Authors: June Ahern
Home life, as June had known it, had changed drastically. The house was very quiet. Maggie had been exiled from the house. Annie, married to Dave, came home only for Sunday dinner. Jimmy was quietly docile. June noticed that her mother rarely spoke to him.
Mary, a senior at Mission High School, was like a ghost drifting in and out the house. She kept her odd hours as a carhop at Mel’s Drive-in restaurant on South Van Ness at Mission Avenue. When home, she stayed in Annie and Maggie’s old bedroom, while June shared her pink bedroom with her mother. The only time the two remaining sisters talked was when Mary shared Eddie’s letters. He had enlisted in the Marines and recently wrote he was being shipped to somewhere called Vietnam, where he’d finally see some action.
The days when Maggie visited were fun for June. The MacDonald females had once again united in secrecy to keep quiet about Maggie
’s visits home while Jimmy was at work. Even as her thin body enlarged with pregnancy, she remained typical Maggie, full of dramatic life. Sitting around the kitchen table with tea and Cathy’s homemade sweets, she told them all about The Nomads, a popular band living across the hall from her and her assortment of flatmates. Tim, who was now in college, supported Maggie the best he could with the meager pay from his part-time job. June admired her sister’s brave stance to have her baby without the sanction of marriage and against society’s rules. But June was sad to hear that Loretta hadn’t been so bold. She married the man her parents had chosen for her and moved to the small coastal town of Pacifica. No one had heard from her since.
Difficult as it was to accept the changes at home, June found solace in her secret study of the pagan religion and witchcraft. Although she had agreed to leave all of that alone, a greater need to clear her psychic visions won over her promise.
She felt out of balance with her psychic energy. In reading the book, “The Triple Goddess of Time” (a gift from Sadie and Bernice) she found the right ritual. It was part of the celebration of
Imbolc,
February’s holy day. Paganism, like other religions, had holy days and times. The message of Imbolc was to purify, retreat from the outer world and quietly reconnect with one’s creative magic. Part of the ritual was to choose an item to stimulate a flow of new ideas. Flipping through magazines, June found a picture of a castle sitting on a lake and connected to the mainland by a stone bridge. The caption under it read, “Eilean Donan is a well-known castle in the Highlands of Scotland.”
“
I could be happy there alone,” she had told Brian when she showed him the picture and explained the ritual.
Since Mary had shied away from helping her make a hidden altar at home, Brian was the only one she trusted to practice her witchcraft in secret. The two friends met clandestinely in Brian
’s bedroom to practice witchcraft, because it was only in his room she could safely perform her spiritual rituals. The fearful images of Dr. Schmidt force-feeding her drugs were a constant reminder to keep playing it safe. Like the witches of the past who had to hide their practice, she, too, must keep silent.
Irritated with her inability to light a match, June tossed the matchbook onto an old oak table that held four candles; white, black, red and green. The candles, set up for their ritual to celebrate Imbolc, were arranged around a small group of seashells and the picture of the castle was propped up against the red candle.
“
Shouldn’t be playing with matches anyway. I could burn,” she said crossly as she threw her scantily clad body onto Brian’s bed to lie amongst the jumbled covers.
Brian struck a match and bent over the altar to light the white candle, as June had taught him to do. The white candle symbolized purity of heart and mental clarity of intention.
“Do I light the black one next?” he asked.
“
What’s the book say?” she said, leaning up on an elbow. “Ugh, your crack is showing,” she huffed, cupping a hand over her eyes.
Brian tugged up his white briefs and squinted at the open book.
“The crone’s first.” He lit the black candle.
It had been her suggestion to do the ritual sky-clad, saying it was the best way for making strong magic. It symbolized they came pure and clean. Brian hadn
’t opposed, although he wasn’t thrilled with the idea. He didn’t like showing his naked body to anyone, even to his best friend. He argued it wasn’t cool to be caught together undressed.
June reminded him at least they didn
’t have to worry about Jeannie’s ridicule if she found them semi-naked. Jeannie had moved away from home when she was accepted to a prestigious women’s college back East.
Th
ey had agreed to compromise. They kept on their underwear.
“
Let me light the next ones,” she said as she shimmied off the bed.
Brian struck another match and handed it to her. As she lit the green candle, she said,
“Welcome mother goddess. The fiery maiden is welcomed, too.”
She pivoted over the altar and the red candle
’s wick burst into flame.
With the jasmine incense floating around them, they retreated to the comfort of the bed to enjoy the flickering glow of the candles that created dancing shadows on the walls.
The pitter-patter of the February rain on the window enhanced the magic moment in the candle-lit room. A dreamy sensation filled June’s body, mind, and spirit.
“
Let us begin,” she said softly to Brian.
They stood.
Dutifully, Brian circled the four corners of the room, from east, south, west, and then north. As he circled the room, he lit the different-colored candles placed in each corner to invite the energy of each direction to give power to their magic.
When he was
finished, June picked up the athame. When she got out of the hospital Brain had given the athame as a gift after reading witches used them as their ceremonial knife. Holding it breast high with the blade pointed outward, she moved it around the room to cast a circle while she said, “The circle is cast. The spell made fast. Only good can enter herein.” Standing in front of the altar she opened her arms wide and said, “I invoke the powers of the crone, mother, and maiden into our circle to guide me to the truth and wisdom of the visions presented me so I can fulfill my destiny. So mote it be.”
* * * * *
J
AGGED EDGES
BECAUSE HER EXPERIENCES with Dr. Schmidt had made her mistrustful, she was still very reluctant to share her feelings or psychic experiences with Dr Weissman at their weekly counseling sessions although she developed an immediate bond with Simon, his Siamese cat. As soon as Dr. Weissman would open the door, Simon would rush up to greet her, entwining himself around her bell-bottom clad legs. Simon would lead the way to the living room. They would sit together on the ottoman. The hour-long session would slowly tick by as June cuddled Simon and enjoyed the refreshments Dr. Weissman offered. She gave very little information about her feelings. Instead, she would say a bit about how she was doing without the medicine and give updates on her sisters’ lives.
One day Simon didn
’t greet her when she arrived for her session. When she asked about him, the doctor assured her Simon would appear shortly. She settled onto the ottoman and graciously accepted a chocolate from the See’s candy box on the coffee table. She nibbled the candy as her eyes drifted over to the large picture window. Unconsciously, her hand moved down to stroke Simon. She bolted up when she realized Simon wasn’t there. She needed him as a buffer, as she always had in past sessions. She preferred to focus on the cat while mostly ignoring Dr. Weissman. So she chose her second line of defense. She rose from the ottoman to look out the window to avoid the doctor’s gaze. Looking out over the bay, she became mesmerized by the sailboats gliding past, and the sturdy, slow-moving tugboats hauling barges behind them. Her mind was traveling to a distant cove wrapped in misty swirls when she heard the muffled voice of the old psychiatrist. She listened closer and realized he was asking if she was ready for school. Her head shook lazily from side to side, still imagining seaweed lapping on a cold rocky shore.
“
June,” Dr. Weissman said in a voice louder than normal, jolting her out of her daydream.
Although he was kind and polite, she always kept a small part of herself safe from him or anyone else who might come too close to hurting her again. But more than anything else, she didn
’t want to go back to Dr. Schmidt and the hospital, so she tried to participate in small ways at her sessions with Dr. Weissman.
“
Hmm,” she said, turning toward him.
“
I asked if it was better at home with your father,” he said.
“
Basically, we ignore each other.” She held back volunteering any further information.
“
How are you doing without your medication?” the doctor asked.
“
Fine. Better.” She didn’t divulge she was still having lucid visions of traveling with her angel across the sea to a distant shore. She looked out the window and imagined being back at the cove and feeling the seaweed wrapped around her body.
“
Have you been out to sea much, Doctor?”
“
Let’s talk about you,” he answered with his usual response when June asked him a question. She didn’t like to talk about herself. It made her feel vulnerable and besides, her mother had said it’s impolite to talk about yourself.
June turned back to the room and spotted the artwork above the red couch. She
found the piece intriguing and was passionately drawn to it. There was a prolonged silence as her eyes examined it.
“
It’s a Pablo Picasso print called ‘Girl with Red Beret.’ Do you like it?” he asked.
“
Yes,” she said, without elaborating as to why. The picture of the girl with two faces sharing one head crowned with a red beret was like her and her angel. Brian had said that perhaps her angel was her own subconscious mind and not a separate entity. June didn’t agree with him. She remembered when her first teacher of magic, Mrs. G, had predicted that she and her angel would be together someday.
“
Where’s Simon?” June asked, unable to restrain her curiosity.
“
My housekeeper took him to the vet. He hasn’t been well lately.”
“
He’s not sick,” she blurted out, adding, “I mean, not in his body.”
Dr. Weissman peered at her, tapping his finger to his chin.
“Hmm,” he said under his breath.
She knew he was analyzing her.
She became more agitated, sensing that the doctor was staring at her with his coke bottle glasses. Perturbed he might think he was in control, she decided to show him her powers.
“
Simon’s sad. He misses his girlfriend.” She sat down on the ottoman. “Was he crying a lot?” Her eyes were closed and she stroked her arm as though she was holding the cat.
Dr. Weissman affirmed that Simon had been meowing more than usual, but it was the cat
’s lack of interest in eating that worried him. He chuckled at June’s comment. “With all of Simon’s meowing, he hasn’t mentioned he was lonely.”
Her eyes popped open.
“Sassy,” she said suddenly.
“
No, June. I’m only telling you why Simon went to the vet.”
She sighed and questioned him further.
“Simon’s girlfriend was Sassy, right?”
“
Oh! Classy Cat! That was her name.”
June cringed. She didn
’t like being wrong with her psychic information, especially now. She wanted to impress the doctor.
“
She died just about a year ago today. How did you know about her?” he asked, his face showing a surprised interest.
“
Simon told me telepathically a while ago. Do you think I’m nuts?” she said, testing him.
Dr. Weissman leaned forward, put both hands on
the coffee table and pushed aside the half eaten box of candy. “I think you are a most interesting young lady with true psychic abilities,” he said intently.
Intuiting he was telling the truth, she felt pleased by his genuine interest and his acceptance of her extrasensory abilities. Without further hesitation, she shared her history. She vividly recounted the life of reproof and ridicule firmly imprinted in her memory bank. Her words, like a monsoon, scattered across the table and pelted the doctor. Her earliest memory was at the age of three when she had a great fear that her ill sister would die. She was still haunted over Helen
’s death. “Was it my fault?” June wailed.
Without stopping for a breath, she told him about the years of anguish she endured for being labeled a misfit by her father and her religious instructors unkindness. They had unleashed in her an inner fury she knew was destroying her spirit. How could she heal? She wanted the doctor
’s answer, but bitterness over being betrayed kept her from asking. She recalled how Sister St. Pius had cruelly humiliated her and threatened her with burning in hell. The nun had frightened her so very much. She still feared that maybe she truly was a bad girl, as her father and the nuns had declared her to be.