by Iman Verjee
‘Does he come every day?’ I ask.
‘He tries. Sometimes it’s difficult because,’ she hesitates. ‘Well, he has a girlfriend,’ she finishes in a rush, looking at me and biting her lip. ‘Does that make me a bad person?’
‘No.’ We are more similar than she thinks and I feel an instant closeness with her.
‘You know,’ she changes the subject. ‘I’ve never seen Judy hate someone as much as she does you. I’ve never been able to get that reaction out of her, even after she caught me making out with her brother during parents’ day.’
‘You did what?’
We look at each other and laugh until our stomachs hurt. When we stop, Victoria wipes her tears from her eyes and asks, ‘So what happened between the two of you?’
I tell her about the time in the pavilion; the way I slammed Judy into the wall, brought my fist up and saw the tremble of fear in her face. Victoria leans in closer to me, puts her head on my shoulder and the intimacy of it makes me physically hurt. I feel her laughing against it as she says, ‘Where have you been all my life?’
The moon is the color of eggshells and it sets a strange spell over the forest. For one, crazy moment, I think that Victoria’s plan might work.
‘Do you have it?’ she whispers when we meet outside her door.
I hold up a candle I found in Judy’s drawer. ‘I hope she doesn’t notice it’s gone.’
‘Who cares. Come on, let’s go.’ We creep down the stairs and once again out of the library window. As we run down the hill toward the forest, Victoria lets out a loud whoop, pumping her fist in the air.
‘We did it!’ then she grabs my hand, ‘Come on, let’s hurry.’
We walk for quite a distance into the forest and when she finds a small clearing, she stops. With her foot, she draws a large circle and then throws down an old white sheet at the center of it. ‘We’ll do it here,’ she decides, dropping down, cross-legged, and pats the space beside her.
‘Where did you find this anyway?’ I ask, pointing to the paper in her hands.
‘One of my friends sent it to me last week. She said it helped her.’
‘Have you ever done anything like this before?’
‘Never had to.’ Her mouth is set in eager determination as she lights the candle and hands it back to me. ‘It’s supposed to be red but I don’t think that matters much.’
I want to ask her if she really believes that a love spell will make Leo leave his girlfriend but she is so hopeful that it seems unfair of me to doubt her.
‘You ready?’ she asks.
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. It says I have to close my eyes and think of him really hard.’ She squeezes her eyelids shut and despite my reservations, I do the same. I think of that morning in the park on my birthday and I see him, kneeling beside the pond, his arm outstretched for me, his face turning back to make sure I am coming.
‘Open your eyes.’ Victoria’s voice interrupts my thoughts. ‘We have to do a chant now.’
‘Okay.’
It no longer seems funny to me that we are out here, praying to the moon, hoping that it will spark something in the people that we love, making them love us back. It seems like it’s the only thing we can do. And so when Victoria spreads out the piece of paper on the blanket, underneath the flickering candle, I chant it with her, using all the force I can manage.
Diana, Goddess of Love
I ask that you hear me
Please let him
Send love towards me
Then she blows out the candle and puts my hand above the rising smoke and places her own palm on top of my fingers.
Make you think about me day and night.
Night and day, day and night.
And we sit there, in the silver darkness, lost in our own thoughts for a little while. A dog howl somewhere far away jerks us both back to awareness.
‘Do you think it worked?’ she asks.
‘We’ll have to wait and see.’ I can’t help but feel excited; to feel certain that now my plea is out there, floating in the skies, he will sense it and come for me. I get up and brush the dirt off my knees. ‘We should get back before they notice us missing.’
She rolls up the blanket and then turns to me, catching me in a hug. ‘You’re a really good friend.’ She pulls away and her hair hides her face. ‘I’ve never really had any proper friends, you know?’
‘Yeah,’ I say impulsively grabbing her hand and linking our fingers together. ‘I do.’
And as we say goodnight, breaking out into unrestrained giggling, hushing each other as we do it, I notice that the ache in my belly has dulled and as I walk back to my room, there is a lightness to my step that I have not felt since I left home. The year doesn’t seem so endless anymore—I can see it flash past in days like this, spent with Victoria, and it occurs to me that after all of it is done and I’m home again with him, there might be something left at the Academy that will be worth missing.
20
St Albert. September 1976
The snowstorm caught them all by surprise. They weren’t strangers to heavy weather, but this was different. Although the lowering temperatures had warned them of the encroaching winter, it had been unseasonably dry, so this sudden white storm was unexpected. The clouds had hung low all day, pregnant with frozen rain, and a biting, merciless cold had descended upon the town, settling in a thousand falling flakes. He had to call Marienne and tell her that he would be late.
‘The roads are all suspended, covered in ice.’
‘You only work ten minutes away.’ Her voice sounded like it was coming from some distant place. ‘And you’re walking.’
‘I can’t see two steps ahead of me.’
‘It’s just going to get worse—it’ll be better if you come home now.’
He hesitated. There was no way to hide it. He looked around the bar. ‘I’m not at work.’
‘Where are you then?’
‘I’m at a meeting.’ A cold blast of wind hit him as the door swung open to let someone stumble in. A shout went up from the table beside him, welcoming the stranger, and he cringed.
‘What was that?’
‘We’re at a bar. I had to meet a client here.’
‘Since when did you travel to meet clients?’
‘It’s an important one, Annie.’ He wasn’t used to her interrogating him and it set him on edge. ‘I should be grateful I got this opportunity at all. We were supposed to meet here to go to his office but the storm started.’
‘Just let me know when you’re leaving.’
‘Okay, I love you.’
‘I love you too. Be safe.’
He went back to his table, feeling guilty and annoyed for having been forced to call her. He wasn’t there to meet a client. He was alone and he climbed back into his seat and took a sip of watery beer. He had started coming here a few weeks ago, straight after work. The thought of going home had become an uncomfortable, threatening prospect. The constant disappointment and stress of failing to produce a baby had changed Marienne. She stopped cooking and cleaning the house—took up smoking again and listened to music all day instead. When he tried to talk to her, engage her in the life that was moving on without them, she barely listened, always interjecting with another new remedy proven to boost fertility, or complained that perhaps they weren’t trying hard enough, sometimes even walking out of the room, leaving his words tripping and limping after her.
The first time he had come to the bar, it was with a few friends from work and when he eventually made it home, nothing seemed as bad as it had that morning. And so he came back; he never drank much, only enough to coat his situation in an easier light and Marienne never noticed, and so he kept on doing it. He liked the dimness of the place, the soft music playing in the background against the loudness of its patrons.
Today, however, there were more people seeking its shelter than usual; women and their families, looking for a place to pass the storm. His heart stopped when he
heard it; the full sweetness of the laugh. He would know that sound anywhere. His eyes darted quickly through the dark room, a chill, not from outside, pricking his neck and making him break out in a cold sweat. He finished his beer in one gulp, wiped his mouth clean and stood up to leave. It was too hot in here and Marienne was right; the snow and wind would only get worse. It would be much better for him to go now.
‘You’re not leaving in this weather, are you?’ A smooth, husky voice behind him. He turned around.
‘Gina.’
Gina was a friend of Marienne’s—or friend being too loose a word—an acquaintance. She lived close to them and when she had been married, had often come to the barbeques and picnics they had held. He had never taken a particular interest in her except to notice that most of the women didn’t like her. And of course, her hair; a deep, burned shade of red, always pulled neatly from her face and allowed to fall in loose waves. Even he had to admit, it was lovely to look at.
‘Nice to see a familiar face in this dump.’ She looked around distastefully and sat down at his table.
‘Sorry to disappoint you but I have to get going.’
‘I can’t let you. It’s not safe.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘A strong man. I like that,’ she teased and when he didn’t respond, she pursed her lips and twitched her head toward the speaker in the corner of the ceiling. ‘Listen.’ The radio was on. He could only catch bits of sound. Worst storm to hit us in over twenty years. Stay where you are… Die down, but safety comes first. She sat up straight and smiled. ‘So you see, it’s my duty as a fellow neighbor to see that you don’t make a rash decision. And it’s yours, as a man, to make sure I’m safe in this hole.’
He looked outside. It was darker now and the wind was banging against the window frames, the high whistle of it rolling by. ‘I guess I’ll stay for a while then.’
She clapped her hands. ‘Great. Let’s get you a drink.’ She snapped her fingers for a bartender and ordered them both a whiskey. ‘I hope you don’t mind. That’s what I’m having.’ He shrugged off his coat once more. The laughter had stopped. Perhaps he had imagined it—that happened a lot these days.
‘That’s fine, thanks.’
‘What are you doing here, anyway?’
‘I had to meet a client.’
She scoffed. ‘That’s what my ex-husband always used to say. You men seriously lack in creativity, don’t you? Always lazy—can’t even be bothered to think of a proper excuse.’
He blanched. ‘I don’t know what you’re implying.’
‘Oh, nothing.’ She saw the hard set of his mouth, the way his eyes fixed on hers challengingly. ‘I’m sorry. Just because Kevin was a cheating asshole, doesn’t mean all of you are.’
‘I wouldn’t do that to Marienne.’
‘Of course not.’ She smiled. He had never liked the taste of whiskey, it was too strong and left a numbing sensation on his tongue. ‘How is she, anyway?’
‘She’s fine.’
‘I heard the news. It must have been sad to find out.’
‘We’re dealing with it.’ He put down his half-full glass. ‘Look, I really should be going. Marienne will be worried about me.’
‘She’ll be more worried if you get lost out there.’ She pushed the glass back at him. ‘Come on, finish your drink at least.’ He didn’t know why he was compelled to listen to her. Her voice was demanding, leaving no option but to follow its direction and take back the glass. The drink was warm as it went down his throat and that was when he heard it again. Closer this time and he almost choked.
‘I love your ring.’ The absolute innocence in it that no adult sound could produce; curious and pure, nowhere and everywhere at once. It shook him to the core and he put the glass down. He saw her standing in front of him looking at Gina, but the whiskey had made his sight unsteady and he wasn’t sure if she was real.
‘Thanks honey,’ Gina grinned at the illusion. ‘Do you want to try it on?’ She slipped it off her finger and gave it to the young girl, standing on her tiptoes to reach the high table they were sitting at. He simply stared at the girl as she played with the too-big ring, twirling it around her thin fingers. He stared at her polka-dot dress, the swaying skirt as she pirouetted, hand out and giggling. The small feet covered in ballet shoes, and her brown-gold hair tied up with a barrette: he felt the twitch and jump low in his stomach and he thought he would be sick with wanting.
‘Candice.’ Someone calling her, her eyes squinting into the darkness.
‘My mom’s calling me,’ she said and looked up at him. Her mouth a perfect, pink oval. He cleared his throat, tried to say something to keep her there, but only strangled air came out.
‘Well, you better go then,’ Gina held her hand out for the ring and reluctantly the child gave it back. ‘Bye.’
She gave a small wave and skipped back into the corner, where her parents were sitting. She jumped on the woman’s lap and giggled as the arms encircled her, a face was pressed into her cheek.
‘Are you alright?’ Gina followed his eyes.
‘Fine.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Thank God I never got stuck with one of those.’ She rolled her eyes and then winced. ‘Yikes. Sorry, that was insensitive.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ The last of the whiskey left the glass, although he knew he should stop. Those small feet danced around in his mind, trod on his reservations and broke them into shards.
‘Are you still trying?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Any luck?’ She played with the rim of her glass, trailing her long fingers over it. He couldn’t help but think how sensual the action was. The shock of seeing the girl had disrupted his previous calmness and everything in him seemed to be on fire.
‘No and I don’t ever think it’s going to happen. Marienne is just having a difficult time accepting it.’ He knew he shouldn’t say more; he understood the way gossip spread in this town, but he had to have something to distract himself.
‘That must be hard for you.’ Her hand fell to his knee and stayed there. The smooth band of the ring pressed into his pants. He felt her fresh skin on it; the excitement she had experienced wearing it, radiating into him. It loosened up the knot in his stomach and so he let Gina’s hand sit there.
‘It is,’ he admitted. ‘It’s hard to see her so upset all the time.’
‘Puts a strain on the marriage, doesn’t it?’ She squeezed his thigh when he started to move away. ‘I’m not intruding. It’s just that I’ve been through something similar.’
‘With Kevin?’
‘I need another drink.’ She signaled for the bartender and ordered two more. James didn’t protest. From the corner of his eye, he could see her, cuddling up to her mother, her dress hitched up now above her knee. The smooth leg half lit up by the poor bar light, swinging back and forth; the ballet shoe off now, toes barely grazing the floor. He could stay here forever and watch that movement, it was so beautiful. He took the whiskey that was handed to him and downed half of it in one sip. Gina continued talking. ‘We just reached a point where we wanted different things, I suppose. Where we stopped paying attention to each other and let the small stuff get in the way.’
‘I never saw that happening with Marienne and me,’ he said. ‘She told me she never wanted a baby. We agreed on it and all of a sudden, she changed her mind.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Gina’s hand inched further up. He didn’t know if she was doing it intentionally, but it was keeping him distracted. Usually the cravings died after a while, but with the alcohol, the girl glinting in the corner, and Gina’s hand on his thigh, he could see only one way of expelling it.
‘You want to get out of here?’ His voice was gruff; the words not his. Her eyes widened in surprise and then she finished off her drink. He might have changed his mind if she had offered up the slightest resistance.
‘Lucky for you, my cousin owns the motel two doors down. Why don’t you go a
nd get us a room and I’ll come in through the back. Get the key to room 204.’
He left his half-full glass, took one last look at the girl, now sleeping on her mother’s shoulder, opened the door and was engulfed into the wet, cold world.
21
Whitehorse, Yukon. December 1992
The Academy looks different when it’s wearing snow; a grand and elegant old woman glittering under a cold chandelier of sun. I get out of bed, the frost coming from under the window panes rousing me and I hit the thermostat twice with my fist before it whirs into motion. Judy is already downstairs and I dress quickly, washing my face in the small sink just outside our room. The water freezes my fingers and I have to slap them against my upper arm, kept warm from my sleep, before I can feel them again.
Victoria is waiting for me at our usual table, where just the two of us sit, side by side, as she points out a new girl each day and makes fun of her.
‘Heard she peed her bed the first night she got here.’ She points to someone a couple of tables in front of her, not caring if anyone hears her or not. ‘Is that lame or what?’
‘Totally.’ I’ve learned to agree with everything she says because I love the way her face lights up when I do, the way she looks at me in that secretive way.
‘Listen,’ she leans in closer than usual, lowering her voice. ‘Leo’s coming today. He says he has something to tell me.’
‘What do you think it is?’ I ask.
‘I think it worked, Cee.’ That is her new name for me, and I never get tired of hearing her say it. ‘That spell we did. I think he’s going to tell me he loves me.’
At first, I don’t know what to say. I haven’t heard from my father since the phone call over a month ago and it seems unfair to me that Victoria is getting what she wants and I will be left with nothing. She shakes me.