Carabas

I'm in some manner of waiting room, talking with a priest - I'm hoping to get his opinion on a dilemma that's been on my mind. But as I describe it to him, he gets increasingly uncomfortable. Finally he seizes on something I've said that he can turn into a sort of keyword - along the same lines of "crisis of faith" or "act of god," some familiar phrase. When I agree that yes, you could think of it that way, he seems relieved. He launches into a sort of canned speech on that keyword. I'm disappointed. This isn't the conversation I'd hoped it would be.

Janette arrives then, rescuing me, and I stand up to give her a quick kiss. The priest seems as relieved to be able to end the conversation politely as I am. It's been a while since I've met up with Janette, and she's dressed as a widow again, with a black veil over her eyes; I think this is the first time I've seen her in a veil since the 1950s. She's stunning as ever.

As we leave she teases me about being disappointed by that priest, about always looking for answers in all the wrong places. The conversation drifts, and as we step out onto the sidewalk I'm saying to her, "No, no, no - unless you wanted him." She makes a face. I'm teasing - that priest wouldn't exactly be her first choice of meal, and neither of us have been hunting people at all lately. But now we're both thinking about blood.

We head back to my place, and we immediately start up the stairs to the bedroom, but halfway up the stairs I leave her to go back down and take the phone off the hook, saying something about no distractions this time. The observer side of me remembers how this will turn out - when the woman I work with couldn't get through on the phone, she turned up at the door instead, and saw Janette wearing my robe. First time she'd seen Janette, and although it wasn't anything notable at the time, it eventually wound up raising unfortunate questions.