Chapter 4
“You told her you used to love her?”
“Yes, Kirsch, I told her that.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. I think she panicked. So I left.”
“That must have stung.”
“Yes, Kirsch, it did.”
Kirsch had found Carmilla scowling as she cleaned up for the day. An enquiry into what was wrong had led to a broom being forced into Kirsch’s hands and an angrily told story.
“And you haven’t heard from her in four days?”
“You’re asking questions you know the answer to.”
“Am I interrupting?” Two brooms ceased and four eyes turned to Laura standing in the doorway, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. “Erm. Hello.”
“Carm was just telling me…” A broom to the stomach made Kirsch stop talking.
“Shut up, Wilson.” Carmilla stepped forward. “Everything okay, Laura?”
“I came to talk to you.”
“Right.”
Laura paused for a moment. “Alone.”
“Right.”
Carmilla followed her outside, catching Kirsch’s eye as she left. He winked, and Carmilla rolled her eyes, but it helped her feel a bit calmer.
“So,” Carmilla said, pulling her arms closer to her in the chill, “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have.”
“Oh.”
“Are you cold?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering.”
“You’ve been avoiding me?”
“I was thrown.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you free Wednesday?” Laura shuffled her feet as she asked. She swallowed and scuffed a wrapper on the floor. “The kids at the library want you to read to them again. You were a real hit.”
“Oh.”
“And afterwards we could get dinner.”
“Oh?”
“If you want.”
“I do.”
“Great.” Laura turned away before she had even gotten the word out. “See you then.”
Carmilla watched her walk away, confusion blossoming into something more pleasant. She didn’t even mind that Kirsch was suddenly very interested in sweeping as she came back in.
“I know you were watching.”
“Is it good?”
Carmilla smiled. “Yeah, Kirsch. I think it’s good.”
//
If she heard Jingle Bells once more, Carmilla decided, she would be the arbitrator of the first murder in Silas in sixty years. She swung her legs off the side of a rocky outcrop overlooking a river, pulling her coat closer to her in the cold and trying to ignore the faint sounds of festive cheer nearby.
The bonfire had been Laura’s idea to drag her to, and, arriving late, Carmilla had seen her by the trees kissing Marnie Kyle like her life depended on it.
Carmilla threw a rock into the river.
She knew why it bothered it. She’d known for a while why it bothered her. And ignoring it hadn’t, as she had hoped, made her feelings for the girl go away.
She threw another rock, jealous as it sunk to the bottom and she was left here.
“Not enjoying the party?”
Carmilla jumped at the voice that creeped up at her. An unfamiliar girl stood behind her, blonde hair beneath a woolly hat and a bottle of something that looked extremely appealing in her hands.
“Seems like you’ve brought the party with you,” Carmilla said. The girl grinned and held out the bottle, her grin widening as Carmilla took a swig without wincing. “You don’t live here.”
“I don’t. I live in New York. Visiting my aunt for the holidays.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Which part?”
“The not living here.”
“It’s not too bad. Seems quite sweet.”
“It’s a hellhole. But it’s nice that you’re being nice.”
The girl sat down next to her. Carmilla passed her back the bottle and she took a swig.
“Not enjoying the bonfire?” the girl asked. She was pretty, very pretty actually, and was smirking at Carmilla as she drank.
“Didn’t even want to come in the first place.”
“Top 40 music and sobriety chaperones just not doing it for you?”
“Prefer vodka and a pretty girl any day.”
“I’m pretty?”
“Like you haven’t noticed.”
“Here’s to vodka and pretty girls.” She grinned as she handed the bottle back, and Carmilla took a long drink. The cold no longer seemed as pressing, and she pushed Laura inviting her to a bonfire and then kissing another girl to the back of her mind.
Feeling brazen, she leant forward and pressed her lips against the pretty girl’s. She tasted of vodka and lipstick, and kissed her back just as intently.
“I’m Carmilla, by the way,” she said, pulling back briefly.
“Ell.” She surged forward again and captured Carmilla’s lips.
They only broke apart when shouting could be heard nearby. Apparently they weren’t the only ones who ignored sobriety.
“Idiots,” Carmilla muttered.
“Come on.” Ell stood and took her hand, pulling her into the trees and away from the shouting. She pressed Carmilla against a tree and kissed her, pulling at the back of her neck and slipped her hand under her coat. Carmilla ran her hands down Ell’s body, switching their positions and pushing her leg in between Ell’s. She smirked as she felt Ell gasp, moving her lips to her neck, then down between her shirt collar. Ell’s head hit the tree as she arched into Carmilla kissing down her body, then lifting her shirt and running her lips along her stomach.
She was stopped by a sudden cry of “Oh my” from behind them.
Sighing, Carmilla leant away from Ell and looked to the side.
“Hi, Perry,” she said.
“Carmilla.” Perry’s eyes were facing the sky and she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. “I was looking for you.”
Carmilla stood up and brushed off her knee. “I’m busy.”
“It’s your sister. She sent me to find you. She needs to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t say.”
“You think maybe I can find her in a bit?”
“No.” Perry looked at her, pointedly avoiding Ell. “She said right now.”
Carmilla glanced at Ell, who nudged her to go with a smile. “Sounds important.”
“I’ll be back.”
“Who said I’ll be waiting.” But she said it with a smile, and Carmilla winked as she followed Perry.
“This had better be really important,” she told her seriously.
“Who was that?”
“None of your business.”
“Laura was looking for you.”
Carmilla was silent, glaring ahead.
Perry said nothing else, and they came across Mattie sitting on a bench on a deserted street. Perry left them silently, and Carmilla stalked to her sister. She was about to make a snide comment, but saw the look on her sisters face and the suitcase by the legs and stopped.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
“Sit down.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m leaving.”
“What?”
“I can’t do it anymore. This town. Mother. I need to leave. I wanted to see you before I did.”
“I don’t understand.”
Mattie stepped forward to take Carmilla’s hand, but Carmilla stepped back.
“You can’t leave.”
“I have to. And if you were smart you would do the same thing. Some people aren’t meant for dynasties and small towns.”
“Does mother know?”
“Of course not. Don’t you see, kitty. She sees us as commodities. As the continuation of her empire. We’re not children to her. And I can’t do it anymore.”
“Where are you going?”
Mattie smiled sadly. “I’m not sure yet. But listen to me, you need to get out as well. Nothing’s holding you here.”
Carmilla thought about math tutoring and a smile that was infectious. “I can’t.”
Mattie shook her head. “Take the girl with you if you have to. But get out, Carmilla.”
“What about Will?”
“Will’s the golden boy. He could choose to be anything and mother will support him.”
“And me?” Carmilla asked quietly.
Mattie’s smile was genuine this time. “You will be fantastic,” she said with conviction. This time when she reached for Carmilla, her sister didn’t back away. Mattie pulled her into a tight hug. “I love you, little sister, don’t ever forget that.” She kissed her head, then picked up her suitcase and walked away. Carmilla watched her go, letting tears fall.
When she returned to the trees Ell looked up from her phone. “Are you okay?”
Carmilla didn’t answer. She pushed Ell against a tree and kissed her until she forgot.
//
After Carmilla reading to the children again, Laura was taken to see one of the teachers. It felt uncomfortably familiar, getting into trouble because of something Carmilla did. She got a speech about what’s appropriate and what wasn’t, then was let go and found Carmilla outside the library.
“How did it go?”
“Frankenstein?” Laura asked incredulously.
“It teaches valuable lessons.”
“What, don’t build bodies? Children already know that, Carm.”
“It teaches that social interaction is important and locking yourself away will result in making some faulty choices.”
“Now you’re just making things up.”
Carmilla grinned. “You said to stop ruining beloved fairy tales. So I did.”
“I meant go down the Dr Seuss route. Not the Gothic Romantics.”
“Thanks to me there are a group of children well versed in the works of Poe.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”
“And you do not want to get me started on Seuss.”
“Can we just go eat?”
//
“You know I’ve escaped food poisoning here once already. I don’t know if I want to push my luck.”
“Stop complaining and eat your burger.”
Despite Carmilla’s complaining, Laura knew she enjoyed going back to Shifty’s. Her parents had taken them both there countless times, as breaks from studying or her father’s laziness when it came to cooking.
“Can this, in all good conscience, actually be called a burger?”
Laura flicked a chip at her, laughing when Carmilla eyed her dangerously.
“Not as good as your fancy New York food,” she teased.
“You know I could get food from every culture. Heavily bastardised food, but still. But I could not find a good burger.”
“Shifty has ruined burgers for you.”
“That must be it.”
It almost felt normal, being with Carmilla like this. Watching as she tried to not be amused by her teasing. Laura had held onto anger and betrayal like a defence, and now she wasn’t sure whether it was worth it anymore.
That train of thought was all but shattered when Carmilla’s phone rang and she reacted in a similar way to when it had at Perry and Lafontaine’s.
She barely managed to bite out a “sorry” before she was off outside the bar. Laura put her burger back down, suddenly out of appetite.
Carmilla returned a moment later, and the look on her face was enough to tell Laura their meal was over.
“Save it,” she said, when Carmilla was about to speak.
Carmilla narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“You have to do something. Or take a call. Or whatever.” Laura dug around in her pocket and produced some notes. “I’ll pay for my own food.” She pushed passed Carmilla, ignoring her as she followed.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this again,” she said, exasperated.
“Me?” Laura spun to face her.
“Stop thinking the worst of me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. And yes, okay, I need to go and take care of something. But,” she said, stepping forward when Laura turned away. “I’m not leaving you again.”
She looked earnest, and sincere, and yet Laura knew she wouldn’t truly believe her. Not yet. The problem with familiarity, Laura realised, was that it felt like it had before Carmilla had left. Like they were progressing over to something.
She had forgiven Carmilla, that much she knew, but she hadn’t started to trust her yet.
“I’m sorry I pushed you for a date,” Carmilla said.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it pushing.”
“It was too soon. I get that. I just thought. There was so much time gone.”
“What if I can never get past it?” Laura said quietly, “What if it’s too much? What if we never work?”
Hurt filled Carmilla’s eyes, but she shook her head and smiled. “I’ll still be here. And we still have time. But maybe friends is a good idea for now.”
Laura smiled despite the aching in her chest. “You never admitted to us being friends.”
“You were never only a friend, that’s why.”
“You’ve got to stop with those.”
“You just line them up for me, cupcake.”
Carmilla was mimicking her smile. Laura noticed she was still holding her phone. “Go,” she said, nodding to it, “Sort out whatever it is you need to sort out. And be back at the library next week.”
“They still want me?”
“When a classroom full of children ask to read nineteenth century Russian authors, teachers see that as a good thing.”
//
Things were weird between them. Something felt off with Carmilla, and Laura didn’t like it. It wasn’t just that Carmilla now seemed to have a girlfriend who lived in New York, and spent a lot of time texting and calling with her. It felt like something shifted, and Laura was going to fix it.
Mattie had left and Carmilla’s mother became even more overbearing, and Laura wanted to make everything okay for Carmilla but couldn’t. So she’d settle with making it better.
She knew Carmilla’s mother was out of town for the weekend due to business, and surprised Carmilla by coming around. Carmilla had smiled and welcomed her inside, but Laura could see something was wrong.
“Are we okay?” she blurted out as Carmilla tried to cook. Will was somewhere, avoiding Carmilla’s attempts in the kitchen after she aimed a whisk at his head.
“We?”
“Us. Me and you.”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“You seem different.”
“I’m just a bit stressed.”
“And I get that. And if you wanted to talk I’m here. And I know you’d probably talk to your girlfriend, but I’m just saying. If you wanted. To talk. I’m here.”
Carmilla waited out Laura’s rambling with a small smile. “Ell isn’t my girlfriend,” she said once she was sure Laura had finished.
“Oh.”
“And I don’t really know what to talk about.”
“Okay.”
“But thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Things are different,” Carmilla said as she stirred a sauce. “But we’ll always be okay.”
“Good.” She nodded passionately, and Carmilla sniggered.
The sauce started to spit.
“Is it meant to do that?”
“Turn the heat down.”
“But then it won’t cook.”
“Down. Not off.”
Laura turned the gas down and the sauce settled. Carmilla hummed, impressed.
“Is it safe?” Will’s head peered into the kitchen. “Oh, Laura, good. Then it won’t turn out so bad.”
“It’s a jarred sauce and spaghetti. I can handle it.”
“It’s nice that you think that.”
“Watch it, William.” Laura giggled as Will grinned. “Get some bowls, little brother. Stay for dinner?” she said to Laura, who nodded immediately. “And remember, if it’s bad, you lie. I don’t need to give my baby brother more fuel.”
They ate, Laura lied and said it delicious, and Will went back upstairs to do homework while Laura helped Carmilla clean up.
“I’ve been distant,” she said, not looking up from the washing up bowl, “I know I have. I’m sorry.”
“You have a lot on your mind,” Laura assuaged her. “I get it. I just miss you.”
Carmilla grinned at that. “Not that we’re friends, of course.”
Laura flicked bubbles her way. “Never.”