Love Spells and Other Disasters

by Angie Barrett

  “Absolutely, Ms. Marshall. Rowan just gave me a tour of the attic. I’m hoping maybe I can help reno it over the summer.”

  Mom hides her surprise, barely. Polite and attractive or whatever she’d thought of him, he is not what she is expecting. I know the feeling. “Well, it’s not on my urgent to-do list but it does need an overhaul. How much would that cost?”

  “No charge.” Luca lifts a hand like he’s waving away that idea. “It’d just be a summer project for Ro and I to do.”

  “I’d feel bad about not paying.” Mom glances at me like I’m a completely different person. Me voluntarily do something involving hard labor? High on my nope list and she knows it.

  “Ms. Marshall, working on this house has been my dream. Seriously, I’ve admired this place since I was a kid. I’ve always loved old homes but this one is like a treasure. There are so many cool features.” He shrugs. “And you’d be helping me brush up on some of my carpentry skills. Mr. Columbus has me doing all kinds of things but I haven’t been able to work with wood much.”

  “Well, there’s plenty of wood upstairs in the attic. I think it’s a lovely idea.” Mom smiles and all the tension leaves the room. Until she looks at me again. “Ro, can we chat downstairs?” She looks over at Luca. “It was nice to formally meet you, Luca. Why don’t you have dinner with us this weekend?”

  “Sounds good.” Luca smiles at me and for the first time since we first started talking, it doesn’t get rid of the stress I’m feeling. “I better get back to work. I’ll text you later, ’kay?”

  He touches my hand as he walks by me. No kiss—that would be asking for it. Mom has her arms crossed again. She doesn’t look at me. She just follows Luca out of my room.

  She wants me to go to the kitchen. That’s where we have our serious discussions. Like civilized people, Mom always says, with tea.

  Her back is stiff, and her shoulders bunched up as she walks down the stairs ahead of me. Luca gives me a sympathetic look as he exits the main hall to join Mr. Columbus, who, by the sound of his bandsaw, has returned from the hardware store. Mom is already through the kitchen door when I hit the main floor.

  I stare at Luca’s back as he slides through the swinging door and think about following him. Am I stalling? Hell yes.

  She’s got the kettle on the stove by the time I finally follow her into the kitchen.

  “It’s not that he was in your room that I have so much a problem with,” she starts. She massages her temples. “But the fact that you didn’t tell me anything about him.” She slams a few drawers, pulls out some teacups that rattle with her movements. “You said he was just some guy you knew from school.” She spears me with a look that is full of hurt. “And I outright asked you if you had something you wanted to talk about. You said no.”

  I flinch. “I know.” I stop myself from adding that I didn’t actually want to talk to her about him. Now is not the time for sass.

  “You know?” She shakes her head. “And then I go up there to find you sitting on his lap, acting like this isn’t actually a new thing at all.” Two spoons hit the marble countertop. “How long have you two been dating?”

  “A few days.”

  “A few days?” Mom’s eyebrows go up. “Are you having sex with him?”

  “Mom!” I gasp, horrified she jumped so quickly to that conclusion. “No!” I think about having sex with him, though. I definitely want to have sex with him. She doesn’t need to know that, though. “He’s not that kind of guy.”

  She puts her hand on her hip and gives me the oh please look.

  “Okay, he’s probably that kind of guy, but he’s not pressuring me. He says he wants to take things slow.”

  She knows I’m not a virgin. We’ve had that conversation before. She’s not the kind of mom that’s cool with sex in her house or who goes out of her way to make things comfortable for me and my boyfriend, but she’s not stupid, either. She made sure I got birth control when I was sixteen and that I understood everything I ever needed to understand about pleasure and consent and what’s okay and what’s not okay for a guy to say, do, or demand.

  “I read about him in the paper. He’s older than you.”

  “He’s a grade older, and so what? You were two years older than Dad when you started dating him.”

  “We were adults when we met. You know that.” She rolls her eyes and takes the kettle off the stove before it can whistle. She hates the sound of that thing when it gets going.

  “I’m practically an adult.”

  She scoffs as she rustles around in the fridge.

  “Oh, so it’s okay for you and Dad to find true love but I can’t?”

  “True love?” She nearly drops the milk jug in her hand. Her mouth hangs open.

  “Well.” I cough. “I mean, he’s a great guy.”

  “That you just met!” She pours hot water into the cups. “Oh honey, don’t tell me you’re obsessed with this boy already. I mean, he’s attractive and obviously mature but he’s not your usual kind of…friend.”

  “Because he’s cool? Popular? Really attractive?” I cross my arms. “Just so you know, I fit in with his friends. They treat me like I’m one of them.” It’s just a little lie, more about making myself feel better right now than telling the truth.

  “So you’re Miss Popularity now?” She narrows her eyes. “Why?”

  “Why?” My voice rises a little too high.

  Mom puts her hands on the counter and leans forward, her face set. “What have you done to make yourself popular?”

  The way she asks makes it sound like I’m trading sexual favors for popularity. “Abby and I are working on a project together.”

  “And suddenly you’re popular?” She sighs. “I might be a few decades removed from high school, but I know that’s not how popularity works. People are being nice to you right now because you’re dating the football star and working with the Barbie-girl. That doesn’t mean they’re your friends.”

  “Real nice. Thanks, Mom.” I know she’s not wrong, though, and that’s what sucks more.

  Her face falls. “Ro… I didn’t think you cared about that kind of thing. Being popular? Come on, who wants that? They’re using you. I don’t know for what, but that’s what my gut is saying.”

  Ouch, but also, ugh. How does she always read a situation exactly right? Not that I think Luca is using me, but Abby definitely is. I can’t tell Mom about the spells or she’d freak out, and I can’t think of anything else to say. I just look at my hands resting on the island, fingers tracing small circles over the marble.

  “And how does Ethan feel about all of this? You and him are thick as thieves. This has got to be cutting into your time with him.”

  “Ethan is happy for me.” And completely distracted by his own new friend.

  Silence hangs.

  She taps her nails lightly on the counter. Thinking. I have no idea what she’s thinking. I can’t look at her because I don’t want her reading me any more than she already has.

  “What’s so wrong with me being happy anyway?” I say quietly.

  “Oh, honey,” Mom says. “I want you to be happy. I want that more than anything else in the world. But I also want you to be safe and smart and—”

  “I am being safe. And yeah, Luca is not the usual kind of guy who would be attracted to me, but guess what? He is. He likes me for who I am.” I look up at her now, challenging her to deny what I know to be true.

  “That’s wonderful,” she says. “You deserve that from a boyfriend.” She hesitates. “I just don’t want you to get too caught up in a guy like Luca.”

  What does that even mean? A guy like Luca?

  She appears to fumble for her next words and busies herself with removing the tea bags from the cups as she speaks. “He’s an athlete, a good one from what I’ve read. If it’s true and his career is over before it
’s begun, well, he might end up stuck here in this town.”

  I tense up. That’s what he thought people would say. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Mom’s eyes go wide. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Luca is staying here. He’s learning a trade. He’s going to start a business and make something of himself. Just because his football career is over doesn’t mean his life is over.”

  “Ro, a guy like Luca…he’s nothing without his sport. He’ll get resentful. He’ll see his friends go off to college on great scholarships, travel, and he’ll stay here and grow bitter and disillusioned.”

  “He’s not like that!”

  “You’ve only known him for a few days. And I’m guessing you met shortly after he found out that his life ambitions had to change. He’s going through something right now, Ro, and it doesn’t have as much to do with you as it does with finding himself.”

  “How do you even know this? You’re making assumptions—”

  “I know this because it’s what happened to your dad. Or at least, it’s what could have happened if he hadn’t left town despite his parent’s wishes.” She sighs, rubs her temples again.

  “Dad was a football player?” This I didn’t know. Mom rarely talks about Dad. She talks to him, but it isn’t often that she talks about him with me anymore.

  “He played baseball and he was good. So good that he had a free ride to his choice of colleges. Lucky for me, he chose the one I was at.”

  I knew the next part of the story. Mom had been working on her undergrad and was two years ahead of Dad when he came. They met, fell in love, got married…you know, the usual stuff.

  “He was injured, though. His elbow on his throwing arm was one over-extension away from complete destruction. His doctors warned him to take it easy, but he knew he had to keep playing if only to get himself out of Youngstown. He’d seen too many guys get trapped here, and his parents were already pushing him to stay local so he could settle down with his high school sweetheart, who just happened to be richer than God.” She rolls her eyes at that. “When his elbow finally did go, he had to have multiple surgeries, but at least he still had his scholarships. Didn’t mean the depression didn’t set in, because at some point he’d convinced himself that he’d make it to the big leagues, but at least he wasn’t trapped.”

  “And you think Luca will feel trapped?” I frown because part of what Mom is saying makes sense but part of it doesn’t. Luca seems happy with his decision. Not depressed. But like she said, I haven’t known him long enough to know for sure.

  “He’s made a choice to put his health before his ambition, which is truly admirable and very mature,” Mom replies. “He’s committed himself to a pursuing a trade, which is also commendable. But yes, at some point, it’s going to sink in that he’s stuck here. Maybe that will make him happy, maybe it won’t. Either way, I think getting out of this town offers more opportunity, more life experience. That’s what your dad would want you to do. I don’t think you should keep this up with Luca other than in a casual way.”

  “Like friends with benefits?” I say it to shock her.

  She rolls her eyes again. “Rowan, be reasonable. You have no future with a guy like Luca.”

  That stings. “I’m not worried about my future. I know exactly what my plans are.” I cross my arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Of course you’re going somewhere. You and Ethan have plans to go to New York, don’t you?”

  I snort at the irony of that statement. “Ethan has plans. I don’t.”

  “Since when? You and Ethan have been talking about going to New York since you were twelve.”

  My stomach churns. How can she not know that I have to stay here for her? I have to make sure she doesn’t lose herself completely to this supernatural world she’s created for herself. “Well, things have changed.”

  “What things?” She’s losing her cool, her calmness slipping. “This new friendship of yours? This boyfriend? This sudden popularity?”

  “No, it changed about six months ago when I realized that you’ll never give up Dad. You’ll never let him die.”

  She gasps, lifts her hand to her mouth. “The séance?”

  My mom has always talked to my dad’s ashes, always had one-sided conversations with him since the day we moved in, but six months ago she started really turning up the freaky ghost talking stuff, so much so that I truly started to question if she lost herself to her grief completely. She brought a woman into our house, a renowned medium who she paid an obscene amount of money in a desperate attempt to communicate with Dad, and she forced me to be a part of it.

  That’s when I saw how truly lost she was. I left the house about ten minutes in because it was just so depressing. Mom had been crying from the very start, so hopeful that she’d connect with Dad finally and I couldn’t handle seeing the disappointment when it didn’t work. We haven’t spoken about that night at all, mainly because I refuse to bring it up, and I stop her whenever she tries to.

  “You talk about being trapped and not getting stuck here, but you’re stuck here. You won’t even travel any more. You barely leave the house. I won’t leave you.” I shake my head when she starts to protest. “I won’t go and there’s nothing you can do to convince me that you’ll be okay if I do.” I walk to the door. “It’s ironic, really. Dad wanted to escape and yet you came right back here and became exactly what he was running from.”

  It’s the cruelest thing I’ve ever said to my mom but it’s also the most honest. She’s so caught up in the ghost of my dad that she’s not living life.

  I pause on the steps. The door to the long room is swinging because Mr. C just walked through carrying a box and I can see Luca working. She’s wrong about him. He’s making a choice to stay in Youngstown and that’s a personal thing no one has any right to judge. He isn’t bitter and he’s not settling. And even if he did start to slip down that path, well, I’d be here to stop him from sliding, if he lets me. Just like I’ll be here to stop Mom from losing herself completely.

  I sigh.

  If only Mom had someone to love who was flesh and blood and alive like I do. Not just to distract her but also to bring her back to reality.

  I could write her a love spell. I could help her heal and move on. I could make her happy like I’m happy. The door stops swinging, cutting off my view of Luca. Mom needs a distraction and I have just the thing to distract her.

  I’m going to write her a love spell.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I spend a good part of the night writing the perfect spell for my mom. A true love spell. I can’t just copy it from the spell book that Abby took a picture of. It has to be perfect because Mom’s next love needs to overcome the ghost of her last one. I don’t target any guy specifically but I do tweak the spell so that it describes a person who is as lonely as she so obviously is and who will love her just the way she is. It’s kind of a hybrid spell, taking bits of all the spells I’ve used so far.

  This true love spell doesn’t rhyme and I don’t have her blood to use like the spell calls for, so I improvise. I put all the things in there that she values. Honesty, kindness, respect, love, dedication, loyalty. I build her the perfect partner and make him handsome, too, because Mom is beautiful and fun and still young enough to find someone who will take her out on adventures.

  I set up some white candles, grab some of Mom’s hair from her hairbrush, and prick my own finger so that everything is almost perfect and then go about casting the spell.

  That sounds weird doesn’t it? For someone who doesn’t believe in magic to be casting a spell to help her mom fall in love again? I guess if you want something badly enough you can temporarily suspend logic and reason. If there’s a chance that I can give my mom a bit of happiness, why wouldn’t I give it a try?

  Plus, if she’s occupied with her own love life then she won’t i
nterfere with mine. Luca is a good guy. He’s kind and sweet and steady. He’s mature and cool. He’s also the hottest guy I’ve ever been close to, and he’s attracted to me, which still makes no sense to me. I’ve gotta see where this is going to go.

  At midnight exactly, I read the spell, wrap it around the strands of hair, and set it to the candle flame. It burns. Nothing magic-y happens that I can tell. I don’t feel a whoosh of anything. No tingling. Nothing to suggest it’s actually working. I follow the next step and spread the ashes in a concoction of olive oil and sea salt, and swirl it with my pricked finger so that my blood mixes in, too. Then I blow out the candles.

  I don’t get goose bumps. Not even a shiver. It’s very anti-climactic.

  Hopefully my mom’s Prince Charming is somewhere close so that she can get busy.

  Luca has been texting me all night. I scroll through our texts from earlier and can’t keep the smile from my face.

  Did she kill you? Are you dead right now?

  Aww, you’re worried about me?

  Yes! We should be more careful. I want her to like me

  You do?

  I want to spend more time with you. Would be hard if your mom hates me

  She doesn’t hate you

  Lunch tomorrow?

  Can’t I’m doing the booth with Abby

  I’ll bring you lunch then

  :) ok

  Sleep well Ro see u tomorrow

  Ttys (smiley emojis)

  I go to bed smiling, believing with all my heart that everything is going to work out great for everyone.

  My dreams are filled with Luca, so vivid that I wake up the next morning thinking I can still smell him on my clothes.

  …

  School the next few days is weird. Every morning I go with Luca to the Den, we hang out with his friends for a bit, then I head to class. Every afternoon I go to the booth and work with Abby to help everyone fall in love. We’re killing it as a business. Mr. Tremmel has already told us that we’re both getting As even though we still have a few days left to earn money. He can’t figure out how we’ve convinced everyone to spend their money on what he views as a joke, exactly, but he considers us marketing geniuses. Suits me fine. Even if I’m not planning on leaving Youngstown, I still want to be on the honor roll. I’m one giant paradox, striving for perfection knowing that I won’t be taking it anywhere. I’ll be able to help Mom, though, and that’s good enough for me.