Decisions Ch. 03

The sun was beaming down on the street, not a cloud in sight in the blue sky. Judging from the trees lightly swaying on the front yards of my neighbors, there was a slight, cool breeze to ensure we wouldn't be too uncomfortable with the heat. It was all perfect.

I silently thanked my lucky stars that Stasi was in my life. After all, it was her who was making me go outside and enjoy my weekend.

I felt a sudden weight on my shoulder, turned my head, and nearly jumped two feet in the air when I saw Stasi's face mere inches from my own. She was resting her chin on my shoulder, her raven hair forming a blanket of midnight. I must've spent some time staring out the window trapped in my thoughts, because she was already changed in her outfit, a white blouse and a black miniskirt. She was also wearing a royal blue Belcourt Minotaurs ballcap to ward off the Sun.

Nice and classy with a unique Stasi-esque touch. I loved it.

She giggled, seeing my reaction. "Did I surprise you?" One thing about Stasi was that she was uncannily great at walking around quietly, compared to my loud and boisterous footsteps.

"No." I lied, willing my heart so slow it's beating, lest it burst out of my chest.

Stasi gave me a look, her bemused smile and raised eyebrow making her look all the more adorable. "Whatever you say, sakharuk." She said smoothly, giving me a peck on the cheek. "Come on, let's get something to eat for breakfast. I'm hungry." I nodded. "I'll be right behind you, just give me a second."

She nodded, twirling around to head downstairs into the kitchen. I hobbled after her into the hallway, but took a different route. I walked past the stairs towards the master bedroom. Coming face to face with the double doors, I softly knocked on the wood, putting my ear to the door. I waited a couple of seconds, hearing nothing. I placed my hand on the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open.

"Mom? Dad?" I called out, peering around the master bedroom. The bed was made, but nobody was in sight. I pulled out my phone from my pants pocket, staring at the front screen. The only notifications I had were a couple of unanswered texts from Ricky, Lucy, and Viktor. They were sent late last night, so I hadn't had the chance to reply. But still, nothing from my parents. Not even a note taped to my door.

I made a mental note to reply to the texts later, sliding the phone back into my pocket, hobbling out of the master bedroom. I softly closed the door behind me, heading downstairs into the kitchen. Stasi was peering into the fridge, going through the old Synthetic Blood Packs that I had in there in case of emergencies.

"Hungry?" I chirped, limping into the kitchen.

Stasi whirled around from her examination of my kitchen's refrigerator. "A little." She admitted. "Not for blood though, no, i'm full of that, thank you very much. I was hungry for a bit of real food. But why don't we just go out? It's already nearly noon, so it's about lunch time. We can drive down to that street with all those restaurants near the Pacific Mall and find a restaurant. We can hang around the mall after, or we can just go back to my house." She closed the fridge,

I thought about that for a second, before nodding happily. Neither of us could cook very well and I heard raving reviews about this Italian place. "Sure. That sounds like a great idea. We could try out that Italian restaurant that we always wanted to go to, but never did. What was it called again?"

"Vito's Kitchen?"

"Yeah, that place. The reviews say it's pretty good and it's in a pretty Monster-friendly part of town."

Her face broke out in a smile. "You know how much I love Italian food. Do you want me to drive because of your bum leg?"

"Sure. We can take my car."

Chapter 3:

The drive to the Pacific Mall was quick, marked by little traffic. It seemed everybody in this part of San Francisco wanted to sleep in today. It took us only a little bit of time to reach Vito's Kitchen. Stasi parked my car a little way down the street, snugly fitting the coupe in a small spot, way better than I ever could. She reached down, putting up the emergency brake and taking the key out of the ignition.

I climbed out of the car, wincing in pain as my leg bumped against the frame of the car. I closed the door, hopping to the curb, and cursing under my breath. Stasi looked at me with a worried expression as she closed the car door, following me to curb.

"It's the way you play, you know." She said, walking next to me at a slow pace as to not encourage me aggravate my injury further by keeping up with her.

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"The way you play on the field." She made gestures with her hands. "You know, all of that scrambling and those QB Draws.That's how you get hurt. You played like that ever since you made me convince your mom to let you join Peewee football. You play recklessly like this in hockey, too!"

She took a deep breath of air. "Chris, I know you love the game as much as I love you, but... frankly, you're not Cam Newton." She said flatly. "Every time I see you get hit, it worries me too much when you lay a second too long on the turf."

Her words brought butterflies to my stomach. It was just something about the thought of knowing (not thinking) that someone you love is concerned about you 24/7. I also felt a little indignant. I mean, I wasn't Cam Newton for sure. I was a bit shorter and skinnier, but cut me some slack. I wasn't super big or strong. I was just fast and had an alright arm. I think I did pretty darn good for the cards I was dealt. "I just can't change the way I play, you know." I said, weakly.

"Sure you can. Just throw it away if you get flushed out of the pocket, or actually start sliding for once instead of trying to run somebody over. Better yet, just throw it in the air in the general direction of Ricky and let his long arms catch it when you're under pressure. I'd rather he get hit then you. It might actually make him stop mouthing off."

I laughed. "I'm sure he'd like to know that you said that." I said, as we came to the front entrance of the lavish restaurant. "What about 'Tricky Vik'? No throwing to him?" I opened the glass door, gesturing for Stasi to enter first. Tricky Vik was Viktor's moniker we gave him. It was a credit to his elusiveness on the field.

"Thanks. And no, no throwing it to him either. I don't think my mom's heart can take it whenever she sees her son get hit. She was screaming in my ear every time he got tackled the entire game yesterday."

I made a guilty note of that one. I always did my best to make sure I never hung my receivers out to dry, never chucking them a ball where I knew they could get blind sided. But even then, sometimes I made a poor judgement call and someone had to get helped off the field. I never really made a big mistake to the point where paramedics took to the field and I hope I never ever did.

Look at me. I was already getting depressed before we even started our first official date. Not off to a good start.

"Alright." I conceded. "I'll start trying to play a little bit less... creative. Now, let's just go enjoy our date."

She smiled radiantly, kissing me on the lips. "I hardly think creative is the right word, but thank you, Chris. I love you." She said, softly.

With all that needed to be said about the subject already being said, discussed, and concluded, we walked up to the hostess, hand in hand and smiles bright. The hostess looked up from her inspection of her computer on the wooden podium, smiling widely at us. "Hello! Welcome to Vito's Kitchen." She said, twirling her blonde hair in between her fingers. "Table for two, it looks like?"

"Yes, please." Stasi said, smiling at the hostess widely.

"Certainly, miss. I'll get you two sorted right away. You two look like an awfully cute couple. Would you like a booth or a regular table?" The hostess said, ducking beneath the podium to grab two menus. I looked around the restaurant, it was only half full so we could really pick out whatever we wanted. I looked at Stasi, who shrugged back at me.

"Booth, if it's convenient for you guys." I said. I liked to stretch out. "Oh, it's not a problem at all, sir." She said, before standing up, gesturing towards us. "Right this wa-..." Her voice trailed off and she stared at Stasi, eyeing her suspiciously. A tension filled silence overcame the three of us. It got to the point where I grew uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, confused.

"No, you're fine. But her... teeth." She gave a look of shocked indignation. "She has fangs! She's a fucking blood sucker, isn't she?" I recoiled my head back, surprised at the hateful words falling from the hostess's mouth. It was a complete flip of the coin from her earlier cheerful attitude.

"I'm a vampire, if that's what you mean." Stasi replied. Although her tone was diplomatic and passive in nature, I could tell she was shocked and hurt.

"You are a fucking bloodsucker!" The hostess said, angrily. Chatter in the restaurant was coming to a standstill as people began to look over. She pointed a finger at me. "You're disgusting, you fucking freak. What? Do you get your rocks off to getting blood sucked out of you?" The venom laced in her words cut through the ambiance of the restaurant like a sword. "You both are absolutely disgusting. I don't think I can serve you in this restaurant. Both of you, just get out of here."

I wanted nothing more than to do just that because I could see that Stasi was starting to get visibly upset and the stares of the rest of the patrons at the restaurant were making me quiver. Tears were threatening to escape from Stasi's eyes. She was always secretly ashamed of what she was, and now, this bigot was making her distraught for absolutely no reason. In a composed tone, I responded, "Please, can't we just..."

"No. This is a Humans-Only establishment. We don't serve your kind. Get out, and take Miss Dracula with you." The hostess pointed towards the door behind us.

Our verbal battle was attracting huge amounts of attention. Now, it seemed activity in the restaurant was coming to a stand still. Just before I could tell the hostess off for her blatantly racist slur, a man in a suit appeared beside the hostess, a mix of annoyance and empathy etched on his face. "What appears to be the problem here, Jennifer?" He asked, sighing, as if this was a problem that occurred multiple times before.

Jennifer, the hostess, gestured to the both of us. "These two are trying to eat here but Vito's Kitchen is a Humans-Only establishment. Besides, do you see the vampire teeth? Do you see how big her fangs are? She's dangerous to the entire restaurant, Mr. Jasper!"

The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right... thank you." He turned to me. "Pardon me, Mr..."

"Williams. Christopher Williams."

Recognition briefly flashed over his eyes. He clasped his hands together. "Unfortunately, Mr. Williams, my hostess is correct. Vito's Kitchen is indeed a Humans-Only establishment, qualified under the Definition of the Treatment of Other Species Act. Under the provisions set forth by the DTOSA, we reserve the legal right to decline service to you and your date here on the basis of her..." He struggled to find the words. "... predicament."

At least he had the politeness to at least attempt to be politically correct.

I was just about to cut him off, maybe pleading for the manager to give us some leeway and salvage what remained of our date, but Stasi beat me to it in a burst of anger. "Fine! Screw this place anyways. I have no time for this." She pointed her finger at the hostess. "You! I hope you trip down a flight of stairs, you racist pizda!" I wracked my brain for the last word she said, a smile breaking out on my face when I realized she called the hostess a cunt in Russian.

That's my Stasi!

She followed up with a barrage of Russian, too fast for my feeble grasp of the language to keep up, but I knew it wasn't anything complimentary. Before the situation could escalate, I grabbed her hand, squeezing it, cutting off her spew of outrage and calming her down in an instant.

"Come on, Stasi. Let's go find somewhere else to eat. We're done here." I said calmly, leading her to the door. The manager beat me to it, taking large strides to get in front of us. "Please, allow me to escort you out." He said, opening the door. I merely shrugged, walking out after murmuring "Thanks."

Both of us exited out in the warm afternoon, defeated. The manager followed after us, wringing his hands and apologizing profusely.

"Again, I am so, so, sorry that we are unable to serve you two and the crassness of my hostess. It's unfair to you two, I know. You two hardly look dangerous at all."

Stasi simply waved off the manager. "Forget about it. Sorry for what I said. You were just doing your job." She said, resigned.

The manager bowed his head. "Apology accepted. You two must be hungry if you came all this way for Italian food. If you're looking for a really good Italian restaurant that will serve you, a small restaurant called Scaletta's is just down the street. It's a bit of a walk but the food is worth it. Again, I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience." The manager said.

"Thank you, sir. We'll check it out." I said. The manager nodded, his eyes showing his empathy to our situation, before departing back into the restaurant, closing the door behind him.

Stasi sighed, sitting down on the metal bench outside the restaurant. Exhausted by the intensity of her outburst, a far cry from her usual diplomatic, courteous, and reserved manner, (I was usually the firecracker out of the two) her shoulders slumped and she let her head down, putting her hands on her face glumly. I sat down next to her, putting my arm around her, not saying anything, seething over the rude hostess.

It was a while before anybody spoke.

"Sorry." Stasi sniffled. I snapped my head to her, realizing she was crying.

I looked at her, flabbergasted. "For what?"

She took her hands away from her face, gesturing to herself and her surroundings. "The day is pretty much a write off. I made you go outside when you're leg was hurting. I embarrassed us when I went off on that stupid bitch, and i'm a... a blood sucker." She spat out the last part, dark tears falling from her eyes, leaving behind streaks of red.

Vampires can cry the same tears as humans, with one exception. In times of great distress and emotions, vampires can cry blood.

"Stasi!" I said loudly, turning her to face me. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for! I wanted to go out with you today, hurt leg or not. Besides, when you went off on that hostess, that was the best thing I ever saw. When you just spouted off in Russian in that amazing accent of yours, you should've seen the look on her face. It was absolutely perfect. You're perfect."

I took a deep breath, before continuing. "Stasi, when i'm with you, nothing can ruin my day at all. I love you so much that even if we spent our first date at the spot where I tried to jump off the slide and ended up breaking my wrist in the second grade, i'd absolutely have a blast. You know why? Because i'd be with you."

Stasi wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse, leaving behind a stain of red on the cloth. "Do you really mean that?" She asked, staring at me with her large blue eyes.

"Yes. I do."

She wrapped her arms around me, crushing me in a hug with a cry. "You're right. Telling off that bitch of a hostess felt absolutely amazing. It was just so rude and mean what she said." She hiccuped softly. "Thanks, Chris. You always know what to say to make me feel better no matter how i'm feeling."

"I had 13 years of experience." I replied. I broke the hug, standing up and extending my hand out to her and bowing my head, as if I was a prince pulled out of Anna Karenina. "Now, the manager said a fine Italian restaurant was just down the street. Why don't you allow me to escort you there, Lady Sokolov?" I offered, aristocratically.

She sniffled and laughed at my cheesiness. She grasped hand and stood up, most of her sorrows gone at my antics. She smoothed out her mini-skirt and finished wiping off any red tear stains that marred her cheeks. "Certainly, Mr. Williams." She said softly, intertwining her fingers with mine in a perfect squeeze. "Shall we depart?"

"We shall." I declared. We walked the rest of the way down the street, hand in hand, enjoying our afternoon as if we were any other couple enjoying a day off. Well, Stasi walked, I did a cross between a hop on one leg, a limp, and a walk. It certainly entertained Stasi, who was watching my efforts, bemused.

We walked for about ten minutes, past bars, boutiques, and small businesses. It was disheartening to see trace amounts of segregation, such as small storefront signs saying: "Humans Only Establishment" or "Monsters Not Allowed.". Even then, they were few in between and far outnumbered. After all, this part of the city was known as a safe spot for monsters to socialize without being attacked, verbally or physically.

We were walking for quite a while and were just about to turn back, just in case we might have missed the restaurant, when we finally came upon it. Tucked in between a historic barber shop and an antique store, was a small brick restaurant with "Scaletta's" written in bold on the door. Off to the side next to it was a sign that read: "All is Welcome!" There were a couple of tables on the front, but they were all empty and devoid of cutlery.

In fact, the entire interior of the restaurant seemed rather empty, at least from our point of view.

"Looks like this is it." Stasi murmured, looking at the front of the restaurant. "Do you think it's open?"

"I don't know." I replied, my stomach growling. I hadn't had breakfast and I was starving. "Might as well as check." I walked to the door, wrapping my hand around the handle and pulling the door open. A bell jingled above us as we walked in, looking around. The interior was indeed empty, devoid of any customers and workers. However, it wasn't devoid of decorations.

While Stasi was examining the menu on display, I was staring at the pictures decorating on the wall. There were alot and they were all dated, ranging from black and white 1923 to High Definition 1080p taken just last month. One picture caught my attention. It was of three young men sitting in an old World War 2 Era Jeep, rifles on their laps and smiling at the camera. They were waving and grinning as if it was the best day of their lives. I squinted at the faded writing on the corner of the picture, barely making it out.

"12th of July, 1943. Fun in the sun from Sicily with the Wolf Pack." I read aloud.

"Pardon?" Stasi asked, looking over at me confused.

"Just reading the caption of the picture." I said. Both of our heads snapped to the kitchen when we saw the door opening, an elderly woman carrying plates over to the tables. She stopped, looking at us with a raised eyebrow.

"Hello..." She said. "Can I help you?"

"I... uh... two. Table for two." I said.

The elderly woman set the plates down on the table, wiping her flour covered hands on her apron. Even though she was probably in her 50s, it would've been quite easy to mistake her for being in her 40s. She had a strict motherly look about her, her mere presence making me want to sit up straight and not mumble.

"Well..." She began, distributing plates around the tables. "We don't really open for lunch until about one, but I hardly see the point of turning such a beautiful looking couple away when it's only 12:20." She finished, making me and Stasi's cheeks burn.

She gestured to the table she just set. "Please, sit. I'll have my granddaughter bring you some menus." She turned her head towards the kitchen, which I noticed had a few shadows moving about in it. "Emilia, we have two guests." She called out.