The Manifestation of a DivineSupernatural Being Bridget Jones’s Vampire Trope
Instead of being held in a public building with advance notice and lawyers, as I imagined was proper based on heavy TV viewing, the auction was conducted in front of the inn itself.
We woke up early and dressed in ballcaps and glasses to ward off the very last rays of light as the sun dipped below the horizon.
A handful of salt-crusted minivans and construction pickups pulled into the driveway.
One man opened his door to get out and an empty Wendy’s cup did a lopsided roll across the driveway.
Jessica arrived in an army-green puffer and a winter hat pulled low on her head.
The crane with the wrecking ball loomed over the pathetic scene.
“Today is my birthday,” I said to no one in particular.
“That’s right,” Heaven said. “Every day is your birthday. What is the Epiphany anyway?”
Vlad went into a long-winded explanation of the Magi and the first manifestation of Jesus.
“We used to make dumplings,” I said, getting to the heart of the matter.
In attendance at the worst celebration of the Epiphany ever: Wayne Jarvis, still in his cheap suit and a coat from Costco; Jessica; a guy I didn’t recognize; and the auctioneer, who looked like the man on the front of the Quaker Oats box.
Oatmeal is a vile gruel that people dress up with raisins.
Raisins are pure trickery. Even I know that.
While we were waiting for the Quaker Oats man to sell my house out from under me and/or destroy it, I griped, “What is the point of this? He’s just going to tear it down, right?”
Vlad sighed. “Tiffenie, I haven’t supported you as much as I could have over the last three centuries, always rescuing you instead of giving you the tools to save yourself in the first place.
Not that I needed to give you the tools, but as your maker, I should have provided some mentorship.
” He threw up his hands. “Anyway, I can see that I wasn’t that helpful. ”
Was this really the time for speeches about himself? “Vlad, I love you, but can you tell me more about yourself later?”
“You aren’t listening, I’m apologizing for running in on a white horse all the time.”
“Oh, Vlad.” I sighed. “Maybe you didn’t help, but it wasn’t all your fault.
The system wasn’t designed for a woman to succeed on her own and build wealth.
I couldn’t even own property without a husband until recently.
What I really should have done was marry someone and then drain him.
Being nonviolent has really gotten in my way.
My whole personality has been an obstacle to my success.
” Next to Heaven’s ray-of-sunshine philosophies, I could finally see how negative and defeatist I had been.
“Shut up, Tiffenie.” Vlad took my hands while the Quaker Oats man talked to a local in a trucker hat nearby. “You haven’t let me finish. I promise not to ride in on a white horse anymore, after this.” He gauged my reaction. “I could give you the money. I want to. I want this for you.”
The Quaker Oats man cleared his throat and said, “Let’s get this proceeding started. You’re all here for an auction of this property, 623 Maple Lane, owned by the city of Valentine, Vermont.”
My heart was in my throat. I had been so proud of myself for the last month. Heaven and I had done something hard by fixing this house up and becoming part of the community. Not every vampire could do that.
The Quaker Oats man continued. “Be aware that this is a condemned property. The city is selling it as is, without inspection or guarantee of any sort. The house has been condemned for a variety of issues: exposed wiring, infestation of bats and other vermin, health and safety violations, fire damage, and a rotted front porch.”
He glanced up at the brand-new front porch, a puzzled look on his face.
“They used the wrong screws,” Wayne Jarvis said.
The auctioneer raised his eyebrows, but it was no skin off his nose.
The whole house looked pretty good, actually.
Sure, it had the appearance of a haunted house, but it was decorated for Christmas.
Radiance was a Hallmark Christmas gone wrong, a beloved piece of Americana.
It didn’t fit in in the neighborhood, it struggled with rules, and it was getting pretty old, but it had a place.
A lightbulb went off in my head. Didn’t fit in, no rules, too old—this house wasn’t just mine; it was me. And Heaven. And Vlad. It was a house for vampires.
I pushed my way to the front of the group. The house lights glinted off the reflective numbers on the crane. “May I speak?”
“Ugh…” The Quaker Oats man looked confused. “I guess, but this isn’t a hearing. I don’t have the power to un-condemn your house.”
“Fine.” If it was a eulogy, then so be it.
I looked out at the small gathering of cold people who wanted to get this over with and hurry home to Hamburger Helper and lukewarm marriages. Fuck that. I took a steadying breath for good measure and cleared my mind.
“Good people of Valentine,” I said, “I inherited this home a couple of months ago. When I arrived, I found it cold, empty, and filled with bats. Today, I can say it is the warmest home I have known since I was a child. Heaven, Vlad, and I fixed everything using money we raised from strangers on the internet who love Heaven’s life advice, as well as mine, it seems.”
I cleared my throat. “At any rate, they hope to visit someday. Tyrone, across the road, gave us those screws that Wayne doesn’t like.
Bob, Jessica’s brother, fixed our wiring and rode out his first holiday post-divorce with us.
The bats moved into the barn because they didn’t like holiday music.
We got rid of the fire damage. I don’t fully understand how she did it, but Heaven filled the home with positive energy and sunlight.
The pink salt lamp looks like a sunrise.
Tyrone killed a coyote to satisfy the illegal canid order.
What else do you want from us? We did pretty well given the time we had.
All in all, you have to admit this house looks great. And even if it doesn’t, it’s my home.”
Heaven looked down at her feet.
“I am proud of everything we did here. I’m proud of myself and I’m proud of you, Heaven. Maybe Valentine is going to take this home and destroy it right in front of us, but this house represents more than that.”
“Um, lady.” The Quaker Oats guy tried to interrupt me. “This isn’t really a speech occasion.”
“Don’t interrupt. I’m talking.”
Vlad shot daggers at Quaker Oats. “Keep going, darling. It’s beautiful.”
“When I came here, I was running short on belief. I was lonely. Now, thanks to Valentine, Heaven, and Vlad, I believe in something. I know that every day is your birthday, money comes to me, and good dick ain’t worth nothin’.
But mostly, I know that I have power. Fuck your regulations. I am radiant!”
Heaven smiled. Everyone else looked confused.
“You can plow this house down, but I’ll still be standing, and so will my family.”
“Um…” the Quaker Oats guy said. “Lady, I’m sorry about your house, but it’s not my call. I’m just doing my job.”
I gave him a nod.
“If everyone is done talking, I’d like to open up the bidding.”
Jessica cleared her throat. “Hearing you talk gave me an idea, Tiffany. I have something to say too, an announcement to make.”
“What now?” Quaker Oats looked at his watch. “It’s not an actual funeral.”
Jessica walked to the front of the group and tightened her ponytail like she meant business.
“I’m head of the Valentine Planning Committee and in charge of the annual award of the Valentine Christmas Miracle Fund.
I wasn’t intending to announce the recipient until Valentine’s Day, but due to circumstances, I’d like to make the award early. ”
My jaw dropped. She couldn’t be…
“Tiffany, you have been an asset to this community. You’ve only been here for a month, but you’ve volunteered for the elderly.
You hosted a Christmas celebration for all of us with nowhere else to go.
Valentine is not ready to lose you as a citizen.
And we certainly shouldn’t be knocking your house down because a bunch of stuffy old guys won’t accept a video as evidence of your hard work.
I’m delighted to get to know your family.
I think you all are the new face of Valentine.
” With a glance at Vlad and Heaven, she continued.
“I don’t fully understand what’s going on here, but I like it, and Valentine needs you.
As a community, we’re thirsty for more gathering spots, or third places, as Dr. Rosetti called them.
Whatever you decide to call this business—a bed-and-breakfast, a salon, a coffee shop, or a cult—I’m going to be your first customer. ”
With a flourish she added, “No one has deserved this award more since we gave Tyrone some money a few years ago to start his Christmas fair. You three are the future.”
Oh, the irony.
“At any rate, it is my honor to present you with the Christmas Miracle Fund. It’s pretty large this year after that bachelor auction. Tyrone brought in a lot of money, not to mention the baked goods sale.”
At that, Vlad smiled with true satisfaction. He had managed to give me the money after all.
My heart broke with every word Jessica spoke.
I had found a place, no, I had made a place for myself.
But I couldn’t take the money. I could, but I couldn’t buy a house with it.
“Vlad,” I said quietly, “Wayne knows I’m not really Tiffany, and maybe some of the others.
I don’t know if I can use that identity to buy a house, but I also can’t own property as Tiffenie Ruba. ”
Vlad saw my face fall and my undead heart breaking to pieces. To get so close to my goal was almost worse than missing by a long shot.
He took me and Heaven aside for a vampires-only huddle. “No one knows that Heaven is undead.” He looked at Heaven. “Right?”
As what he was saying dawned on me, rays of sunlight shot through the clouds and into my soul like a corny picture with a Bible quote. All the pyrite and sunlight that Heaven never shut up about must have worked. That three-thousand-dollar salt lamp was worth every penny.
“Even better if you buy the house under your business name,” he said to Heaven. “The government doesn’t notice if businesses live forever.”
“Heaven?” I asked, my eyes shining with hope.
She looked at the inn. “So this would be mine, the headquarters of Radiance Global Life Coaching?”
“Absolutely. If you would have me, I would like to stay on in some capacity, but you can banish me to Provo if you want,” Vlad said, bowing his head in deference.
“I’m not stupid,” she said. “I want the leader of the vampires and his bride on the premises.”
On the Epiphany, January 6, 2025, I was born again not as a divine being but as a woman who knows her own power.
I am not a girl born in 1996 who spells her name with a -y, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
I’m Tiffenie. I drink blood but I don’t wear matte lipstick.
I’m sort of into crystals and I never do the dishes, mostly because I don’t cook.
And I don’t like garlic because it’s gross, not because it has magical powers or whatever.
I live in an inn with unclear branding (forward all questions regarding Radiance to Heaven) and will believe forever that I look like Rachel Weisz.
(Not having a mirror can be a good thing.) I live with my best friend, who’s more like a sister, even if she calls herself my landlord, and my fiancé, whom I’ve been dating for three hundred years.
And no, there won’t be bridesmaids at my wedding.