Authors: Nicole Lee
“
I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”
She nodded, not precisely sure how she should react in this incident. Bemused, cynically happy, genuinely contented, all of the above? Yet Rose knew that she was certainly cheerful about it. It would just take a small while to sink in.
“
For what?” Rose asked.
“
For calling you pathetic. I never wanted to hurt you, that day or now. I accept your lifestyle.”
Rose felt a pang of guilt at keeping everything else from him, though she knew she had an obligation to tell him everything, it would only have to wait a small while. She asked him if he had told anyone, whether it was in anger or confusion in the aftermath of their breakup, and he said no. Yet she was still uncertain, though she kept the insecurity to herself.
They skipped lunch to meet one another in the room that was both a computer lab and music hall. The band students were on the ground floor, below where the rows of PC’s were lined up in coliseum type pews , banging on a piano and singing very loudly, while Rose and Grady sat next to one another surfing the internet. He was looking up rock star interviews, whereas she had two windows open. One was an article about Margaret Mitchell’s estate, which she wasn’t really reading, but only keeping available to click on should someone catch her in the act of skimming what she was truly interested in. The piece she was actually focusing on involved invocations.
“
I found this real great place downtown,” he said to her suddenly. “It’s a cross between a Starbucks and a home kitchen. They let you make your own food, and I have a recipe for apple pie that I’ve been meaning to make. I probably can’t do it though, because my cooking skills aren’t always good. Would you be interested?”
“
It’s a date.”
“
Then we can go out to dinner.”
Rose giggled. “Who is to say we’ll even be in the mood to have a meal after we’ve stuffed ourselves with dessert ahead of time?”
“
Don’t tell me you’re one of those calorie counting freaks.”
“
No, but I’m not a hedonist either.”
“
Everyone should have at least one day out of their lives where they indulge without guilt. I mean, this is our last year of High School, Rose. We could have an entire lifetime of working boring dead end jobs ahead of us. We might as well have a good time while we can. I’ll see you at the Picture Gallery coffee joint at two forty five?”
“
Deal.”
October 13th
Dear Diary,
A religious conversation between me and James happened a few days ago, before I met my mother for the first time in so many years. He said he didn’t believe in God. I said that I was unsure, but it is still good to keep your options open.
“
Come on Rose,” he said.
Even after I became a practitioner, I tried my best not to give up my faith. I admitted to him that I struggle.
James shared a theory. He asked me to imagine two people sitting across from one another. One is a Christian and the other is an atheist.
The Christian poses a question. "If there is no God, how come we have such complex eyes and bodies? Can all of that possibly be an accident? Have you ever even looked at the stars?”
The atheist replied, “The cosmos is infinite and ever growing. Let's say everyone in the world breaks coffee cups all day. Picture billions of people throwing mugs on the ground every second. Eventually there would be seventy thousand people who end up with seventy thousand pieces of broken china which is in the shape of a well-cut triangle, lined up perfectly in a straight line. That would be an amazing circumstance, but not unlikely in the long run, nor is miraculous or mystical within the context I just gave. It‘s an explanatory event. So who‘s to say we humans can‘t be a happy accident?”
I thought about the story that James told me. I still yearn to believe in a celestial architect. Yet what James or Melinda aren’t aware of is how I know I live in a place where a witch could cast a curse on somebody and get away with it until karma sets in. The idea that one always gets what they deserve sooner or later, whether it be good or bad, has always made me believe that there is some intrinsic fairness, no matter how small or even unbalanced it comes across in the order of things, and that principle of one‘s actions coming back around cannot be an accident described by science.
I do feel like someone is watching over me, and it’s not in a comforting way, at least not lately. A lot of strange things have been happening, and I know it’s because of my mother. She is searching for me. One of her allies has been following me. If she makes herself known, I will be ready for her. That is something I am sure of.
The place where she met Grady that afternoon was a cross over of a caffeine stop and an easy bake. Thankfully it was not that busy, so the kitchen quarters belonged entirely to them.
Rose occupied herself with cutting the apples and trying to blend the chopped pieces together so as to make a decent sauce that was neither overpowering or too light. She mixed in sugar, flour thickening, and cinnamon.
Grady was in the corner doing his best to make a decently firm dough in the pan. She could tell that he was nervous.
Rose stared through one of the many windows surrounding them and noticing that snowfall was beginning to form outside. It felt good to be in a warm environment with the living, rather than a frigid crypt with the undead. For the space of what would be an afternoon, she could at least pretend to be normal. No tears of fire rolling from her eyes because of overwhelming sadness, no attempts at being a paranormal spy, nothing involving being followed by the man in black or sleep walking. Not until tomorrow, at least. Turning around, she saw that Grady was no longer working on the pie, but rather staring at her whilst being completely still like a photograph.
“
Are you ready?”
“
Of course,” he said, grabbing the powdery tin container lying dormant on the surface behind him.
They stood close together while mixing the necessary ingredients.
He put his arm around her while they waited for the oven to heat up to the proper temperature. When it came time to place the dish on the rack, they separated themselves, especially when glancing up and noticing that the owner was looking at the two.
He donned a tattered Guns & Roses shirt. He was freakishly tall and twenty pounds overweight. He had still been polite to them since they walked in.
“
You two are the nicest customers I’ve seen come in here all week,” he said. “Tell you what, feel free to take any drink you want from my freezer over there. It’s on the house.”
They smiled. While Rose’s first inclination was to decline out of sheer politeness since most businesses were struggling in general, she knew it would be bad-mannered.
The worker behind the main desk then said that he was going to do some chores in the back. As soon as he had gone, the stereo system in the shop was turned on, and airy sounds flowed from the almost invisible speakers hung in the corners. The orchestral noise of plucked strings, wood and brass winds, ancient keyboards and lyres flooded the room. Grady retrieved two cokes and sat them down on the counter. Rose could not help but think of how her body would never forgive her for the levels of sugar she was about to soak into her blood stream.
Grady ran his hand down the left side of her face, brushing back some of her hair over her ear.
“
I know we weren’t apart for very long,” he said. “Yet I still missed you a lot.”
“
What did you miss?”
He laughed faintly before answering her. “I missed your hair, and how it’s color changes depending on what light you’re in.”
The timer read that there were exactly seven minutes left until the pie was fully done. The owner came back out, and they pulled the treat out of the oven. They ate it in under half an hour.
After finishing the pastry, they went out to a restaurant whose specialty was Hawaiian food, with Grady promising how he would get the rather princely and outrageous bill which was sure to await them after they finished.
After their host seated them, Gina, Jessica and Emma walked in. They were dressed in J-Crews and Ann Taylor’s. They also wore black beaded necklaces and strawberry colored earrings which glistened in the light of the dining hall.
She just prayed that the host would not sit them next to the occupied table near where they were. Sure enough, her greatest fear came true. The trio of girls positioned themselves at the slab. For a while, they tried to hide their faces behind the large plastic and gold rimmed menus, but it was not long before they began whispering amongst themselves, and she knew what it was they were probably saying.
“
What’s wrong?” Grady asked, staring at Rose concernedly across the table. He had not seen them come in, due to how his back was to the main door.
“
Nothing,” Rose said, more out of self-affirmation with the hopes of calming herself down.
Finally, Emma sat up and walked over to where they were. The two others carried chairs and sat themselves at the same place. The servers, standing near the kitchen, gave them puzzled looks.
Emma said, “Grady, you shouldn’t be dating her. We found a book of spells that belongs to this freak.”
“
What were you doing going through my locker?” Rose asked, feeling a venomous anger rising from her core.
“
What are you doing keeping my man?” Gina asked, an arrogant smile crossing her face.
“
We should be. And you shouldn’t be seeing this catty Satanist. You could wake up one morning and find out that you’ve impregnated the woman who will give birth to the Anti-Christ.”
Rose sighed, rubbing her temples carefully, not even bothering to look around anymore to make sure that she was not about to cause a scene.
“
Yeah,” Jessica said with a rueful grin. “Why don’t you ride a tornado out of here. Just don‘t take my little dog with you.”
“
Listen Gina,” Rose said. “If you choose to apologize, I’ll accept it. Yet if you want a fight, I’ll give you one. You’re the typical bitch that good girls like me have to deal with, and I’m tired of it. So what do you say?”
Gina was about to give a comeback, before Grady surprised them all and stood up, directing the three to go outside the same way a rancher does his cattle.
Five minutes later, he returned and the cheerleaders were gone.
“
Did I scare them off?”
“
Sort of,” he said. “I did too, though.”
“
What did you say?”
“
I know a secret about all three of those girls that no one else does, and if I started telling people, it would kill their social status.”
“
What is it?”
“
All three of them are fans of Dungeons & Dragons. Huge ones. They play up to five times a night, when they’re not out on dates with the other guys from the team.”
Rose found herself trying to suppress a laugh, before bursting out into a complete cackle. It was the first time in her life that she had given a sound resembling an actual witch.
By the time the waiter came around with their food, it tasted immaculate. Each and every forkful was tinged with victory.
That was before the emergency fire alarms went out, causing the sprinklers in the ceiling to unleash a flood of water throughout the room.
They would receive news the next day that one of the cooks had accidentally spilled grease all over the floor of the refrigerating domain, and a fire erupted.
After they had escaped the irritating disaster situation, he drove her home. The incident was not even mentioned. Bad occurrences happening in areas they were at was now a normal event.
Remembering that she did not like being dropped off in front of her house for fear that her father would catch them, he parked in the same place he had the night they walked through the graveyard.
When he stopped the car, he held her hand firmly.
They both stepped out of the vehicle, and laid down on the front hood, gazing upwards at the stars.
“
I want to spend more time with you,” he said.
She felt the same way. Yet the bravery it took to admit this was something she could not summon at that moment.
“
Can I ask you questions about you being a…you know.”
“
A witch,” she said. “Don’t be afraid of the word. I take pride in it.”
“
Okay,” he said. “What is it made of? What do witches do for fun? Do you have gatherings in the meadows at midnight and drink the blood of baby tigers from the skulls of hyenas?”
“
Not often,” she said. “Giraffe’s blood is much better.”
“
So is everything I’ve learned from pop culture growing up a lie, or is it something else? When you die, do you melt?”
“
I wish,” she said. “I’d love to kill myself in the perfect location, and maybe melt in the girls locker room at school to make all the snoots slip and fall on me as they’re trying to leave.”
“
Morbid. So what they say about witches having a grim sense of humor is true.”
“
Maybe. Look, I’ll be the first to say that I don’t know much about the organizations of magic. There‘s a lot of them, but I‘ve never been part of an actual den.”