Family Dinner
My father wasn’t the devil. Although they shared some of the same characteristics. Manipulative being the main one that comes to mind. He has always tried manipulating a situation to make himself look good or to get his own way. As that no longer works on me, we don’t see each other often. Once every two weeks to be exact. I’d prefer once a month.
My father lived in the suburbs. Big yard, white fence, nice car in the driveway and a nice three-story house. (Insert eye roll here) The bus dropped me off two blocks from his house. I walked as slow as I could manage. Dreading every step as I inched closer to my destination. I could have gotten a ride with my brother, but I needed this walk. I always needed the walk. It was my chance to get my mind right before I dealt with my family. I love them, I do. It may not seem like it, but I do love them. But I know being around them is not good for my mental health so I limit contact.
When I reached the door, I braced myself and savored my last moments of positivity and happiness. I repeated my mantra “their opinions don’t matter,” several times before I knocked.
“Hey, Haze,” said my sister Laura when she opened the door. Looking every bit, the dutiful housewife in her paisley dress and a red apron.
“Hey,” I said as I stepped in. The house was warm and smelled like meat. “What’s for dinner?”
“Roast,” she said. “Go into the living room with everyone else.”
Fine. Oddly enough that was the most we’ve talked all month. The living room was to the right of the foyer. In it sat my father and two brothers. My father was in his recliner as usual and my brothers Simon and Walsh sat on the sofa watching TV.
They looked up when they saw me and murmured a hello. I waved back before I sat in a big soft green chair facing the TV. There was no conversation as usual. Not directed towards me anyway. My brother Simon asked my older brother Walsh about something that happened at his job. I zoned out before he answered.
“Dinner’s ready,” announced my sister Laura thirty minutes later.
We filed into the dining room and took our seats. I sat at the end of the wooden table. Closest to the front door. The table housed a pot roast with vegetables, rice, gravy, rolls, and a pie.
“It looks good,” I said as I sat down.
“Thanks,” said Laura.
The food was passed around in semi-silence. My family was never talkative when I was around. Unless they were talking about me and what they think I’ve done wrong. They talked to each other though and the next-door neighbor. Who then tells me everything that’s going on with my family when I see her in the grocery store. That was how I learned my sister was pregnant and had a miscarriage which she still hasn’t mentioned, and my brother Walsh was getting married.
Would I be invited? Probably not.
I chewed my food thoughtfully as I waited for someone to say something.
“Did you hear about the refugees coming to the island?” asked Walsh. He scooped up some rice, dumped it onto his plate, and handed the bowl to my sister.
“That’s the last thing we need right now. It’s probably where all this new gang activity is coming from,” said my sister.
If my family left the suburbs occasionally, they would know the gangs are nothing new. There have been gangs on the island longer then we’ve lived here. There’s just more news coverage now because of the revolution on the main islands.
“Exactly. Why can’t they stay on their own islands? If there’s a problem, they need to deal with it,” stated my father.
I chewed my food and stayed out of their conversation. Their stupid, stupid conversation.
“They aren’t just coming here. Other islands have gotten quite a few refugees too. I wonder if they are having the same problems?” asked Walsh.
What problems?
“Probably,”—my father took a bite of roast and leaned back— “Now everything happening on the main islands is going to come here and we’re going to have to deal with it.”
How self-centered can you be? There’s a revolution because people were tired of being treated like crap by the royal families. Being enslaved and treated like they were worthless. Just empty vessels for the Royals to use in any manner they saw fit and then to discard like trash. Who wouldn’t want to rise against that? Or to leave that kind of environment if possible?
I chewed my food and waited for the inevitable question.
“You pick a real job yet?” asked my father.
There it is. I continued eating. I felt their eyes burrowing a hole in my skull. “Oh, were you talking to me?” I asked faking surprise. (Insert another eye roll here.)
“You’re the only one without a real job,” said Laura.
“I have a job.”
“That’s a hobby,” said my father. “You need to make real money and get a real place to live.”
“I have money and a place to live,” I said as I nibbled on a piece of roast.
“That crappy apartment building,” smirked Walsh.
He’s never even been to my apartment. I bet he couldn’t even find if I gave him directions.
My father chuckled. “I didn’t raise you to be poor. Everyone else is making a nice living—”
“Yes. Everyone is chasing money and doing exactly what you want them to do. While I’m doing something I love and helping people in the process. And for what it’s worth I’m happy,” I interrupted. It’s always been about appearances with him. Everything must look perfect. Our clothes, our hair, and the house.
“No, you’re not,” said my father.
“How are you going to tell me I’m unhappy?” I asked. I put my fork down and pushed away my plate.
“Because I know you. I raised you,” answered my father.
“You don’t know me and let’s be honest you barely raised me,” I said.
“You never had any ambition. You were always so lazy and sleeping all the time. It’s not his fault you never went anywhere in life, he was a good father,” said Laura.
To who? “He was? I don’t remember that. I must have been sleeping when he was off being a good anything,” I said. I pushed up from the table. “As always the food was wonderful. I do so look forward to our family dinners and the always delightful conversation. Until next time.”
I made my way to the foyer. Footsteps followed behind me. I grabbed my coat off the rack and spun around.
“Do you need anything?” asked my brother Simon.
“No, I’m fine,” I answered.
Simon helped me put on my coat.
“You need anything let me know, sis,” he said as he opened the door for me.
“Thank you,” I said. I kissed him on the cheek and left.
Simon was the nice one, I guess. Although he was only nice to me when we weren’t in front of the others. As I walked to the bus stop my lovely family conversation played over and over in my head. I love my job. Yeah, the money could be better, but I get by. I make enough to do what I need to do.
Why do we have to have the same argument every time they see me? No one approves and for some reason, they think I’m supposed to care about how they feel about what I’m doing. I’m not a prostitute or hurting anyone nor have I done anything illegal. So, what is the problem?
My sister married a wealthy man; one brother is a lawyer while the other works for some company making a ton of money. Being the only one that didn’t care about money or appearances made me the black sheep of the family. It can be a bit lonely. They don’t tell me anything about their lives, and I don’t share much about mine. Not because I don’t want to. It just always comes with such negativity and disapproval I stopped seeing the point in sharing.
Don’t get me wrong I love my family. I love them because they are my family. My blood. But I have learned just because you love someone doesn’t mean you have to be around them constantly. Love at a distance and with them the greater the distance the better.
The next morning, I woke energized for some unknown reason and ready t
o start my day. I’ve become so accustomed to my family’s negativity about my job and how I lived my life that what they say didn’t bother me anymore. I’m doing something I’m proud of. Yeah, the money wasn’t that great, but I was helping people. That should count for something. But whatever.
I took a shower and shampooed my hair before wrapping it in a towel. I found a combination of my usual outfit. Jeans, tank top, and boots. I opted to only towel dry my hair and leaving it down instead of the usual ponytail. I grabbed a cup of coffee and headed to my office.
“Mrs. Stone?” I asked as I descended the stairs. Mrs. Stone stood in front of my office holding a big brown box. Her baby blue slacks and the cream-colored blouse was pressed to perfection.
“Hello, Miss Moondance. Is this a good time?” Her face was worn and her eyes red and puffy.
“Sure.” I opened the door and helped her carry the box. We set it on my desk.
“It’s the computer. I can help you log on,” she said.
“Oh, okay. Thank you,” I said. “Have a seat.”
Mrs. Stone sat down and sighed.
“How have you been?” I asked.
Her sigh was followed by a shrug. I put the computer together and plugged it in as she recounted how her life had been since the last time, I had seen her. Nothing much had happened; she went to work and then went home. But she really missed her daughter. Several times in the months Rose had been gone, Mrs. Stone picked up the phone to call her daughter only to realize after a few rings she wasn’t going to answer.
“I’m so sorry. Not having her around must be difficult,” I said. That explained the weary look in her eyes.
I booted up the computer. The blue screen appeared again saying I wasn’t Rose Stone. Mrs. Stone leaned over my desk and placed her hand on the screen. In an instant, the blue screen dissolved, and a picture of Rose and her friends appeared. Then some icons.
“Thank you.”
“Is there any news?” she asked.
“No. Not since we last talked. Sorry,” I said as I shook my head. “I haven’t been able to find anything about her boyfriend. Right now, I’m just trying to get a hold of her friend Syn.”
“You can’t find him?” she asked.
“I’ve been calling, and I left a few messages, but he hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”
“I saw him a few weeks after she had gone missing but not lately. I’m sorry, but I did call him and told him you would be contacting him,” said Mrs. Stone.
“Oh, it’s fine. I have his address. I’m going to go to his apartment today and see if he’s been there.”
“Oh, okay,” she said. She forced a smile, but her eyes gave her away.
“If I find anything new, I will let you know. I promise.” I gave her my best reassuring smile.
She smiled back and nodded.
I wished there was something else I could do for her. To make her feel better. Even though I would love to reassure her that everything was going to be okay it would be a lie. Some of the missing person cases I have worked on had a happy ending, but some didn’t. I would hate to give her false hope. The best I could do for her was to find out what happened to her daughter. Good or bad.
After she left, I turned my attention back to Rose’s computer. A lot can be learned about a person from looking at their computer. I could tell Rose spent a lot of time with her friends. There were pictures of them together everywhere. The movies, the mall, the bookstore and at school. She had the auto-fill option on her web browser, which made it easy to log in to her email account. [email protected] was her email address. But she had no emails. All the folders had been cleaned out.
That’s suspicious. Why would she do that? And if it wasn’t her how did someone else get into her files?
I searched her computer for any kind of clue as to who her boyfriend was, but I found nothing. A pink sticky note appeared on the left side of the screen. I clicked on it. The screen turned white before it opened to a calendar. The calendar filled up the screen. I scrolled back to the month she disappeared. Meet TJ at 3 pm was written on the day she went missing. Who is TJ? I took out the slip of paper Mrs. Stone had given me with a list of Rose’s friends. The name TJ wasn’t on it. Was that her boyfriend? A friend? Teacher? I took out my phone and dialed Paige’s number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Paige this is Hazel. I wanted to ask if you knew anyone named TJ?”
“TJ?” she asked. “No, I’ve never heard of him. Why?”
“Oh. She was supposed to be meeting him the day she went missing. According to the calendar on her computer,” I answered.
“I’m sorry I don’t know anyone named TJ. I can’t even think of someone with a first name that starts with T,” answered Paige.
I hung up and dialed Wolf’s number. I asked him the same question and got the same answer. He didn’t know anyone by that name either. I hung up with him and made a note in my notepad to be on the lookout for someone with the initials T. J.
“What you doin?” asked Lola as she stood in the doorway. She walked over to the chair in her leather boots, black jeans, and black and red top and sat down.
“I found a calendar on her computer. She was supposed to be meeting TJ the day she went missing but her friends don’t know who that is. And I couldn’t get a hold of Syn so I’m going to his house,” I answered. “How are you doing?”
“Not bad,” answered Lola. “What did you do yesterday?”
“I had dinner with my family,” I answered.
“How did that go?” asked Lola. She leaned on my desk and rested her chin on her hands.
“Usual. I’m the family failure and I need to stop trying to help people and find a job that makes real money, so I can by a house in the suburbs. The usual,” I answered.
We talked for a few more minutes while I looked through Rose’s computer. Once we talked over the case we headed for Lola’s bike. It was a sunny day, but I could feel it would eventually turn stormy. Some witches waiting for the bus shared my feeling. They sat on the bench with their umbrellas. I handed the address to Lola. She glanced at it.
“Oh! I know that place,” she said.
“You do?” I asked.
“Yeah, I chased a bounty there earlier this year,” she answered. “It’s an interesting neighborhood.”
“Interesting?” I asked as I slipped on the helmet.
“I mean it’s not the worst neighborhood, but it ain’t that great,” answered Lola.
I hopped on the bike, and we drove to Syn’s apartment. It was there I understood what Lola was talking about. Syn lived in a bad neighborhood. Buildings were covered in graffiti, trash was everywhere, and there was someone lying in the alley next to his building when we walked up the steps to the door. Was he dead? I don’t know. I also wasn’t trying to find out.
There was no buzzer or doorbell to Syn’s apartment building. There wasn’t even a lock on the door. Lola opened it, and we stepped in. The air inside the building was an assault to my nose. Body odor, urine, and something else, I couldn’t name lingered in the air. We moved quickly to the elevator. I held my breath as we traveled up to the fourth floor.
The smell in that hallway wasn’t as bad. Lola and I exhaled at the same time.
“Oh, thank you. So much better,” breathed Lola.
Two doors down from the elevator was Syn’s door. I knocked. And knocked. And knocked again.
“So… did he leave because he had something to do? Or did he run? Or did he get taken with Rose?” asked Lola as she moved towards the elevator.
I knocked again. “Her mother saw him after Rose disappeared.”
“He’s not home,” announced a voice from down the hall.
Lola and I spun around. A male strolled towards us wearing jeans and a white shirt. He had an assortment of tattoos going down both arms.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi,” said Lola as she moved between the man and me. Her hand reached behind her, and she lifted the
bottom of her shirt.
I stumbled back when I saw the knife. The red and black hilt stuck out just above the waistband of her pants.
“He left earlier this week with a small bag. I asked him where he was going but he wouldn’t say,” explained the man.
“Oh. Did he say when he would be back?” I asked.
“In a week,” answered the man.
“Thank you,” I said with a smile.
The man nodded, walked by us, and went into the stairwell.
“Were you going to stab him?” I asked.
“Only if I needed to,” answered Lola.
“Good to know,” I said as we walked back to the elevator.
“So, which is it?” asked Lola.
“Not sure,” I answered. I knew Syn had gotten my messages, but he never got back to me. And now he’s gone for some reason. Why was he dodging me?
Chapter 8
College for Others
I knew I could use my magic to find Syn but again I try not to overuse it. So, the case will get worked manually for as long as I could. While I waited to hear from Syn, I decided to go to the college Rose went to. Crystal Lake College for Others was within walking distance of Rose’s apartment. Lola and I planned on going there before lunch. But first I needed to do something.
I took a shower, dressed, and grabbed a cup of coffee before heading downstairs to Blossom’s office. She appeared at the door in fuzzy bear slippers, sleeping bear pajama pants and a white tank top.
“Good morning,” yawned Blossom.
“Morning. I’m sorry to bother you but I needed to ask you something,” I said.
“Okay.” Blossom yawned again before she stepped away from the door.
I entered and closed the door behind me. “What do you know about cloaking spells?”
“There are all kinds,” she said. “Do you need one done?”
“No, not me. There was a man with Rose who used a cloaking spell. She didn’t tell anyone about her boyfriend and when one of her friends tried to follow them and he got too close, a mist would appear,” I answered.
“Oh,” she said with a finger pointed in the air. She stood still for a second and then rushed over to a large bookcase. Blossom grabbed an old book with a red and gold spine. “I know that spell. Although I’ve never done it myself.” She flipped through the pages as she walked back over to me.
Witch Hunt Page 7
