Charity’s boss always looked like he had a headache. A shrimp-thin white man with a red moustache in a face which still showed acne scars, he looked with watery green eyes to the left of her ear and said, “Your performance is slipping, Charity.”

A few months ago, she would have wilted. Now her first thought was, if he fires me, I won’t have to worry about Tommy alone all day.

Tommy seemed content to sleep away the day on the cot she’d set up, holding the soft blanket with the red fire engines which she’d bought from Goodwill. But she still hadn’t tried to find his parents and any day he might wander out into the streets.

“Do I have your attention, Charity? I’d like to believe that you care how your performance affects the firm.” Mr. Dilworth shifted his gaze to his steepled fingers, perhaps lingering on her chest for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Dilworth,” she said, with no trace of pleading. “I’ll get focused again. My work will be back up to snuff. You won’t have to tell me twice.”

Dilworth was surprised into frowning directly at her face. His finishing line, after scolding multiple times, was always, “I know you won’t make me tell you twice.”

Irritated, he waved his right fingers, go back to your cubicle. “I look forward to improved output from you very shortly, Charity,” he called, loud enough for everyone to hear. Without looking back, Charity sang, “You’ll have it, Mr. Dilworth.” Thrilled at her daring, she could almost see his mouth working as he looked back down to his papers.

She thought about the coming weekend. Tommy didn’t pester but he had asked several times, just checking in, “When c’n I fwy, Aunt Chatty?” It didn’t occur to him that he could just go do it. She had finally promised, “This weekend, my little man.” Now she racked her brains to think of a place.

Then she had an idea which pleased her so that she trilled with delight. Teddi in the next cubicle stuck her easy-going blonde head over the wall and said, “Share?”

“Just something I’m proud of myself for thinking of,” Charity blushed.

“Rad. Wanna go to lunch in a few?”

People had seldom asked her to lunch and since she always said no, they’d stopped asking at all. But now, although worried that she would say something inane or that Teddi was gay and would hit on her or that tsunamis of scalding lava would blast from the ground and sizzle her to ash, she managed a simple and happy sounding, “Why not?!”

♦

Sally’s apartment showed almost no trace that Steve, her old exercise buddy, had lived there for half a year. A frugal, meticulously neat and deeply spiritual man, he had slept on her futon, eaten cross-legged on the floor at her low table and complemented her sparse wall art with only a set of green prayer flags with images of the goddess.

He kissed Sally’s cheek and shook Lavinia’s hand. In defiance of stereotypes, he was straight, pumped weights as a meditation and spent hours a week working with children at the homeless shelter where his girlfriend Melody was the director. Sally would have dated Steve if he’d ever been available, but he’d never been anything but head-over-heels in love with Melody. If she’d been capable of it before Lavinia, she might have taken the greater risk of becoming his friend.

Now she grinned shyly at him, holding Lavinia’s hand. He looked at the two of them together and said, “Love rides well on you, Sally. You look almost human.” He might never have seen me smile before, she realized.

“Something wrong with ‘almost human?’” Lavinia asked acidly. Without waiting for an answer, she motioned, “C’mon, babe,” and walked into the bedroom.

Steve spread his hands and looked quizzically at Sally. Sally wanted to apologize but she knew Lavinia would hear and come bustling back if she tried to explain in a way Lavinia didn’t like. “We, uh, just have to get my passport from my files,” she said and hurried after Lavinia, fuming.

Lavinia was smiling at the futon. She had been in Sally’s apartment only once, on that day six months ago when they had quit their dead-end jobs (Sally as a bank teller and Lavinia as a secretary at a talent agency), grabbed things from their apartments and left. Her first comment in Sally’s nearly empty main room, had been “Jeez, kid, you don’t believe in furniture?”

“I like to live simply,” Sally had replied, defensive.

Lavinia had nodded at the framed print of an enormous wave breaking. “Great Wave Off Kanagawa by Hokusai,” she’d said, casually. Sally had been impressed, as Lavinia of course intended. “Japanese artist,” Lavinia had added, cocking an eyebrow.

“A Chinese person can like Japanese art too!” She didn’t mention that when she’d bought the print, she’d also thought it was Chinese.

“Hey, you can have a kasha knish on your wall, for all of me.” Eyes mischievous and teasing, Lavinia had walked into Sally’s simple bedroom and they’d wound up having some pretty hot sex on that futon.

Sally, feeling in her body how turned on she’d been to have Lavinia making her do things in her own bed, couldn’t remember to be mad. My God, we’re leaving the country together soon. It didn’t seem real. Going to the land that had produced Wagner and Hitler and, perhaps, the vampire plague.

The passport was in the closet, buried deep in the cardboard box which constituted Sally’s “files.” “Kay, let’s go get mine,” Lavinia said briskly. “Say goodbye to Mr. Sensitive out there.”

“Look, what did he even say?” Sally whispered fiercely. “You are a vampire, even if you’re really the goddess personified.”

“It’s not that, kid, not that.” Lavinia refused to whisper and Sally knew Steve was hearing her. “It just pisses me off when straight men treat me like I’m ‘just as good as them.’ Underneath that ‘well heaven bless your love,’ he’s really tweaked with himself for how enlightened he is, treating a dyke couple just the same as if.”

“I didn’t get that at all,” Sally whispered. Then, louder, she said deliberately, “I don’t agree with you.”

“That’s fine. You can have your opinion. I’m going down to our home. Come whenever you’re ready.” She ambled out with elaborate casualness, calling “Bye now, Steve.”

Sally, face bright red, could barely face Steve. He took both of her hands, looking humiliated but determined, and said, “I hope it’s okay for me to say that you’ve never looked so happy. Even right at this minute, you look happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

Sally realized Lavinia had been spot on about his secret thoughts. But she’d missed one thing: he was aware of those thoughts and was trying with all his heart to genuinely be gender blind. On impulse, she hugged him. “Thanks for taking such good care of my place and … everything.”

She rode beside Lavinia in silence to the other side of town. As they approached Lavinia’s apartment building, she forced herself to try to explain why she was bothered. Lavinia answered in dry monosyllables which left Sally fuming again.

They turned onto Main Street and there was the stylish 1930s building which had been Lavinia’s home until she left it for Sally. I’m pissed, Sally realized, but I’m scared too. Just as she thought, I really want to ask her if she’s tired of being human, Lavinia lurched against the driver door and fumbled with the wheel, then sat quickly upright again and shook herself, not looking at Sally. Sally stared, then shook her head.

She suddenly missed KerriAnne, pain though she’d been. Sally had always known exactly where she stood with her. She hoped that if there was an afterlife that KerriAnne really was as happy as in that vision last night. She looked like she’d pulled off something that really pleased her.

Lavinia touched the opener and the gate across the building’s garage wheezed and clanked out of the way. Sally’s memories brushed across their first night, when Lavinia had opened that gate and raced the old camper up the ramp into the throng of vampires.

Lavinia had always been unreasonable about a few things; was it any different today? She glared over at the deliberately bland face, then faced forward and hunched into herself as Lavinia drove calmly down the ramp. She suddenly struggled with the wheel again.

Then, as they passed slowly through the gate, she was pressed against the driver’s seat so hard her breath puffed out. Her foot struggled to reach the brake but was forced back.

Sally’s shocked head whipped around. Lavinia was being repelled by the house magic! But why now? She’d had no problem coming into Sally’s apartment just a half hour ago!

Sally lunged toward the steering wheel as Lavinia’s face flattened. Her flesh split when the house magic pushed her against the camper door; when I slammed the vampire against the store door its head caved in…

Lavinia’s body fought being squished to jelly as the camper ground relentlessly on.