Nothing At All

3.3

I don't know how long I stayed in bed. All of my strength was drained, so I stayed curled under the covers where it was warm and safe. My tears had long since dried. A painful numbness replaced them, and my mind played an endless loop of all my memories with Mom and Alex.

The window was too narrow too see out of, but it gave me comfort staring at it. At one point, a tiny, blue bird landed on the sill. We watched each other in silence before it got bored and flew off. Blue had always been Alex's favorite color.

After a while, there came a rapping at my door. I looked up, expecting to see the cloaked Mircalla, but I was surprised to see an elderly man poking his head inside.

"May I come in?" he rasped. His wrinkled face scrunched up in a smile.

I sat up and wiped off the few stray tears still dampening my cheeks. "Yeah." I hated how cracked my voice was.

He pushed the door open wider and shuffled in. The clothes he wore enveloped him; the ratty shirt went almost to his knees and the pants must have belonged to someone twice his size. Shaggy gray hair blended with a scruffy beard, like if Ernest Hemingway had been stranded on a desert island for a year. In his hands, he held a tray with some food on it.

Behind the guy entered an old woman, and she made him look like George Clooney. Whereas his appearance was disheveled, she looked like she had just crawled out of deep well. Her wild, bushy hair and deep wrinkles made her look like an old hag straight out of an 80's fantasy film. The dress she wore clung to her frail frame like it was holding on for dear life, outlining her humped back. The cane in her hands was singlehandedly supporting her, as a strong breeze could probably tip her over. A hooked nose overwhelmed much of her sunken face, and cloudy gray eyes peered out from behind bushy caterpillar eyebrows.

I sunk back into the pillows, uneasy about the strangers walking towards me. "Who are you?"

The man wordlessly set the tray of food onto the edge of the bed before lumbering over to the chair that Mircalla had sat in. he dragged it to the side of the bed and then guided the woman over to it so she could sit down.

When she was settled, he sat down next to the tray and smiled at me. "Hello."

"Hi," I tentatively replied, moving my covered feet a little bit farther away from him. "Who are you?"

"My name is Andrei and this-" he said, taking the hag's hand, "is my wife, Adela. Mircalla asked us to bring you some food. She thought you'd be hungry and knew we wanted to see the new person."

Adela reached a withered hand towards me. "Give me your hand, darling," she croaked. Her smile revealed a mouth full of crooked teeth.

"The name's Iulia."

I was a little frightened by her appearance, but her smile seemed genuine and innocent enough for me to put my hand in hers. I watched as she began tracing my palm while staring at the opposite wall. Only then did it occur to me that she was blind, which made me feel slightly less weird about asking to hold my hand.

When she was done, she set my hand back down on the bed and patted it affectionately. "You have such youthful skin. How old are you?"

"Uh," I said, casting a look at Andrei. "Eighteen."

"You must excuse our fascination with you," Andrei chuckled. "You're the most interesting thing that has happened in a long time."

I propped myself up and gave him my full attention. "Can you explain to me what's going on here?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Explain what?"

"Everything!" I gestured around the room. "All Mircalla did was tell me that magic exists and I just time traveled like three-hundred and fifty years into the past."

Adela cracked into a smile. "That sounds like our Mircalla, doesn't it, dear?" I found it unnerving that, even though she was talking to Andrei, her gaze never wavered. This was the first truly blind person I had ever met.

"Yes it does," he said. "You must forgive Mircalla's abruptness. She is unused to dealing with emotions. She told us that she couldn't bring your meal to you because you probably never wanted to see her again. I take it she was cold to you?"

I shook my head. "Not cold, just a little apathetic. I know that I can be a cry-baby sometimes, but I'm under a shit ton of stress."

Adela groped the bed where my hand had been. Guessing at her intent, I stuck my hand out and let her grab it. She took it in and began patting me again. Her wrinkled hands were tough, but there was a softness and tenderness to them that I hadn't felt in a while. This haggard old woman reminded me of the nights I spent at Grandma's house as a kid, when she would hold me in her lap and sing to me. Despite the turmoil in my mind, I was able to enjoy Adela's warm demeanor and kindness.

"Mircalla told us about what happened to you." Andrei patted me sympathetically on the leg. "We caught a glimpse of you when she dragged you in last night, but we assumed you were just a villager. It wasn't until just now she said you were from the future."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "And this doesn't freak you out at all? I'm from the year 2020, yet you're acting like I'm your next-door neighbor."

Adela chuckled. "Child, I have lived with Mircalla for my entire life. Nothing could worry me."

My mind snagged on the first sentence she said. Turning my body to her, I asked, "Hold old is Mircalla? She said some stuff about not dealing with people for 150 years."

Adela's smile dropped, but she didn't say anything. It was Andrei who finally piped up. "She asked us to talk with you about this, but I don't really know how to word it. I wish she wouldn't ask us to do the unpleasant stuff."

"Why can't she do it herself?" With my free hand, I gestured angrily to the door. "All she did was come in here, tell me magic was real, and then said that my family was probably dead. She's already proven she can be blunt."

"Now, now, child," Adela cooed, "Mircalla has been through a lot. She can't relate to humans because she isn't one. A century and a half ago, she was turned into a vampire."