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Chapter Eleven

In Savannah I learned how to be invisible

That first day I spent hours walking through the city, savoring the cool green squares, the fountains, the statues, the church bells I meet lost, and I i to calculate how much street should lie between squares in order to offer respite fron

It was late May, and people passed through the city wearing cotton dresses or short-sleeved shirts, and carrying their jackets My black trouser suit looked out of place a them I sat on a bench in a square sheltered by live oak trees, and I watched the people as they walked past Perhaps one of the her I could tell the tourists from the locals by the way they walked and by what they looked at; the locals uorous stroll

In Savannah I began to wonder: How does one vaesture, a nod or wink or hand movement by which she proclaims herself "one of us"? Or does some instinct allow for instant identification? If I met another vampire, would he or she welcome or shun me?

As the afternoon waned, I sat on my bench and watched for shadows Everyone alked by cast a shadow I did not Either Savannah held few vahtfall

I o inside the gates Instead I looked for the house where my mother had lived And I think I found it: a three-story red brick house with green shutters and black-iron-fra the ce there with a woman -- a faceless woman My mother

As I walked away, I looked down at the brick sidewalk, at the patterns etched in the bricks They weren’t spirals -- they were concentric circles, like little target signs My father’s memory wasn’t perfect after all, or else his pattern dyslexia was to blame

A few blocks later I saw an old hotel rought-iron balconies overhanging the street, and for aa night sleeping on crisp clean sheets But I had fewer than a hundred dollars left, and I didn’t knohen I’d have more

I looked into the hotel’s first-floor s: a lobby, then a bar and restaurant At the bar sat a tall lass that caught the candlelight and gleamed a familiar dark red

Picardo Suddenly, Inow in his leather chair, raising a silass? Did he miss me? He must be worried, more worried than ever before Or, did he knohat I’d been doing? Could he read hts from that distance? The notion alarmed me If he knehat I’d done, he would despise me

The lass -- but not the man who held it As if he sensed my stare, he turned around Quickly I walked on

The sky had darkened by the tier turned to dizziness I walked aaudy shops and restaurants that promised raw oysters and beer When I saw an Irish io inside and come out with a shahich he wrapped around the faceless woled -- a sensation I hadn’t had in so long that at first I didn’t recognize it Then I knew So me I looked in all directions, but saw only couples and families, intent upon theain, more slowly This time my senses focused on a stone staircase, then on the first step, where athered

So you’re invisible, I thought Are you the sah, but no one around

My face felt hot It’s not funny

And for the first time, I tried to make myself invisible

It’s not difficult Like deep meditation, it’s a matter of concentration; you breathe deeply and focus your awareness on the immediate o Your body’s electrons begin to slon as you absorb their heat Deflecting light feels as if you’re drawing all energy into your deepest core A sense of freedoh me; later I learned that it’s called qi or chi, a Chinese word for "air" or "life force"

As aI looked down at h them The tailor-made trousers had disappeared So had my backpack My father’s claierated

After that, I had no sense of the other II walked into a restaurant, toward the kitchen, where plates of food waited to be collected and served No one even looked in non, went out the back door with it, and sat on a stone wall to devour it, using my hands as utensils A few minutes later, two servers froarettes, and one of theht next toso close that I saw flakes of dandruff in his hair

"Somebody must have dined al fresco, huh?" he said

The other server laughed "Al Fresco? Who’s that? You mean the ho sleeps by the Dumpster?"

I tucked a ten-dollar bill into his back pocket as I left, to pay for h the alley to River Street again, giddily dodging tourists Being invisibleOnce I brushed by a plulanced around to see who had touched hiure out why: he’d been bumped by my invisible backpack

For the first ti fun, and I wondered what else Iinvisibility is as exhausting as running or biking for ht