by A. M. King
The moment that happened, the computer screen unfroze and they were talking.
“What happened?” she asked.
“You froze on us, girl,” Aunt Trixie said.
“You froze on me, too.”
“Anyway, Febe, I’m not sure if you caught what I said earlier but we’re so sorry this all happened on your birthday,” Aunt Eartha offered.
“Would it have made a difference if it happened any other day?” Aunt Trixie said, sarcastically.
Aunt Eartha rolled her eyes at Aunt Trixie, while Aunt Vanity seemed oblivious to the whole situation.
Aunt Vanity was looking into her compact mirror, touching up her bottle-blond hairdo. Febe remembered how traumatized Aunt Vanity got when she found her first gray hair. Ever since, she swore she’d never be gray again—in that Scarlett O’Hara way, like at the end of Gone with the Wind, Scarlett swore she’d never go hungry again. Aunt Vanity could be such a drama queen sometimes.
“You know what I meant, Trixie. You know what I meant, don’t you darling niece?” Aunt Eartha’s voice was filled with genuine concern. “Darling, what happened?”
Febe was suddenly glad that her sister Janvier wasn’t there to watch this. She was usually at the old Victorian house with their aunties since moving back to Blackshore Bay, but she’d already texted Febe and told her that she would be working late at the family’s Summer Café and wished her a happy birthday already. If only she knew how unhappy it was...
“Well,” Febe sniffled, trying to gain her composure. “First, it started off with...”
“Vanity, pay attention,” Aunt Trixie said while Aunt Vanity started to powder her face. She was always powdering her face. Febe was sure someone had put a hex on her auntie so she’d be glued to a mirror—not that she believed in witchcraft.
“Huh.” Aunt Vanity looked embarrassed. Even though she was seated on the sofa turned to the side, she didn’t realize that she was in view of the camera.
“Pay attention. Don’t you see the girl’s trying to tell us about her pitiful birthday?”
Well, that made Febe feel more confident.
“Yes, yes. I’m listening. She lost her boyfriend or something, right? Did she find him?”
Aunt Trixie rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Febe. What were you saying?”
“I was just saying that.” Febe knew how protective her aunties were of her and her sisters, especially since their mother had died last year. They could drive her up the wall sometimes, but they’d drive a steak knife into anyone who dared mess with them. So Febe decided to tell a condensed version.
“He just broke it off with me.”
“What? That scoundrel.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Febe. And on your birthday? He knew it was your birthday, right?”
Febe nodded slowly and dabbed her eyes again. She knew he wasn’t worth the tears but she just couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t that she was crying over him as much as she wanted to rid herself of any emotions attached to him.
Crying was cleansing, she’d once read somewhere.
“What a waste,” Aunt Trixie said, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
“Excuse me?” Febe asked, confused.
“What a waste. Instead of spending your time wiping away your tears, you need to spend time wiping away the people that caused you to shed a tear in the first place,” Aunt Trixie said. “I’ve got a spell I can cast on him, if you want.”
Febe didn’t quite get the last part of her aunt’s sentence about a spell and thought maybe she heard wrong or Aunt Trixie was up to her tricks again, telling her crazy jokes.
“Trixie Summers!” Aunt Eartha scolded with shock. “Do not give the girl such nonsense advice. And you will not be casting spells on anyone!”
“What? She should just forgive him and forget what happened?” Aunt Trixie shot back.
“Forgive and move on. Forgiveness is not for him. It’s for her. She needs to release toxic feelings about him. You know they only serve to hurt the holder of the feelings, not the target. Never let anyone who’s not worthy of your priceless, precious time on Earth take up any room in your thoughts. You need good thoughts to get ahead. Time spent on getting even is time wasted for getting ahead. Toxic feelings are harmful feelings,” Aunt Eartha finished.
“Not to mention what it does to your pores. All those toxic emotions seeping through you.” Aunt Vanity glanced into her compact mirror, looking at her cheekbones, touching her face with her free hand.
Febe wanted to break out into a grin at her Auntie’s non-stop self-concern.
“That’s not all,” Febe said.
“Yes, dear. You were telling us about your job.”
“Yeah, I...I didn’t make it to the end of the probationary period.” Febe bit down on her lower lip.
She didn’t want to excite them too much. It would just make her feel worse, not better. She’d tell them another day. But not now. Besides, she was feeling bad enough about her twenty-fifth birthday.
“What? How come?” Aunt Eartha said. “I thought you were doing so well. All those wonderful campaign logos you were coming up with.”
“I know,” Febe said quietly. “It just wasn’t working out, okay? I’ll explain more another day. I’m too tired to go into it all right now.”
“Oh dear. Okay, sweetie. But what about your apartment. Do you need money?”
“Sis, you know we’re broke, right?” Aunt Trixie arched her brow and leaned toward her older sister.
Aunt Eartha sighed deeply. “No, we’re not quite broke, Trixie.”
“I’d hardly call being house rich and cash poor, a windfall, dear.”
“Trixie! Do you mind?”
“Fine.”
“Sorry, darling,” Aunt Eartha turned back to the screen to speak back to Febe. “Now what makes you think you’re going to lose your apartment?”
“I...I was counting on getting a raise once my probation was over in a couple weeks in time to pay the next installment on my rent. I already used up my savings as it is. Toronto’s not the cheapest city in the world to live.”
“I hear you, girl,” Aunt Vanity said, still fixing herself up in her small vanity mirror. She was trying on a new shade of lipstick. It was unreal. “I used to live on the lake in the downtown core, remember? The theatre district?”
“Oh, yeah, right.”
“Anyway, you should move back to Blackshore Bay, darling,” Aunt Vanity said, not looking into the computer.
“Actually, she’s right,” Aunt Eartha agreed.
“Where’s she gonna stay? I’m not sleeping on the sofa,” Aunt Trixie teased.
“No one is sleeping on any sofa, Trixie dear. This mansion that was left to us by our dear grandmother has plenty of room. She can have her mother’s old room. Janvier is already in there.”
“The two of them, together?” Aunt Trixie arched her brow.
“For now, until we get the spare room set up. Anyway,” Aunt Eartha said turning back to the screen, “you can come here and stay with us and work at the Summer Café. We always need an extra hand there.”
“Are you sure, Aunt Eartha?”
“You worked there one summer before, remember?”
“Yeah, when Mom was alive. She really wanted me, Janvier, and Marsha to work in the family business.”
“Yes, I know, darling. That was her dream.”
“Well, I’d told her that I wanted to live in the city and work in advertising after my degree, but...”
“But what?”
“I’m a total failure, let’s face it,” Febe blew out a puff of air.
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Aunt Trixie said.
“Trixie!” Aunt Eartha chastised. “Sorry, sweetie. Listen, and listen to me good. If you haven’t gone through life without any blemishes, upsets, letdowns, disappointments or pain, then you haven’t lived, got that?”
“Whoa. I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right darling,” Aunt Eartha
said. She then exchanged glances with Aunt Trixie and looked back at the screen. She could hear Aunt Vanity whisper something like, aren’t you going to tell her?
“Sweetie,” Aunt Eartha finally said.”
“Yes, Auntie?”
“Um...have you been having any strange feelings, lately?”
“Strange feelings? Depends. Like what do you mean?”
“Well, any weird energy levels? Or anything strange happening to you, especially today?”
All three ladies leaned forward with their right ear directed to the screen of the computer camera as if waiting for her response.
“Um. No.” Just then Ebony’s ears stretched up. She started to hiss and Febe felt another strange sensation.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Febe said, “Come to think of it. I did. Today.”
“What was it dear?” Aunt Eartha asked, concerned.
“Well, I...um, thought something strange happened today at Jonathan’s apartment.”
“Like what?”
“When we were arguing, I left and stood outside the door. He stood inside his apartment and started to ramble something insane that really got under my skin. I got angry. I could feel my temperature rise, then it was like there was a swift burst of wind or weird electrical energy that just zapped through me or around me and the next thing I knew, the door slammed hard in his face. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it was really weird. I felt so, so drained afterward, like I’d just ran a marathon without sleep or something. And then later...I found out that he was locked in his apartment for a while.”
Febe watched as their eyes widened with shock.
Well, Aunt Vanity was still fixing her hair looking in the mirror in her hand.
They exchanged funny glances with each other and said nothing for a moment.
“Darling,” Aunt Eartha finally said, “there’s something we need to talk to you about.” Her tone was more serious this time.
Febe’s heart thumped hard in her chest. “W-what? What is it?”
Febe had a sinking feeling that she really didn’t want to know.
“Well, how should we say this?” Aunt Eartha chewed on her lower lip. That wasn’t like her. She only did that when she was super nervous and she wasn’t usually. Not these days. “You’ve come of age, Febe.”
“Of what?” Febe arched her brow, dubiously.
She thought she’d come of age when she turned eighteen. Was Aunt Eartha feeling all right? Febe was long past coming of age.
“In our family, there is...well, something that is not shared with anyone. We had this discussion with your sister, Janvier, when she turned twenty-five two years ago and then she came here to live with us. We won’t be speaking to your sister Marsha until she comes of age which is another year or so.”
“What is it?”
They each exchanged funny glances again.
“You’re not normal, honey,” Aunt Trixie blurted out.
“What?” Febe said stunned.
“Trixie!” Aunt Eartha shouted, angry. “Do you know anything about breaking something gently to someone?”
“Nah!” Aunt Trixie just folded her arms across her chest with her chin up.
Aunt Eartha took a deep breath and sighed deeply. “Sorry, darling.”
“What does Aunt Trixie mean by that?” Febe asked, suspiciously.
“It’s just that...well, it’s time we had this talk.”
“What talk? Please tell me it’s not about sex.”
“More like hex, darling?” Aunt Trixie said, grinning widely.
Aunt Eartha gave Trixie the look. She then turned her attention back to Febe.
Aunt Eartha then cleared her throat. “What she meant to say, sweetie, is that...”
Aunt Trixie leaned forward and blurted out, “You’re a witch!”
Chapter 4
“What?” Febe’s jaw fell open.
Did her auntie just call her a witch?
That was the second person who’d told her that today. And her ex-fiancé was being a jerk when he called her that.
But her aunties were not being jerks. They were serious. But this couldn’t be. She must have heard wrong. She searched their faces while staring in horror at the computer screen for any sign that she could have possibly heard wrong.
“Did you just call me a witch?” Febe finally blurted out, unable to control herself, as insane as the word witch sounded coming from her own lips.
“Well...” Aunt Eartha looked uncomfortable and cast a sideways glare at Aunt Trixie before looking into the computer camera. “What she meant to say, sweetie, is that...”
“You came from a long line of witches,” Aunt Trixie interjected.
“Trixie!” Aunt Eartha said.
“What?” Aunt Trixie feigned innocence. “It’s true. Why are you going to sugar coat it? It is what it is. You know I’m always one to speak my mind, right?”
“Too much,” Aunt Eartha said.
“Aunt Eartha,” Febe said, dazed, “none of this makes any sense to me.”
“It will when we see you, dear. It’s better that we speak in person. We were hoping you’d be here with us when you had your...coming of age, but we understood that you had work obligations.”
“I see. So that’s why you were trying to get me to be there for my birthday, in Blackshore Bay?”
“Yes, darling.” Aunt Eartha exhaled sharply.
“Are you trying to tell me that we’re all witches? Even Janvier?”
“Yes and no.”
“Yes and no?”
“Well, yes, we have the gene.”
“The gene? What gene?”
“The magical gene, darling.”
Febe stared at her computer screen in horror. She could see her aunties hovered over their computer. Well, Aunt Vanity was busy filing her nails now. Ebony crawled off Febe’s lap and went to take a nap in her kitty basket by the electric fireplace near the TV. She curled up and fell asleep as if she had not a care in the world. Right now, Febe wished she had no cares in the world.
This morning, everything seemed so normal. She had a good job, a way to pay off her debts, a cozy apartment on the subway line near her job, a fiancé and a normal family that acted crazy at times.
Now, she had no job, no way out financially, no apartment as of next month and she’d just found out her family members were witches.
Some people came from a long family line of lawyers or doctors or accountants or police officers...why oh, why did she have to come from a long line of witches? Was that even possible?
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“Okay, let me get this straight,” she said, looking into the computer screen again. “We’re from a long line of witches? Even my... mother?” She felt squeamish saying that. But she had to know the truth. As strange as everything sounded to her, for some reason it seemed to resonate inside her, and she found that very thought disturbing.
“Yes, darling,” Aunt Eartha said, calmly.
“Unbelievable,” Febe said, grabbing a chunk of hair in her hand.
“Yes it is, isn’t it? Your sister Janvier had trouble with it at first, too, when we first told her on her twenty-fifth birthday.”
“Okay, whoa. Wait a minute. What’s this about twenty-fifth birthdays?”
“It’s a lot to go into dear. When we see you, we’ll explain everything and there’s more for you to see.”
“There’s more?” She arched her brow.
“Yes. You see, Blackshore Bay is a small town, not really on the map, and there’s a reason why.”
“Why’s that? Don’t tell me because everybody’s a witch there?”
“No, no darling. Don’t be silly.”
“Don’t be silly? You just told me that we’re all witches—women dressed in black that fly on broomsticks.”
Aunt Trixie squirmed on her seat. “Oh, dear God. Please do not say that!”
“Say what?”
“The stereotypes, darling,” Au
nt Eartha interjected.
“What stereotypes?” Febe was lost now. If she wasn’t lost before, she was certainly lost now.
“The stereotypes of witches. We’ve come a long way from the Salem Witch Trials but Trixie and I are on The Council’s Voluntary Board for Advancement of People with Magic.”
Febe reached over to the side table and grabbed the bottle of wine that was supposed to have been for her birthday dinner, looking dazedly at the screen. She poured herself a glass and took a swig.
“You can’t be serious,” Febe said slowly a moment later.
Aunt Eartha and Aunt Trixie exchanged funny glances again then looked back at the FaceTime screen. “Yes. We are serious, darling. When you come back here, everything will make sense.”
“No disrespect, Auntie, but I seriously doubt that.”
“Anyway, darling,” Aunt Eartha continued. “For centuries our people have fought to eliminate these harsh negative stereotypes against our people.”
“What harsh stereotypes? Witches on broomsticks, cackling in their long black hats...?”
“Uuuuurgh!” Aunt Trixie shrieked again, this time covering her ears with her hands.
“Darling, those are horrible stereotypes and only makes things harder on us,” Aunt Eartha interjected. “We need to fight it, but we certainly can’t have members of our family accepting those. Do we really look like that or behave like that?”
“Well, no. Of course not.”
“Did your mother look like that or behave like that?”
“Of course not.” But then again, she still wasn’t convinced that her mother was a witch. Her mother was beautiful and had long, flowing ebony hair. Her skin was soft and glowing and her voice as soothing and kind as her heart.. People always told her mother that she was a dead ringer for Catherine Zeta-Jones, the Hollywood actress. Now, sadly her mother was no longer with them.
“Do we behave in such a hideous manner wearing long black cloaks, tall black hats, cackling at the moon?”
Febe grinned with embarrassment. “Well. No.”
“Then please don’t hurt the cause by buying into that negative stereotype that only seeks to keep us all down as a group. We are not like that in reality. It’s the media’s perception about us.”