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NotCohenNotBrothers t1_iro3qfm wrote

"Bertha! Bertha! Beeeeeerrrrrrttttthhhhhhhaaaaaa!!" The little boy's high-pitched voice rang down the aisles, bouncing off the bags of salty snacks, wandered through the dozens of boxes of candy. Eventually it made its way to my ears. I was sitting down behind the counter on a plastic milk crate. I usually didn't "zone" when working, but it was 3 am on a rainy Tuesday and I hadn't had a single customer since 9.

"Bertha! Bertha!"

"I'm here, Jeffery. What is it? What are you doing up so late?" I pulled myself up on my feet and looked through the bullet-proof glass shield. Jeffery's clothes were soaking wet and he was missing a sneaker. His face was dirty and his eyes were red.

I vaporized and slid through the cash-slit of the glass. Jeffery was my favorite great-great-great grandson. Seeing him distressed caused me to forget myself. I spelled him so he'd forget what he'd just seen me do.

"What is it, sweetheart? Why are you out so late? What happened to your other shoe? Why are you crying?" The brown-haired little boy looked startled and jumped when I touched him. I spelled him again. See, I move very quickly. Usually I can hide my speed but like I said, I like this kid. A lot.

"It's mama's boyfriend! He hit mama! I told him I was gonna make him stop and he kicked me in the butt! I fell down the stairs!"

Ah, but of course. My great great great grandson's mother. Beatrice Walker never met a man worth a plugged nickel in a rigged card game. She'd already been married and divorced 4 times. She'd been abandoned one time, but I'll hold my tongue about that particular man. I'd tried to save her from herself her entire life, but once my Jeffery came along, I gave up on his mother and spent all my time and efforts on him.

I was getting on in years, you know.

Jeffery looked around the store. I could feel the hunger radiating off him. Oh my God, he was thin. I hadn't noticed at first but this kid hadn't had a decent meal in a couple days.

"Hotdog, baby? You like it with extra ketchup, no mustard, right?" I walked to the rollers. "Oh, look! There's two! I'll bet you could easily eat two hotdogs, couldn't you?" I opened a fresh bag of hotdog buns and slid them into the warmer. As they heated up, I walked up to the fresh fruit display. There was a small container of green grapes. I added a banana and pulled a strawberry milk out of the QuikPiks display.

"Come over here and wash your hands, honey." I set a cardboard box down and placed a napkin on it. I pulled a footstool over and gestured at Jeffery to sit down. I placed the food and the milk down and he started tearing into the grapes. Yep. This kid had gone at least two days without food.

Beatrice was going to listen to me tonight. The timer on the bun-warmer dinged. I squirted a ridiculous amount of ketchup on both dogs and made a theatrical serving gesture "Bone Appetite, Mon-sewer!"

I told Jeffery I'd be back in a few minutes, in the meantime, he was to finish his food, then lie down behind the counter on the blanket I'd spread out for him. "Don't worry-the door is locked. No one will bother you."

I locked the double doors behind me and walked out of sight of the parking lot lights. Just in case Jeffery was watching. I doubted it, though. I could feel his hunger and right behind it, the pure exhaustion.

I shot straight up into the air. A minute later I was pounding on Beatrice's front door. "INVITE ME IN, HONEY!" I yelled.

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Pinkbeans1 t1_irooc0o wrote

I loved this. Really had me laughing at the end. Invite me in so I can kick the bastard’s ass, please!

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NotCohenNotBrothers t1_iropjv8 wrote

Thank you! That, and Bertha must be really tired of Beatrice's screwups and neglect of Jeffery.

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happybunnyntx t1_irpdi3l wrote

I'm afraid of an angry grandma at the best of times, I can't imagine a vampire grandma!

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NotCohenNotBrothers t1_iru2lt5 wrote

I pounded on the door. I could hear whispers, Beatrice was crying softly. Her man, Luke, John, Bubba, whoever was yelling, I could smell his rage as well as hear his words and thoughts. Beatrice was trying to calm this latest mistake down but Luke John Bubba Whatever wasn't having it.

Beatrice hissed at him "BE QUIET, BABY! I'm serious! Bertha is NOT to be messed with!"

"Bitch, I ain't afraid of you, and I am NOT afraid of a fat old 7/11 clerk!"

Ah, I could hear the slurring. I could also smell the Jack Daniels through the walls. This explained everything. Beatrice fell off the wagon repeatedly, especially after she'd actively search out drunks and addicts to partner with.

No wonder Jeffery hadn't been fed. I then realized he was obviously missing school, too. This 7-year-old was out wandering in a rainstorm on a school night, of course he was missing school. I felt immediate shame; I should have been keeping better track of him.

The shame I felt enraged me. I pounded again. "BEATRICE! YOU INVITE ME IN RIGHT THIS MINUTE!"

I heard a scuffle, slaps, and a cry. Beatrice now had a nosebleed. I could smell that, too.

Poor Jeffery. He'd been the audience to these two idiots for quite some time and I had let it happen.

I continued pounding. "BEATRICE! BEATRICE!!!...."

Suddenly the back door slammed open. I was standing at the front door so I jumped over the house, landing on the back porch. Beatrice was standing on the cement stoop, staring into the back yard. "Bertha! Bertha! Where are you??" I tapped her on the shoulder and she screamed.

"Dammit, Bertha, how do you do that? You scared me!"

"Invite me in, Beatrice. Where's what's-his-name?"

"Please come in, Bertha. I don't know--be careful, he has a gun and couple knives. I think he's in the basement right now. He doesn't like you, Bertha. I think he'll try to kill you."

"Does he have many relatives, Bea?"

She stopped shaking for a moment, her nose bleeding continuously.

"What? What kind of question is that? Bertha, what the fuck?"

"I need to know" I spoke slowly and carefully as if I were speaking to an idiot. Which I was. "If anyone is going to come looking for him anytime soon."

Beatrice's eyes grew wide "NO! Bertha, NO! Don't kill him, I love him! He's just, he's just, he is having trouble at work, and his ex-wife is lying to the courts, and....."

Oh my God, NOW do you see why I gave up on her?

"Beatrice, do you know where your son is?" I couldn't help it-my contempt was clear on my face. Beatrice looked startled. "Jeffery? He's in his bed. Where else would he be?" She glanced at the clock on the stove. It read 3:14. My stomach churned. I hadn't noticed it right away because of the excitement, but the house STANK. There were flies, and un-dumped garbage pails and piles of dishes and papers and clothing piled everywhere.

I said nothing, but staring into Bea's eyes, I stomped across the kitchen and yanked the refrigerator door open.

It was empty. That is, except for a half-empty bottle of vodka.

I turned towards the woman. "I was going to........I need........EBT...........Jeffery's father claimed...........called the courts..........someone.........."

I could have easily punched myself in the face at that moment. I claimed to love this little boy more than anyone I've ever loved, and I was completely unaware of just how awful his life was. Well, that ends tonight.

I was disgusted with myself, so I went a bit out of control.

While Beatrice and I argued in the kitchen, Luke John Bubba was creeping up behind me, holding a knife in one hand and a glass of Jack Daniels in the other. Bea's eyes went wide at one point and I could clearly see him in her left eye.

"Hang on, Beatrice. I have to handle something." I reached behind me and grabbed his throat with my left hand. I move quickly. He never saw it coming. I crushed his windpipe and he expired sloppily on the kitchen floor in front of the mostly-empty refrigerator. I turned to Beatrice. "I notice you didn't warn me he was sneaking up behind me, Beatrice." I tsk-tsked her.

Beatrice screamed and threw herself on whatever-his-name-was's body.

She looked up at me in rage at one point. "YOU BITCH!! I LOVED HIM!!!"

She wailed and screamed so loud I was sure the neighbors were going to hear. I perked my ears up, yep. A neighbor was speaking to his wife about calling the police "That disgusting woman--with the drunk asshole, maybe we should call someone? It's been pretty loud tonight."

His wife tried to soothe him "Don't worry, honey. They'll pass out soon."

I knew the husband would override his wife's suggestion and call the police. That left me with a few minutes to tidy up this mess.

I turned to Beatrice.

"Bea. Darling. I'm sorry. But, this has to be done. I know he hasn't entered your thoughts at all tonight, but I want you to know that Jeffery is going to have an AMAZING life. You can go on to the next world not ever worrying about him. Do you understand me?"

Beatrice didn't understand me. Don't be surprised. Don't worry, though, it was a quick ending. I move fast, after all.

The newspapers described a sad murder/suicide, never mentioning a sweet brown-haired little boy. Neighbors forgot about him as well, not ever remembering anyone other than the argumentative couple who seemed "to drink quite a bit."

Jeffery is now 10 and in the top 10% of his class. He told me last summer that he wants to learn Spanish, so we'll be moving to Spain in a few weeks' time. He has forgotten the first few years of his childhood. It bothers him sometimes, but he's a sweet, intelligent boy who is interested in all sorts of things.

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ireneach t1_iruygba wrote

Thank you so much! It is very nice to have a satisfying closure to the story. Looking forward to reading more from you!

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kingura t1_irvtj4i wrote

This was EPIC! THANK YOU!

I’d still read a trilogy about her. She’s a cool character. But that’s a good ending too!

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Chaosmancer7 t1_irxtfrg wrote

Well, that escalated quickly

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NotCohenNotBrothers t1_iry5jpr wrote

Well, once Bertha realized how neglected Jeffery was, she saw that nothing was going to change. She missed a lot of signs and is REALLY disgusted with herself for failing the little boy.

I will say that she wasn't planning on what happened, but once she was there in the house and saw the situation she made the decision.

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beach_fox t1_isie7jc wrote

>That was more shocking than an attack. I had never heard him say something that nice before. I wasn’t sure if he was naturally cold or if that was just something that came with the curse of vampirism, but usually, he would only talk himself up. As I stood there stunned, he went back behind the counter, not paying my shocked expression any mind.

After your first few centuries, you've gotta learn when it's time to cut your losses, snip off loose ends, and take off with what you can salvage from a situation. Good on Bertha.

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kingura t1_irpopzx wrote

If this epicness gets a part two, I wanna be tagged.

I’d read an entire trilogy about Bertha.

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