The Snow Vampire (9 page)

But none of that mattered to me. All that mattered to me was Hendrik, my Hendrik. Even now, in the last few moments before seeing him, I thought my heart would burst from the delay. But there he was. As handsome as I remembered. And wearing the scarf I had sent him. My heart ruptured to see it. When he alit the car he did his duty first to my father—soon to be his father as well, a thought I found momentarily jarring—and then my mother, grandmother, and finally Alona, whom he embraced sweetly but chastely. For me, there was only a firm handshake and a clap on the shoulder. But when his hand gripped my shoulder there was an affectionate squeeze, and his hand lingered long, much longer than protocol demanded. And his eyes—oh, how they spoke to me, what secrets Hendrik’s dancing pupils whispered in my ear! My Hendrik. Hendrik was here. Though there was much wrong in the world, when Hendrik was here, everything seemed right.

The hours prior to bed passed like eons. Conversation at dinner that night was lively and loud, at least amongst the adults. Hendrik was his normal quiet self, and my stomach would allow me to neither eat nor say much. Kateryna was uncharacteristically silent for once, and Alona spent much of the meal shyly studying Hendrik over her plate. My parents and Uncle Sandor, of course, were busy making wedding preparations. There was some argument over where to hold the ceremony. My parents wanted it held here, in Pilsden, in the little church on the square. But Uncle Sandor argued for a big cathedral wedding in Budapest. Of course, I knew his real reasons for wishing it so—he wanted to show the world that Hendrik wasn’t a queer, or, at least, that he would conform to society and his father’s rules enough to wed as he should. It surprised me that I realized things like this now, that I could see through the words of men and understand their true intent, where I had never been able to do so before. Perhaps this was just another sign of my impending manhood—whatever the case, I found I had preferred more simple days, when my mind was free of woes and I believed in the good intentions of all.

Soon, the matter was settled. The wedding would take place in Pilsden, but then Uncle Sandor would throw a reception—“the biggest, grandest fête Budapest has seen in many a year,” he told a blushing and obviously pleased Alona—once the couple had returned to town to set up residence.

The issue having been settled, conversation at the dinner table left talk of love and turned to matters of war. “This is not like olden times,” Uncle Sandor was saying. “The empire is truly committed. Why, we receive new orders every day. More arms, more supplies. My factories have never been so busy! Mark my words. That is how we will win this war. Through build up, through supplies. It is a new day dawning, to be sure.”

Mamma shuddered. “I hate to think of all that fighting, all those young men going off to fight,” she plaintively said. “Their poor mothers,” she added, wringing her hands and looking swiftly at me.

But Uncle Sandor only shrugged this notion off. “Bah! This war will not last out the year, that’s what I say. Which is too bad, because it is so good for business.”

“War is always bad business,” Grandmamma interjected, making the old village sign to ward off bad luck and the evil eye.

“True, true,” Uncle Sandor admitted. “But they started it, those nationalist sons of pigs! They insulted us, they vex us. We cannot let that pass. No, that we cannot do.”

“I hope the fighting doesn’t make its way here,” Alona said shyly, the first comment she had made since we all sat down.

Uncle Sandor laughed, a booming sound. Truly, I do not think I had ever seen him so carefree. “No worries about that, my pretty one!” he said. “Surely, you are too protected high up in these forsaken hills for any violence to ever reach here! Although,” Uncle Sandor added thoughtfully, turning to my father, “have you given any thought of Ferenc joining the war effort? The military can be a fine career for a young man who wishes to rise above his fortunes.” I saw my mother stiffen at the thought. Everyone at the table watched silently as she reached over and grabbed my father’s hand in concern, all except Uncle Sandor, who just continued talking. “I have many, many friends high up in command. I could set Ferenc up with a nice commission—not too high up, mind you, but he would be an officer nonetheless.” I could tell that Grandmamma did not like where this conversation was headed any more than Mamma did. Her husband had fought in war, and it was always said he came back a different man from the one who had left. Still, I didn’t quite share their fears. In fact, I was surprised at my own lack of concern over Uncle Sandor’s suggestion. While I was no longer naïve enough to imagine that war was a glorious thing to see, my measured, almost indifferent response to Uncle Sandor’s offer reminded me that I had no true vision for my own future. I only knew what it could
not
be: it could not be a future with Hendrik, and, despite my recent obeisance to my father’s wishes, I also fervently hoped it would not be a future here, in this small mountain pass. I realized with some amount of disbelief that I had spent no time conceiving of what my future should or will be, since I had only focused on what could not—and what I hoped would not—come to pass. “What do you say, boy?” Uncle Sandor asked, prodding my silence. “Doesn’t that sound exciting to you?”

It was my father who answered for me. “I think,” he said carefully, “that, for now, I have more need of Ferenc here than the army would have use of him.”

Uncle Sandor eyed my father critically but said nothing more. “Very well,” he finally said, looking at me directly. “If you should change your mind….”

“I hope he does not,” Alona piped up. “I am not sure I would ever have a peaceful moment, knowing that my brother was off to war.” She looked shyly at Hendrik. “The only thing worse, I suppose, would be to have a husband at war….”

Uncle Sandor laughed at Alona’s remark, a merry guffaw indeed. He reached over and tenderly tousled her hair. I had never seen him act so affectionate toward either of his own children, though I suppose Alona’s unwitting sacrifice earned her his affection, and then some. “You are right, my dear child,” Uncle Sandor said. “Besides, this is a joyous occasion. And we spoil it with talk of war. Let us instead focus on happier thoughts, and converse about how beautiful a bride you shall be.”

I looked sideways at Alona. How excited she seemed to have all this attention thrust suddenly upon her. Her cheeks were aflame with delight. The blushing bride indeed! It was no surprise that I coursed with jealously over the situation. She was where I wanted to be, by Hendrik’s side, soon being propelled into his very arms themselves. It is she who would set up house with him, she who would breakfast with him every morning, and be at his side for every social engagement at night.

Still, none of that mattered in the end. How could it? Here was Hendrik, only feet away from me. How I longed to touch him, to taste his lips and run my fingers through his hair. I longed for the crook of his arm, for the tight coil of dark hair that trailed down his stomach, and the firm camber of his buttocks. I longed to devour him whole, to take him into me and consume him completely. Frustrated, I looked out the window. Sundown could not come soon enough.

But come it eventually did, and my frustration only grew at the chaste embraces and soft kisses we were limited to exchanging. Every groan or squeak of the bed was cause for alarm, so that first night together proved more an exercise in futility than the sweet and torrid embrace I had hoped it would be. There were whispered declarations of love, a few tears shed over time that had been lost and future plans that would pull us apart. Still, I knew joy I had not felt in months; I was in Hendrik’s arms, and he in mine. The feeling I found in there, the peace… how the world hated such a thing, I could not understand.

“Ferenc,” Hendrik whispered, “I nearly died a thousand deaths inside when Father suggested you for the war.”

I shrugged, still indifferent as to my own fate without him. “Don’t you think I would look handsome in uniform?” I impishly asked.

A broad smile covered Hendrik’s face. “Of that there is no doubt,” he said. “But I agree with Alona. If you went off to fight, I would not have a moment’s peace.”

“I am surprised,” I said, “that with the way your father spoke of becoming an officer he did not try to set you up in some commission as well. Higher up than the one I would receive, of course,” I added bitingly, though with a smile. “I am sure that, in his eyes, it would make a man out of you, if you came home a war hero.”

Hendrik’s lips brushed my neck, and I shuddered in ecstasy at their touch. “But he did, dear one. That was my choice. Marriage or war.” Hendrik shook his head. “Some choice, eh? Death sentences, the both of them.”

I stared at Hendrik appraisingly. So he had been offered a commission but had turned it down! I had a sudden vision of the two of us in uniform, conducting maneuvers by day, bedding down together at night. But Hendrik had chosen marriage—had chosen
her
—rather than war. He had chosen the coward’s way out. For a moment, I was angry at him—but only for a moment. I could not think such things, not of my Hendrik. I knew I must not let knowledge of him affect me at all.

“Oh, my beautiful Ferenc!” Hendrik said, wrapping his arms around me once more. “I cannot wait until we are really alone, so I may truly show you how much I missed you!” That night he fell asleep while I cradled him in my arms. I remained awake for some time, reveling in the joy of having him near me again, but my mind full of heavy thoughts now that he was. Outside, I heard the wind howl, or, at least, I presumed it was the wind that howled.

Yet it would prove to be some days before we could find any moments to be together with no one else around. We did our best to steal time where we could; once, we even stalked off into the forest, leaving the familiar path and hiding ourselves behind a large evergreen. Finally, our lips met in true passion. Hands fumbled with clothing as we stood ankle deep in the frosty undergrowth that covered the forest floor. Snow may have left the town square, but here, deep into the woods, the ground was still frozen, and still freezing. Our hot ardor helped us not to succumb to the numbing cold. This was what I had ached all those months for—Hendrik’s hands, his long, thin fingers twisting my nipple, thrusting down the front of my pants. Hendrik’s passion, Hendrik’s love. The red scarf I had sent him for the holidays blew in my face, a happy reminder of our affection. Laughingly, I pushed it out of the way and kissed Hendrik again. Yet just as Hendrik took to his knees in front of me, we heard a noise along the path, and Hendrik bolted, leaving me hiding behind the tree with only my intense disappointment to satiate me.

Finally, however, our stars properly aligned. We had spent the morning at the mines with Poppa and Uncle Sandor, but we knew that the women were heading to the church at noon, to aid in preparations for the upcoming May Day festival. This was our chance. As Poppa and Uncle Sandor fussed over some new equipment, we snuck off, stealing back to the house as quickly as our feet could take us. The instant we were through the door we knew we were alone. Ahh, blessed solitude. I had barely closed the door before Hendrik’s hot breath was on my ear as he laughingly bit my lobe. I turned and grabbed both his cheeks in my hands. Despite my fervor, I paused, taking a moment to look contentedly at the man I loved. Then I did what I had been longing to do, what I always longed to do when I saw Hendrik’s beautiful face: with my hand, I softly, gently, caressingly moved his hair away from his eyes.

“My beautiful Hendrik,” I whispered. His smile spoke volumes to me. Our love may be imperfect, but it was ours. Quickly, stumbling in our desire to be together, we hurried up the stairs.

We flung open the door of my room, our hands and lips an immediate and frenzied blur of desperate, starving affection. The door slammed loudly behind us. There was no need to be quiet now, no need to whisper. Our joyous laughter filled the vacancy of the house. Hurriedly our clothes came off. We stood together, naked, as we had in the ruined courtyard those many months ago. “I am still yours, Ferenc, despite everything,” Hendrik whispered, taking my hand in his and coaxing me into the bed. Hendrik’s lips, Hendrik’s beautiful green eyes, Hendrik’s sharp pointed nipple, Hendrik’s arse… how I loved everything about him. As I kissed him, as I tickled his stomach, as I took him into my mouth, I realized, I could do this. I could live my life this way, hiding, scurrying in shadows; as long as I had these moments, even sparing and fleeting, as I long as I had Hendrik to myself, if only on rare occasions, then I could do this, could live my life this way, and be happy, and know joy. I lifted Hendrik’s legs to my shoulders. How eager he was for us to be whole again! I spit in my hand, greased my prick up. I pushed; Hendrik flinched, but his eyes were eager, his head nodding in ecstatic urgency. I drove forward, once, and again, thrusting into him. My Hendrik. I pushed in, again and again, into my Hendrik, two bodies, two souls, becoming one, blessed in perfect union together. This was our love; this was our time. Nothing could ever change this. Nothing could ever alter what was between us.

I heard the sound of a door being opened.

I had not heard the sound of steps on the pathway to the front door of our home, nor the sound of the front door opening, even though it always opened with a loud squeal and an ingentle thump. I had not heard the plaintive voice call to ask if anyone were home, nor call my name specifically when noise emanated from my quarters. I had not heard footsteps on the stairs. But I heard the sound of my bedroom door opening. And I heard a sharp inhalation of air. I heard a gasp, and a hand being brought to a person’s mouth in shock and surprise. And I heard the pain that accompanied such motion. And lastly, I heard the exquisite breaking of a young girl’s heart.

Alona.

Why she was here—why she had come home early and alone—I never knew. I only knew that she saw us, saw something she could not understand nor conceive of, but something that, more surely than anything else, would shatter her world. She ran from the room as Hendrik and I desperately untangled ourselves. I threw on my shirt and pants and rushed down the hall. I heard her door slam. I heard sobs. I knocked.