Red and White

“Hey mister, are you a vampire?”
The man opened one red eye. He really wasn’t a man, not exactly a boy either, caught in those awkward years of adolescence. He glanced the girl, (or boy, one can never really tell with kids) that had spoken. The kid was young, probably ten or something, and wore a long winter coat, hair tucked away in a newsboy hat, not helping with the gender thing.
The kid was standing over him, gawking at his eyes. “Yes,” the kind-of-man said in a low voice, “I’m the scariest vampire of all.”
The child’s eyes widened, “really, who?”
“Marceline the vampire queen,”
The girl snorted, (he had decided that the child was in fact a girl, by the way her hair tucked into her hat). “Your funny,” she said, “is that your car.”
he sat up, dripping slush. The girl was pointing to a light blue convertible that had been popular before 80s. Snow was already staining the worn leather. “Yeah, so”
“It’s a piece of shit.”
“Well thanks. You know you really shouldn’t be using words like—”
“Can I get a ride?” the girl cut him off.
The man was about to ask if she really wanted a ride in his piece-of-shit car but thought better of it. “Aren’t you, like, six,” he asked instead.
“I’m twelve,” the girl said defensively. “Now can I have a ride or can’t I?”
The man looked over the girl skeptically. “Depends, am I going to get arrested for kidnapping if I do.”
“Relax,” the girl skipped down the hill, kicking snow up with every step, “I’ve hitch-hiked before. It’s not so bad if you’re smart. How do you think I got here?”
The teen stood. “How did you get here? I don’t remember hearing any cars pass by.”
“Fine, I walked a little bit. I like to explore. But you’re not going to make me walk all the way home in the dark, are you?”
The man looked behind him. He could see the last rays of sunlight sinking behind the mountains. It was only going to get colder and the small girl’s jacket didn’t look too thick. “Alright,” he agreed, “but don’t be surprised if I turn out to be a serial killer or something.”
The girl didn’t seem to care. She raced to the piece-of-shit car, hopping shotgun before the man even unlocked the door. “You sure you want a ride with a vampire,” he asked a last time.
“I think I can trust you,” the girl said. He shrugged and got in the car.
The car stalled twice before starting. The teenager attempted to raise the top but it had broken a long time ago.
“I’m taking you home and that’s it,” he told the girl, “I’m not driving you all around town tonight.”
“Relax Marceline, that’s where I was planning to go anyways.”
“Alright,” The man agreed wearily and shot one last glance to the hill they had come from. It was truly a beautiful spot, secluded between two cliff faces that gave just the perfect view of the mountains. The valley and hills stretched out below, tiny like a diorama. Clouds floated lazily beneath the in between the mountains, casting the scene in an eerie fog, yet not diminishing the beauty of it. There was a single tree growing on the white hill, now bare and set in ice. The picture reminded the man of himself somehow. Fragile, white, hidden.
The girl noticed him staring. “Is this spot important to you?” she asked.
“No,” he answered lamely, grabbing the stick shift.
“Wait,” the girl yelled just as the man put the car in gear. She undid her seatbelt. “I need to sniff you.”
“Sniff me?” the man exclaimed but the girl was already on his shoulder, smelling his breath, “nope. No alcohol. You can drive now.”
The man turned back to the road. She wasn’t lying. This girl was smart.
They had to drive the backroads before hitting level ground. The backroads were steep strips of pavement made slick now by the snow. They were little used and little repaired. No run away truck ramps would save them if the car slipped. The teen took the incline slowly. The girl gripped her seatbelt.
“Are you sure you know how to drive here.”
“We’ll be fine” The man assured her as he eased down another hill. “I’ve driven in the snow before.”
“Yes but have you driven in the snow, in the mountains, at night? How old are you, sixteen?”
“Eighteen,” The man said defensively, “and I know what I’m doing, okay.” He brought them down the last stretch of hill and the road leveled out. “See we’re fine.”
The girl ignored him. “What is with you, Marceline. Is it a vampire thing? Do vampires just always love to drive in the dark?”
“You do know I’m not really a vampire, right?” the man said keeping his eyes on the road. They passed a salt truck, showering the side of the car with the pew-pew of salt.
“If you’re not a vampire, then what are you, with your read eyes and pale skin and all that?
“I’m albino.”
The girl tilted her head, confused.
“Like a white hamster. They always have red eyes.” The man explained.
“Oh!” The girl finally got it. “I had a hamster once. It died.”
“Can we not talk about this?” He really didn’t want to get into a conversation on dead hamsters, especially if they were comparing hamsters to him.
“Fine,” the girl looked out the window at the cliffs that flew by. “You know you’d make a really good vampire,” she said. “You could hide in the snow and no one would see you coming. That is, before it’s too late.”
The man bit his lip. That struck a chord.
He left the comment in a beat of silence. “What’s wrong?” the girl asked.
“Nothing” he said a bit too quickly, giving himself away
“Nu-uh, you’re lying. It says so on your face.” The girl poked the man’s cheek, “what is it. Tell me.”
The man shrugged her off, “It’s just something my aunt used to say. No big deal.”
“Oh,” the girl sat back down, “I’m sorry. Is she dead?”
“What? No, no she’s still around.”
“Then why are you so sad?” The girl traced an arc through the air, probably meaning it to be the man’s expression.
“It’s nothing” he pushed, hoping the girl would give up.
She didn’t. “Look, if you can’t tell me, a stranger, how are you ever supposed to straighten things out with your aunt back home?”
“What if I don’t want to go back home.”
“Don’t say that!” the little girl snapped. The man glanced to her, surprised by her tone. The girl sat back in her seat, fiddling with the buttons on her jacket in embarrassment. “I would give anything for a family.”
“Don’t you have one?” the man asked, “aren’t we going there right now?”
“A real family. One that cares if I hitch-hiked with strange men and vampires,” she looked to the man, “or— albinos.”
The man spared another glance at the girl. She slumped back in her seat, not meeting the mans eyes. He felt bad for her and wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything that would help. So he didn’t question her further. They drove along in silence watching snowflakes fly into the headlights. He sighed, “My aunt used to say I was so pale that the snow would be the death of me someday, because if I lied there with my eyes closed, no one would ever find me.”
The girl was quiet. At first the man thought she hadn’t heard him. Then she spoke. “That’s a horrible thing to say,” The girl muttered.
The man shrugged. “I don’t think she was saying it to be mean. I used to have a big white jacket that I wore in the winter. I guess she thought it was funny.”
“That’s not so bad then.” The girl stuck her hand out the window, catching snowflakes and not listening. Her mind seemed to be on something else.
The man gave up talking, and turned back to the road. To himself, he thought about his childhood. How his aunt would joke with him, and how his uncle would turn away every time there eyes met, seeing the same monster that the kid first saw him as. And his mother would hold him when he was crying, kiss his tears because if he rubbed them away he could hurt his eyes and they’d bleed. She’d call him her white knight and laugh. A soft laugh that told him everything was okay.
He remembered playing out in the snow when his aunt fist said it would kill him. He was young and so scared that he had cried and cried until his mother came out of the house with a bright red hat. “There,” she had said, putting it on his little boy head, “now we’ll always be able to find you.”
“Turn here,” the child directed, snapping the man out of his memories. The man obeyed and they pulled down a narrow stretch of road, stopping at an iron fence. The grass was frosted with snow like icing on a cake. The word CEMETERY hung eerily above the gate, it too caped in snow.
“You live in a graveyard—” the man started to ask, but cut off. The girl was looking starry eyed at the place. She looked older, and slightly less human. Maybe it was just the white lighting of the full moon. Maybe it was the way her eyes held bits of his red.
“Yes,” the girl answered. The man couldn't remember the question and couldn't find the words for any more. She was staring at him now with those hypnotic eyes.
“wanna see?” she asked politely, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“I don’t thing I—” The man began but the girl placed an icy hand on his. They were the same color.
“I think you should.”
So he followed the girl into the grave yard, in a daze. The gates open, or they were always open, and the land beyond them was nothing but blank canvas. His mind was numb, but one memory pulled through the haze.
He was 12. His mother was dead and he had just gotten into a fight with his aunt. As a child, he ran past the cliffs and forest, stowing a hat under a tree before lying down I the white snow, looking out to the valleys and mountain peaks below him. He took one last, cold breath before closing his eyes, letting the snow fall around him.