The rooftop of a 26-story building in the middle of the city center seemed as good a place as any for Maynard Summers to take a trip down memory lane. Standing on the edge of that rooftop – his dark, slim figure illuminated by a harvest moon – provided a dramatic flair to the nostalgia.
His father died of a heart attack when Maynard was in his mid-30s. It was the end of a buddy relationship he didn’t realize was so close until his dad was no longer there. As the years went by, the bittersweet memories had morphed into emptiness.
His mother passed away just two years after his dad, killed in a freak accident that involved being impaled by a garden gnome.
Maynard was often racked with guilt because, while he missed his mom, dying at the hands of an ornamental creature with a pointy hat was still kinda funny.
He had to stifle giggles at her funeral and even when he thought about it years later, he found himself trying not to laugh.
Maynard had one older brother who lived in Houston, but the two didn’t talk and hadn’t spoken in years.
Rodney Summers had become a mover and shaker in the aerospace industry and didn’t have time for his “common” relatives. He was too busy making the millions of dollars needed for the surgeries required to make him look like a younger, plastic version of himself.
And Maynard had no idea where his sister, Jada, was or what she did these days.
The last time he saw her she had moved in with a biker who insisted on being called “Road Warrior”; they were going to tour the country in hopes of catching all the Deathly Gratitude shows.
Deathly Gratitude was a Grateful Dead tribute band, and little sis wasn’t so much a Deadhead as she was a person who merely liked the concept of being one.
Maynard didn’t often look back at what was, but when he did, he’d think fondly of the days when his family would load up in their gray Ford Country Squire and go on vacation.
There was that time they went to Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina. The Johnnie Mercers Fishing Pier was still a big deal, and he remembered Jada recoiling when his dad baited her hook with a live earthworm that squirmed wildly – especially after being impaled.
He and Rodney got a big laugh out of her horror.
Then there was the trip to New Jersey that turned into a day spent with Lucy the Elephant, a celebrated roadside attraction. The building shaped like a pachyderm might not have been one of the eight wonders of the world, but it provided a world of wonder for three kids who posed in front of it while mom took a picture with her brand new Polaroid Instamatic.
All that seemed like a lifetime ago.
The family vacations ended, the siblings ultimately went their separate ways, and that was that.
Maynard occasionally entertained the notion of reconnecting with Rodney and Jada. Doing so would be easy enough.
Rodney’s company had a website, and his picture was splashed all over it. All the contact information was readily available and Maynard could be there in no time.
And Deathly Gratitude was always lining up gigs at bars and carnivals, mostly in the Midwest. A quick internet search would reveal their next stop, which meant Jada and Road Warrior would most likely be stopped there, too.
Maynard, Raymond and Jada – together again.
But really, what was the point? They were all so different, and other than playing the greatest hits – those familiar yet always changing tales of growing up in the Summers household – there wouldn’t be anything of substance to talk about.
Jada cared nothing about business, and Rodney certainly had no interest in being regaled with how many times she’s heard Truckin’.
As for Maynard, they always thought he was different.
They didn’t know the half of it.
If they saw him now, they’d be absolutely shocked by his appearance. He hadn’t aged at all since being turned by a French Quarter vampire during a 1987 trip to New Orleans, and now all his days were nights.
But that was his life now – one gained by death, oddly enough. Yet even though he could conceivably live forever, he refused to take anything for granted.
He had his own tribe now – well, nest – and while vampire interests varied, they never varied too much.
For that, he was grateful.
So, maybe it was best to keep the past buried. Besides, on this night, the air was crisp, his urge was strong, and the moon was beautiful … especially from his rooftop vantage point.
He decided he’d soak it all in a bit longer before flying off to feed.
