by S. B. Niccum
But the reality was that I was very much interested. In fact, that explained his annoyance over me still being with Wes. Why didn’t he tell me, I wonder? I realized then, that I let an involuntary sigh escape me, and several knowing looks darted my way.
After meeting Brandy’s date, I realized why he gave her the creeps. He was handsome and he knew it, but behind his chiseled features was a hard, cold, and even cruel demeanor. If he were into Gothic chicks I would have set him up with Agatha. But, as it turned out, he found an equal at the dance—Genie. She had showed up with Alex, merely to vex me. But she had an agenda that night and it included Brandy’s date. As soon as the two schemers saw each other, they left their dates in complete limbo and spent a wonderful evening together.
Wes, of course, turned himself into James Bond and demanded that Brandy be his date too. She accepted, a bit embarrassed, but seemed to forget all her woes as soon as Wes had us spinning, one on each of his arms, on the dance floor. While we twirled, my eyes scanned the room for signs of Alex. I found him sitting alone at a table, doodling on the tablecloth. I wanted to run to him, but that would require me to break up with Wes really quick—and that was not to be easily done. After a few more songs, I lost sight of Alex, so I used this opportunity to excuse myself under some mumbled pretext, and took off to look for him.
I saw a pair of large French doors that opened up to a terrace and, pulled by a strange force, I went straight to them. Once outside, my feet didn’t feel like they moved at all, yet they guided me all the way around to the end of the balcony. At the very end, hidden by the shadows, I saw him with his forearms resting on the balustrade, looking out into the open.
“You look stunning,” Alex stated without turning. I moved forward, feeling like I was floating toward him, much like I did in my dreams. As I got near, he straightened and turned toward me. He waited until I was within arms’ reach, then stepped in closer. He examined the edge of one of my ruffles by sliding his finger softly under the fabric. “Is this of your making?”
I nodded.
“How do you do it?”
“Um … well … first—”
He chuckled, “I don’t particularly care to know about sewing, though it is remarkable. What I mean is; how do you do all of it? How do you spin a web so fine and firm that—” he paused, looking for the right words. I looked up at him incredulously, not really sure what he meant to say. Was he implying that I was forcing him to like me? That he felt trapped and wanted to escape? Because that’s what I think about when I think of a spider and its web.
“—That has me spell-bound. How do you manage to disturb my dreams?” I frowned, not sure of whether he liked his dreams disturbed or not. Besides, he was often in my dreams and I never thought of them as disturbing or upsetting. In fact, if I ever dreamed of anything else, I would feel disturbed.
He gave me a crooked smile, then kissed my forehead and wrapped one arm around my waist, extending the other. “May I have this dance?”
I readily agreed and ventured to rest my head on his chest. I could hear his steady heartbeat and my own soon fell in step with his. Wherever his body touched mine, I felt swirls of magic energy and light, spreading to the rest of my body; making me feel tingly and lightheaded. The tiles under our feet seemed to melt, the music evaporated and I felt as if we floated in mid-air—dancing only to the beat of our hearts and the music of the cicadas.
I don’t know how much time passed, but the next thing I knew, he was looking into my eyes and I into his. His lips were coming closer to mine and I could feel their warmth. His eyes were piercing mine with an intensity that made my knees weak and they would have given out from under me if it wasn’t for the hold he had on me.
Disturbed … I guess I did feel disturbed, but I liked it. Was that what he meant? His lips brushed teasingly against mine, and he smiled ruefully, knowing what he was doing to me and relishing his torture.
“Tess! Are you out here?” Wes’ voice wrung through the air, freezing us both in place. Brandy whispered something, and Wes answered her, then they both resumed their calling for me.
Alex looked at me still, but his eyes were cold, like the evening at the art exhibit. “Your boyfriend is calling you,” he stated, not moving away or releasing me at all. His lips still brushed against mine slightly as he spoke, but this time they were reproachful, not playful. I responded by not moving and tightening my grip on him. I simply refused to let him go. I wanted to tell him that I was about to break up with Wes, that this night was the last night I went out with him—just like he did with Eugenia. But the words wouldn’t come. I knew that they were insufficient, that what I was doing was wrong; that I had been using Wes, and that my behavior was cowardly.
“Tess? Tess!” They had walked in the opposite direction for now, but they would soon walk back this way.
Alex’s eyes softened and then looked pleadingly into mine. He bent slightly and bridged the small gap, giving me a brief preview of what could have been a great first kiss. All too soon his lips moved away, leaving me once again, disturbed—in yet a different way.
With one hand on the railing of the veranda, he swung his torso over the edge and jumped down into the darkness. I rushed to the side and bent over the edge, suddenly worried because the drop seemed to be quite steep. But he landed safely on both feet and walked away with his tuxedo jacket slung over his shoulder as if he had done that a million times before.
Disappointed, I turned away from the spot, and walked back to the main entrance of the balcony. For a short moment, I had been Cinderella, but now I had to come back to reality. I would waste no more time. I would end it with Wes, but what I found as I turned the corner was not at all what I expected.
The sight was only shocking for a split second, then it seemed hilarious to me. A burst of laughter escaped my lips and I quickly stopped my mouth, but I was unable to control the onslaught of laughter that rippled through me. Wes and Brandy, with fingers tangled in each other’s hair, were kissing. The moment they heard me laugh, they froze in place with a look of astonishment on their faces. This made me laugh even more, and a fresh new wave hit me so hard that I reached the veranda for support.
Speechless they stared at me for a long while, then Brandy started to cry. This sobered me up a bit, and I tried to rein in my amusement so I could explain myself.
“No, Brandy, don’t cry please, this is all my fault.”
She stared at me through bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m a horrible friend, I—I—”
“Nonsense, this is all my fault,” I insisted.
“Why do you keep saying that, Tess?” Wes asked in a horse whisper.
“Because, Wes, I should have seen this sooner. I’ve been a poor excuse for a girlfriend to you and this whole time … ” I looked at Brandy and realized all the little instances that should have clued me in. But I was so engrossed in my own insecurities that I didn’t notice them. “I don’t know why you put up with me this long Wes, I really don’t. We should have broken up a long time ago, but I was a coward.”
Wes narrowed his eyes and tried to follow my train of thought, but he didn’t seem to quite grasp it. “Why were you a coward?”
“Because … ” how was I going to say this without hurting his feelings?
“Because of Alex Preston,” Brandy said succinctly.
Wes looked momentarily at Brandy, then back to me, when it dawned on him. “You … and Alex Preston?” He stared in disbelief, “You were dating me to make him jealous?”
“No! Not, really. Not to make him jealous. I wanted to get over him. I wanted to move on.”
“Get over him? I never knew you guys dated?” Wes’ head seemed to be spinning.
“Well … no, we never really did date, but,” I shrugged. “I don’t know … we’ve … ” I was lost for words; what did Alex and I have? And how could I ever explain it?
Wes narrowed his eyes again then stretched his head toward the direction I had just come from. “Who were you ou
t here with?”
I turned pink and looked down, embarrassed. I could tell that they exchanged glances. I looked up and Wes had a cross between a frown and a crooked smile. He saw the irony in it too.
“Is Alex still back there?” he asked.
“No, he jumped off the balcony when he heard you coming.” Immediately Wes and Brandy looked over the edge of the balcony, thinking the same thing I had thought initially—that the drop was too far.
“It’s only four feet,” I explained.
“Did you kiss him?” Brandy asked, now feeling less guilty.
I turned pink again.
“She did!” Wes exclaimed; his voice was a mixture of vindication and accusation.
“Not like you guys! … We would have though, if you hadn’t come out.”
“Well I’m—” Wes started to complain, but Brandy cut him short.
“It’s obvious none of us are blameless, so let’s wipe the slate clean,” Brandy suggested.
To this we all agreed. Then remorseful, Wes added, “well … let’s go find Alex. I suppose we can still save the evening if we get Alex back for you.”
Wes paraded us both out of the dance hall, making sure he kissed us both on the cheek for added effect, then I rushed down the entrance staircase and searched the parking lot. They helped me too, but Alex was nowhere to be found. He was gone.
Defeated I slumped down on one of the steps of the entrance. I didn’t feel like Cinderella any more, I felt like her shoe. Left behind and forsaken.
Chapter 9
In vain I waited for Alex to call or make an appearance of sorts. But after a whole month went by, I lost all hope. I hated him for it! How could he? There was no question now of how he felt—he liked me! I was sure of it, so why didn’t he call? The mounting frustration I felt over this was immense. There were days when I vowed that I would never love anyone ever again, and other days when I worried that perhaps I was being too harsh, and that there was a good reason for his silence. Maybe he was sailing with his grandfather and had no access to a phone—but why didn’t he leave me a message before he left? I tried to rationalize his behavior any way I could, but I came up empty. By the end of summer there was only one true answer—he was purposely staying away.
I frantically kept busy, working two jobs: one as a lifeguard and the other at The Apothecary. I also started reading Les Miserables because that’s exactly how I felt, miserable. Like a vulture smelling blood, Agatha seemed to know about my internal struggles and she reveled in it, but expressed her interest in my agony in a curious manner. She didn’t exacerbate the situation, instead she did something far worse—she was nice. This roused even more suspicion on my part, she was never nice; nice was simply not part of her being. Distrustfully I avoided her and kept all communications to a minimum. I knew she was up to something. She was like that snake from The Jungle Book, who, while it wrapped itself around you, hissed, “trussst in meee,” then it ate you!
Finally, one day, toward the end of the summer, she made her move. I was cleaning the kitchen, putting dishes away, and making some tea in the process, when she sulked in and leaned casually against the counter. She was wearing contacts again, not the hungry vampire black, but the non-vegetarian vampire red. Her hair was all shaved now, except for two tufts of red and black strands by her face. On her skull she had a huge Third Eye tattoo, with a pyramid behind it, the symbol for “the illuminati”. She reeked of heavy incense and tobacco and what’s worse; she looked engulfed by a dark shroud. I didn’t want to stare at her, but all the light seemed to be gone from her and the shroud looked like it was expanding as she stood there. Tendrils of darkness stretched out from her and toward me.
Instinctively I stepped away, and this seemed humorous to her. I picked up my towel and kept drying and putting away the dishes, but the darkness was expanding and soon I started hearing hisses; unintelligible words, but despairing in meaning. They were just like the sounds I heard that rainy night at the bus stop.
“I know you can hear them,” was all she said. I ignored her as usual, but she stood still and stared at me like a ghoul.
“I have no clue what you are saying, and I don’t care to know either,” I told her.
“I can tell them to talk to you so loud that they will drive you crazy,” she said calmly.
“Listening to you does the job just fine.”
“Very well, have it your way,” she said and she turned to walk away, then stopped abruptly and turned to face me once more. “Your gift is very rare; you should embrace it, like I have. I can teach you how. We can find out what happened to your parents. We can find out what happened to Alex.” Then she left, but not without leaving part of her darkness behind her. As promised, they were louder.
I still couldn’t decipher the words, but I knew what they were trying to tell me. They wanted me to know how alone I really was, how despised by all, and how forsaken I was. Deep inside of me I knew they were lying, but they brought many good points to mind. Starting with Alex and his disappearance, continuing on with how happy Wes was now with Brandy and how they never called me anymore. Then they jumped on my biggest doubt of all—my parent’s love for me. “Weee … know … ” they breathed out as they passed close by my ear. “Summonnnn … usss … ” they continued as they coiled themselves around me. Taking in a deep breath and with a determined step, I knocked on Agatha’s door.
She opened her door with a self-satisfied look on her face. “Told ‘ya,” she said and opened her door wide enough for me to pass. Her room was hideous. Posters and graffiti littered the walls, everything was strewn around the room and there was no natural light coming in from the large window. Agatha had hung a black sheet of fabric on top of the existing curtains, thus completely covering any cracks where the sun might possibly penetrate.
“Nice,” I told her sarcastically.
“I thought you were here to get answers, not to decorate.”
I turned and looked at her, no longer sure that she could help me. But I had to admit that the voices had left me alone the moment I entered Agatha’s cavernous dungeon. In one hand Agatha was holding an Ouija board, and in the other hand a thick pillar candle. I lowered my eyelids and raised my eyebrows, “are you serious?” I asked.
“Very. I’ll have you know, that this is the most efficient way to summon spirits from the other side. I know it’s now considered cliché, but it’s a tool that works well and I refuse to stop using it simply because every horror movie uses it as a prop. Maybe once I’m more … experienced, I can summon them without the board, but for now this will do. Are you ready?”
I knew I should walk away right then and there, but my curiosity was peaked. They said they could tell me about my parents, whoever they were. “So who are we calling, exactly?”
“The spirits that surround us,” she stated simply and with her foot she cleared a spot on the ground for us to sit. Then she laid the board down and lit the candle. “They have been around since the world began, they know everything.”
“So what have you asked them?”
Agatha snorted a laugh, “like you, I started by asking them about my parents.”
“ … And?”
“Not much to tell there.”
I stared at her with a probing look, “so what else?”
“At first I was like you, wanting to know things about my past. I lived with my grandmother until she died. Then I entered the system,” she said matter-of-factly, folding her legs like an Indian. This was the closest thing to bonding that we had ever done. “I wanted to know about my mom and why she left me with the old hag,” she snorted. “Apparently she liked to live in the fast lane, and I was slowing her down, she died, in a ditch, of an overdose. My dad … the spirits said that he too came to an untimely death, never knowing that he had fathered a child.” She shrugged, as if none of that mattered to her, as if the tragic lives of her parents were inconsequential to her. Maybe they were …
“Then, I wanted to know about my present,
” she continued with a chuckle, “like a test you know. Then I started asking about the future, small things like, ‘tell me what will happen today at school’.” She looked up and smiled, “That day that Eugenia was about to beat you up, that was the first time I had inquired about the future. I was told of Eugenia’s intentions, that’s why I was ready.” She nodded with pride, as if that was a great moment in her life. “So, ready?” She opened her eyes wide, looking deranged.
No. I wasn’t. But I nodded briefly instead, and swallowed the lump in my throat. I kept feeling like I should get up—even now—and walk away, but I didn’t. Agatha closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Double, double, toil and trouble … ” she started.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.” I started to get up, but she laughed and pulled me down.
“Relax will you, I was just kidding. I’ve been dying to use that on someone who was actually conscious during English class.”
I looked at her evenly. “Doesn’t that tell you something about your friends?”
“They’re not my friends, and they don’t need to be smart, they just need to be obedient,” she protested, then closed her eyes again and took in a few more breaths before she started mumbling something in some foreign language. Then, she opened her eyes and rolled her eyeballs back, exposing the white—creepy, but somewhat amusing.
I shook my head; this was a load of—. Right then the candlelight started to flicker, an odd thing seeing how there was no movement of air at all in this room.
“They’re here,” Agatha whispered, closing her eyes again, and inhaling deeply. “They want to talk to you Tess.” She placed her hand on the cursor and with her eyes closed guided it toward the letter K, then I-L-L.