The Perils of Effrijim

by Katie MacAlister

  I plucked the lime wedge from my gin and tonic and sucked the gin-soaked meaty pulp from it, mentally bemoaning my Amazonian stature as Miranda, with the grace of a gazelle who had been taking ballet lessons since birth, pulled her long, slender legs into a lotus position. I gave a moment over to damning the Viking genes that left me towering over most women, and many men. “This plan of Roxy’s to find us a pair of dishy guys. I’ve decided, after much due consideration and many, many brilliant gin-inspired thoughts, to allow you to make my case before your Goddess. If she’d like to point me in the direction of a guy who is the perfect embodiment of everything manly and good, well then, it behooves me to listen. There, in a nutshell, is my brilliance.”

  Roxanne snorted into her drink again. “In other words, you’ve broken up with Bradley again.”

  I shrugged. My on-again, off-again boyfriend had lots of good points, qualities like devotion, patience, and a sunny, optimistic nature. “The problem with Bradley is that he’s just not the one—the man who makes my heart race just be being near him, the man who makes me believe in wonderful things like falling in love at first sight. He’s just...Bradley.”

  “That’s just my point, Joy! You’re so stuck in your ways that you can’t even be bothered to look for a man you deserve, not old stick-in-the-mud Bradley Barlow who wouldn’t know excitement if it bit him dead center on the ass.”

  I couldn’t help but bristle at the judgmental tone in her voice. I’ve known Roxy since we were in kindergarten, but that didn’t mean she could get away with every snide comment she felt like launching in my direction. “You should speak, Miss Still a Virgin at Twenty-Four. What you know about relationships with men could be written on the head of a vibrator.”

  She spewed martini out her nose.

  "Can't take you anywhere, can I?" I said, mopping up the spewed vodka. It had sprayed out all over her jeans and the lovely hardwood floor we were sitting on.

  "Geez Louise," she gasped, hacking and wheezing and blowing her nose. She took the cloth Miranda silently offered, mopping up her t-shirt before glaring at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Don't do that to me again!"

  "Sorry. It was the gin talking. Told you it makes me brilliant."

  “So that's what you call it?"

  I stuck my tongue out at her.

  She turned her glare up a notch. "As for what I was saying when you so rudely brought up the subject of sexual aids, not that I have one or need one or ever expect to utilize one, unlike some people I could mention, I'd like to point out that with regards to men, I have the good taste to save myself for someone really meaningful." She paused to blow her nose again. "I hope you notice the contrast between my actions—responsible yet hopeful realism regarding the man destined to be my future husband—and yourself, who has settled for a guy who can’t give you anything more than a good fu—”

  “Ladies!” Miranda shrieked, cutting Roxy off cold. We both looked at her. She glared back at us. “I refuse to help you if you argue with each other. Honestly, how you two can call each other best friend is beyond me, but regardless of that, I won’t have dissention in my house. The Goddess is not in charity with feelings of pettiness and ill will, Roxanne, and since you asked for the Goddess’s help, you should be prepared to approach her in a penitential manner with a pure heart and unblemished soul.”

  I directed a smug smile at Roxy. She ignored me and fought to wipe the stubborn-as-a-mule look from her face. “Sorry,” she mumbled, clasping her hands and staring down at them in a close approximation of demureness and penitence.

  “The same goes for you, as well,” Miranda frowned at me. I widened my eyes and tried to look innocent of all wrongdoings, but it was hard to even think of muddying the truth when Miranda’s eerie light grey eyes settled on me.

  “I didn’t come here desperate for you to find me a man,” I pointed out with as much dignity as possible. “Roxy begged me to come.”

  “I did not!” she snapped, her expression no longer demure. “I simply said that if Bradley was the best you could do for yourself, it wouldn’t hurt to have the Goddess look around and see if she couldn’t find someone a little better. That’s hardly begging. Lord above, I’d think you’d be grateful for this chance to find what most people don’t ever have a chance to find—their true soul mate.”

  I opened my mouth to dispute her statement, but caught sight of an extremely fat black cat with white whiskers and one white paw as he uncurled himself from an adjacent cushioned wicker chair. I held out a lime-scented hand, but the cat, with disdain that would do a king proud, gave me the equivalent to a cat sneer and waddled over to plop himself down before Miranda.

  “Whatever,” I shrugged off my friend's comments, figuring the evening would go faster if I kept my skepticism to myself. I didn’t really believe in all of the hocus-pocus that Miranda claimed to tap into with her spells and invocations to the Goddess, but then, there were a few things that had happened in her presence that I couldn’t easily explain. Roxy swallowed it all, though, and despite what she said, she had asked me to sit with her for support. I figured it was the least I could do for someone who'd been with me through good times and bad. “Miranda, don’t you think it’s time to put Davide on a diet? He’s almost as big as the Rottweiler that lives down the street from me.”

  “We are ready to begin.” Miranda glared me into silence, sent Roxy a warning look to keep her quiet as well, then closed her eyes and began to breath deeply, humming a soft little tuneless hum. A gentle breeze swept in through a nearby window, pushing before it the familiar scent of the herbs Miranda used in her invocation candles. A bit guiltily, I remembered that I was supposed to be making my mind open and responsive, and spent a few moments doing a spot of breathing and humming myself, until I got tired of squashing all the little thoughts that kept popping into my head when it was supposed to be an unpainted canvas just waiting for fate’s bold brushstrokes. Or whatever it was that Roxy had read from Miranda’s instructions. I couldn’t quite remember, that part of the conversation being in the pre-gin and tonic part of the evening. Instead I looked back at Davide, now engaged in doing a hearty round of personal hygiene on his rear legs.

  "It really is funny that you should have a black cat."

  Roxy, who had been emulating Miranda, cracked an eye open and rolled it toward Davide. “Why is it funny she has a black cat?”

  Miranda continued a soft hum of indistinguishable words, swaying slightly from side to side as her voice rose and fell fluidly in the evening air. I raised my voice a little so I could be heard over the Call to the Goddess. "Because she’s a witch, idget. I wouldn't think most witches would want a black cat, but you have to admit Davide fits the role of familiar perfectly."

  The hum became a bit more pronounced, although Miranda kept her eyes firmly closed.

  Roxy sent a worried little glance to her, then leaned close and whispered, “I don’t think they like the word ‘witch’ any more, Joy. Wiccan is what you’re supposed to call them now.”

  I whispered back to her, ”Why? What’s wrong with ‘witch’?”

  Joy sat up straight again and closed her eyes. “Not PC,” she hissed out of the side of her mouth. “Besides, Wiccans are more in touch with nature. Can’t you feel the power in her Summoning?”

  I looked around me at the Circle of Knowledge Miranda had laid out around the two of us, and felt a little shiver of excitement ripple down my back. I may be a skeptic, but I wasn’t a boob. There was something in the air, an electric charge that had the fine hairs on my arms waving around. I reminded myself that it wasn’t everyone Miranda practiced her magic for, and tried to look grateful.

  “It’s a bit nerve-wracking, this,” I muttered a few minutes later to Roxy in a soft voice so as not to disturb Miranda as she was Communing with the Goddess. I fished out a piece of ice from my drink and popped it in my mouth. “Not that I think it’ll work with me, but still, it is a bit nervy just sitting here waiting for a spirit on high to flash me the curriculum v
itae of the love of my life.”

  “It’s time you got a little proactive with your love life,” Roxy muttered back at me. “I may still be a virgin, but at least I’m trying to find Mr. Wonderful. You don’t even go on any dates. How do you expect to find the heavenly bliss of the man nature created just for you if you won’t even look for him?”

  “Well,” I said around the crunching of ice, “there is Bradley.”

  “That’s not heavenly bliss, Joyful,” Roxy smiled, taking the sting out of her comment with the use of my childhood nickname. “That’s purgatory.”

  “You have a point,” I conceded, grimacing at the sight of Davide as he turned his attention to his rectal area. I fervently hoped it wasn't a comment on the success of Miranda's foreseeing. “Although it’s not like I haven’t tried or anything, God knows I have, but you know what the single scene is like out there—it’s blood tests and background checks and references and ‘Please pee in this cup before we go on a date’ screenings, all clinical and stripped bare of any romance.”

  “True,” Roxy nodded.

  “Whatever happened to good old fashioned falling in love at first sight? That’s what all I ask for, a little romance and candlelight and staring meaningfully into each others’ eyes, knowing you’ve met your perfect mate the second you see him."

  "Too many creeps out there these days," Roxy replied. "Love at first sight has been replaced by a comprehensive credit check."

  Miranda’s soft hum took on a decidedly a strident tone. I listened for a moment to the murmured words, but could make nothing out of them.

  “Shhh,” I pinched Roxy. “You’re going to blow your chances with the Goddess if you keep flapping your lips when you’re supposed to be concentrating.”

  “You’re the one who’s supposed to be concentrating,” Roxy pinched me back. “I already know what qualities I want in my perfect man. I bet you haven’t thought about what you want in a man at all.”

  “Both of you are supposed to be concentrating,” Miranda intoned between hums.

  Roxy and I looked guiltily at one another.

  "It really is sweet of you to spend your evening on this, since you had to close your shop for the ritual cleansing and all,” Roxy smiled.

  I nodded.

  “You're a true friend, Miranda. I hope you know I wouldn't have asked you to go to all this work if it hadn't been an emergency, but what with that date last night with Mr. Octopus Hands, well, a girl just has to do something when she hits the 250th date mark with nary a boyfriend in sight to show for her trouble. And, of course, Joy needs all the help she can get."

  “Hey!” I glared at Roxy. She just grinned back at me.

  “In fact, I’ve been worried about her for some time. She’s got a dead-end job, an ex-boyfriend who could bore an ice cube, and has no interests outside the library. If we don’t take matters into our own hands, she’ll end up single and chaste the rest of her life, living in a small pink house with thirty-seven cats all named Kevin, with no one to talk to but her successful, happy, cat-less friends.”

  “You’re delusional,” I said with great dignity. “And for the record, you have the same dead-end job I have.”

  “So if you don’t see her soul mate in the immediate future,” Roxy continued, ignoring my interruption, "I for one would appreciate it if you would lie and say you did. She’s desperate, if you know what I mean.”

  And lonely. I was willing to admit that. Very lonely. I swirled the ice in my glass around and reflected on my loneliness. “I’m not desperate, Rox, I’m just...available.”

  “Well, there’s always Germany if we can’t find nice American men.”

  Miranda opened her eyes to look a question at Roxy.

  “Germany,” I reminded her. “Roxy and I are part of the team going to the Frankfurt Book Festival. I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind one of those dishy blonde German men. You think some of them might be wearing lederhosen? Hubba hubba!"

  Miranda opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it and shook her head. She continued the soft chanting, a prayer according to the cheat sheet Roxy had given me earlier, to the Goddess for strength and enlightenment.

  I flicked ice chips at Davide for a few minutes until Miranda opened her eyes and pinned me back with a look that could strip the stripes off a tiger. “Now is the time for both of you to focus your attention on envisioning your ideal man. You must open yourself to the image engraved on your heart and your soul. Focus on that image, allowing it fill your awareness, narrowing your thoughts until they are made up only of him.”

  "Oooh, goody, fantasy time!" I rubbed my hands together and thought of the ideal man made up of the better parts of Colin Firth, Alan Rickman, and Oded Fehr, all rolled into one luscious, droolworthy package.

  “Dibs I go first!” Roxy said quickly. I made mean eyes at her. When Miranda sighed and nodded, Roxy sat up as tall as a person who barely tops five feet could, closed her eyes, and started ticking items off her fingers. “OK, here’s my order: someone not too tall, that is important point number one. Lord knows I’ve been on enough dates with tall men. Do you know how disconcerting it is to find yourself staring a man straight in the nipples? I’d like someone of medium height, please. And just to make things easier on you, I won’t be picky about hair color or eye color, or even how handsome the man is, as long as he has really nice hands, knows how to cook, and wants lots and lots of children.”

  Miranda smiled as she got to her feet and began sprinkling rose petals around the Circle, still chanting, pausing to make gestures of protection to the four compass points.

  “And he’s got to have a good sense of humor. I’m afraid that is a must-have, and I’ll have to return any prospects who turn out to be humorless. Life is simply too short to be stuck with a guy who can’t get down and get silly once in a while.”

  “I understand. Joy?”

  I glared at my friend. “Geez, Rox, leave something for the rest of us to work with, will you?”

  She smirked at me. Miranda cocked an eyebrow in such a manner that I immediately cleared my mind and tried to picture the perfect man.

  “Um, well, tall, dark, and handsome goes without saying. Roxy was right about one thing, a sense of humor is good, I’d like a man who likes to laugh."

  Roxy rolled her eyes.

  "And...um...well...I’d...um... like someone who’s nice to animals."

  “Bo-ring!”

  "And one who likes to read.”

  "So in other words, you want Beaver Cleaver's dad?"

  I ignored Roxy's comments, deciding if I was going to do this, I might as well do it right. I thought for a long moment about what I wanted in a man, what I really wanted, what secret desires were hidden deep within me. Slowly, out of the everyday confusion of my mind, an image wavered before me, growing solid as the gentle herb-scented night breeze washed over me. With the brightening image came the words, hesitant and charged with a strange emotion, as if it wasn't really me speaking. "He will send shivers of delight down my spine with the dark cloak of intrigue wrapped around him. He will captivate me, fascinate me, fold me into the air of mystery and adventure that surrounds him, making my blood sing with desire. He will need me, depend on me, trust me where he has trusted no other. He will light my dark hours, and his love will shine as a beacon that will guide me through the most twisted of paths. He is my strength, my faith, and I will not really begin to live until I know his heart is mine."

  “Ooooh," Roxy breathed. "That is so romantic. You should write that down."

  I blinked as the image in my mind turned to mist and evaporated. I felt a bit dizzy, like I'd been turning somersaults down a long hill. I was more than a little bit weirded out by the whole thing until I remembered the gin and tonics I'd been sipping on. Although alcohol had never triggered that sort of a vision before, there was a first time for everything.

  "I want all that on my list, too!”

  “Too late, it’s mine,” I told Roxy with a dazed grin.
She punched me in the arm.

  “Is that all?” Miranda asked us both, completing the circle and returning to her spot.

  “It is for me since old greedy-guts there won’t share the good stuff on her list,” Roxy said huffily.

  I ran down my mental checklist. Yup, it was all there, all but one last item...

  "I have one more," I said.

  Miranda paused in the act of lighting the large candle sitting before her.

  “Big private parts,” I told them both. “That’s important, don’t you think? I mean, size does matter, no matter what they say, right? And since we are talking the man for me, my soul mate, he’ll be the only one I sleep with for the rest of my life, so I think he should have really nice personal equipment. Something memorable. The phrase 'hung like a horse' comes to mind.”

  “Joy Martine Randall!” Roxy choked.

  I made an innocent little moue at her. “What’s wrong? Mad you didn’t think of it first?”

  Her hazel eyes flashed a warning at me. I cackled. She was mad I had beaten her to big genitals.

  Miranda gave me a look of martyrdom that had me biting back my cackle to a more seemly giggle. “OK, you don’t have to include that last item on the official request list. I can live with a man with regular set of dangly bits as long as the rest of the items are there. As long as he meets the other requirements, I’ll be happy.”

  Miranda sighed and shook her head. “You’re so flippant, both of you, I don’t know how you expect me to help you find the man you are searching for if all you’re thinking of is the size of his crotch and whether or not he’s likely to laugh at your jokes. This is serious; the power of the Goddess is nothing to be taken lightly. You should be reaching out with your heart and soul to find this man, not parroting the silly ideas you’ve soaked up from those romances you both read.”

  Roxy and I instantly united in a solid front against her condemnation of our beloved romances.