by Maeve Hart
He was sitting on the bed with his laptop balanced on his knees.
“Ready?” I asked, trying to snap his attention away from his work.
He closed the lid and looked up. “About time!”
“Well, do I look alright?”
He looked me up and down. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
He hated it! “I don’t have anything else.”
“That’ll have to do, but you should get yourself some decent clothes to wear for when you’re out with me.”
He might as well have said straight out he hated it. “You hate it when I spend money on clothes.”
“No, I don’t! I only hate it when you buy the clothes that you buy. People with money recognize quality clothing. You’re not fooling anyone. You need to have just a couple of good quality pieces. Quality, not quantity.”
It was like standing before my father all over again.
The first and only time I’d seen my father, it was by accident. I learned later that he’d stopped by to ask my mother to take a hex off him. He didn’t realize she was the one who’d placed it on him in the first place.
My mother and I had lived alone. It was late; I’d heard voices in the living room and knew we had a visitor. I took my blanket with me. I never went anywhere without it. When I walked into the room, he was sitting with my mother on the couch. He’d been talking, but when he saw me he closed his mouth and stared down at me.
“Do you know who I am?” he’d asked me without the faintest smile touching his lips.
I shook my head.
“Come closer,” he’d ordered.
I dragged my blanket behind me while I took a couple of steps toward him.
“How old are you now?”
“I’m seven.” I remember what I said because back then I was pleased to be seven rather than six.
He looked up at my mother who was now standing with her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think you should put her on a diet? She’s only seven and look how big she is.”
I knew at once by ‘big’ he’d meant fat. Being fat or big had never occurred to me, but it was to haunt me from then on.
“Get out!” my mother had screamed at him.
He’d looked shocked at her outburst but stayed put. Then he looked at me and said, “You’ll never amount to anything. Do you know what you’re good for?”
“What?” I asked, anxious to know the answer seeing I’d never amount to anything.
“Nothing,” he snarled at me with his upper lip curled.
My mother grabbed her favorite antique porcelain vase—the one that I was never allowed to touch—and brandished it at him. “Get out now!” she yelled with more fury than before.
Whether it was her screaming at him or the belief that she would sacrifice her antique vase, this time he not only listened but sprang to his feet. “I’m going.” As he walked out the door, he looked over his shoulder to shoot me another disapproving scowl before he left.
I knew the look on my father’s face was one of disenchantment at the sorry child he’d fathered. A psychiatrist would probably tell me that I’d lived my life trying to prove him wrong. So far, I hadn’t gotten very far with that.
Back to Don.
I stared at him, wondering if he’d ever approve of me and tell me I’d done something well.
Seeing the look on my face, Don smiled. “Why don’t you go out and buy yourself some clothes tomorrow? I’ll give you the money.”
I nodded and wished I didn’t disappoint him all the time. If I weren’t so fat, I’d be able to wear anything, and it would look good, and I wouldn’t have to spend time trying on clothes in badly lit change rooms with dreadful mirrors that somehow added ten pounds. “Thank you,” I heard myself whimper as though I was still that seven year old child.
Chapter 3
When we arrived at the hotel reception room, I looked around and saw no one I knew. They were all people Don had invited. I guessed they were clients and coworkers. Donald was a very successful salesman at an engineering firm—he’d worked his way up and was quite wealthy. Of course, he had the advantage of coming from a well-to-do family in the first place, which is always handy.
Donald took me by the hand and introduced me to the people I didn’t know. I thought it strange that his beloved doting mother wasn’t there, and neither were his sister or his brother-in-law.
Food, where was the food? I was starving and not interested in meeting any of these fake friends of Donald’s.
I should’ve been pleased, but I wasn’t. Ever since I’d met Donald, I had dreamed of him asking me to marry him. I’d dreamed of our wedding and what our life together would be like. Now all my dreams seemed like they were going to come true and yet I wasn’t satisfied.
Recently—and reluctantly—I’d come clean and told him about my grandmother, Esmeralda, who was a professional witch, and my mother, Fauna, and my aunt, Flora, who practiced the craft, only not in a professional capacity. He’d laughed at me and said he didn’t believe in what he called ‘hocus pocus.’ In a funny way, I was relieved he didn’t believe.
The waiters came around with champagne. I took a glass even though I’m a lightweight and I don’t usually drink more than one glass a day. That ship had already sailed before I’d left home. Today, though, I knew I’d need help to get through the night.
“Watch your intake,” Donald whispered into my ear, which caused me to drink faster.
I drained that glass, and when a waiter came closer, I took another. Don’s disapproving looks bothered me less the more I drank.
At the front of the room, there was a raised platform where the band would’ve played if Don had ordered one. A band would’ve been nice. I made my way over, swaying to the music in my head as I walked. Before I realized what was happening, Don grabbed my hand and pulled me up onto the stage.
Once I had my two feet planted, he spun me around to face everyone. “Wow, easy.” My head was spinning, and now so was the room.
That was when he began his speech. “I suppose everyone’s wondering why we’re here tonight.”
There was a rumble of murmurs from the guests.
I looked down at the crowd, hoping this wasn’t going to be too awkward. I knew what was going to happen, so I didn’t know if I should pretend to look surprised. Should I be so happy that I cried? Perhaps a solitary tear should trickle down one cheek. No, I didn’t think I could cry on demand, but I could look surprised. I glanced at Donald. He was as confident as ever and didn’t look at all nervous that I might embarrass him and say ‘no.’ The thought of me turning him down would never have occurred to him.
He turned to me. “Destiny, I’ve known you for a while now, and the two years I’ve been with you have been the best two years of my life.”
I smiled as I looked into his sincere hazel eyes, pushing down the thoughts of our constant arguments and the way he used sex as a weapon.
As I looked over at the crowd, I sensed him.
My dream man was there!
I scanned every person and my eyes were drawn to a man head and shoulders above the rest. That was him!
“Destiny!” Donald tugged on my hand. He continued, “Even though you’re not perfect, no one is, including me.”
“You’ve got that right,” a male from the crowd yelled, causing a low rumble of laughter.
Looking back out at the crowd I searched for my dream man, but he was gone.
Donald cleared his throat noisily. “As I was saying, even though you’re not perfect, you’re perfect for me.”
I smiled at him being nice to me, but couldn’t I have a man who thought I was perfect besides being perfect for him? Was that too much to ask?
It wasn’t usual that Donald said kind or thoughtful things, but when he did, I knew that he meant them. That was the best I could hope for from Don.
There were sighs and oohs and aahs from the crowd. I glanced at the people in the room to see one woman who had her hand on her heart, which I thoug
ht melodramatic. I looked back at Donald who was still smiling at me.
He got down on one knee and pulled something out of his pocket, opening the box to reveal a diamond ring. This was all too public. Don knew I was shy, and more of an introvert. I would’ve preferred it were just the two of us when he proposed. Donald always had to do things his way. I wondered if he’d ever change. What if I married him and found out that he never considered the things that I wanted? Surely a relationship was give and take? Was this public proposal a sign that I should head for the hills? Surely someone who loved me would’ve known what I wanted.
“Destiny, will you marry me?”
I smiled because I finally had what I’d wanted for a long time. Don had asked me to marry him. Why wasn’t I more excited? Maybe I was suffering from PMS. Smiling, I nodded my answer, telling myself he had made improvements in his temperament in the last few months. He’d only get better.
With a flourish, Don took the ring out of the box and placed it on the third finger of my left hand, which I’d held out for him. I heard clapping, and a couple of people cheered.
“This is such a surprise,” I said, only because I thought I should say something.
Once Donald’s performance was over, he jumped to his feet and kissed me briefly. He wasn’t one for public displays of affection—only public marriage proposals, it seemed.
Hand-in-hand we walked back into the crowd of well-wishers. As soon as I could, I took another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, grateful that Don was too busy talking to someone to notice.
I kept looking around for the tall man I’d seen, but I was interrupted by a group of Donald’s female coworkers asking to see the ring. The ring? I hadn’t even looked at it properly. I stretched out my hand for the women to see. When I did so, I noticed that it was NOT the ring he had promised me.
Instead of being a three-karat square-cut diamond, it was something very different. I stared at it with the bitter taste of disappointment stuck in my throat. Not only was it smaller than a three karat diamond would’ve been, it wasn’t one diamond. I knew enough about diamonds to know that one large diamond was worth a whole lot more than three smaller ones adding up to the same weight. This ring gave the illusion of being one square diamond when in reality it was three rectangular diamonds set flush together. Let me rephrase that. The diamonds were supposed to be sitting flush together, but I could see a gap between two of the diamonds. From a distance, it looked like what I wanted, but it was a money saving illusion—a trick for men like Don to give to their significant others.
It was so ugly I couldn’t look at it any longer. If I’d still been in love with Donald it might not have been such a big deal, but I wasn’t. And it was probably because he’d always fallen short on his promises. He could spend a fortune on whatever he wanted, but when it came to me, he economized. Didn’t he know a ring was a once in a lifetime purchase?
Everything Donald did was for show; no one would know that the ring cost a mere fraction of what it tried to emulate. It was important for Donald to impress others. I knew that’s why he’d thrown the surprise engagement party and given me a ring in front of everyone. It wasn’t for me; it was for himself and his reputation—a chance to network.
“Oh, one more thing,” Donald yelled over the noise of the crowd. As a hush fell, he strode toward me, grabbed my hand and we headed back onto the stage. Once we were facing the guests, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me.
“Tell them where we’re going on our honeymoon, darling,” Donald said.
Honeymoon? He must’ve been planning a quick wedding.
I scanned the page and couldn’t see the word ‘Paris’ anywhere. Whenever we talked about marriage and a honeymoon, he’d always promised we’d honeymoon in Paris.
He nodded his head toward me, encouraging me to speak.
I scrunched my nose, feeling the discomfort of all eyes still fixed on me. I scanned the page once more to find the destination. “We’re going to Mexico,” I said, barely able to muster any enthusiasm.
The guests murmured approval as if that were a good thing, probably because they felt that was expected of them. Donald waved to someone at the back of the room, jumped down from the stage, and left me alone. As the guests resumed their conversations, I stared at the itinerary.
There was nothing wrong with Mexico, but it wasn’t Paris. How I hated him at that moment—but I’d make him pay. It was typical of the way he’d always treated me. He always promised everything and fell short. As I folded the itinerary to put into my handbag, I caught a glimpse of the ring and looked away. I’d loved him once, really adored him, but things had changed. Now I saw him for who and what he was. Why couldn’t he always have been soft, loving, and tender with me like he’d been at the start?
I looked up to see Donald talking to some people I didn’t know. They must’ve been business acquaintances. That would be typical of him to mix business with an engagement party. Who was I kidding? These people were all his business friends and possibly some clients. Granny, Mom, and Aunt Flora had been right all along—MEN AREN’T WORTH IT.
The aroma of meat wafted under my nose.
My head swam and I felt faint. Meat was nearby, and I had to have some. I caught the eye of one of the waiters and waved him over. He held a tray packed with bite-sized pastries filled with meat. I tried to take the whole tray from him, but he looked confused and wouldn’t let it go.
I locked eyes with him. “It’s my party. I’m taking the whole thing.” We were in a stand off. “Leave it with me,” I said in a deep voice that scared even me.
I must have scared him too because he released the tray and hurried away.
Once the food was successfully under my control, I said to no one in particular, “It is my party.”
I hurried around the corner with my meat, so I could be alone and eat all the food myself. I pressed my back against the wall and sank to the ground. With every bite, I thought of Don and his deceptions. In private he criticized me, always nitpicking at everything I did or said, but in public he was the perfect boyfriend. Now he was playing the part of the perfect fiancé. I stuffed the last two meat parcels into my mouth. I felt better but far from satisfied.
When had I started feeling so wretched? No doubt it was Don’s fault. I realized it was after I’d been to Granny’s house.
I’d gone there to find a potion to make Don hurry up and propose.
Closing my eyes I retraced my steps, wondering if I’d been in contact with something I shouldn’t have. If so, I’d need to have Granny do a reversal spell.
The sound of shouts from the crowd momentarily drew my thoughts back to the present. The guests wouldn’t miss me even though it was my engagement party. I was quite safe in my hiding place.
Chapter 4
At Granny’s the day before
Since she’d been a young woman, my grandmother had made her living by performing spells.
Not wanting my grandmother to know I was interested in doing a spell or having one done for me, I thought I’d take a look around her potions room to see if I could gain inspiration while she wasn’t there. Up until that point, I’d never been interested in the world of sorcery, much to the chagrin of the rest of my family. Granny wasn’t going to be home that day so it was the perfect chance to snoop around.
I knew it was lame, doing a spell to force someone to propose, but Don had mentioned getting married so it wasn’t as though he’d been opposed to the idea. I knew he had a party arranged and I so wanted for him to propose to me there. A nudge in the right direction was all I figured he’d need. I was certain if I poked around on the right shelf I’d come across a bottle that read ‘Love Potion’ or something of the kind.
When I pushed the door of Granny’s spell room open, it gave me the shivers. She had candles still burning, which I knew meant there were spells in progress. Bottles of all kinds littered the table alongside the candles, but I stayed clear. Instead, I headed to
the storage shelves that lined two walls of the room. As I was snooping, I was well aware that my grandmother was paid for her spell work, but I was a relative so figured I should get it for free. I just had to discover a way to do that without anyone finding out.
First I studied the small jars, reading out the labels on the bottles. “Domination oil, good luck oil, win money oil, fast luck oil. I could do with some luck and fast is always better than slow when it comes to good fortune.” I wondered why Granny would have the good luck oil and the fast luck oil. Wouldn’t everyone want the fast?
The luck oil was in a dark purple bottle screwed shut with a metal lid. I took it off the shelf, unscrewed the lid, and took a sniff. It didn’t have a strong aroma, much like cooking oil only with a faint floral fragrance. Once I had placed my finger over the opening, I tipped the bottle upside down and then upright again. Looking at my finger, I was pleased to see a small amount of oil, but I had no idea what the heck to do with it. I smeared it on my forehead right between my eyebrows. Replacing the lid, I put the bottle back on the shelf and moved along.
I passed by rose water and holy water, then came across graveyard dirt, black dog hair, and black cat hair, finally stopping in front of the cat’s whiskers. Trying to rid my mind of the image of my grandmother chasing a cat with scissors, I realized this wasn’t getting me anywhere.
I was just about to give up and go home when I noticed a dark brown glass large jar with a yellowing label peeling at the corners that read ‘overcome your enemy.’ Intrigued, I reached for it, puzzled over what the ingredients might be to warrant that bold name. It was also odd in that the other labels on the other jars looked new.
I lifted the jar off the shelf, glad that I’d used two hands instead of one. It hadn’t looked heavy, but it was. When I placed it on the bench that stretched across the middle of the room, I saw that the contents consisted of a gray mass floating in liquid. I unscrewed the lid, held back my hair, and lowered my head toward the jar to sniff. The smell that assaulted my nostrils was something similar to a wet dog smell. Would Granny have gone that far? I shook my head. Granny was an animal lover, so I quickly dismissed the idea she’d be a crazed dog killer.
