Hilary walked in, again apparently taking in her surroundings for the first time. She’d obviously been here before. It was just the way she seemed. She spotted Oz almost immediately and stood near him, watching as he played guitar a little shakily.
“You were once a guitar master?” Oz couldn’t tell if this was a question or a statement.
“Once being the operative word. I traded my bass in to get my van fixed when I was in Mexico, and traded my best guitar for a month’s rent in Istanbul. The first time.”
“I went to Turkey once.”
“What’d you think?”
“I liked Peru better.”
“Fair statement.”
She put her bag on the table. “Can I?” she asked quietly. He nodded and handed the guitar over. She sat across from him and hesitantly played a Beatles tune. He watched for a while until she shook her head and handed it back.
“You’re used to nylon.”
“And it’s been a while.”
“Mostly a piano person.”
“Mostly. It’s just… I dunno. More relaxing for me. I think it’s just because I know how; with a guitar, it’s a struggle.”
“I get that. There’s nothing like it once you learn, though.” He strummed out an old Dingoes tune absently and stopped once he realized what he was doing.
“You stopped!”
“Buried memories making a comeback. I’d rather keep them buried.”
Hilary and Oz exchanged a glance and understood that they’d both been in similar situations. This made her less tense and she sat down at the table.
“Your friend coming?”
“No. I didn’t ask her to. It seemed more practical to come alone.”
Oz put the guitar down in the corner. “Interesting place. Sort of a, coffee shop meets Japanese kitchen experience. I like it.”
She nodded. “Me too. It’s a calming atmosphere.”
“I was going to mention how you seem like a completely different person.”
“Certain atmospheres present certain moods. Certain moods put me in certain mindspaces.”
“You’re a very complex person.”
“Not really. You want something?” She looked over at the counter.
“I’m good.”
“You have to try the brownies here. You have to. This is an order!”
“Um,” Oz responded. Hilary went over and ordered two bengal brownies, heated and with chocolate sauce despite his response or lack thereof. Oz, who hadn’t eaten much in the way of food yet today, both recoiled and rejoiced at the prospect of an incoming brownie. Hilary paid and wandered back to the table. Oz took out his wallet. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing, nothing. You paid for my lunch, I’m paying for yours.”
Oz didn’t bother asking how she knew he hadn’t yet eaten. “Appreciated,” he said as a waitress brought the two brownies… and a small salad over. Oz glanced at Hilary, who was busy examining the ceiling. He exhaled amusedly and dug into the salad first.
“The quality of telephone poles in this town is terrible,” she emphasized. Oz raised an eyebrow. “I was walking over here fiddling with my cell phone, and I kicked one by accident. It toppled. Toppled!” she repeated.
Oz returned to his salad. “Peculiar.”
“I knoooow! It was so loud, too. Power lines fell everywhere. I ran into the middle of the road for safety.”
“Interesting tactic.”
“I guess the cars were distracted by the falling telephone pole, because I was run over, like, twice, and no one even slowed down.”
“Hmm.”
She dug into her brownie. Oz noticed she seemed to be no more concerned than he was forcing himself to appear to be. Truthfully, his flaring nostrils represented a quick search for blood to make sure she was more or less all right. She seemed all right, but she wasn’t lying, either; he had sensed a slight panic in her demeanor the second she came into the room. “Nothing broken?”
“Nope. I have sore toes, though.”
Oz nodded and ate more salad. After a moment he became aware of Hilary’s eyes boring into him. He didn’t glance up and waited for her to ask before he told. “So um, you don’t seem too surprised.”
“I am. My expression generally remains neutral is all.”
“Oh really. Well, I think you’re maybe lying.”
“Not really. Just concealing.”
“Wah! What are you here to talk to me about?”
Oz suddenly looked up and into her eyes. She seemed startled but didn’t move. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and then attempted to explain. “You’re different from other people.”
“I’ve heard that before, but somehow I think you mean it in a different context.”
“I do. I’m not talking about your personality or demeanor. I’m talking about your strength. You’ve got… a gift, I guess. My friend always used to call it a curse, but it all depends on how you handle it.” He chewed on the side of his mouth nervously. “Do you believe in destiny?”
She didn’t hesitate to answer. “I think we’re all around for a reason, but if everything we did was beyond our control, there would be no point to being alive. It’s all about the choices we make.”
Oz nodded. “One of the reasons you’re around is to… help people. In a different sense from how most others help people. Someone at some point in time decided that you would be a good candidate to… fight evil. Is any of this making sense?”
“You’re being too hesitant. Tell me upfront what you’re talking about and I’m more likely to understand.”
“You’re a Vampire Slayer.”
She stared at him and blinked a few times. “Okay, go back to the explaining way.”
Oz nodded again. “I don’t pretend to know the mechanics of it… I was just wrangled for this job a month ago and know almost nothing about it… but as I understand it, something called the Powers That Be select a bunch of young females with certain characteristics to be potential Slayers. A Slayer tends to fight vampires and demons, which exist and kill people on a regular basis. There used to be only one in the world at a time, but something happened, and now there are Slayers worldwide.”
The look on her face was of such disbelief that he cracked a smile. “It sounds far-fetched, but I can show you books…”
“And I can show you books that talk about hobbits and people than can turn into animals at will, but that doesn’t make them exist.”
Oz hesitated. “You knocked over a telephone pole. You didn’t get hurt when you were run over.”
“Weak poles. Good toes.”
“If you believed that you wouldn’t have walked in here thinking that I’d tell you more about it.”
She didn’t have an answer for that one.
“Think about it. There’s a lot to absorb, but I’m not lying to you. When you’re ready to talk more about it, I’ll be in the classroom with the piano. Even if you still don’t believe, I can prove that the supernatural exists.” He stood, said, “thanks for lunch,” and walked out the door.
Hilary stared at a point on the floor for a long time before coming to her senses and going home. She didn’t say very much for the rest of the day, and avoiding the coffeeshop/sushihouse for a while.
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