“I normally don’t take a risk like this,” she said, “but Dr.Frye and I will be the only ones here after the others are moved so I could easily . . .” I heard the nervous quiver in her voice as she leaned even closer to my ear. “Would you prefer not to die, dear?” I mustered voice enough to tell her no. I could not bear the thought of living in my ruined condition. I felt her shake her head at my response. “I was unclear. I apologize. I meant, if the choice was between dying here or regaining your health. What then?”
The shape and nature of my reality would change in the next few minutes; but you don’t know that kind of thing in the moment. I assumed Dotty was inquiring in the hypothetical, wanting to discern the psychology of the dying man. Would a wasting illness dull one’s memories of a robust and healthy life? Would I still want it, or would it seem just too great an effort when peaceful death loomed nearby?
I ran a dry tongue over even drier lips before answering. “Health. How?”
“I could make you a Vampire.”
In a more typical sane condition I like to think I’d have laughed at Dotty’s fine and morbid humor. That I’d have complimented her guts for seeing me off into the abyss with a dose of dry wit–but I was in no such state. I was perched on the edge of finality after having lived, what seemed to me, hardly at all. So I said to my new friend Dotty with the last of my strength, “Why the hell not?”
Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Dark Comedy, History, Memoir, Vampire
