Witchscape

by Y G Maupin

  “Jackson has been so hush-hush with the details! I can’t believe he took so long to bring you around, like we wouldn’t find out,” her laugh was forced, but at the same time so childhood villain like that T almost burst out laughing at the charade of emotion.

  “Let me take a look at you!” exclaimed Jackson's mother, LaRita. This woman was the crown jewel of the family and she knew how to shine. Comfortable in the boardroom as well as on a farm, albeit a 4000 acre farm, the smallest they had, LaRita excelled at knowing everything and everyone in the county and all neighboring counties. It was in her playbook to be well versed in the business of others so it surprised T when she genuinely didn’t know that Alice and Sarah had a bookstore downtown.

  “Really? You don’t say. And they’ve been the proprietors for how long?” she had asked.

  “At least ten years, if I recall correctly,” T had replied, her hands clasped behind her like she was being questioned by the Sunday school teacher.

  “Well, I’m just going to have to stop by and take a look. What did you say the name was?”

  T hadn’t mentioned but answered. “Calliope’s Sister. She was a greek muse” LaRita turned to her mother who was silently standing next to her, dressed in dark clothes and a black head scarf. “Did you hear that, Yaya? Greek, like us.” The old lady muttered something and walked away to what T imagined would be some bridge that she lived under.

  “Don’t mind Jackson’s Yaya. Did he tell you that he was Greek from my side of the family? We are very passionate people, isn’t that right, dear?” To which her husband, daughter and son all effused in a jumble of words quickly agreeing with her.

  “Weird,” T thought. “I would have never imagined Jackson to have a family like that. Let’s see how long we get to last before they’re involved.”

  “Let’s have lunch now, shall we?” LaRita broke through their laughter and led them out.

  Later that night when they were driving home, T was silent as Jackson sang along to the radio. He turned to see her staring out the window of the truck. “What’s going through that mind I wonder?” he said out loud.

  She smiled. “Let me guess. You’re wondering how a good looking man such as myself hasn’t already been tied down with kids.” She shook her head.

  “No? Ok, you’re wondering if my mom and sister and Yaya always scare off my girlfriends, and THAT’S why I’m not married yet.”

  T cocked her head for a moment, as if she was thinking, smiled and shook her head again.

  “No?” he exclaimed incredulously. “Well shoot, this is going to be harder than I thought. Let me see, you already know most of the embarrassing stuff that I was into as a kid, thanks Jenna, you’re a cool sister. You learned tonight that my dad is annoyed that I won’t come to work in an office so that I can go back to get my MBA instead of getting dirty out in the field. Which I don’t mind getting dirty, but you already knew that, didn’t you?” He had leaned in and whispered into her ear. T scrunched her neck down and giggled.

  “You are too twisted, Jackson. No, I wasn’t thinking anything bad about your family.” That was a little bit of a lie. She was wondering just how much plastic surgery his mother had gone through to get that tight, plastic look. Her eyebrows were high enough to make it look like she was in a state of surprise at all times. His sister Jenna was alright. She had already known a little bit about her from school, nothing mind-blowing or life changing. His dad was nice. His grandmother or Yaya, as she was called, was a little old person creepy. T normally didn’t mind older people, she loved to sit and visit whenever she could but this lady was just plain weird.

  “So, what’s on your mind,” he continued. “Seems awful quiet.”

  “I’m just tired and ready to get into my bed.” To which Jackson gave himself a high five. “My bed,” she emphasized. He pulled puppy dog eyes at her and started to whimper. Laughing, she playfully smacked his arm.

  “You knock that off, Mister or I’ll have you fixed!” Jackson let out a yelp.

  “Why don’t you just stay at my place? It’s easier that way and you’ll have closer access to the highway, and better sleep without the people surrounding you in that paper thin walled apartment of yours,” he reasoned, as he pulled back into their small town. She hesitated.

  “Uhh, I don’t know, Jackson. You don’t think we’re moving too fast?” she asked, hoping she was wrong. They were going at an amazing pace.

  “Uhh, no!” he replied. “Going too fast would be like us getting married and having babies already,” he laughed.

  T was quiet. She was hoping he didn’t think she was one of those kinds of girls. T was very familiar with that mindset of a girl, growing up going as far back as junior high. They are the kind of girl that latched on to a guy, handcuffing him through year after year in high school. Permanently attached at the hip, matching colored cummerbund for homecoming and prom. Ridiculous promise ring pictures when everyone knew damn well they’d been having sex since Freshman year, only to get married straight out of high school where no one had a chance for a life and the girl blew up after her first baby and the guy had a permanent look of shock on his face, kind of like, what the hell happened to my dreams of driving for Nascar? T stayed quiet.

  “Hello? So are we good, you’re coming over?” he asked again. T nodded. Two weeks later, she had moved in with him. They were quickly growing to be inseparable, when they weren’t at work. Jackson worked long hard hours in the ever changing weather of North Texas and T worked every week day at the high school teaching science and biology. Both came home tired but happy to fall into each other’s arms as they negotiated dinner for the night. As quickly as they moved to live together, T was slower in moving her personal items outside of clothes and toiletries into Jackson’s large farmhouse.

  “There’s room for all of your stuff. I don’t have that much in the way of furniture other than the recliner and a TV.” He pointed out sheepishly at his home that was furnished appropriately for a bachelor of his age and life schedule. T looked around. While she wasn’t tempted to run out and start redecorating to her tastes, she also didn’t like the interior feel on this part of the house compared to the electrically charged supernatural energy that ran wild throughout the property.

  T was careful about setting up her altar. When she lived in her apartment, even with a roommate, she was able to erect a fairly well sized altar where she could make her petitions, light candles and meditate as needed. This was going to be a different story as beliefs were a subject that they only glazed over in the months they had been dating. T knew that Jackson’s religious upbringing was consistent with protestant beliefs colliding with Greek Orthodox, as his parents were practicing in name only so they had settled on attending the Episcopalian church the next town over. He did not profess an unwavering need to have a heavenly father as his moral compass, but he did acquiesce to the desire for hope, that there was something powerful outside of mankind’s understanding that had set the wheels in motion. Maybe this entity was watching silently as the ants below scrambled to make sense of it all. That’s how it felt to him. No interaction with any god.

  T was raised in a Baptist church the first eight years of her life and then in the time period she didn’t care to dwell on, she had spent the next three years in foster care. Most of her foster care years had been with just two families, very similar to each other with the unfortunate similarity that they were in it for the financial support from the state than the actual care and nurturing of a child.

  T’s parents had gone through some difficulties for a time, at first financially and subsequently addiction. When she was finally removed from the home with their agreement that they needed help, she didn’t understand why her parents would let her go live with other people. She had thought that moms and dads loved their kids no matter what, and would do whatever they needed to do to get better. But to her, her parents had not tried at all. They were briefly sidelined with depression compounded with alcoholism and prescription dr
ug abuse. By the time her eleventh birthday rolled around, T had almost completely given up on her parents ever coming for her since their visits had waned from weekly to monthly to none at all.

  In the last four months leading up to the day she started having state workers visit her again she would sit at the breakfast table with the foster family, smile and say that she was happy and school was good. But deep in the pit of her stomach, she was terrified at what could possibly lay ahead for her. The two families she stayed with were emotionally blank, nothing good or bad. Neutral. Church attendance was a given, Sundays and on occasion, bible study on Wednesdays as well. It was in Sunday school that T’s nervousness about ever seeing her parents again was stoked. Little kids talked about their home lives as they colored and played with puppets. One little girl was adamant about how Jesus would make sure that her parents would never leave her, as they loved her with all their heart and that they were good people. She would say this while slyly glancing at T, who colored silently as tears would roll down her cheeks. The teachers in the classroom, overwhelmed with the number of children they had assigned to them rarely took notice of any kind of behavior so they were unaware that this little girl followed T everywhere she went.

  If T got up for a drink the girl would follow her,asking in a whisper if she knew when her parents would be back so that they could play together outside of church. As if T would ask for a playdate. She would sit next to her during story time and lean over during the tale of personal salvation to inform T that salvation was probably not in the cards for her and especially not for her missing parents that must be very bad people to have lost their little girl. The one moment of cum uppance came when the little girl’s parents were held back for over an hour in the pastor’s office while their little monster paced, shouted and cried for her mom and dad. She thought she had been abandoned too. T waited with her for as long as she could, until her foster mother stopped by to take her home. As T walked away and out the door, she looked over her shoulder and smiled as the tears and shrieking continued.

  T carefully weighed the decision to introduce her altar. She decided she would do so a little at a time, so that she could better gauge Jackson’s response to alternative beliefs. It was easy to do. First, was to get some shelving, even the mantle would work. That’s an everyday sight in a home. Next, could be a candle or two followed by a statue or cute little vessels. All the while she would keep talking about the things they both had in common that dabbled in the path. Nature was one such subject. The love of the outdoors and preserving the earth were pretty basic desires in most decent human beings. Appreciation for herbs, introduced while cooking and rubbing on lotion, was an introduction to the healing arts. And of course, there was nothing odd about self-empowerment and the use of mantras to promote positive thoughts and wishes. How could that go wrong?

  “Are you one of those hippie chicks?” Jackson asked casually, as T was putting on her makeup and searching for the right pair of earrings to wear for their date night.

  “And if I was, would that be a problem for you?” she asked, just as casually, gauging his response time, tone and the actual words that would come out of his mouth.

  “Nah. Just wondering if you’re going to start tie dying my clothes and making me eat hummus,” he teased.

  T laughed and ran her hands through her long dark hair to break up the waves. “Hummus is delicious, but you don’t have to eat it. And as for your underwear, if it's tie dyed, then you must have done something very wrong to have deserved it!” She stepped out of the adjoining master bath into the beautiful bedroom they shared. She gently tackled him back to lay down on the bed.

  “I’m not a hippie, but I am spiritually inclined to be in tune with nature and all its inhabitants. Especially hot guys like my boyfriend,” she said, kissing his neck. Jackson relaxed and enjoyed the attention.

  “Your boyfriend is very lucky. Is he human or is he a vampire?” he joked, as she started to nibble on his neck.

  “Ha! He may suck a little, but I do all the biting.”

  And so it went, little by little in conversations here and there. T began to feed bits of information to Jackson. She was always gauging to see if he was incredulous or mocking, which he never was. She didn’t hold out hope that once it was all laid out on the table that he would jump right in and start practicing any kind of craft with her. But she did see that some of her influence was making its mark on him, as she tied a red string on his left wrist.

  “What’s this for?” he asked, as she kissed him goodbye. He had been called out of town with his family’s company to talk to contractors in the neighboring state.

  “Oh, a couple of things. First, so that you remember that I will always love you, and that everywhere you go you take my heart with you. I send you all my protection from anyone or anything that would wish you harm. That’s all,” she added ,matter of factly.

  He laughed nervously, wondering if it would upset her to ask but he asked anyway. “Ok, T,” he visibly gulped, and laughed that off too. “Is this some kind of hocus pocus, voodoo shit?”

  T stepped back sharply. “Nothing I give you is shit.” Her eyes flared and Jackson knew his words had been wrong.

  “I know, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just been awhile since anyone has given me something like this. My Yaya gave me a medallion to shield me from the evil eye once but I lost it. But I understand that you care. Really, I’m sorry,” he repeated, as he drew her closer and kissed her soft hair.

  The anger subsided just as quickly as it had ignited. T felt foolish for getting worked up over a statement any other guy would have said.

  “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t explode like that. I just want you to know that I love you and that I care for your health and safety while you’re away from me,” she spoke into his chest, slowly drawing a sigil of protection on his back that to him was probably just her tickling randomly.

  “I know, babe. I love you for it. I’ll be back by Sunday night.”

  Seven

  Sunday morning after the circle casting, Alice and Sarah woke up at separate times, each very different with their morning routines as they were in life despite being partners for close to thirty-one years. Alice always woke up bright and early, begrudging the habit she developed as a kid that she has never shaken despite being a resolute despiser of the early morning. She just couldn’t sleep in, no matter how hard she tried or how tired she was. She would slide into her slippers, take her medicine, check the news on the morning broadcast and check her emails from her phone. She was always working and responding to emails that hit her inbox all night long. She would trudge her way down a half hour later and make her coffee, knowing that it would be a full hour before Sarah would roll over, stretch her arms out and wake up with a bright cheery smile on her face and a spring in her step. It was torture to endure, but endure she had all this time and she loved her for it. On Sundays, the shop didn’t open until noon, to take advantage of the post brunch crowd downtown, which in reality did not exist as a demographic in the small town.

  Truthfully, they were forty- minutes away from anyone like that and no one would venture out that far unless they were looking for an obscure women’s studies pamphlet or history book. Calliope’s Sister, as the shop was listed, was heavy on feminism and female writers to almost exclusivity. Alice didn’t mind. Do what you love, they always said, and Alice loved to see women rise. The shop was located one block north and to the west of their home that was one block south of the main street. Alice loved their home and all the history in it, which is why she was astonished when she entered the kitchen to see a woman dressed in depression era clothing and an apron at her sink. It was a good thing she didn’t already have her coffee in her hand or she would have dropped in when she gasped. The figure slowly turned around and smiled.

  “Hello. Good Morning to you, Ma’am” the ghost figure said.

  The woman in her kitchen is speaking, thought Alice knowing that this was an appar
ition and not an actual living, breathing human being.

  “Hello to you,” Alice practically whispered. Her breath was coming rapidly and in shallow spurts. She could feel perspiration prick up around her hairline. She blinked hard and the woman was still there. She appeared to be in her early sixties, so less than a decade older than Alice.

  “Your breakfast will be ready soon. Would you like some coffee?” the apparition asked as it maneuvered around the kitchen island. Her body was complete but faded as it neared the tops of her shins. Alice nodded and turned towards the breakfast nook.

  “Oh, dear. I didn’t think you want to eat here, Ma’am. This is for the servants.” The woman motioned through the double doors where the dining room used to be which was renovated to be a study several years back. Alice slowly moved towards the door, nervously looking over her shoulder as she walked, the ghost woman followed smiling and nodding her head. As she entered, the woman shut the doors behind her sharply and Alice nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Sarah!!” Alice called as she ran toward the stairs.

  Anesta slept like the dead. Her room was kept at a chilly sixty six degrees. She had read that better sleep was obtained by keeping the room cold. Apparently it was also supposed to help with less colds and stress but she seemed to always have a runny nose. She also had every window lined with blackout curtains over the plantation blinds. It was like a casino in that you never knew what the time was while you were in that room. She relied heavily on her cell phone to wake her up and kept it charged at her bedside. That was one thing that she didn’t agree with, not having the blue light nearby.