Wainwrights and Wrongs: Chapter 12

Wainwrights and Wrongs

Chapter 12

The heat of summer warmed up Brindleton Bay, but even though the Wainwrights lived close to the beach, they did not go there as often as one might expect.  Blair went more than her parents, now that she was into scouts and there were activities there sometimes, and a couple of times she went with a friend or a child her age that Boyd and Susan hoped was a friend she was making.  They, however, spent more of their non-working summer days puttering out back in the nicer weather, at least before it got too hot. 

Susan set up a rather industrial work bench for the robotics projects she brought home from work to tinker with, and Blair put up her scouting board beside it on nice days since it took up so much space in her small bedroom.  She liked having something out there to work on like her parents did with that and their plants.  Those needed daily watering on the hot days, and to Susan and Boyd’s relief, the garlic seemed to be working.  As far as they knew, Vladislaus had not returned.

Summer had its share of festivals, too, although not in Brindleton Bay.  The beach and the pet-friendly park were its biggest tourist draws, and despite Jonathan’s suggestion that they get a big dog to ward off Vladislaus or other intruders, they had not seriously entertained that idea.  Susan knew that she would be the one primarily cleaning up after it, even if Blair probably would promise to help if she knew they were considering it to sway them in favor of a new furry friend.  However, their house was too small for a big dog to expend its energy in during poor weather or to keep inside during long days when they were at work and school, and neither Boyd nor Susan relished the thought of having to take a dog for long exercise walks, especially in that kind of weather.  They did not even want to exercise in it themselves.  Or in any other weather, really, but that was another subject entirely.

One festival they went to was the Festival of Youth over in Mt. Komorebi.  That was a special weekend trip to celebrate Blair earning a scouting badge, and it was funded by Grandpa Patrick and Grandma Maureen.  They were getting up there in age, but Patrick had been frugal most of his life, so they had savings for splurges like that.  As someone who had a deep love of learning about other cultures, Maureen was thrilled to give their only granddaughter an opportunity to visit a foreign festival, even if it had to be a short trip.  Due to Boyd and Susan’s finances and work schedules, they could not afford to take more than a day off work, so they just flew out for the festival day and came right back, but Blair still had a wonderful time.

She participated in the science demonstrations and had fun experimenting at the chemistry station.  She spent so much time at them she missed her chance to go on the Voidcritter hunt, but she was able to meet Yamachan and get a capsule from him.  Plus, her time at the chemistry station gave her credit toward her science badge for scouts, and she was proud of that.

Another activity she had fun with was the arts and crafts demonstration.  There were several stations set up for kids to make crafts they could take home.  Although Blair did not tend to draw or color all that often at home, she enjoyed art class in school and had fun making pretty and colorful things, especially with glitter glue!  When she brought it home, she could show it to her scout leader and get credit for working on her art badge, too.

Since it was a children’s festival, there was not a whole lot for Boyd and Susan to do there other than hang around, talk, watch her have fun, and enjoy the food and drink.  “This must be what the Romance Festival was like for her, downing glass after glass of Sakura tea and looking at the flowers.  Except we’re stuffing our faces and watching Yamachan’s epic dance moves.”

“He’s pretty spry for a big green thing.  I’m not sure I could maneuver that well in that costume.”

“I hope he has fans inside it in this heat.”  Susan fanned her face before taking another bite of her ice cream crepe.  “These are pretty good.  You should try one.”

“Maybe after I’m done with this.”  He ate a bit more and looked over at Blair at the arts and crafts station, who was now finishing up.  When she saw her parents looking, she held up her creation, beaming with excitement.  Boyd gave her a thumbs-up.  “That’s quite a collage she made.  I can see it glittering from here.”

“Oh, goody.  Glitter.  The shiny gift that never stops giving.”  Still, Susan was happy to see Blair so obviously proud of herself.

Before the festival was over, Blair also tried some of the unique food.  Although she really liked the Tri-Color Dango, her favorite was the ice cream crepe.  That was so good that she ate it too fast and got a brain freeze, which she said emphatically should not be able to happen when it was this hot out.

“You’d think it would work that way, sweetie, but the hot weather actually makes it more likely,” Susan explained.  “It’s because your warm body is reacting to the sudden presence of so much of something so cold inside it.”

Blair winced through her brain freeze.  “Well, that stinks.  If you’re hot, it should be happy to get something cold.”

“Sadly, our bodies go by the rule that sometimes there can be too much of a good thing.”  Boyd held her crepe for her while she rubbed her temples.  “Hang in there.  It’ll pass soon.”

Despite that, Blair still had a great time at the festival and even talked her parents into getting a snack packed up to go that they could enjoy later.  It was starting to rain as the festival wrapped up, anyway, and they had to get back to the airport.  Boyd and Susan wished they could have stayed for a longer vacation and been able to see more of Mt. Komorebi.  It looked like a beautiful and interesting place, but they both had work the next day, so sleeping on the plane home it was.  They were grateful that they had the chance to take the short trip, regardless.

As they boarded the plane for the flight home, Blair was already sleepy.  She was only up for about the first ten minutes of the flight before conking out, while Boyd kicked the seat back the small distance it would go and dozed.  He had the task of keeping Blair’s craft, an artsy collage of paper plates, construction paper, paint, macaroni, googly eyes, and glitter, safe on his lap so she could hang it on the wall once they got home.  When they tried to put it in the compartment above the seat, Blair protested, “It’ll get all messed up in there!”  Boyd volunteered to hold it knowing how Susan would grouse about the inevitable glitter transfer onto her clothes, while he just planned to brush it off and chuck the clothes in the laundry when he got home.  There were far fouler substances than glitter in the environment if one really thought about it, anyway.

Susan had the task of safekeeping the snacks at her feet, and in retrospect, she was glad she did.  Not only was she more tired than she thought she should be after that day at the festival, but her stomach was churning, and she had to nibble on crackers to keep from throwing up.  I hope that Salmon Nigiri I ate wasn’t out in that heat too long.  Both food poisoning and airplane bathrooms were miserable, as far as she was concerned, and a combination of the two was something she never wanted to experience.

Thankfully, she made it through the flight home without having to bolt to the bathroom.  She, Boyd, and Blair all got home late and quite tired, but having enjoyed their trip.  Susan went straight to bed after telling her family good night, while Boyd tacked Blair’s artsy masterpiece on the wall above the table for her before they turned in as well.

Outside, a frustrated Vladislaus Straud emerged from the shadows of their front yard.  He came that night hoping to feast upon Susan’s plasma again, but it seemed that Lady Luck turned into the fickle Miss Fortune once again.  The house was dark when he arrived, and he assumed they were sleeping until he approached the door, wincing at the foul stench of that accursed garlic plant.  Then he heard someone coming and slipped into the shadows of the nearby trees only to see the Wainwright family coming home. 

So, they had been out and not sleeping.  Perhaps he would wait for them to go to bed, then.  Another half hour or hour was nothing to an immortal such as him.  He had waited longer for delectable meals.

In anticipation, he inhaled to catch Susan’s scent to whet his appetite, but he discovered that it had changed.  The predatory and gleeful look on his face changed to one of annoyance.  Susan Wainwright was off the menu, at least for a little while.  He did not bite those in her condition.  Much like feeding upon children, most civilized vampires considered that taboo, Vladislaus included.  He would have to wait longer to taste her again, it seemed.  But perhaps there was a bright side.  That fine plasma of hers might pass on to that one as he was certain it had her daughter, who was growing more by the day.  More gourmet fare was never a bad thing, even if he had to be more patient than he liked being for it.

And maybe by then, those disgusting reeking plants by the door would be either gone or died back.  Perhaps the Wainwrights would even think he forgot about them and abandon their silly futile attempts at safeguarding their little home.  Oh, and after that long, Susan Wainwright would be even more delicious.

Vladislaus was right that Boyd and Susan had no idea he was lurking around and waiting.  Although they were not naïve enough to assume he had given up entirely, they were starting to believe that the garlic plants at the door gave a strong enough hint, and aroma, to keep him out.  Susan had not received any more creepy messages, and while there was a part of Boyd that lamented that he never got to zap the fanged jerk with his freeze ray at least once, truthfully, he was glad he never had to confront him.  He had learned enough about vampires recently to know that things could go catastrophically wrong with a miscalculation or a bad turn of luck, and he was anxious enough that he could imagine those scenarios in detail.

He was the first up the following morning, and he took some of the leftover festival food for breakfast.  He had not slept well on the plane, and he only got a few hours of sleep after getting home.  He would need a lot of coffee to handle a full workday after that, and while coffee was an odd pairing for that type of leftovers, Boyd did not have Susan’s snooty palate.

She got up shortly after him and emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later looking even more worn out.  “The leftovers are on the counter if you want them,” he called over from where he was eating on the couch.

Susan grimaced as her stomach roiled at the mere thought.  “Thanks, but no.”  She threw some of Blair’s animal crackers in a bowl and called it good. 

She side-eyed Boyd’s plate as she sat down.  “I don’t know if I’d trust that if I were you.  That festival salmon did a number on me, and I ate that at the festival.  This stuff was out the whole time we were traveling.”  She nibbled gingerly on a cracker.  “I still feel awful.”

“That sucks,” he sympathized.  “But this tastes fine.  I think I’ll be okay.  Sorry you’re still so sick, though.  You okay to go to work?  Maybe you should take a sick day.”

“Right after a weekend vacation?  It’d look like I was calling out over a hangover.” 

“I don’t think anyone would think that about you.  You’re a hard worker and don’t call off much.”

She was starting to feel a little better as she ate a couple more crackers.  “Maybe not, but you never know.  Besides, I’ve got stuff I need to review that’s on a deadline.  I might work from home today if the boss doesn’t mind, though. If it’s not food poisoning and I caught some stomach bug, I’m not going to spread it to everyone there, and I really don’t feel like driving.”

Blair came out and joined them a few minutes later.  She piled some leftovers on a plate for breakfast before going back to the fridge and downing some chocolate milk straight from the bottle.

“Blair!  What have I told you about that?” Susan snapped when she caught it out of the corner of her eye.

Blair set it down guiltily and got a paper towel to wipe it off.  “But I’ve seen Daddy do it.”

Susan shot Boyd a look.  “And Daddy knows better.  So do you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“All right, but please don’t do that again.”  She turned to Boyd.  “You, either.”

He gave her a sheepish apologetic smile.  “Yes, dear.”

Blair sat down at the table with her parents to eat her breakfast before school, and Boyd turned to her.  “Sorry about setting that bad example for you.  Mom’s right.  It really is bad manners, and I shouldn’t have done it, either.  Our mouths do host a lot of potentially nasty communicable microbes.”

She swallowed the bite of food in her mouth.  “Does that mean germs?”

“Yes.  Very good,” Susan praised her.  “And I apologize for snapping, but it’s a rude thing to do.  Plus, stuff from your mouth getting into it would not only be gross, but it could also make the milk spoil, and I’ve already had enough of spoiled food.” 

“Aw, are you still feeling sick from the fish?”

“A little, yes.  I take it you’re fine, like your Dad?”

“Uh-huh.  But I hope you feel better.”

Susan could not help but smile a bit.  Despite the occasional misstep, Blair really was a sweet little girl.  “Thank you, sweetie.  You have a good day at school today.  I’ve got to go call the boss about working from home now.”

Susan felt better as the day went on, although what she thought was the food poisoning seemed to linger and flare up on and off throughout the week, even after she went back to work on site.  It was annoying, but she toughed through it.  Sometimes that sort of thing could really mess up one’s system, she lamented, and she made sure to eat some extra probiotic yogurt and stay hydrated until it passed.

Boyd’s stomach, however, was still just fine.  The lab sent him and some of his colleagues into San Myshuno for a symposium one day, and after it was over, they hit the nearby food stands for dinner.  He knew the spice festival was coming to town before the end of summer, and he was curious if he would be up to the challenge.  He liked spicy food, and he had what he thought was a reasonable tolerance for hot peppers and things like wasabi.  He decided to try one of the city’s famous spicy curry dishes.

“We aren’t kidding when we say it’s hot,” the attendant warned him when he ordered it.  “You sure you’re up to it?”

“Oh, I like a challenge.”

“Hey, look.  Boyd’s going to burn his tongue off,” one of his co-workers, Supriya, joked from the nearby table where they were all seated.  She was eating a decidedly safer taco.

“Hope you have that freeze ray handy,” Kalamainu’u chimed in with a smirk.

“I may regret this later, but I want to try it.  I need practice for the spice festival, anyway.  Better to find out now if I even have a chance.”

“Good luck,” Supriya said, while Kalamainu’u just gave him a thumbs-up.

To say the curry was “hot” was, what Boyd discovered the hard way and would later describe it as while regaling the tale of this mishap, an understatement of gargantuan proportions.

The first bite was hot, and the second even hotter.  Then it kicked in more.  And more.  His tastebuds felt like they were individually exploding, while his throat tingled with what he could only imagine a dragon would feel if it swallowed its own fiery belch.  He coughed.  He sputtered.  He doubled over, and he could have sworn he breathed actual fire, it was so hot.

His co-workers were a mixture of amused and horrified, but at least Kalamainu’u brought him a soda in a mostly futile attempt to ease his suffering.

The food stand worker watched with a sympathetic but jaded expression that indicated that while he felt bad for him, it was something he had seen many times before and would inevitably see again.  “Sorry, dude.  I tried to warn ya.”

Boyd could only choke out half-syllables, but he appreciated the sentiment anyway.  He just hoped the hellfire would be over soon.  Eventually, the sensation calmed enough for him to speak in a defeated, raspy tone.  “I guess I’m more of a spice newbie than I thought.”

“You think you’ll be all right?” asked Supriya.

“Ask me tomorrow after it tries to come out,” he muttered in a raspy tone, much to his co-workers’ amusement. 

But at least two good things came from the experience, he told himself.  One, he knew where he stood on the San Myshuno spice competitor hierarchy, and it was nowhere near where he thought.  And two, now he had a vague idea of how to make curry.  While his life was flashing before his eyes in burning spicy agony, something in his screaming mind parsed and memorized how to recreate the culinary formula that tried to kill him.  It was amazing how the brain worked sometimes.