by H.T. Night
Paris drove the Mazda inland, down the 91 Freeway, where we eventually hit Interstate 15 towards San Diego. We eventually exited a poorly lit off ramp lined with creepy willow trees. We finally reached civilization and drove through a small city named Lake Elsinore. . The French Riviera it was not, as it was just a small desert town built next to a manmade lake named Elsinore.
I think she knew where she was going, so I trusted her. Realistically speaking I had no choice, she was a witch, but if she wasn’t, and was just foolin’ me, I’d probably be able to take her if things got weird. “You do understand, Paris, that I’m being very trusting.”
“What you need to understand, Sahara, is that this is your journey. This is your ride and you can get off the ride wherever and whenever you want. You can tell me right now that you have second thoughts and you don’t want to go on this adventure, and an adventure it is.”
Was she bluffing? I didn’t know. I knew one thing for sure I felt that something special was going to happen on this night, and maybe Paris wasn’t as shallow as she seemed.
“I want to stay on this ride. Both figuratively and literally,” I said.
“You sure?” Paris asked.
“I’m sure,” I said, as sure as I’d ever been. “Just one thing, okay? I need to trust you.”
Paris looked at me. We locked eyes, and she didn’t say anything at first. Finally, she relented, “I’ll always be here for you. You can trust in that. As long as you want my friendship, I will be here.” Paris grinned.
I appreciated how she spoke to me. So certain. So knowing. No one had ever said that to me before. I liked the idea of having this high level of loyalty and friendship with someone.
“I do believe in magic,” I said. “I always have. I don’t know why, but it’s an innate feeling that I know in my heart of hearts that magic is indeed true.”
Paris looked over at me and she stared at me with her deep brown eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just love how raw and honest you are. It’s refreshing after all the lies I’d experienced.”
“Abigail really did a number on you,” I said, trying to relate with Paris on some level. Paris nodded and looked ahead as if she was thinking about something specific.
A moment passed and she said, “Okay, we’re about twenty minutes away. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Actually, I do, I have like a thousand questions,” I said.
“Okay, give me the first question that most concerns you.”
“Was Knott’s Berry Farm the first time you ever laid eyes on me?” I looked at Paris and I wanted to get a read on her, if she was being honest with me.
“Yeah, that is the honest truth. I followed you, because I knew you were going to need a little magic. ”
“How did you know that?”
“Sometimes I just know. Call it a feeling. Who was the guy you were with?”
“It was a date. His name is Robert?”
“I thought, at some point, the two of you might need magic.”
“Why was that?”
“Call it a feeling,” she repeated her previous statement. “What do you think of him? You were pretty cozy.”