Read Interview With a Jewish Vampire for Free Online Page A

into the phone the next afternoon after checking the Caller ID. “Yes, he called . We went to see Fiddler on the Roof last night. He broke down and cried during the show because it reminded him of home. I got to comfort him. We really had an emotional moment, but he took off in the middle of the night without leaving a note and now I’m worried again that he won’t call. I was hoping you were him, but you’re not. But then it’s daytime so how could it be him? I don’t know why I’m so anxious—but I am. I’m falling in love with the guy and it’s giving me a panic attack. Why don’t we go for a little shop and schmooze? I need distraction.”
    “ I just woke up. I can’t move,” she gasped. “I feel like I was vampirized during the night and all the blood was drained from my body.”
    “ I’m the one who’s dating a vampire, not you. So why don’t you tell me all about him while we shop. I desperately need some new clothes for my trip to Florida and my next date with Sheldon. How about it?”
    “ Retail therapy eh? I’m for that.”
    We met in the lobby and were greeted outside by a blast of freezing air. All male eyes swiveled to get a look at Charlene as we walked down 86th Street towards the subway. She ignored the attention, she was so used to it. Walking down the street with her was an exercise in invisibility. No one even saw me—no man that is. I loved her for her cleverness, warmth and original outlook on life and had managed over the years to accept her appearance as an act of God.
    Despite her looks, however, Charlene’s track record with men wasn’t much better than mine. Yes, she attracted them by the carload, but they never stuck around. Before my marriage I, on the other hand, had a hell of a time finding a boyfriend, but when I did, they tended to linger, often past their expiration dates. My ex-husband definitely took his time leaving me—waiting until my eggs were stale. My recent spate of one-night stands was an unfortunate new post-divorce pattern than I hoped Sheldon would break.
    “ So tell,” I asked, as we glanced at the new brownstone across the street, which was twelve stories higher than any other building in the neighborhood. I wondered how they’d got a permit for that one. “Who drained your blood last night?”
    “ Ooooh, I ran into this guy from the neighborhood.” She batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. “We’ve been giving each other the eye for years, every time we pass on the street. He’s tall, luscious and sinewy….you know, the catlike type who slinks along stalking his prey. I just couldn’t resist getting dragged into his lair,” she sighed, languorously. Charlene really had languorousness down to a science. While my movements tended to be rapid, jerky and frantic, her every gesture radiated slow-motion grace.
    “ Charlene, tell me something,” I asked as we opened the door to Lane Bryant on Thirty Fourth Street and were happily enveloped by the warm air inside. “How is it you are always meeting men on the street who’ve been giving you the eye for years?”
    “ I think it’s my dog. People always notice you if you have a dog. Why don’t you get a dog, Rhoda?”
    “ Charlene,” I replied, exasperated. “I could walk down the street with a panther on a leash and after a while people might start saying hello to the panther but ten to one they’d all be little old ladies who wanted to tell me their problems. Sometimes I think I have ‘tell me your troubles’ stamped on my forehead. Men who need either a therapist or a mother or both are irresistibly attracted to me, except for Sheldon and he’s from a century when weighing 200 pounds was fashionable. Outside of vampires I seem to have allure only for little old ladies and the terminally psychotic.” I headed for the nearest “clearance” rack.
    “ It would help, Rhoda, if you’d take off a few pounds and put on some makeup. Can’t you at least buy another pair of pants? The jeans