by Ellen Jane
“So, what made you decide to move back?” Max asks once the waiter has poured their wine and left them with the menus.
Jo shrugs. “I don’t know, I just looked in the mirror one day and realised I didn’t like what I saw.”
Max sputters. “What are you talking about, man? You’re this big, successful business chick. What’s not to love?”
Lee hides her smile behind her glass, but she is watching Jo carefully, because inside she is as confused as Max.
“Well,” Jo says, glancing between them. “Planning and managing events is all about other people, yeah? So, I was always chasing after other people’s dreams and other people’s expectations, and it was making me so unhappy I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a respect thing—how can you ignite respect and love in others if you don’t respect yourself first, you know? And that means every part of you—your wants and needs, all of it. So, I just… stopped. I let everything go and asked myself what was important. What was I missing?” She gazes at the table, slim fingers twisting the napkin into tiny knots. Her next words are quieter as if she doesn’t mean to say them out loud. “What did I want?”
Lee stares at her. A swooping sensation builds in her stomach, like she is poised on the edge of a cliff, waiting to drop.
Jo lifts her head and the moment shatters. “So, I decided to come home, but now I’m really in the hole. Don’t suppose your mum wants to go guarantor for a stranger, babe?” she asks Lee with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m sure I could get a gallery named after her or something.”
She turns away to poke fun at Max, not intending Lee to take the question seriously at all, but Lee is frozen in thought.
Responsibility… Change… This must be the key. Lee’s relationship with her mum has never been strong, but it isn’t for lack of trying on both their parts. Lee needs something her mother can’t give—support, stability—and her mother needs someone who isn’t Lee. She needs a person who goes with the flow, whose calm exterior matches what goes on inside instead of masking it. Lee’s father was like that, even though he was useless at everything about being a father. But he isn’t around anymore. Now Lee’s mother is left with no one to turn to when her moods hit her and make her upend the house because she tried to paint it from top to bottom in one night, or when she maxes out her credit cards by signing up to every wellness initiative under the sun in thirty minutes.
Lee’s father had helped her pick paint colours and made them all hot chocolates when the energy wore off and the slump hit. He had gone with her to every seminar she booked until the next flight of fancy had come along, and then he’d arranged refunds and lowered the card limit. Lee only got stressed.
If Lee can convince her mum to act as a guarantor for Jo and the eccentric gaggle of artists Jo collects, maybe it will be the catalyst they both need to reconnect. Maybe they’ll find a middle ground where they can meet and work each other out on their own terms. Her mother has never accepted responsibility, and Lee has never accepted her mother’s constant need for change. Maybe this is what they need.
She taps out a message before she can second guess it. Then, she lights a match—there are only three left—hiding the action by using it to light the candles on their table.
“Oh cool!” Max reaches for the box. “Chuck it here; I’ll light this one.”
“No!” Lee pulls the matchbook away, wincing at Max’s confusion. “I’ve got it.”
She leans over and lights the candle. She waits for the sensation of something tugging at her naval, but this time there is nothing. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she takes advantage of the distraction.
Honey!! So lovely to hear from you. Is everything all right???
Totally fine! She stares at the screen, trying to phrase the question before sending it. I was wondering…
Her mum is already typing, so she backspaces and waits.
Have you seen my box of costume jewellery?
Lee frowns. Throughout the years, her mum has owned a lot of jewellery.
Which one?
The antique chest. There are diamonds in it, honey! Diamonds!
Real diamonds???
No no no.
Lee can practically see her mother through the phone. She can see the wide-eyed excitement in her eyes. She’s probably wearing layers of scarves, trying to match them against an imaginary piece of jewellery she threw away over a decade ago and will forget about in the next ten minutes.
Sorry, mum. Lee types slowly, wishing this whole thing would somehow transform itself into a situation that didn’t hurt so much. I haven’t seen it.
Never mind. Got to run!! Dinner’s caught fire and Jerry’s trying to put it out. Merry Christmas, my darling xxxxxxx
Merry Christmas, mum.
What was she thinking? There’s no bridge that can span the gap between them, and it certainly won’t solve Jo’s problem. Not to mention the bad luck isn’t restricted to the area around Lee if her mum’s dinner was a casualty. Not that burning dinners is unexpected in her mum’s household, even if one of her boyfriends is cooking.
Movement catches her eye, and she looks up to see one of the candles has tipped over and is kindling a small fire on the edge of the tablecloth. She smacks her hand down on it, snuffing the flame, and closes her eyes. Her hand tingles with the sharpness of a mild burn, and she clenches it into the tablecloth before taking a deep breath and opening her eyes again. The others haven’t noticed; Jo is on the phone and Max is scanning the menu. The burn fades to a dull ache that starts at her hand and spreads all the way to her stomach. It is very similar to hopelessness.
Voices break through her thoughts, and she looks up to see Jo waving her phone around. “I got the pre-app!”
She blinks, tuning back into the world around her. “You what?”
“Gran’s going guarantor!” She throws an arm around Max and squeezes her tight. “As soon as I find the right place, I’m set.”
It hits Lee then, in that cold, distant way that reality often does when it finally sets in: Jo doesn’t need her. She has been so busy trying to keep Jo here, to help Jo get what she needs, but the reality is that Lee is unnecessary. All the good luck in the world wouldn’t help Lee because Jo has always solved her problems on her own. She doesn’t need Lee’s help.
Max and Jo are celebrating. Max drums her fingers on the table while Jo toasts the good health of the nation with her wine glass. They are a perfect family unit, the two of them, despite whatever held them back growing up. They have grown beyond it, above it, in a way Lee has never quite managed. In all the energy she has spent trying to seize hold of her good luck and bind Jo to her, she has never stopped to consider whether Jo would want this.
She considers it now, and she realises the responsible thing to do is forget her schoolgirl crush and move on. In eight years, Lee’s secret infatuation is the only part of her that has remained unchanged; she needs to let it go.
Jo doesn’t need someone like Lee holding her back.
Four
Lee is calmer after that. It’s as if holding onto the impossible was using up all her energy, and now all she’s left with is a soothing, bone-deep weariness. They finish their dinner and head home for drinks by the fire.
“Has anyone got a lighter?” Jo pats her pockets down and then stops, frowning. “I don’t even smoke; why do I think I’d have one?”
Lee stares at her, eyes a little unfocused as she finally accepts that the magic matchbook is useless. She’d been so careful to make sure she didn’t waste the matches, but all she ended up doing was squandering them and putting everyone at risk.
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the tiny cardboard square. It still sparkles in the light, but it no longer sends that ripple of hope through her. There are only two matches left; at least they’ll serve a purpose, even if that purpose is nothing more special than lighting a fire.
“Here, catch.” She throws the matchbook to Jo.
Jo examines the book with rai
sed eyebrows. “Where did you get this? It’s from the nineteen fifties or something.” She shrugs. “Whatever, so long as it still works.”
She strikes the match, which flares as strong and mesmerising as the others, and sets it to the paper in the fireplace.
“Mmmm,” Jo says in delight. “Can’t have Christmas Eve without a fire.”
Lee forces herself to smile even though the last of her hope has fizzled. She will never get that lucky break Rebecca predicted. Whatever’s blocking her good luck is far too strong, and Lee doesn’t have a clue how to find out what it is, let alone break it. Even if she could, her wish won’t come true.
The only logical conclusion is that it was a sign telling her to stop wasting her time. Pining over your best friend’s sister isn’t a good look, particularly at Christmas. All it does is bring a downer to the whole situation.
She sighs, sitting up and leaning against the arm of the couch. It’s time to move on.
She sees it a second before it hits, though in hindsight, that’s impossible. But it’s true all the same, like perhaps for a split second someone gave her access to the future.
“Jo!” she chokes, diving across the room and shoving her out of the way right before the car crashes into the wall and everything goes black.
✽ ✽ ✽
Somehow, no one is injured. Even the learner driver behind the wheel makes it away unscathed—apart from the uncontrollable sobbing—and the clean-up crew leave Lee and Max with a tarpaulin to cover up the hole in their wall.
“Did we end up lighting the fire? Because embers can smoulder unchecked,” Max asks, sitting on the stairs and staring at the pile of rubble that used to be their living room. “I’m just saying, I don’t want to burn the building down on top of levelling it with a Prius. Pretty sure our rental insurance won’t cover all that.”
“The firemen checked it out,” Lee says, unable to turn away from the mess. “We’re fine.”
Jo is sitting on the bottom step with her, one hand resting on Lee’s knee. Lee is still so scattered from the crash, she can’t even spare the energy to freak out about the touch.
“Well that’s good news,” Max says, an uncharacteristic bitterness to her words. “Christ, what stupid luck.” She nudges Lee with her foot. “I thought you were meant to bring in some good luck, man. What happened?”
“Wasn’t just blocked, I guess,” Lee says, her voice flat. “Was kind of… destroyed. At least it wasn’t only me though. I mean, technically that last one was Jo. I didn’t light the match this time.”
She ignores the confused looks from the other two, still staring vacantly ahead. Then, she realises what she’s said and frowns.
“I didn’t light the match… so why did it turn into bad luck? It should have either worked or just fizzled and done nothing. I’m the only one who’s blocked.” She turns to Jo. “Do you still have that matchbook I gave you?”
Jo blinks. “Seriously? Um. Maybe?” She searches through her pockets and after several seconds produces the shiny, white book.
Lee takes it and lifts it up to the light. The others share a concerned glance over her head, but she ignores them. She opens the book: one match left. She shakes it out and holds the cardboard at an angle, inspecting the box. Something catches her eye, and her heart sinks. A name is scrawled behind the matches.
“Rebecca,” she reads out loud, and everything makes horrible sense.
“Babe,” Jo says carefully. “I know it’s been a rough day, but—”
“It wasn’t mine!” Lee says, horror in her voice. She looks between them, face twisted into regret. “It wasn’t my luck. It was meant for someone else, and I wasted it all! Shit! That’s why it kept going wrong!”
She remembers the first match she lit, the one that had made her so sure the book was magic. Nothing had gone wrong, but nothing had gone right either. She had assumed Jo’s appearance was magic, but it could have been a coincidence.
Unless…
“Oh god.” She turns to Jo. “The local artists…”
Jo’s brow furrows, and she glances at Max. “What’re you talking about?”
Lee doesn’t have the energy to care about what’s a secret and what isn’t anymore. She jumps to her feet and grabs Jo by the hand, pulling her along behind her down the stairs towards the front door.
“Wait, what?” Max half stands. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll tell you later!” Lee calls over her shoulder, ignoring the confusion on both their faces. “It’s important. I’m sorry, there’s no time!”
“All right, well… I’ll just sit here in the rubble then, shall I?” Max yells after them, eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. “Don’t worry about me! I love alfresco living!”
Lee waves apologetically and keeps running. When they reach the car, she shoves Jo into the passenger seat and gets behind the wheel.
“You going to tell me where we’re going?” Jo asks, staring at her like she’s lost it.
Which, in fairness, she probably has. She starts the ignition and searches for a way to explain this when she has no proof and no reason Jo should believe her. It’s pointless. Jo will decide she’s an overemotional train wreck of a person when Lee admits to what she’s been doing the last few days, and then Jo will walk away; it wouldn’t be the first time someone has decided Lee isn’t worth the drama. Still. She needs to make things right. Even if it means losing the person she loves most.
“So, those matches…” She pulls out of the driveway and drives towards the market. “If I told you they’re good luck matches, how crazy would you think I am?”
Jo stares at her. “Babe,” she says after a pause. “I love and respect you. If you tell me they’re good luck matches, I’m going to listen to you.”
Lee nearly crashes the car. A strange emotion bubbles up inside her chest, too bright to contain, and her eyes fill with tears that thankfully don’t spill over.
“Good start.” She chokes a little on the words. “So, they are—good luck, I mean—but they’re not mine. They’re not my good luck, and I’ve been wasting them because I thought they were.”
She tells Jo all about the tarot reading and Rebecca’s warning, and then she lists all the disasters that have happened every time she lights a match. Halfway through the story, Jo holds her hand out for the matchbook, and Lee passes it over.
Even out of the corner of her eye, she can see the way the box sparkles in the light, the strange aura that seems to surround it. Jo twists it around, studying it from every angle. Her face shifts into something odd, but Lee has to focus on the road, so she can’t figure out what the expression means. It is snowing again, and Lee remembers the blizzard warning. If she wasn’t already more than halfway there, she’d turn around. She never drives in weather like this.
“What made you first realise they were magic?” Jo asks, her voice neutral.
Lee searches for a lie, but she can’t find a story that fits. Anything but the truth would sound hollow.
“Because you came home for Christmas,” she says, eyes fixed on the road.
Jo turns to her, but Lee refuses to look.
“I think that’s why the magic worked, actually,” she continues. “It’s the only one that didn’t go wrong, and I think it’s because the good luck brought you here for her.”
Not me, she adds silently.
Jo wrinkles her nose. “Why would I come back for her? I don’t know her.” She sounds like she’s about to say something else but falls silent instead.
“Because you’re looking for local artists.” Lee’s heart twists. It all makes so much sense now. “You have to see her tarot cards. They’re all hand-painted, and they’re so intricate. You’ll love them.”
Jo’s face lights up with interest, and she hums to herself.
Drifts of snow fall all around them, and Lee leans closer to the windshield, searching for a safe place to park. They find a spot half a block from the market, and soon they’re running along the streets
to the entrance. When they get close enough to see the first stalls, they stumble to a halt.
“Everyone’s packing up,” Jo says, spinning in a half circle. “There’s hardly anyone left. Does it close early on Christmas Eve?”
“No, it stays open later.” Lee approaches the nearest vendor. “Excuse me, is the market closing?”
The vendor looks at her askance. “Of course! Haven’t you seen the weather report? There’s a blizzard on its way. Leave your shopping now, girls. Whatever you haven’t bought already is too late.”
Lee turns to Jo, despair rising, but Jo is already running to the centre of the market, where Lee told her Rebecca’s stall was. Lee chases after her, but when they arrive the space is empty, cleared of everything—even the signage. Rebecca is gone, and she isn’t coming back.
“We can find her tomorrow.” Jo’s voice is gentle. “We should get home now. I don’t want to be out in a blizzard, and Max is alone in a house that’s missing a wall.”
“You’re right.” Lee tries to ignore the guilt and regret swelling up inside her. “We should come back tomorrow.”
They return to the car. Several times along the way, Jo makes an aborted gesture, like she is reaching out for Lee’s hand or her shoulder, but every time she falls back without finishing. The wind has picked up, tearing around them so their hair whips in their faces and blinds them. At least they remembered their coats before leaving the house, but it’s not much comfort when they’re being blasted by ice and snow.
“Christ, let’s get in the goddamn car,” Jo mutters, her teeth clattering together. “Before I die or something equally horrible.”
“Do you think death is warm?” Lee asks as she fumbles for the keys.
“I think we’ll know very soon.” Jo stamps her feet. “Please hurry up.”
“I’m trying!” Lee gives up trying to press the button properly and shoves the key in the door. The alarm blares. “Shit!”
Jo breaks into laughter, and after several attempts, Lee silences the noise and gets the car unlocked.