by L. Divine
“What’s up, Jayd?” Bryan says, grabbing the oversize container of Lawry’s Seasoned Salt and sprinkling it generously over his smothered potatoes and peppers. Damn, his food looks good.
“Same shit, different day,” I say, watching him return the container to the kitchen cabinet behind him and grab the metal spatula from the stove, skillfully turning the sizzling potatoes.
“You sound just like Mama, girl. Want to talk about it?” he asks. I know he’s genuinely concerned, but I can’t trust him with this one. He’s friends with Rah, and that’s just too close for comfort to discuss me and Jeremy’s relationship with him.
“Not with you. You chill with the enemy. But thanks anyway,” I say.
“Since when you don’t want to talk to your favorite uncle, and what enemy?” he says, testing one of the now golden-brown potatoes with a fork. They smell so good, making my stomach growl like an angry dog. “I know you ain’t calling Rah your enemy,” he says, looking satisfied with his culinary skills. “Oh, you must be having issues with that White boy, huh?”
“You know his name, and, yes, it’s about him,” I say, cutting my eyes. “And who said you were my favorite uncle?” I tease, snatching a potato out of the skillet while heading toward the back door to go check on Mama. I know she has a lot of work to do for her clients, so she’s probably in her spirit room.
“You did when you were four years old,” he says, scooping most of the potatoes out of the skillet onto his plate. “Here,” he says, leaving some for me in the skillet. “Don’t say I never gave you nothing.”
“Thank you, favorite uncle,” I say, taking a fork from the dish rack and slamming the potatoes down.
“By the way, Tarek said hi,” he says, leaving the kitchen. Damn, his friend is fine. If I were a few years older, we could work something out, I’m sure. But I have enough boy drama as it is.
After finishing my food, I make my way to the backhouse to join Mama. I’m sure she has plenty of work for me to do.
“Hi, Lexi,” I say, stepping over the lounging pooch through the opened door to greet Mama.
“There she is,” Mama says, reaching over the full table to kiss me on the cheek without getting up from her stool. “Grab your apron and wash your hands, child. We’ve got lots of bags to stuff and vials to fill,” she says. “These people around here get so scared when Halloween comes around. I ain’t gone let them drive me crazy like they did a few years back,” she says, pulling up a stool next to hers. There’s barely enough room in here for the antique stove and sink, large wooden table and two stools, not to mention the dozens of shelves lining the walls. But everything seems to fit just right.
“Yeah, I remember that,” I say, washing my hands in the sink before taking the bright orange apron off the wall next to it. Some of the church folks swear that Halloween is evil and they need something to ward off the impending bad luck it brings every year. Mama always honors the dozens of instantaneous requests for her protection herbs and oils. We work for at least three weeks straight on those things. This year she’s getting a jump-start on the crowd.
“Those church people are just so superstitious, and they think I’m some sort of witch who can cast spells,” she says, scooping the crushed, dried herbs into her sifter. Mama hates to be compared to a witch. She says that description is more suitable for our neighbor, Esmeralda. “We work with the spirit world and the earth together to influence our reality. All I can do is open the door. They have to attract the protection.”
“But, Mama, what we do is a bit magical, isn’t it?” I say, picking up the dried herbs from the table and plucking them from their stems. There are about forty more hanging from the ceiling that need to be removed and incorporated into Mama’s potions.
“There’s nothing magical about inheriting gifts. It’s quite natural, if you truly understand the law of attraction and what it means to influence your surroundings. Magic is saying that you have no control, that you need some sort of amulet or wand or something to make shit happen, and that’s not the case,” she says, giving me an impromptu lesson. “When we make these bags and tonics, Jayd, we are basically influencing people’s senses to open their mind’s eye to whatever healing or help is needed at the time.”
“So, aren’t these bags a little magical then?” I say as Mama sifts the herbs into a large wooden bowl, rising from her stool to put them in the large stainless-steel pot of liquid boiling on the stove. It must be at least ninety degrees in here. Luckily it’s a mild day—not too hot or cold. So the heat isn’t unbearable.
“Only if the client believes they are,” she says. “I’ve had many people return to me demanding their money back because whatever they were asking for didn’t come true. That’s when I have to counsel them. I don’t do repeat potions. If I cast a divination for them and it says their work is incomplete, I tell them that. The work is continual, Jayd. It doesn’t end with the bag or baths or dreams. Speaking of which, have you had any lately?” she says, stirring the pot of aromatic herbs.
“No, not since I dreamed about Tania being Jeremy’s baby mama the other day,” I say.
“Does he know yet?” Mama says, not even questioning that my vision is true. Her confidence in my gifts still scares me sometimes. Most of the time, I wish I were wrong.
“I don’t know. I think he does, but he won’t tell me. I was actually going to ask you how I could make him confide in me,” I say, looking for a little quick magic of my own.
“Trust takes time, Jayd, and there’s no potion for that.” Damn. I’m still going to look for some magic cupcakes or something when Mama goes to bed.
“But we don’t have time,” I say, gathering the loose herbs and sifting them into the bowl. My phone, still on vibrate, indicates another text from Rah. That’s the third one since I’ve been home. I’ll have to talk to him later. Right now, I’ve got Jeremy on my mind. “I need to help him now before Tania works her evil on him.”
“Concentrate on what you want to happen as a result of this whole mess, Jayd. That’s your homework. When you go to school tomorrow, don’t engage in the drama at all. Instead, I want you to write down, in the present tense, what you want to happen and how it will affect you,” Mama says, turning off the stove and taking her seat at the table, ready for the next round. I have so much homework to do, and it’s getting late. I’m going to have to get some of it done at school tomorrow because we could be here all night.
“Can I engage on Friday?” I ask, making light of my task.
“Depends on what you write down tomorrow,” Mama says, looking at me in a way that makes me take the assignment more seriously. “It’s an exercise that can change your life, Jayd. This is one of the things your mother didn’t have the patience to master. Don’t make the same mistake,” she says.
Tomorrow will be an interesting day of silence for me. Jeremy had to stay after school today and will again tomorrow for his senior AP meetings. Each class meets on a different day and time. So I guess I’ll have to wait until Friday to see if my mind can make him trust me enough to confide in me about Tania.
3
War
“Everywhere is war.”
—BOB MARLEY
“Always a bridesmaid, never a bride,” Mrs. Bennett’s voice says through the loudspeaker. “I told you, you weren’t good enough for Jeremy. You should have heeded my warning before, Jayd. You could have saved yourself the embarrassment of getting hurt.” What’s this trick doing in my dream again?
“Jayd,” a voice calls from the bleachers. We’re on the football field at night. But instead of cheerleaders and football players, it’s a wedding party, and Jeremy’s the groom. What the hell? “Get out of the way! Now!” the voice screams. “You’re going to get burned!” The bride, completely veiled, comes down the field in a bright red dress. Stunned by the whole scene, I stand dumbfounded on the field, right in her path.
“Jayd, move!” All of a sudden, the bride speeds up, and a ball of flames ignites behind her. He
ading right in Jeremy’s direction, she hits me on her path, burning my right arm.
“Ahhh!” I shout, waking up Mama and everyone else in the house.
“Jayd, what’s wrong?” Mama says, jumping out of her bed and turning on the lights. I can hear Daddy, Jay and Bryan outside the closed door, ready for a brawl.
“I just had a dream about getting burned,” I say, holding my right arm.
“What’s going on in there?” Daddy says.
“Nothing. It was just a dream!” I yell through the door. Everyone here is used to my dreams.
“She’s okay, y’all. Go back to bed,” Mama says, sitting on the bed next to me. I don’t know what time it is, but it’s early Friday morning and I have to get up for school soon, I’m sure. Mama reaches over my lap, gently twisting my wrist to look at my arm.
“It really hurts,” I say, seeing the same thing Mama sees: a big red mark across my arm. Oh, hell, no. Not this shit again.
“When’s the last time you had a dream this real?” Mama says, instinctively taking the shea-butter ointment we made last night off the nightstand in between our beds.
“Years ago,” I say, remembering a similar dream I had in junior high school. It was around the time my Uncle Donnie passed away. Rah was the only friend I could talk to about it, and he still is.
“Well, there must be a reason why. Your powers are developing quickly, my little fire child.” She smiles a wink at me while rubbing the minty salve over my wound. I see nothing amusing about dreaming about fire and getting burned.
I remember the first time it happened. I was about ten years old and staying with my dad for the weekend. I had a dream about getting pushed out of a tree and hitting my head on the cement. My dad questioned me about the huge mark on my forehead the next morning. He didn’t believe my story and put me on punishment until I told the truth he wanted to hear. When I got back home to Mama’s house and told her what happened, she was so pissed she didn’t let me go back over there for almost two months.
“What was the dream about?” Mama says now. The effervescent ointment scent fills the room, calming me down as she begins her usual examination.
“It was about Jeremy marrying a fireball,” I say, summing up my dream while sitting straight up in bed. My Tasmanian Devil clock reads five fifteen, which means I have exactly fifteen minutes before my day officially begins. I wish I could go back to sleep, but Mama’s ready to give me a quick lesson.
“Are you sure you weren’t the fireball?” Mama says, making a joke about one of my many nicknames. “Did anything else happen in the dream?” she says, putting the top back on the jar, listening intently.
“Well, there was a voice warning me, but I didn’t recognize it. I couldn’t even tell if it was male or female,” I say, vaguely remembering the sound.
“It was probably your Ori,” Mama says. “Did you read about that in your lessons yet?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t know I was supposed to.” Like I don’t have enough work to do.
“Why would you think you weren’t?” Mama says. I can tell she’s both irritated and disappointed.
“Because you told me to focus on the whole mind-over-matter thing,” I say, impatient with her grilling. My arm’s stinging from the ointment. I’m also cranky because my morning hasn’t started off right. And having a dream about getting hurt by my boyfriend’s future bride from hell is about as bad as it can get.
“Jayd, your lessons are a constant. You must be consistent in your studies no matter if the world around you is falling apart. I shouldn’t have to tell you that anymore,” she says, giving me chills. “Without them, everything else will be a blur, dreams included,” she says, patting me on my hand before returning to her bed. “So tell me about your day of observing yesterday,” she says.
“It was actually quite peaceful. Nerve-wracking but peaceful,” I say, rising from my small bed, turning off my alarm clock and heading for the door.
“Why nerve-wracking?” Mama yawns.
“Because I wanted so badly to grill Jeremy all day about Tania but didn’t. At the end of the day, I didn’t feel any worse than when I started out. So it wasn’t too bad. But I can’t wait to get to school to find out what’s really going on.”
“Don’t be in such a rush, Jayd. That’s always been your problem—that and your fiery tongue,” she says, pulling up her covers, ready to return to her slumber. Mama needs all the rest she can get. She was up well after midnight working in the spirit room. She had let me go early so I could finish my schoolwork. “The truth will be unveiled in time. And so will your true friends,” she says, revealing she knows more about my dream than what I’m telling her.
Why do I even try hiding my dreams from Mama when I know she’ll always be in my head, just like my mom? Sometimes I wish I had more control over my powers, mainly my dreams. The last thing I need is for them to physically hurt me. They already stay in my head and affect my social life as it is. I don’t need any more interference. I plan on talking to Jeremy after school when he takes me to my mom’s. We’re supposed to go out for pizza and hang out. I intend on getting to the bottom of what he knows and doesn’t know today.
With Mickey and Nigel out for the day and Nellie playing Tania’s lapdog, my day was pretty uneventful. Misty and KJ have been hanging so tight it makes my stomach curl to see them together, so I opted to hang with Chance and Jeremy during break and lunch. Now I’m waiting for them both at my locker. The final bell of the day rang ten minutes ago. Where could they be?
Tired of waiting, I decide to walk toward the parking lot. On my way, I run into Ms. Toni, whom I’ve been avoiding like the plague these days. There’s just too much going on to get grilled by her. Like the other mothers in my life, she’ll see straight through my attempt at covering up my true thoughts and get in my head. I can’t take any more of that today.
“Hey, Jayd. Now, why haven’t I seen you all week?” she says, giving me a big hug. “I’ve seen more of your little friend Nellie than I have of you lately.”
“Yeah,” I say, letting go of her tall, slender frame and continuing our walk down the now empty Main Hall toward her office and the front door. “Tell her I said hi,” I say, rolling my eyes. That girl has worked my last nerve.
“Why can’t you tell her yourself ?” Ms. Toni says. It has been a long time since we chatted, and I don’t have the time to fill her in on all the drama right now.
“She’s too busy hanging with her new crew to spend time with her old one,” I say, feeling the sting of my own words. Nellie and I have been tight for the longest, and now the girl won’t even return my calls. I’m more hurt than I care to admit. And with Mickey preoccupied running around after Nigel, I’m afraid I won’t have my girls anymore.
“Oh, you mean Tania and the rest of the homecoming court,” she says, shifting her overstuffed briefcase from her right shoulder to the left before stopping in front of her office door before I enter the Main Hall. “All the hype will be over soon and Nellie will return to her senses, watch and see. She’ll get a clear picture of who her real friends are and aren’t soon enough, trust me. It happens every year,” Ms. Toni says, making light of Nellie’s metamorphosis.
“I don’t know,” I say, leaning up against the wall next to the ASB room where her office is housed. “She’s always wanted to be in the rich-kid clique, and now’s her chance. I don’t think she’s going anywhere anytime soon, if she can help it.”
“She won’t have a choice once she realizes these people aren’t really her friends, Jayd. Every year the popular kids pick a few pseudo-popular students to haze. Now, don’t get me wrong. Some students new to the clique stick around well after the hazing is over and actually become active members. But others don’t, and I’m pretty sure Nellie’s a member of the latter. She’s going to need her real friends when this whole homecoming thing is over. I hope you know that,” Ms. Toni says, making me feel a little bad for Nellie.
“Well, I don’t know about Mickey. She
’s too busy making an enemy out of Nellie on her own accord. I’ll try to be here for her, but she’s making it very difficult.”
“That’s what real friends do, girl. You young people and your impatient ways,” she says, standing in the open door, removing the heavy bag from her shoulder and placing it on the ground. “All relationships take work, time and consistency. You have to be there during the good times and the bad, when they show both their beautiful smiles and their ugly behinds. You have to take the good with the bad and, above all, be patient.” Damn, she sounds just like Mama. And I know they’re both right.
“Hey, babe,” Chance says, picking me up from behind, catching me and Ms. Toni off guard.
“Boy, put me down,” I say, slapping his hands from around my waist as he returns my feet to the ground.
“Hi, Ms. Toni,” Chance says, giving her a hug, too. You can’t help but love his spirit.
“Hi, Chance. Bye, Jayd,” Ms. Toni says, picking up her bag and heading toward her office. “And, Jayd, remember what I said. I want to see you next week, you hear me?” She gives me a hug before allowing the door to close behind her.
“What the hell took you so long? And where’s Jeremy,” I say, realizing it’s been twenty-five minutes since the bell rang.
“He had some unexpected business to take care of, so he told me to come and swoop you up and meet him at the pizza spot. You cool,” he says, noticing my disappointment. I haven’t spent much quality time with Jeremy this week, and I know this business has to do with Tania. I wonder how much Chance knows.
“So what business did he need to take care of? He’s not selling weed again, is he?” I say, knowing Jeremy’s days of slanging are over. Still, I’ve got to start the grill off as slow and innocent as possible if I want the full confession.
“Come on, girl. I’m starving for a Hawaiian slice right now. You got all your stuff?” he says, taking my backpack from my shoulder and my GAP bag from my hand before leading me into the main office, toward the front where his Classic Nova’s parked.
