BITE by Emily Holewczynski
“Hurry, or we’ll be late!”
Tick. Tick. Tick. His grandma’s old clock whispered from the corner of their bedroom, reminding him that he had a schedule to keep.
Charlie slapped a thick layer of shaving cream onto his cheeks and predicted, with great confidence, that they wouldn’t be the first guests at the party. But it wouldn’t be his fault. Eva was likely stretched out in the family room, “getting ready,” “almost ready,” “waiting for him to be ready,” still slathering lotion onto her freshly-shaven legs, putting the finishing touches on an already-perfect look. He should be annoyed, but he wasn’t.
“Coming!” he called back, lowering his face into the warm bowl of the sink. For a moment, the lazy steam of the hot tap water stopped time dead in its tracks. Until the pressure in his ears settled again and the tick, tick, tick resumed. Like clockwork.
He didn’t rush. Instead, he pictured her, a floor beneath him, gazing at herself in the crookedly-hung hallway mirror. Tucking a few strands of hair behind her tiny ear. Wiping a smudge of eyeliner from the corner of her eye, the way she always did when she was primping. Fidgeting, adjusting, but still, she was perfect. Lost in thought, the razor fell from his hand and hit the floor with a loud metal clank.
The harsh metal sound brought him right back to the subway, right back to that very first day. Truly the stuff of classic films. There he was, sitting in the second car, reading a book that he’d been working on for months. Not happy, not sad, not anything really. Like nearly everyone else that rides the subway twice a day, five days a week, he was more or less numb.
She strolled into his subway car and took the seat one over from him. On cue, he’d looked up from his book just in time to see her breeze by. She looked like a mirage, at first—a body in motion, long legs, long hair, blurred lines, radiating the scent of vanilla as she passed. By the time she sat, she was very real, and he was spellbound. Noticing a stranger’s gawky grin, she had politely turned and said hello, the way nice girls do. He hadn’t replied with much charm—he was too distracted. Watching him, she smiled, like she knew she was magic. And then, she did something so simple, so complex, and so alluring, an image that would forever be etched into his mind’s eye—removing a shiny red apple from her purse and rubbing it twice on her silk blouse, she took a deep, juicy bite. After a moment’s pause, she smiled again, and gracefully extended her hand.
“Would you like a bite?”
*****
Sunlight delicately spilled through the window, casting its glow on only half of the pre-dawn bedroom. As he began to wake, slowly, unsure of what stirred him, Charlie grasped for a warm body, but found only air. He took a few seconds to adjust his gaze and, stretching his arms out in front of him, noticed an unfamiliar box near the foot of the bed. No, it wasn’t a box. As lines and angles returned to their rightful places, rubbing his eyes to speed the process, he noticed that the box was actually a suitcase. Lifting his head, he noticed something else—there, in the corner, a figure. Eva moved slowly out of the shadows and towards the light.
“Eva, what’s going on?”
The scent of vanilla leapt off the sheets and filled his lungs as he took his first deep breath of the morning. He knew he’d spoken out loud, but Eva turned towards the door like she hadn’t heard him.
“Eva?” he asked, louder. “What’s with the suitcase?”
She paused, still turned away from him. Details pounced on all five of Charlie’s senses. Her robe was no longer on the back of their bedroom door. The suitcase at the foot of the bed was now in her hand. The smell of vanilla was fading away.
His heart pounded in his chest, one, two, one, two, tick tick tick, but she kept still and silent. Charlie stood from the bed. Hearing his movement, she finally turned.
“I’m sorry, Charlie.”
Beads of sweat pooled on Charlie’s forehead as his heartbeat outraced his body. Hands rising in a question mark and falling in the same motion. Legs jerking wildly beneath the sheets. Head on a wobbly swivel. He couldn’t find the words to ask, but then again, he already knew the answer.
Sweat became his noiseless tears, sliding, leaving greasy trails down his tired cheeks. She was still standing there, bearing witness to this collapse. Why was she still standing there? Shame began to tip the scale of his sadness in a horrifying direction. He wanted her to leave as much as he wanted her to stay.
“I’m sorry,” she spoke, without a quiver or a leak. Cool, calm, collected. Magic. With a twist of her hips, she was gone.
And Charlie was left, alone, trapped in his sheets, soaked to the bone. Nothing to hold but the emptiness next to him, the shape of a ghost that once lay in his bed. He wondered if he would ever sleep again.
He reached for the hole she left behind and felt something soft on his fingertips. Sticky. Mushy. Holding it up to the crack in the curtains, he found an apple core with not an ounce of edible flesh left on it. Still, Charlie lifted the apple to his lips.
Searching, angling his tired jaw, hunting for something, anything to sink his teeth into, he clamped down with his teeth.
And took a bite.
“This piece is actually the beginning and ending of a full-length novel that has been long-abandoned. I gave up on it because I began writing it in my twenties, before my five babies...and because I am in such a vastly different head space than I was then, I worry I wouldn't be able to do the characters justice anymore!”
Emily Holewczynski is a PB/MG/YA author, mom of five, member of the National MS Society and SCBWI [2022 Becky Mabry scholarship + Eight-and-Under Scholarship], and a 2022 Summer Middle Grade Rogue Mentee. She currently balances freelance writing with caring for her awesome kids—four girls, and one spoiled baby boy.