Sarah shrieked, "Is that really how you see me?"
"Oh God, no! I'm sorry! I love that you are so caring and wear your heart on your sleeve. You don't have a cynical bone in your body. I wouldn't change a thing about you. It's just not me. I know you think I have all this longing inside me, but I don't. I like the way I live, I'm happy. I don't want all the difficulties that come with relationships. It's not worth it."
Who knows, she thought. He may be right. She certainly had seen her share of heartache, but unlike Jackson, she did believe it to be worth it.
Sarah had only seen him cry twice through all the years. The first time, in the forest after they escaped Victor, when they decided they could never return to their families.
The second time, when his sister Emily died. They had stayed close by their homes, watching unseen, for a few years, until it became too painful. Jackson was one of four siblings. He had two brothers and a sister. Emily was seven years older. Although the Parrishes were a close-knit family, Jackson and Emily shared a special bond. She being the oldest, and he the youngest. When Jackson came along, Emily decided he would be her baby and always took care of him. She gave him his love of music and schooled him in all the proper ways a noble man should behave. One of his favorite memories was when he would do something un-gentlemanlike, which was often. Emily would reprimand him, "No brother of mine will act like a savage." She contracted smallpox at the age of 33. Jackson had only been a vampire for a year. He was devastated. Sarah had to convince him not to turn Emily. In his heart, he knew she would not have survived the transformation anyway. Sarah held him while he sobbed uncontrollably. "How can this be happening? I will never say goodbye to her." He grieved for years and Sarah worried for a time that he might find someone to stake him. Were it not for Sarah, he would have. He lived only so that she would not be alone.
Jackson finished playing and looked up at Sarah. She clapped profusely and shouted, "Bravo." Tears streamed down her face, as he knew they would.
He rolled his eyes, and stood. "I need a drink."
"Here, have a sip of mine. Please play something else?"
I should have known better. She won't be satisfied until I play something that makes her want to slit her wrists. He would not deny her when she hurt like this and she knew it. He'd play all night if need be. He went back to the cabinet and found a concerto in d-minor. This ought to do the trick. At the end of this piece, she let out a guttural sob.