Sea-Witch

by JE Hunter

  “Have a seat at the table,” Grandma commanded once the dishes were done. They'd been washed in hot water she’d provided after I failed to even slightly warm the water.

  I dried my hands thoroughly on a dishtowel before taking a seat at the table with the windows at my back. The weather had become worse over the course of the evening, and I could hear great, fat raindrops beating into the glass and the tall trees twisting about in the wind. Grandma was sitting in the same spot she had eaten supper in, and was reading from a small red notebook full of cramped handwriting.

  She looked up at me once I was seated. “We'll start with a short test to assess your talents.”

  “I don't have any talents.”

  “Yes, you do. You showed me today on the beach when you called on the ocean to give your hat back. And I can see it in your eyes: the change that has already taken place. You can no longer deny you're a sea-witch, even though you want to.” She narrowed one eye as she said the last bit.

  I blinked. “I...” What was there to say? She was right; I had felt something on the beach. I had called my hat back, but that hardly meant I was talented. At most, it meant I had some sort of lucky short-circuit. “I'm not talented. I'm not a sea-witch either. I'm just...I'm just...”

  One of my grandma's eyebrows arched up as she waited for me to finish my sentence.

  “I'm normal. All I want to be is normal.” I looked down at my hands, which were pruned from doing the dishes, just like any normal person’s hands would be. “I just want to go home, live in my old house with Mom and Dad.” My lip began to tremble, because no matter what I wanted I could never have Dad back.

  Grandma put down the small notebook she was holding and reached out a hand to me, stopping a few inches short of making actual contact. “Nessa, I’m truly sorry for your loss. But maybe this is what you need: something to take your mind off of everything.”

  I glared at her. “Maybe I don’t want to take my mind off of it.”

  Grandma leaned back into her chair, withdrawing her hand. “I’m not going to let you mope around the house. You’re father wouldn’t have wanted that. He would have wanted you to move on, to live your life fully and to be happy. I’m going to challenge you, and teach you, and one day you will thank me.”

  I stood up. “You barely even knew my father. You have no idea what he would want.”

  “He would want what’s best for you. As do I. Now, sit down.”

  I looked at Grandma. “Why? You can’t control me.”

  “Maybe not. But I can take away the telephone, the computer, and all of your phone privileges. How does that sound?”

  I sat back down with a thud. “It sounds pretty shitty.”

  Grandma fought a smirk as she got up and went to the sink. “Then I will thank you to sit in your seat and concentrate on your first lesson.” She filled a large glass with water and came back to the table. She set the glass down in front of me. “I want you to close your eyes.”

  I eyed the glass warily. “What? Why? That's fresh water. I thought you said I was a sea-witch; how am I supposed to do anything with that? I’m not a fresh-water witch." I waved my hand at the table. How was it possible that a simple cup of water suddenly made my palms sweat? "And isn't this island in the ocean? That has nothing to do with the sea as far as I’m concerned! None of what you're saying makes any sense. How am I supposed to learn anything if you're constantly confusing me?"

  "The term sea-witch has been used for eons, Nessa. What would you prefer: water-witch, ocean-witch? Because we're all those things, no matter what name you use. Our magic lies in the ability to communicate with water because all of the water on this planet is linked. Personally, I like the way ‘sea-witch’ rolls off the tongue. Now close your eyes and do as I instruct.”

  “I don't see why I should.” I crossed my arms, slouching.

  “Internet privileges.”

  “But I'll just fail. I don't know how to do magic.”

  “Only because you've never been taught. Confidence is half the battle. Close your eyes.” Grandma picked up her notebook.

  I waited for her to relent, to say she was done dealing with me for the day, but she didn't even flinch. “Fine.” I gave in, closing my eyes.

  “Now, I want you to relax. Find a place within you that is still, and when you're ready, I want you to think about the water on the table, in the glass, and I want you to move it.”

  Relax? I shifted in my chair. Trying to practice magic was not relaxing. I didn't even know what I was supposed to do. Wishing the water into the air? If Grandma really wanted me to relax she'd let me go to my room and read. The book I’d started reading on the ferry that morning was really good. I bought it at the mall the day I learnt Dad had died. I hadn’t realized that earlier, and suddenly I felt the familiar tightening in my chest. I squeezed my eyes even tighter to keep the tears at bay, remembering the horrible white of Mom’s face when she’d told me the news: “Sweetie, there’s been an accident.” I’d never be able to get that image, that moment, out of my mind. I’d never forget how his death had been the unraveling of every knot holding my life together. If it hadn’t been for that accident, I’d be back in Surrey, hanging out with Marnie and making out with Aaron. He'd only be the third boy I kissed, and I'd been looking forward to it. Why did Dad have to die? How could the world do that to me? Nothing was right—nothing! How the hell was I supposed to relax?

  “It's not working.” I opened my eyes, which immediately focused on a blob of water floating in the air. “Oh.” The blob of water crashed down onto the table. The empty cup fell over with a clink. Water shot everywhere, splashing Grandma and me. But instead of getting wet, Grandma redirected the droplets of water right back into the cup she quickly righted. My shirt, however, was drenched.

  “Not exactly what I asked for, but it worked. What were you thinking about?”

  “None of your business.” My voice was hoarse. I pushed my tongue against my teeth as I shook the water off my arms and brushed it off my face.

  Grandma scratched a note into her little book. “We'll have to work on your control. Now, try that again. Keep your eyes open this time.”

  Grandma waved her hand, palm open, across the table. The droplets of water amalgamated into a big blob, which lifted up into the air and settled back down into the mostly empty glass.

  The next two hours were torture. I stared at the cup of water until it felt like my eyes were about to bleed. I willed it to move, and only occasionally accomplished it.

  “That's it, Nessa. Coach it gently, up, up into the glass.”

  I pursed my lips, keeping my temper reined in. If I ever wanted to get out of this kitchen, I had to get the water back into the glass—again; Grandma had made that perfectly clear. I held my breath, the blob of water inched its way up slowly, halfway up the glass, to the rim of the glass, and then suddenly falling over into the waiting chamber. I sighed and leaned back, mentally exhausted.

  “Good, that's twice now. Once more and I think–”

  “No!” I stood up so quickly I knocked my chair into the window. “No, no more! I'm tired and I have a headache. I smell like seaweed and need to have a shower, not to mention my skin is beginning to itch from all the salt water I unintentionally swam in today, no thanks to you. So, no. No more. I'm done.”

  “Nessa, you're just beginning to make progress–”

  “Yes. I'm a sea-witch. I can move water with my mind. Are you happy now? I've admitted it. Can I please go?”

  Grandma nodded. “Yes, Nessa. You are a sea-witch. Don’t forget that in the morning.”

  I stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs as quickly as possible. There was no way I could lie to myself anymore, I'd done it: consciously moved water with my mind. Part of me was excited; the other part was entirely terrified. No one had to know what I was; in fact, no one was allowed to know. I comforted myself with the thought that I could call Marnie and pretend everything was still normal while talking to her. Althou
gh, I did need a shower first; the stench of seaweed was making my stomach churn.

  I dug a towel out of my large suitcase and headed into the bathroom. I turned on the water and stuck my hand in to check the temperature. The cold water froze my fingers.

  “I hate this place!” I yelled loud enough for Grandma to hear. How was I supposed to shower in this? There was no way I could heat the water. I pulled off my socks and sat on the edge of the tub. Warm up. Tentatively, I stuck my finger in the water again. I sucked in air through my teeth. Still ice cold.

  Come on, I thought directly at the stream of water pouring out of the faucet, just warm up already, I could use a break today. Still nothing. I turned the tap off in frustration, and then smacked it with my hand, which probably hurt me more than it did the steel.

  I shoved the door on my way out of the bathroom, banging it into the wall. I headed straight for my purse and dug out my cell phone. I punched in Marnie's number and lifted it to my ear before remembering that there was no cell service here.

  “I really hate this place!” I yelled, louder than I had in the bathroom. I chucked my cell phone onto my bed and ran downstairs. “Where's the phone?” Grandma didn’t even bother to look up from the book she was reading at the table.

  “On the wall,” she pointed at the space beside the refrigerator.

  “That's it?” My body rumbled with anger and frustration. How was I supposed to have a private conversation if the only phone was located in the most public room in the house?

  “I’ve lived alone in this house for many years, Nessa; I’ve never found the need for more than one phone. Unless you feel like taking the boat to Tofino and finding a payphone, you’ll have to use that phone.”

  “I could just take the boat to Tofino and use my cell phone.” I spun on my heel, prepared to do exactly as I said—even if I had never driven a boat before. I was pretty sure it wasn’t that difficult.

  “It won’t work. I called your mom when we arrived and she's already cancelled your cellphone plan.”

  “You talked to Mom? When? Didn't she want to talk to me?” I curled my fingers into fists.

  Grandma nodded, her eyes still fixed on her book. “I called her shortly after we arrived when you were throwing things about the house. She was glad to hear that we arrived safely.”

  “Did she leave a number? Can I call her?”

  Grandma frowned, sticking a finger between the pages of her book before she closed it. She looked at me for the first time since I'd entered the kitchen. “No, you may not call her. She's in treatment, Nessa. She needs to focus on herself. Maybe in a few days she will be ready to hear how you’re settling in.”

  Tears stung my eyes. How could she not want to talk to me? I wanted to talk to her. I wanted her to say it was all a mistake, a misunderstanding, and that I could come back home as soon as possible.

  I turned away from Grandma and grabbed the phone off the wall, punching in Marnie's number. Marnie picked up after three rings, just before her voicemail usually kicked in.

  “Hello,” she said. In the background I could hear upbeat, bass heavy music and laughter; she wasn't alone.

  “Hi Marnie, it's Nessa.” I looked over my shoulder. Grandma was absorbed in whatever she was reading—or at least she looked like she was—but after everything I'd learnt about her today, I wouldn’t put it past her to eavesdrop.

  There was a pause and then Marnie said, “Nessa! Thank God you called. I sent you a text like an hour ago but I didn't get anything back.”

  “Yeah, there's no service here and Mom already cancelled my cell.” I tugged the phone cord—it had been a long time since I'd used a phone that wasn't cordless—and moved away from Grandma.

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah.” I pulled the phone cord as far as it would go, out into the hallway and just past the doorway of the spare room. The room was dark and I could barely see a thing other than the faint outline of a small bed and a desk. I sat down on the floor and crossed my legs.

  “So what are you doing?” I asked Marnie, who laughed at something someone said in the background.

  “What?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Oh, you know, I'm just out with the group. We're at the pool hall.”

  “Oh. That sounds like fun.” I twisted the cord in my fingers. I stumbled over what to say. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours but yet there was nothing I could say that wouldn't make me sound crazy.

  “Yeah, it is. So, how's the island?” Marnie asked. “Graham, you suck! You didn’t hit a single ball.”

  “Awful. Worse than I thought.”

  “I'm sure it's not that bad.” Marnie sounded happy. There wasn't anything in her voice that hinted she was upset I'd moved away.

  “It’s bad. It's the worst thing I've ever had to do. I wish I was back in Surrey.”

  “Yeah, Janie! Sorry, Nessa, Janie just sunk the last stripe. We're playing boys versus girls. So far we're kicking butt. Do you know when you're coming back? Are you going to be here for the Halloween dance? Because I have this awesome idea for costumes.”

  I wiped tears from the corner of my eyes, stopping them before they fell. “I don't know when I'll be back. I...I don't even know if I'll be back.”

  A loud burst of laughter came through the phone. Marnie squealed in my ear and yelled something I could barely understand. I dropped my hand to the floor and drew invisible patterns on the polished wood.

  “Nessa, I've got to go. It's my turn and Graham's heckling me.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Marnie—you're up!” Someone yelled.

  Marnie said, “I'll email you later, promise.” There was more laughter and squealing as Marnie hung up the phone.

  I looked at the black receiver in my hand, feeling worse than I'd felt before I called Marnie. I'd been counting on her to cheer me up and instead I felt like a discarded candy wrapper—Marnie didn't need me when she still had the same, sweet life in Surrey.

  “Nessa? Are you done with the phone? I need to call Joanna.”

  I rubbed my eyes dry and pushed myself up. I took the phone into the kitchen. “Yeah, knock yourself out.” I slammed the receiver down into the cradle and went back up to my room, remembering along the way that Colleen had offered to show me around Tofino in the morning. I definitely needed a shower if I was going to go out anywhere.

  I turned on the faucets and pulled the pin for the shower, not even trying to warm the water; I didn't have the energy. It was icy cold, like a lake in the early spring. I shampooed my ugly red hair and got out, climbing into the bed with only sheets for warmth since I'd thrown out the disgusting comforter earlier. Tomorrow I'd have to find some new bedding in Tofino—if there was a store that sold it. I brought my iPod into bed with me, and put on the Smoke Fairies, a band I'd read about in a magazine a few months ago. The slow, haunting tunes matched my mood and blocked out the sounds of Grandma moving around the horrible house. I hugged Dad’s sweater, it still smelled faintly of his cologne.

  “Why did you have to die?” I whispered in the dark. Why?