SR O: Grim and the Vampire (2021)

Ch.4: Passing the Pyre

Out of nowhere, I was told by Genevieve that my father, Atlas, was going to take me camping. I asked for more information, but she didn't seem to have any to give. I wasn't sure what to think. Since when did Atlas have time for me? Wasn't he busy, y'know, holding the world up or something?

He showed up at six, and handed me some dark chocolate (it was really good). Then he took me outside of town, down a few dirt roads, and rented a campsite by the lake. In his usual thick accent, he asked me how school was, and I told him I'd been getting good grades. I asked why he didn't like talking to me in the halls, and he said that his wife made him promise not to get involved. I asked why she felt that way, and he got quiet.
"She passed, very recently," he said.
"...I'm sorry," I said.
He shook his head. "Michelle was... complicated, and beautiful. The love of my life, and I've had many. But she never wanted a child."
I didn't know what to say.
His eyes got dewy, and he sniffled. "I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life giving her all of the attention," he laughed dryly, "but now I'm alone. And I need family to be with."
I stayed quiet.
"You have other siblings, you know, and cousins too. Maybe you'll get to meet them one day. I hope I see them again, myself." He nodded to himself. "I bet I will."
We arrived at the campsite. He told me to unpack the firewood from his truck's box. With it was a cooler, and he lifted it up with a huff, keeping it steady until it landed. I could hear the ice and water swishing around inside. Still carrying armfuls of dry logs, I watched him grab a club soda, and realized with horror that it was ALL club soda. That's too bland, even for me. Then he pulled out a carton of orange juice, and a bottle of peach wine.
"You can have one or two drinks, but I'm cutting you off if you start walking funny." he laughed.
"What if I never stand up?" I joked.
"Good point," he replied. "If you fall over, then."
I laughed.
"Everything in moderation, they say. Unless it's a REALLY crazy party." He drank. "I think tonight, we'll keep this party quiet. Crumple up this paper." He passed me an old newspaper, and I got to work.
"Do you want to know the story of how your mother and I met?"
"As long as you leave out the kissing," I answered.
He stared at me like I was a math textbook and downed his cocktail. "Well, then there's nothing to tell. How about we teach you to dance, eh?"
"What?" I tried to dial back. "No, you can-"
"Get up." He stood up, went to his truck, and turned on the radio. He must have been doing pretty well for himself to have a radio in his truck, ours was a big piece of furniture that stood in the living room. He searched for a signal, and tuned in to a jazz station. It had a gypsy swing to it, eclectic and strange. Just like home.
"Did you know that you and your mother are Romani?" he asked.
"Yes," I rolled my eyes, "but nobody at school believes me, because I don't read palms or wear jewels. And I have all my teeth."
He laughed hard. "Well, that's one way to tell. On both sides, you're also Jewish."
"I thought that was a religion, not a bloodline," I replied.
He shrugged. "They say if your parents are Jewish, so are you. Some are a little more strict about it than others. Have you ever celebrated a Jewish holiday? Like Hanukah, or Yom Kippur?"
"I don't think so..." I mumbled. "Mom says the Romani tend to adopt whatever religion is most widely practiced where they live."
He cocked his head, and frowned with one eye. "Don't worry about it. I'll show you all of that later. Right now, just feel the music." He leaned on his truck, arms crossed.
I shrugged. "I'm not a very good dancer, I've got... bone problems."
"Oui," he nodded, "that's hereditary. I have them as well. When I was younger, I could barely stand up straight. The kids, they called me 'hunchback'. They were very cruel. However, I learned to dance, despite the pain, and I worked out. Then I became handsome, and girls wanted to spend time with me."
That was the first time I felt like anyone understood my pain... my own, unique hurt that nobody else shared. My mom might care for me, but she didn't feel it, too. My father did. I stammered, "Wow, uh. Alright. I'll give it a shot." I kind of... tried to move with the song, and kicked around a bit.
"That's good, loosen up."
I nodded, and bounced on my knees, and my drink started to spill. My bones ached powerfully, but it was fun. I waltzed by myself, trying to stick to those four corners of the invisible box on the ground, matching my steps to the rhythm.
"Drink it, hahaha! Before it spills everywhere!"
I started to understand that Atlas might not be the most responsible guardian, and that my limbs were going kind of numb. Then my cup was empty, and the stars were really pretty. The grass was nice on my back. The fire was awesome.
Atlas had more candy bars in his glove-box, and little paper bags with spiced and salted peanuts inside. Said they were "road snacks" and that he used to travel a lot before he became the Vice Principal.
"It's a tireless job, but it makes me happy to see all the smiling faces on the children's heads. Keeping them out of trouble and in school makes it all worth it." He laid next to me on the grass, and sighed looking up. "There are still so many people who can't even read. All they know is numbers, y'know? Prices and stuff. But no words, no books, no stories."
"Did you know how to read when you were a kid?"
"I did, my parents taught me. They had a BIG library, the biggest you've ever seen. Our home was a mansion, but eh... we had to sell it. It's still up there in Montréal, maybe one day I can show you."
"That'd be nice," I said.

I fell asleep, and I think I had a dream. I was writing an article for the local newspaper, but my pages kept burning when I put them down. And I just... kept doing it anyway. It was weird. Atlas slept off his buzz in the passenger seat, as I snored in the truck's box, covered by a blanket.

On the way home, something strange happened. A car behind us started swerving on the gravel, until it careened into the ditch. A dark figure left the car, but they must have run off or something cause we didn't see them again. Atlas stopped to try and help, but the driver, this big guy, started yelling at us to get away. So we did, and left them behind. Maybe the passenger just got out to take a whiz, and his dad scared him with a couple swerves for fun. Felix would sometimes do that to mess with Todd and I.

I got home around three in the morning, and crept down the hall, being careful not to wake anyone up. I fumbled for the doorknob through the soft golden light from the wall lantern, and slipped through the door to my room.
My room is small, like a scullery. I have a bed, and a window, and a bar that runs from one wall to the other, for my clothes to hang from. In the corner, the old scythe-staff, still no blade to speak of. It's a depressingly small life, but it's worth having as much as it is to escape it for a night. I flopped onto my bed and went to sleep.