Hex

by Kali Emerson

  Across the cafe to my right, something caught my attention.

  It was a table against the window. There were two girls sitting there, one with long blonde hair and the other with shoulder length ginger curls. They both had skinny silhouettes and long legs. I recognized one of the girls as someone I went to high school with, but they must've gone to another close by college. I did hear of a few people from my class, who got into Berkeley school of Music.

  But it wasn't them that made me look, it was the man sitting across from them. His arms were thrown across his chest in a criss-cross.

  He was dark, with long black locs that went a little past his shoulders. Half of them were tied up in a knot that sat at the back of his head.

  His arm muscles were defined by the thin fabric of his blue t-shirt, showing off the frequency of which he went to the gym. I could see a few tattoos on his forearm and one on his neck, but I was too far away to see what the images were.

  A smile flashed across his face and my heart leaped up into my throat. He was laughing at something the girls said and had a sudden unwanted feeling of jealousy.

  I lifted my heels up to get a better look at the table, there were no books so they weren't studying. He sat up straight, his arms dropping down towards the floor, exposing the image on his shirt. Captain America!

  “Ma'am..can I help you?"

  I realized it was my turn to order and I had been staring at whoever that was. I couldn't believe how captivated I'd been by a stranger. Although I liked to watch people, I never took such an interest in the people I watched.

  “Um…yes…sorry. Can I have a large coffee, with milk.” I glanced over in his direction again and quickly returned my attention back to the cashier.

  “And a large vanilla coffee with cream and sugar.”

  “What's the name?"

  “Mara.”

  “Okay, that's $7.22,” I handed the cashier a ten dollar bill and stood on the other side waiting for my name to be called, letting the change drop into the top jar.

  I couldn't see the table clearly anymore because the line formed a wall that was too tall to see over. I hadn't really been interested in finding a boyfriend and I didn't really date in high school. It was more like I slept around. I had a healthy apatite for sex, with pretty much anyone who had a decent personality, or told me I had a nice ass.

  I did have one boyfriend for a few months as a freshman. It was during prom and he was the only reason I went. I only really kept him around because he paid for dinner and always gave me orgasms without much instruction. It was a rare thing to find, especially in high school. We broke up when he left for college.

  Fiona on the other hand had a girlfriend for the last two years of high school, Cameron. They were probably soul mates. They came out to each other before Fiona ever came out to her mom, or me. I thought for sure Cameron would apply for MassArts with us and they would live happily ever after. But, Cameron wanted to go to school in Boulder for Biomedical Science.

  Fiona wouldn't talk to me about it. They still texted every day and for the most part didn’t act like they actually broke up. Cameron said she wanted to experience other people and Fiona agreed.

  Every once in a while Cameron would call Fiona while she was drinking, slurring how much she still loved her, but the next day would deny it ever happened. Cameron started seeing someone else at the beginning of the year and had been going steady with her. They planned on moving in together for the school year, in an apartment in downtown Denver.

  Fiona thought about calling the girl to tell her that Cameron still sent her pictures of her boobs most days. We decided it was too mean, and that she would get what was coming to her eventually. I told her she should do a spell to cut her communication with her for good, but she always turned me down. She liked the attention that came from Cameron and she wasn't ready to let go.

  I noticed the man standing up over the top of someone's head that was about my height, in line. He looked tall, just above six feet.

  “Mara!” I turned my head to see two paper cups sitting on the counter. I grabbed the coffees without a carrying tray and took one last look at him on my tip toes before heading out the door to my car.

  The cold air hit my face as soon as I exited the cafe. My nose started to water and tears came streaming out of my eyes. My hands were full so I couldn't wipe them or put my hood up.

  So, I continued walking toward my car with my eyes half shielded from the wind. I had to juggle the two coffee cups to open my door and almost dropped one.

  I thought about dropping one on purpose so I had an excuse to go back in there and ask him for his phone number. But, I decided against it for the sake of time. I turned to look at the line and it had gotten longer. I put a cup in each cup holder, shifted my car, and backed out in the direction of the school. The clock read 8:22am.

  I made it with one minute to spare, but Fiona was tapping her foot at me anyway. She got there early. So even though I was technically on time, she was irritated that she had to wait for me still. I handed her the coffee before she could say anything.

  “I wasn't late.” I took a sip of mine.

  “I'll give you a pass this time. Dead mom's give you passes for a lot of things.” She wrapped her arm around my back and pulled me into a hug. I thought about that hug a thousand times in my head, it was inevitable and I fully expected to start crying when I felt the warmth of her body embracing mine.

  She held me for a long time and when she let go, she looked at me empathetically. I really didn't want to cry before class, so I blinked and stared at the concrete trying to get rid of the tears before they got bad. A few escaped and landed on the concrete.

  “We can do the notes now.” I started to walk toward a bench that sat in front of the massive glass wall, looking into the school. Fiona pulled out her notebook and handed me three stapled packets of hand written notes.

  “I wrote two copies so that you didn't have to write them out yourself, you could just look at them. I separated them by color, so the pages with the pink highlight are for Art History, the yellow is American Literature, and the green is Ceramics.” She was always so organized and prepared. I knew she was the one to trust in taking notes.

  “Thanks for doing this for me.” I slid the papers into my bag in between my laptop and my notepad.

  “You know it was the least I could do, not going to the funeral and all.”

  Fiona didn't do well at funerals. Fiona was a gifted witch like me. An empath. A real empath. Not only could she feel when something was wrong, she felt the full emotions of people. She mostly knew how to turn it on and off, but quickly realized when she was somewhere that a lot of people had the same emotion, she couldn't handle it.

  She would feel every emotion for every person in that room and it would send her brain into overdrive. She learned that the hard way when her Abuela died when she was five. She started hyperventilating and uncontrollably crying. No one was able to calm her down until her dad left with her wailing in the back seat. They got about a block away and she suddenly stopped. She was completely fine.

  It took a few weeks to figure out. But, after her mom spent all of her waking hours searching different texts, searching her own spell book, and consulting the Council, she found the gift that Fiona possessed. It was an odd gift, usually witches would get something like the ability to manipulate an element, or had more stereotypical psychic abilities.

  She mostly ignored her gift and after fighting with her mom, chose not to learn to utilize it. She thought of it as more of a burden, than as a gift.

  “Lets go.” She picked her bag up off the seat next to me, throwing it over her shoulder.

  “Wait, I'll meet you in there.” I pulled a spliff out of my bag and threw it in my mouth.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, this class sucks without it.”

  I watched her shrug her shoulders and meander into the building without me. We weren't supposed to smoke on campus, but I also didn't
care. I looked around to see if there were any teachers and flicked the lighter.

  A few seconds later and I was the only one still standing in the courtyard. I thought about skipping class, but I knew Fiona would rip into me about it later.

  I took a few more drags, then smashed it out onto the bench and put it back into a small pouch I kept in my tote.

  The classes were boring because I hadn’t looked at my notes yet, and hadn’t been there so I didn’t know what was going on. In the second one, I started to drift off because my high had worn off, making me incredibly tired. I had a quick few minutes in between my second and third class, so I was able to run and get more coffee. While standing in line again I quickly glanced around, hoping the man I’d seen earlier stopped for a mid afternoon pick-me-up too.

  After class we headed out to the Boston Art museum for a quick tour. Since we were students, we got in for free, and spent a lot of time there. We waited in line for a few minutes. Once we got in, we walked through the featured exhibit. It was called ‘Women Take the Floor’,it was all female artists from the 20th century.

  It was my favorite one to walk through, and since it was set to stay for only a while I visited whenever I could. Fiona didn't like art as much as I did, but she went with me anyway.

  I didn't want to say that I was her best friend because I wasn't, Sam was. I was just her favorite place holder. We did things together almost always, but as soon as Sam called, she left. There was always a big reason why she couldn't continue our friend date.

  “Do you think you could be attracted to someone, without knowing them?” I whispered, while continuing to look at the art.

  “What, like celebrities?”

  “No.” I made a shushing noise at her because she was being too loud.

  “What do you mean?” She was quieter that time.

  “I mean have you ever seen someone, and felt attracted to them?”

  “I mean, no I guess not.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. She had no idea what I was talking about. She lived in a practical world, where everything had an order, and things went according to plan. My world was much more laid back and a little bit chaotic. I took life with a grain of salt and a shot of whiskey. I'd say tequila, but I liked whiskey better.

  I kept the image in the back of my head, of the man at the cafe. I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t get his face out of my thoughts, but he stayed there somewhat unwanted. It felt creepy to be thinking that much about someone I didn’t know. I wished I had gone over to him like I would have anyone else. I had never been shy about giving my phone number to someone in public.

  I turned to social media to try and find him, but quickly realized I didn’t even know what his name was. He was just a faceless person, living in my mind. Boston was a big city, but I hoped that somehow I would run into him again. I could easily stop making coffee at home for a while to try and run into him again.

  That was it. Then I wouldn’t technically be stalking him, we would just happen to be in the same place. At the same time. Just getting coffee.

  3

  I did need the extra coffee anyway, because I spent the next few weeks studying for my midterms with Fiona. The school had them early enough, so that our break started right before Thanksgiving and went through the new year. Unfortunately for me that meant I would have to study through my birthday, when I wanted to party. I knew Fiona wouldn’t budge either, she had me on a strict schedule to ensure good marks.

  She would come over most nights to study the classes we shared, and others she would make Sam and Halle help her. The nights I was by myself, I liked to be a little bit more relaxed. I took my time and did things the way that I wanted to. Which usually meant not studying at all. I preferred to read through my notes once, then pass out on the couch in a weed coma.

  Through high school I was always really smart and did well in school. It was the one thing that saved me from getting in trouble for all of the shit that I did. Most of the time my dad ignored me and let me do what I did, but when my mom was lucid I would get yelled at, then let go because I handed them my report card.

  The first two years of college I was on the Dean’s list and passed my exams without having to try very hard. The third year was a little bit different. I had some tougher classes, but I knew I could push through it.

  My mind wandered as I stared blankly at the flashing images on the TV. My Art HIstory textbook was laid out in front of me, untouched from the pages it was turned to several minutes before. My notes were sprawled out to my left, around the floor.

  The ashtray next to me was overflowing with old cigarette butts and roaches. It needed to be dumped but I didn’t want to get up yet. I didn’t need a coffee refill and I didn’t need to pee, so I stayed where I was at.

  I flipped the pages in my book, giving up on finding something new to watch. I’d watched almost everything that could have held my interest and I was bored.

  I finally landed on a movie, one I’d seen before but loved. Pulp Fiction. As soon as the credits started I picked up my cup and realized it was empty.

  I set my phone down to get up, pour myself some more coffee, and dump the ashtray. My feet, dragging across the floor as I made my way to the kitchen, wishing to go to sleep. It was already late, and I had a class in the morning. I decided to finish the chapter that I was on, and then I would go to sleep.

  I poured the hot liquid into the cup instead of adding milk, I decided to add alcohol to try and take the edge off. While I had the bottle out I took a swig, and slammed it down as my lips began to pucker up. The liquid burned, going all the way down.

  My phone buzzed on the wooden floor in the other room, so I walked back over to see who it was. As I approached, it buzzed again. It was two texts sent in a row, but I ignored it to study. I sat down again and put my feet up on the table, shoving my nose into my textbook again.

  My phone buzzed again vibrating the floor under me, as it lit up with a phone call. I sighed and decided to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  ‘Can you get dressed right now, I want you to come to this party with me.'

  Fuck. It’s just like Fiona to persuade me to fit in extra studying, then lure me out with the appeal of a party. She was such a hypocrite. If I had been the one to suggest ditching studying for a party, she would have never let me live it down.

  I couldn’t say no.

  “Are you driving?”

  ‘Yes.’

  “Alright…give me twenty minutes.”

  ‘Fifteen!’

  “Fine.”

  I slammed the phone behind me on the table and groaned as I got back up from the floor again. I didn’t even bother cleaning anything up because depending on how late we stayed out, I might not go to bed before school the next day. It was easier running on no fumes, than a little bit. Besides, I would most likely still be buzzed in the morning.

  I got ready in ten, but wanted an extra few minutes to make sure I had everything with me. I liked parties, but I wanted to make sure I was protected. There were a lot of aura’s and sometimes it took a toll on my emotional well being. It was fucked up enough as it was and I didn’t need to feel even more drained.

  I wanted to make sure Fiona was protected too. A college party wasn't really a great place for an empath that didn’t know how to control her abilities. She was stupid about it sometimes, going to places like that completely unproptected. She hated when I tried to baby her too. She always thought of herself as the one who took care of me, when it was really the other way around.

  I shuffled through the top drawer of my night stand that had all of my miscellaneous herbs I brought with me. For a protection charm, I would need some lemon balm, lavender, and dried lemons. That would be good for her,it would help boost communication and she would still have a good time. I placed them into two separate fabric pouches, adding a small amethyst in each for good measure.

  My mom always told me there was no such thing as too much protection. She was r
ight, and I had protections up in many forms. My condo was guarded with heavy warding, and I kept protection jewelry on all the time. If I was good at anything in magic, it was that.

  My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I took it out, blinded by the sudden light. The text message said ‘I’m here.' Early. As usual.

  I picked out a purse from my closet, a small one I got for my birthday last year. Just big enough for the essentials. Slipping it over my shoulders, I locked my door behind me. My boots made loud clunking sounds as I ran down the stairs.. When I got to the front door, she was blasting R&B so loud, it shook her tiny white Camaro. Even in the moonlight it looked bright, she’d always kept it so clean. Not only that but the street lights hitting the paint made it look like a light itself.

  I clamored in the front seat, dropping all of my stuff onto the floor of her car. I threw my seat belt on and reached for my bag, pulling a cigarette out. I put it between my teeth and used my lighter to heat the other end. I pulled gently with my lips, letting the nicotine enter my lungs like a fierce forest fire. As bad as it was for me, it felt therapeutic. Fiona rolled down my window for me, and cracked hers. She didn't smoke, but didn’t care that I did it in her car.

  We passed a few packed bars on our way there, several men standing out on the street hollered at us. It was grotesque the way they drunkenly called out at girls in a sports car. I ignored the first two. But, once we passed the third one I had finished my cigarette and flicked in at him, manipulating the energy a little bit so that it landed in his jacket. He jumped back, slapping himself trying to extinguish the embers before they burned him.

  It took us almost twenty minutes to get there. The party was at an old house, somewhere in South Boston. Fiona knew the girl that was throwing it. Unsurprisingly, there were a few cars parked on the front lawn and one in the driveway, which we parked behind. It looked like it would be a smaller group of people, which is what Fiona preferred. I, on the other hand, liked the ragers.