy who makes me feel human)

Yes. What does it mean?

What will happen next time? Will it be even harder?

. . . (listens to the sound of Oskar’s heart beating)

How am I going to keep that side of me from him? I don’t want him to get involved with that.

(but you know what’ll happen at some point)

Don’t want to think about that.

(You must think about it. Hard.)

At some point, you’ll go to sleep and you won’t wake up like usual. You’ll just keep on sleeping. What will Oskar do then?

(lie here with me, so nice, so nice)

Huh uh.

He’ll need to manage by himself for awhile, I guess. Could he do that? He’s almost 13. How could we plan for that?

Come on, you’re smart. Think, think.

Could buy a bunch of food, stockpile it—for him. He’d still need to go out for some stuff, but . . . that’d help a little.

(what, is he going to live like a hermit for a month or more?)

He might have to. He could manage, couldn’t he? He could be careful.

(but that’s not the biggest problem)

No. No, it’s not and you know it.

(sighs)

He won’t know how to deal with me when I wake up. I’ll look different, act different. I’ll have needs. He’ll want to help because he loves me. Won’t want to see me suffer.

(will I even recognize him? Oh God please not that)

Sometimes I can tell when it’s going to happen. If I could, then I could go away. Go off to some safe place and hibernate so when I wake up, he wouldn’t be around. Then come back here when I feel better.

Hmmm. Maybe. But . . .

. . .

(feels Oskar’s chest slowly rise and fall)

(Oskar--so happy to have you here with me I love to feel your breathing against me)

Things have been so different since we left Blackeberg. I’ve never been so happy; felt so alive as I have with him.

The things we do together; that we talk about. Like the other night when we celebrated St. Lucia. I can’t believe I remembered that song—hadn’t sung it for . . . what—more than 200 years. Incredible. To remember being . . . eight or nine? again. How we used to do that. All because of him.

He’s so thoughtful. Wants me to be happy. Wants me to be . . . myself. Human.

(begins to cry)

Stop it, you goof. No reason for you to—

(continues to cry)

You’re going to wake him up! Be quiet.

(tries to wipe her nose with the blanket without waking up Oskar)

Okay. Better.

(exhales heavily, sniffs)

Listen to him snore! Good grief. (wipes tears away and smiles)

Well, there’s lots to think about. I wonder if this will work.

. . .

Maybe somehow . . . we can find a way.