by Amanda McGee
To me, magic was broomsticks, wands, potions, and spells. There was none of that as far as I could tell. From what I had seen thus far, enchantment was much less sensational and created separation.
I wondered how I would know what my power was, if I had one at all. I was half-expecting enchanted lightning to shoot from my fingertips and turn a lamp into a toad or some other bizarre event. And the Internet would be of little assistance.
What would that Google search be like?
How do I know what my magic powers are? Search.
As far as I was concerned the people who believed had no real power and the ones who didn’t believe would be of no more assistance than the ones who did. Information may be power but where was the information about my so-called power?
“Ah, I need coffee.”
A soft knock at the door redirected my attention. I tried to guess who it could be since Kate was gone and I did not associate with anyone else.
Opening the door, I saw no one. But then a tiny, navy blue car pulled into the driveway.
Do I know anyone who drives a Mini Cooper?
A young girl in a flowing white dress emerged with caution from the vehicle. The stranger paused to peek in my direction over the top of her oversized sunglasses as her dress shifted with the breeze then pooled around her feet. Moving further onto the porch, my eyes strained to see. As she came closer and I could fully observe the wisp of a girl strolling towards me. Her scrawny legs carried her up the footpath with poise but her fisted hands made me think her composure was forced.
“I’m Sadie,” she said, stopping on the first porch step.
She stared up at me with a look of awe and excitement. Her tiny stature and enormous smile reminded me of a child, eager and friendly. With only two words spoken between us, I believed I could trust Sadie with my deepest secrets.
Her hazel eyes were mesmerizing. The sunlight reflected their golden tones that lightened the brown into a hypnotic shade that demanded my attention. Her chin-length blonde hair, accessorized with a bejeweled headband, was very different from the features of my mother...our mother. The photograph of our dad that Aunt Leah had showed me flashed in my mind. They shared the same smile.
Sadie’s bohemian style was simple like Mom’s but would have been too fashionable for Mom’s liking. Yet, there was something in Sadie’s presence I recognized as familiar. The warm, personable glow radiating from every inch of her petite frame was undeniably genetic.
I realized that I had been staring at this poor girl for too long to be considered normal etiquette and reached to shake her hand.
“I’m Alex. So I guess you heard?”
“Weird right?”
“Secret siblings and magic? Nah, what’s weird about that?”
“Only everything.” She giggled. Her laugh was as I predicted—energetic and pure.
“So, I met Aunt Leah,” I said, taking a seat on the top step. “She was full of interesting stories.”
“More like bizarre, life-changing stories,” Sadie said, still giggling as she plopped down next to me.
“I planned to come visit you. Aunt Leah said you were out of town.”
“Drama club trip. I wasn’t sure if I should come here but I would never relax unless I tried.”
“I know the feeling but I am not sure how to begin sorting through this madness.”
“I’ve got all summer,” she said with a hopeful grin.
There was something very magnetic about Sadie. I imagined that she never met a stranger and that people were naturally drawn to her. The heart on her sleeve was as big as she was and the smile on her face dared you to try to not love her.
“Will Aunt Leah be okay with that?”
“It’s not like I ran away from home,” she said. “She knew where I was going and I called her when I got here. Plus, I spend my summer vacations at music camp or something dorky like that. This time, I thought I’d try to get to know my sister.”
I couldn’t have said no even if I had wanted to. Something told me Sadie always got her way.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” I asked. “To go your whole life adjusting to one existence and in the blink of eye you feel like you’re living someone else’s life.”
“I think that can happen to anyone. We just have a much more interesting story than most people.”
“Understatement!”
“So what do we do now?”
“I guess we can just take it slow and get to know each other,” I said. “You want to go first?”
“Oh, I’d be happy to!” she said, practically shrieking.
Never for one second did I believe Sadie would have a problem divulging the story of her life but I did wonder how far she would go.
“Well, I am Sadie Ann Ryan,” she began. “My philosophy is ‘Everything happens for a reason.’ It helps deal with the bad if you believe it has a purpose.”
“I never thought about that,” I said. “Continue.”
And continue she did. Her tales of life in Atlanta with Aunt Leah all flooded together in a long run-on sentence. Sadie strung together stories of the vacations she and Aunt Leah took to the beach each summer where Sadie developed a slight addiction to the shaved ice drinks that were carted up and down the beach by those “poor girls in bikinis” and the game nights they would have every Wednesday night and the time Sadie almost ran into the front porch of their house when Aunt Leah tried to teach her to drive.
For my beloved porch’s sake I was thankful she worked that out.
Sadie announced that she had just completed her junior year of high school and was quick to point out that she would be seventeen in August, since most people thought she was younger because she was so tiny.
I listened in silent fascination as her jubilant illustrations revealed a life that sounded similar to mine. Although, her outlook on her life mirrored her free-spirit flowing white dresses and big sunglasses, while mine made my personality feel like an oversized hooded sweatshirt.
“I was voted Junior Class President,” she said with pride. “I didn’t even run. It was all write-in ballots.”
“That isn’t surprising,” I said. “Your personality is contagious and bubbly like…like…the fizz in a soda.”
I cringed as soon as the words left my lips. Though Sadie beamed at the compliment, I was embarrassed for having blurted it out. Most of my shame came from knowing I was able to form such a bubble-gum notion. Sadie was already starting to rub off on me. Maybe that was her magic power.
“I was voted ‘Best Eyes’ in my senior yearbook,” I added, making full use of air quotes. “Apparently, my dark green eyes are ‘intriguing.’”
“They are intense,” she said. “I was wondering if they could see into my soooo-ul.”
“Says you! Your eyes freak me out a little. There are hypnotic.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Besides, you should be proud to have such a distinguishing feature that people notice and appreciate it. I know I am!”
“Secretly I was flattered, but I had a rep to uphold.”
“And what kind of rep was that?”
“The smart jock,” I said, observing her reaction. “Exactly! I was already an enigma, why add on to it?”
Sadie chuckled and a sense of calm circulated within me. When the daydream of having a brother or sister had flashed through my mind it never looked or felt this serene. I forgot about magic and secrets and pain and I let myself bond with the sister that I felt I’d known all of my life.
“So, what about your friends?” I asked. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Sadie’s cheeks went from muted pink to sunburn red.
“I don’t have many close friends. In fact, I don’t really have any. I was so busy being everyone’s friend I forgot to pick a favorite.”
“Uh huh, and boys?”
“I guess I forgot to pick one of those too.”
“Me too,” I said. “Fairy tales are unlikely in high school and I have never been the boy
friend-having type.”
“Why do you think that is?” she asked.
“That is the question! Maybe I was distracted or oblivious. Or maybe no one ever made me want to fall. I never could see the point in dating just to be dating.”
“Oh, I agree,” she said. “It seems people have a new relationship every week. That just sounds exhausting to me. I’ve got things to do, you know?”
“One hundred percent! Maybe we all have daddy issues. Who knows?”
“Can’t find a boyfriend? Blame your dad. Don’t want a boyfriend? Blame your dad.”
“Sounds justified to me!”
Pleased with ourselves and our little comedy routine, we doubled-over in laughter until our cheeks cramped and tears streamed down our faces. It took several minutes to regain our composure. I failed to remember the last time I had laughed that hard.
“I always believed I was adopted,” Sadie blurted. “I was too afraid to ask about it or where my dad was. I didn’t want to hurt my mom’s feelings.”
“You never asked at all?”
“My life was so blessed it felt wrong somehow. I just assumed she’d tell me when she was ready.”
“Same here,” I said. “I was never sad about not knowing him but I guess a part of me was too mad to mourn him. Losing my Mom, that was the hardest thing I’ve ever dealt with.
“I remember when I was seven we drove to the beach and made a fire. The smell of salt water and her lilac shampoo in the air around me, I knew I loved her more than anything. I was grateful for her, to her. Life without her has been bleak and miserable. It’s been hard talking about her, especially since I’ve hid away since she passed.”
My casual memory broadcast took me off guard. A single tear rolled down Sadie’s cheek as she rested her chin on her knees. Staring down at her French manicured toes, she appeared vulnerable. Storytelling was all Sadie would have of our mother. I was fortunate to have known her but regret mushroomed in my chest, possibly another piece of my heart breaking, knowing that Sadie never would.
I ignored my distaste for emotional contact and put my arm around her shoulders. Even when she cried she seemed somehow upbeat. Sadie’s presence would change me and, surprisingly, I welcomed it.
Personally, I do not care to wear my heart on my sleeve. Sadie, on the other hand, wore hers as an entire outfit. Something about that struck me as admirable rather than my typical reaction of pathetic. I didn’t anticipate crying on anyone’s shoulder anytime soon, but a possible attempt at showing a little affection was not out of the question with Sadie by my side.
“She sounds like a special lady,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“You remind me of her.”
Sadie’s face lit up like the morning horizon. Her tears became a joyful grin.
“Tell me about her,” she said.
“She was kind. Thoughtful. I never saw her without a smile on her face. Now that I know what she went through, aside from the cancer, which still didn’t fade her happiness, I cannot imagine how she managed it.”
I shared any story I could think of, from Mom’s elaborate birthday parties where she made us all dress-up in costumes to how she would ride her bicycle more than she drove her car. As I spoke my sentences began to mirror Sadie’s and ran together.
Sadie particularly enjoyed the story of one balmy summer night when the heat became too much to bear. Mom found an old tarp, squirted dish detergent all over it, and sprayed it with the water hose. The two of us slid and slipped our way up and down that tarp until we were covered in aches and bubbles.
“That sounds like something we would’ve done at my house.”
“It’s amazing how even though we were separated our lives played out oddly the same.”
“Everything happens for a reason, Alex. Now it feels like our lives are upside down but up until a few days ago we believed our lives to be normal.”
“For the most part.”
“Out of curiosity, was she sad because...he was gone?” she asked. “Was she sad for any of us?”
“If she ever cried, I never saw it,” I said. “I knew it had to be painful but she never showed it. It’s easier in hindsight to see things a certain way but at the time I never saw blatant sadness from her.”
Talking about my mother was easier than predicted. Perhaps my trouble in talking about her stemmed less from grief and more from not having the appropriate audience. With Sadie, the thoughts and memories rolled off my tongue as if I were reading them from a book.
Ahh, the book.
We had ignored the magical and potentially dangerous elephant in the room for as long as possible. I held up my index finger, signaling that I would return. My haste to recover the journal and discover Sadie’s reaction involved two very graceless stumbles up the stairs and one slide toward the front door.
“Open this,” I said, panting harder than I should have been.
Without hesitation she flipped it open to the first page. I held my breath, nervous for what was to come despite knowing the answer. I was dizzy, craving validation and oxygen. Just like when I opened it, the words revealed themselves page by page.
“Whoa, what is this?” she asked.
“Mom wrote in this journal up until the day she died,” I answered. “The words are visible if you or I open it. I tested it with my friend, Kate. She can see the words once they are there but I have to make them appear.”
“I guess this magic stuff isn’t so farfetched after all,” Sadie said with great conviction. “It’s fascinating, don’t you think? Not only do we have family but we have magic, too.”
Sadie never suffered a moment of doubt. Her belief in our supernatural tale was instantaneous.
Her optimism was contagious yet again. Although it was clear that we operated with opposite sides of our brains, her point of view was refreshing. My overdrawn, often cynical viewpoints rarely led to anything helpful or entertaining.
“I can’t imagine your reaction the first time you opened this,” she laughed.
“It was unexpected,” I said. “A lot to process. Thank God you showed up.”
The two of us giggled like it was something we had done our whole lives. I had worried our first meeting would be awkward; little did I know we would be immediate friends. Not since Kate had I bonded with someone instantly. I cared for Sadie a great deal already.
“Judging by the fact that you are here, I assume you aren’t concerned about ‘the danger’ either,” I said.
“What’s the deal with that anyway?” Sadie asked while flipping through the journal. “Danger! Danger! It keeps being said but no one can explain what it is.”
“From what I can figure, our powers are dangerous, like, not to us necessarily but maybe to others? Ohmygah, we’re gonna be accidental terrorists or something.”
“Wow, dramatic much? Take a look at this woman.”
Sadie had discovered a photograph tucked in the back pocket of the journal. The snapshot was old and tattered. The edges were worn and the rest was faded. Yet, the face of the woman was visible.
Her hair was long and black and pulled into a tight, yet stylish, ponytail. There was no smile on her face. There was no life in her eyes. Darkness was all that seeped through.
“She tried to steal my life, don’t let her steal yours,” Sadie read aloud from the back of the picture.
“Well, hello danger.”
“How did you miss this?” Sadie asked. “Wait, there’s more.”
Sadie reached back into the pocket and retrieved three more photographs. One photograph was of Sadie, aged ten, grinning as she displayed her ribbon for winning “Camper of the Summer.” The second photograph was of Blaze, aged eighteen, standing tall and stern in his dress blues. The last was of my Dad, smiling, holding Blaze with one arm and the other wrapped around my visibly pregnant mother.
“Man, blonde is popular in our genetic code,” Sadie said, noticing that everyone but Mom and I were blonde.
“That was probably the last time
they were together,” I said.
“You mean…that y’all were together,” Sadie said. “There’s a little baby Alex cooking in that belly.”
“Sadie she’s not an oven,” I said, appreciating the humor. “Wait, I’ve seen him before. I’ve seen you before!”
“In pictures?”
“In a dream! What does this mean?”
“Adventure, baby!” Sadie shouted.
Regardless of the so-called danger that lurked, waited, or was no longer a threat at all, it was a small price to pay for what we would gain in the end. For once, I would not overanalyze. Sure, the situation warranted contemplation but to sacrifice the only relatives I had left was not an option.
I was no longer frightened or anxious. I had purpose. I had direction just by being unintentionally tangled in this bizarre situation. I had family and the potential to possess undisclosed magic abilities. Dangerous or not, this was the most interesting thing to happen to me...ever.
****
Chapter Five
The morning sun, hidden by the trees that surrounded us, had become a warm afternoon glow.
Sadie’s temperament was soothing, a possible antidote to my obsessive mind wanderings. No subject seemed in need of psychoanalyzing, yet all topics, big or small, vital or irrelevant, could be discussed without fear that my brain would journey off into the land of unnecessary ramblings. I was safe with her, able to be myself, or at least this new version I had become since her arrival. With a childlike aura and an enlightenment that extended well beyond her years, Sadie had enraptured me and for a piece of time I loved being lost.
“Shoot, the day sure got away from us, huh? I’m starved, how do you feel about Mexican food?”
“Oh, I feel great about it! Plus, you can give me a tour.”
Running inside for a quick change of clothes, I caught sight of myself in the mirror again. My skin was still pale and I was still thinner than usual. My hairstyle had improved. By improved, I mean clean and not in a ponytail. There was clarity in my eyes that I had never seen before. The bags hadn’t quite faded but the sadness that once dimmed them had begun to fade.