hiraeth | episode #11

Jill's a low-level art something at an advert firm. She's sketching a face on a napkin when I sit down.

It's you, she says when I ask.

Still a reflex, to glance over at the darkened window reflecting a woman sitting alone at this table. Where the women are gorgeous and the men are short and rat-faced, as Jason says, I remark.

The face isn't ringing any bells at all.

I know the hair, at least. It's in my eyes again, bastard offspring of a haystack and a hedge. Her few dark slashes of graphite capture it too well. I'll have to ask Jason to take the shears to it soon.

(I'm obviously not mad about barbershops.)

She's intrigued by the story of how Jason and I had quietly gone out and solved the neighbourhood's issue with the rooster, although I wonder if she isn't rather missing the moral. "Wish I had a roommate who'd bring me home chickens."

"It's not nearly as glamourous as I may have made it out to be," I say, stirring more sugar into my tea.

"He worries about you." I shrug. Jason is Jason, whatever his shape, but sometimes life does seem simpler to him. Particularly my life. "It's sweet."

"Not for the chicken."

Jill shifts restlessly, shoulders hunching the neat line of her arterial-red jacket. "It's a little different for you, though. People think it's a little weird when you only take a bite out of their arm."

Desultory mentions of her frustrations at work suddenly snap into a new focus. "Our sort of a 'rough day', then."

Jill stirs at the remains of her coffee, then lays the spoon down on the tray again without taking a sip. "I guess I need a distraction," she admits. "Do you want to..." She trails off, cocking her head. "Well, damn it. I was going to say 'go for a drink or something', but I guess we can't exactly do anything that normal, can we."

The last time I'd seen the inside of a club here I'd had to submit to the indignity of having a black X scrawled on the back of my hand so I couldn't try to buy alcohol. I fed from someone who could prove their age, and ended up trying to cuddle strangers for the better part of three days. Since then I've been rather off the idea of even trying. "There are deer," I find myself saying to her. "Erm, at the nature centre? Maybe we could..."

She's game.