The Accidental Witch (13 page)

“Shit fire,” I said.

“I want you to know that all the things I said about you, I didn’t mean. You were never fat or lazy or stupid or ugly. That was the scotch talking. You are a beautiful woman and I was lucky to have you. I really loved you, Phae.”

“Could have fooled me,” I said.

“I know. I’m going to the sex addicts group now too and I’ve been sober and abstinent for five months.”

“Amazing,” I said.

“I’m sorry you had to leave Chicago and go back to that place. I’m sorry you had to run back to your father. Is he being okay to you now?”

“He’s dead,” I said.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come to be with you at the funeral,” he said.

“I hate you,” I answered.

“We were married for ten years,” he said.

“That’s why I hate you.”

“I went on the cemetery walk in Graceland yesterday. It reminded me of you. Every time I go to a cemetery, I think of you.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” I answered.

“Do you remember Père Lachaise?”

How could I forget? He took me to Paris and we made love in the cemetery beneath the stone angels. That had been my idea. I had always loved cemeteries and so had John. John and I had a lot in common. We both loved old things and dark history. We had seemed so perfect for each other. I had loved him so much, my chest ached from the memory of the emotion, but he had broken me. All his infidelities and cruel words had broken me. He was everything Aaron wasn’t. He had hated football and poker and all the things men were supposed to love. He had collected Chagall’s and art with death themes. He had been passionate and cruel. I missed him.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Seeing Morrison’s tomb was amazing.” He knew I hated Morrison.

He laughed. “You’ve kept your sense of humor.”

“And most of your money,” I added. “I’ve wasted it on all kinds of bullshit you would have hated.” That was a lie. He would have loved The Black Magnolia.

“Good,” he said. “I hope you’re enjoying it.”

“What do you want?” I asked again.

“Just to say I’m sorry and to let you know that I still love you.”

The word hung in the air. Love. That was the second time I had heard those words in a week. Love was such a strange concept to me. John was the first person to ever say he loved me. My father had hated me and he had made his hate absolutely clear. My stepmother couldn’t even bare to look at me. Now, this week, two people claimed to love me. I laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“You’re the second man to say that this week.” I laughed.

“Really?” He sounded so shocked.

“I’m not so unlovable that you’re the only man that can love me, John, you shit,” I said.

“I know your clients fall in love with you,” he said bitterly.

“Fuck you,” I said. “It wasn’t a client that said he loved me this week. I’m seeing someone now.”

“Really?” Again, he was surprised. Asshole.

“You must really think I’m a cow to be that surprised,” I said.

“No! No. It’s just that you are … strange. A lot of men would avoid that. But you are beautiful.”

I laughed again. “I’m a freak now? This apology is going swimmingly.”

“No. You aren’t a freak. I didn’t say that. You’re just different. Don’t you know that? You’re not like all the others. That’s a good thing. That’s why I love you.”

“Okay. Whatever. I’m glad you are sorry,” I said.

“I’m glad you’re happy. Are you happy with this new man?” he asked.

“I think so. He’s good in bed,” I answered

John laughed again. I had missed his laughter. I had missed him and I had never wanted to admit it. I could still see him in my mind’s eye. My beloved. I remembered him reading me poetry as I fell asleep and the way he would lay me down and touch me and kiss me all over. He would leave me wanting, desperate for him. It was a game and he would come to me only when I was so desperate, I couldn’t take it any longer. He left strange objects for me at the house when he had to work late. One time he left me an old key with a rose in it, and another time he left me the head of a gargoyle with a love note in its mouth. He had been strange. He had been mine, but only for a moment. There were too many pretty girls.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in therapy, good sex is not happiness,” he said.

“You learned something from someone else? That’s a miracle,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You broke my heart so many times, I can’t count!” I yelled.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I was happy just hating you. Why are you doing this? Don’t remind me of the other emotions. The hate felt good,” I said.

“What can I do to make things better?” he asked.

“Just leave me alone,” I said and then I hung up the phone and took two hydrocodone.

* * *

I knew it would be bad news when I was called into a meeting with my boss. It didn’t take an oracle to know that. I put on baggy pants to hide my cast-less leg. I fumbled into Amy’s office and tried to look as injured as I possibly could. She smiled politely and pulled up a chair for me. I sat down and tried to smile, but it’s hard to smile when you know you’re going to lose your job.

“I hope you’re not in too much pain,” Amy said with some genuine concern.

“Not much,” I said. “It looks far worse than it is.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Amy said.

There was an uncomfortable silence and Amy shifted in her seat. You could tell this was not a part of her chosen career that she particularly relished.

“They’ve done an investigation of what happened two nights ago with Jeremy Little,” Amy began. “Little was surprisingly lucid at the time of the investigation. He explained that you said he was possessed by a demon and cast it out. He said the demon injured you.”

“Interesting story,” I said calmly.

“At first, the police believed that he had assaulted you and they were going to commit Little to North Alabama Regional, but last night other evidence came to light.”

“What evidence?” I asked.

“Apparently, one of the guards heard what happened in the room. The guard says you did do something to Little and told him he had a demon. Is this true?”

I closed my eyes for a minute. The Lady of the Lake had saved Little, but in doing so, had destroyed me. I smiled. I should have been more careful in my wording. I would remember that next time.

“Yes,” I said. “I believe that Little was possessed and I cast the demon out. He should be fine now.”

Amy looked at me the same way she looked at the patients. I could hear the clockwork in her mind spinning, diagnosing me, trying to decide what would be the best course of action to prevent me from hurting myself or others.

“You’re probably thinking I’m crazy,” I continued. “But I’m not and even if you could prove I was, I’m no danger to myself or anyone else, so there is nothing you can force me to do. I’m assuming you’re firing me?”

“Yes,” Amy said. “You are a very good therapist. You just make bad choices and frankly, even before all this, you treated the rest of the staff like they were obstacles to patient care rather than assets. You never acknowledged the hard work that we all put in to help every patient on this floor. You’ve always been hard on the staff, but after what you said to Millie and this incident this week, we just can’t keep you any longer. You’ve pushed the limits as far as they can go and the only reason we’ve kept you this long is because you are a damn good therapist. It is a shame you can’t behave, because all that talent will be wasted if you can’t learn to be civil to those you work with.”

“Do I get a severance packet?” I asked.

“Yes. You get three weeks paid leave and that’s it.”

I nodded and stood up. I let the crutches go and walked on the foot that should have been injured.

“I thought your leg was broken,” Amy said. “I saw that on the police report.”

“It was broken in four places,” I said. “But I used the same magic to fix it as I did to heal Little. I’m leaving now. Is there anything else?”

“If you ever need a psychiatrist, we will help you find one, of course,” she whispered.

I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away, but Amy put her hand on my shoulder. “You know this isn’t real, don’t you?” she asked with a genuine concern that made my animosity vanish.

I smiled at her. I couldn’t do this to her. As much as I wanted to kick her in the shins most of the time, she had her moments. “I know it isn’t real,” I said. “I just can’t believe anyone would believe that I would do those things. The guard is lying, Amy. He didn’t see anything. I just did my job in there and someone fell. That is all.”

“Oh, thank God,” she said. “I thought you were really crazy for a minute there.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just lost my temper.”

“Will you be okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” I lied. I wasn’t okay. I had no job, no family, and no life. I couldn’t even hold my shitty job. I just reminded myself that I had saved a life. I had saved Jeremy. He would be okay now and I had done that. That is why I went into psychology, because I had wanted to save people and I had really saved someone. It didn’t matter. I would be okay. I told myself these things over and over again. We therapists called this kind of behavior positive self-talk, but sometimes it’s just self-delusion.

* * *

Aaron was working that day, but Diane was off and she met me for coffee at the Waffle Hut. Diane wasn’t much of a morning person. It was 11 a.m. Diane looked like someone had just raised her from the dead. She normally worked the 12 p.m. to 12 a.m. shift and that was how she liked it. She never really woke up until afternoon. She sat across me with an enormous cup of coffee and a lit cigarette.

“That really sucks,” Diane said. “That’s why being a

witch sucks. People hate us for what we do. They’ve always hated us. It’s best to keep it under your hat and only use the magic when you really have to.”

“That is so wrong,” I said. “We could change the world. We could make things better, but we have to hide it because people don’t believe in magic.”

“It’s more than that,” Diane said. “They hate magic. Haven’t you read the Bible? There was this one passage that haunted me when I was a kid. I knew I was going to Hell. It’s the one that says ‘You shouldn’t suffer a witch to live.’ They burn witches, Phae. You won’t be loved for your skills no matter how many good things you do with them.”

I drank my coffee and looked at Diane. “There are wiccans and New Agers everyplace. No one hates them.”

“Because they don’t have much power. If they had any real power, people would hate them. Plus, I’m pretty sure there are people that hate wiccans.”

“What the hell am I going to do?” I said suddenly.

“Take that job Eleanor Pool offered you. She’s crazy as a shit house rat, but everyone loves her and that New Age center is popular.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“What don’t you know?”

“I don’t have a license,” I said.

“Just call yourself something besides a psychologist or counselor. All the folks that you worked with on the floor and wanted to see you in outpatient would come talk to you if you called yourself a counseling elephant. People really liked you, Phae. You have a gift. People will come.”

“I don’t like risks.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been casting these uber powerful spells left and right as if you had no fear at all,” she said. “You are very comfortable with risks.”

“I still don’t completely believe that’s real,” I said. “It doesn’t feel like a risk.”

“What’ve you got to lose?” Diane asked.

I shrugged. “You look tired,” I said.

“Yeah. I’m seeing someone new. He kept me up late last night.”

“Who are you seeing?” I asked.

“You’ll laugh,” she said.

“Try me,” I said.

“Jason from over at Finnegan’s,” she said.

“You’re dating the bartender?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s nice and we have a lot in common.”

“Good for you,” I said. “At least you’ll have a man who can make you a decent drink. That counts for a lot.”

Diane smiled. “At my age, I can build an entire life around that.”

“Amen,” I said.

“Shit,” Diane said suddenly. “I got to go. I have a thing. Can we meet tomorrow for breakfast again? There’s something else I have to tell you.”

“Sure,” I said with a smile.

Diane ran off leaving me surrounded by bits of waffle and a huge bill. I paid and left. I started the car and sat in the heat for a moment, thinking about what to do next. I looked around. The Waffle Hut was on the main square of downtown Dismal. The old courthouse was in the middle of the square and old buildings surrounded it. A few years back, every building would have been filled with a thriving business. Every corner would have had flowers on it. Those days were gone. Dismal was suffocating. The few businesses that had been the backbone of the small town’s economies had gone under and all that was left behind was unemployment and frustration and Walshop. It was no wonder the psychiatric floor was always full and the suicide rates were through the roof.

I remembered Dismal as it had been when I was a girl. There used to be a big textile mill out by Dog Lake. They made all kinds of things and everyone had worked there. The town had seemed rich then. Everyone had been happy, or at least they hid their misery better. But those days were gone and no one cared enough to help a starving town in Alabama.

I got out of the car, locked it, and began walking around the square. On the other side of the square, was one of the last surviving businesses. There were two other businesses on the square; a ladies clothing shop and a gun shop. The New Age shop seemed out of place surrounded by guns and pink, but there was a Celtic cross woven into the symbols on the sign, giving it a Christian enough feel to make it acceptable. Inside the store, there were all kinds of Celtic crosses, Christian books, and Christian symbols. There were also candles and incense and books on healing and deep breathing techniques. Ellie owned the shop and she had two masseuses that kept spaces upstairs. There was also a lady that would have been a pastor, if they allowed women pastors, who did spiritual counseling. The shop’s official name was the Holistic Healing Center.