Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9:00 am - Rhys Page 2

  “Why not leave immediately?”

  Rhys waved a hand. “Were I to run at the first sign of panic, I would never leave the dark confines of my home. No, I needed to see where this led.”

  “And where did it lead?”

  “We ascended the few flights of stairs to a musty hallway rife with discarded boxes and chipped wallpaper. She turned back to me just as we approached her door. There was this wry, mischievous smile on her face.”

  Rhys shifted in his seat and folded his arms closer to his body. “I could smell incense even before we entered the room. The lights were turned down low and I could hear groaning and whispered voices. Do not confuse me with a prude, good doctor. I have been a party to many orgies in my time. This was something substantially more perverse.”

  Abe resisted the urge to comment on the use of good doctor once more. “What exactly happened, Rhys?”

  “The lights had been turned down low and there was paraphernalia littering the walls depicting….”

  “Depicting what?”

  Rhys sighed. “Your usual macabre and vampire fare, though I am dismayed at the very notion. Men painted in white and the worst music to which I have ever been exposed. And I survived Disco and this Bieber craze.”

  “They were roleplaying then?”

  Making a few circles with hands, the vampire seemed disenchanted with the word usage. “When I imagine roleplaying, I get the image of overweight men with terrible facial hair rolling multi-sided di. Some of these goths had fang implants, ceramic molds made to look like a child of the night.”

  “What about the woman who brought you there?”

  “They were having some kind of orgy. There was a fair amount of pig’s blood by the smell of it. Magnificent drapes were cast across the windows, obfuscating the light. That part I found quite useful. Otherwise, it was a sordid and ridiculous moment.”

  Resituating himself on the couch with only the slightest of movements, the vampire continued. “Another of the socially inept approached me and asked if I wished to join their covenant. A meat sack asking this of me would have thrown me into a rage a century early, but, alas, I found his particular brand of melancholia amusing.”

  “Amusing?”

  “Very much so. I asked him how long he had been a child of the night, expecting the very pinnacle of overwrought acting and facial pinching to get the right mix of anxiety and despair. He did not disappoint. His voice deepened and he looked off into the distance. Another of the painted children changed the music to something more somber. It reminded of The Cure, a band that I quite enjoyed….”

  Abe waited as Rhys drifted off in thought.

  “And?”

  The vampire looked at him with wide eyes and a distant stare. “Just as a well of memories overwhelmed Proust at a slight smell, thoughts of the Cure and a simple musical note have filled me with a scattered kaleidoscope of the 80s. I found the style and music of that day quite droll. It reminded of the years lost to the sands of time that has no hold over me.”

  Abe tapped his pen on his knee in thought. “Were the 80s a particularly difficult time for you?”

  “They were not a hardship. These painted children of men reminded me of the cyclical nature of humanity, the propensity for repeating the stupidity of your past.”

  Abe scribbled something onto the notepad, which drew a scowl from Rhys. “Do you feel that humans are deficient in some way? That we are constantly repeating the past?”

  Rhys seemed irritated by the question, evidenced in his tone as he replied. “Do you not? I find the regularity with which people re-invent themselves and start over tremendously irritating––most of the time they do not put in the appropriate amount of time necessary, and then fail at the first sign of resistance. A culture of indifference plagues you all. Terribly irritating.”

  Abe let the vampire stew in his anger for a moment, not wanting to draw out more ire with a misplaced word. Treating Rhys was unlike any other being he saw, yet in moments of pronounced emotion he was frighteningly humanlike.

  “Is it that you think they don’t value their time?’

  Rhys nodded imperceptibly. “I have watched centuries fade into antiquity, yet the commitment of a few weeks’ time is beyond the capacity of a greedy, petulant human. Life is a gift, but you do not treat it as such.”

  Abe looked at his watch and grimaced.

  The session was coming to a close and he felt like he had not accomplished nearly enough. “How about your job, Rhys? Has it gotten any better?”

  “I find the hum of the computers and machinery deep in the bowels of the building relaxing indeed. It is the level of respect afforded members of the IT department of which I am not particularly fond.”

  “Has someone said something to you?”

  Rhys shook his hands demonstrably. “Nothing like that. It is the sneers and subtle glances in the break room. A little toad from accounting pilfered one of my blood oranges from the refrigerator despite the bold, black letters written on the bag. He denied it, but I could smell it from a mile away.”

  “Interoffice theft is quite common I am afraid, Rhys. I loathe doing this, but we must stop here for today.”

  Rhys stood with a smooth movement.

  Abe ambled to a standing position and extended his hand, which the vampire grasped lightly. “I would like you to use the light-box that I had you purchase to see if you can bring up your tolerance to sunlight. We will have a light therapy session next and discuss the use of some SSRIs, though you know I would prefer we follow the cognitive behavioral treatment schedule as far as we can take it.”

  “As you say, Abe.”

  Dr. Rogers motioned for the door and Rhys was gone without a sound. Standing in his darkened office, he reached for his notebook and scribbled down the very edges of his thoughts. As he placed the book down, he prepared himself for his next client.