by Winter, Eden
“I haven’t lived here too long. I came here a few years ago right after college,” Phil said. She took hold of Reginald’s hand and looked up at him. His mouth was so thin, but when he smiled, there was a genuine light about him.
“I was born here,” Reginald said.
“That,” Baylee said and pointed at Reginald. She had lived here her whole life too. My stomach twisted just a bit.
“Been here a few years,” Delilah said. She looked at me and then looked at Peter, expecting him to speak.
“Delilah and I work together. We’re chefs at the Witches’ Brew. I met everyone here through her,” Peter said. Delilah’s face lit up at the mention of her name. She smiled, and her face became a darker pink around her cheeks. Her grumpy attitude toward me was starting to make a bit more sense now. I was still trying to figure out Baylee, who didn’t seem too keen on speaking to anyone at all. I had to wonder how they all became friends. There was such a mixed bag of energy about them.
“That’s very cool you guys are chefs. What made you pursue the culinary arts?” I was looking at Delilah when I asked. I wanted her to feel included. Delilah shouldn’t have to feel threatened by me; she had no reason to be. I didn’t know anything about Peter beyond finding him attractive. If she had feelings for him, then I was going to stay as far away from that as much as possible.
“I like food and I like art,” Delilah said with a shrug. Baylee was walking ahead of everyone and Philomena and Reginald trailed behind her. I could hear Philomena laugh at Delilah’s joke, but it wasn’t in such a way that it made me feel as if it was at my expense. Delilah picked up her pace and walked after the others.
Peter was hanging back. He was being polite so I wouldn’t feel left out.
“My father is a chef. My mother died when I was pretty young, and he spent a lot of time at work because back then we couldn’t afford a nanny. Some days after school, he would take me to the restaurant and I would stay in the kitchen with the other chefs. I loved the hustle and bustle. There was so much excitement in the kitchen, and all the smells and the flavors just brought me closer to my dad. It was just the two of us, and our love for cooking brought us together.”
That was such a beautiful story. I could see that Peter reminiscing was bringing up some memories. He was walking a bit faster now and his head was down. We had just walked by a familiar tree. I recognized it as the one Malcolm had liked and climbed.
I was growing anxious now. If they were all dressed in the same way as when I saw them in my vision, what was it going to mean when they lived what it was that I saw?
Peter was still walking ahead of me. I jogged forward to catch up with them. If anything was about to happen, I wanted to be prepared for it. Delilah turned around to smile at Peter. She noticed I was standing close to him and her face fell. She shook her head and turned around.
My stomach lurched. That was the reason why Delilah had seemed so dejected when I had seen them weeks ago. I was the reason why she had been upset.
Just then, Peter turned his head to the left. He was looking down at something. I stopped walking for a second to check out what he was looking at, and that was when it hit me. He was looking at me. I wasn’t there on the ground, but when I had seen him for the first time, I definitely noticed he looked down and saw me for a moment.
Peter shook his head and kept walking. He glanced back at me.
“Sorry about that. I thought I saw something, but I guess I was just seeing things. Could have been the heat. What is it you do, Samantha?”
“I work as an assistant pharmacist down by McLarry’s,” I said. Mr. McLarry [I had never heard anyone refer to him as Dr. or anything else] was a decent enough crabby old man who had had a very difficult time finding an assistant who he could trust—or one that he actually liked. Most people didn’t know what they were doing or thought Mr. McLarry was way too kooky. But I found him during a period of great transformation in my life, and I realized I may have needed him more than he needed me. To be talked to without judgment was definitely something I had needed at the time.
It sucked because sometimes I had to pull off a double shift if Mr. McLarry got a house call from one of his clients that he never referred to by name. He carried his antique doctor’s bag with him and would titter off without so much as an explanation beyond telling me to “mind the fort” and he “would be back to lock up shop.” I didn’t get mad. I don’t think I had it in me to. Mr. McLarry was decent, and he paid fairly.
But Mr. McLarry’s kookiness was sometimes mind numbing. If there was nothing happening in the pharmacy, he insisted the entire shelving system be rearranged to make finding medications easier. He completely ignored the fact that constantly rearranging the shelves meant it was difficult to remember where anything was. And all he wanted to do was talk about figurines he carved out of soap in his spare time, the musical genius of Moritz Moszkowski [who in his opinion greatly surpassed the works of Chopin and Debussy], and to share little gossip about the no-name customers who sought more mythical methods of healing. He knew quite a bit about alternative medicine and about certain enchantments and spells. Those cost extra [either financially or if the customers considered selling their souls]. I doubted the soul thing was true, but there were some special clients who would go directly into the back room and come out with bags of things I wasn’t at all sure about. Or Mr. McLarry would disappear into the night for hours. Who knew what secrets that old man was keeping to himself and about himself and other people? I was curious, but it was never my place to ask. So, I went with the wildest ideas my imagination could think of and left it at that.
“I’ve heard about that place. I haven’t been sick since I arrived here, so I haven’t had a reason to go in. I do go by it sometimes if I don’t mind taking a longer way back home from work,” Peter said.
“Oh. Maybe that’s why I talked to you at the grocery store the other day,” I said, “maybe there was something about you I recognized.”
“Could be. I wonder how often our paths have crossed without us having a second thought.” His tone was somewhat dreamy. It sounded like he was truly thinking about all the times we could have met but didn’t because of the random circumstances of the universe. “Do you know someone named Eli? He’s Reginald’s cousin, and he’s a nurse. He was supposed to come today, but he couldn’t get time off.”
“No, I don’t think I do.”
We were getting closer to the edge of the water. There was a small white boat with a blue lining around the upper rim. From what I could see it, had no name. I didn’t see boats on the lake very often, so it more than likely belonged to someone in our merry crew. I was too nervous to ask just in case it was Delilah. She didn’t scare me. I was more worried about scaring her if she felt like trying anything with me. I wanted to keep that side of me in total check.
I had been on boats before. I wasn’t scared of the water. It was difficult trying to get in, but with a bit of heaving and some wobbly legs, I managed to get on. Getting on a boat was the silliest thing because everyone always looked inebriated even if they hadn’t had anything to drink. Reginald and Baylee chose to stay on the shore to keep track of our belongings.
I was feeling more at ease the farther from the shore the boat moved. The lake was so peaceful. The sun was shining bright enough to leave a glare on the top of the water.
Philomena was sitting across from me. She wasn’t fishing, but she didn’t feel like being on land. She was staring out and running the tips of her fingers on the top of the water. Almost her entire top half was leaning over the edge of the boat. Delilah was sitting next to her holding a rod in her hand. Peter was at the front of the boat, and I was behind him with my back to him. I preferred being able to see Philomena and Delilah rather than worry that Delilah thought I was staring at the back of Peter’s head.
The gentle sound of the boat floating on the water was the loudest part of the boat trip so far. Everyone but Philomena had a fishing line dangling in wait for a fish or any other edi
ble creature to snatch the bait. From the corner of my eye, I could see Delilah stealing glances at Peter and at me. He and I weren’t even facing each other. I could already see that this was going to bring me some unnecessary problems.
“You know… you look kind of familiar to me, Sam,” Delilah said. Her voice was rather curt. Philomena glanced over her shoulder at us, but she was still mostly over the edge of the boat.
“Maybe,” I replied. I didn’t look at her. I pretended to be more interested in the bait at the end of my fishing line. I would have known if I had ever met a fairy with purple hair, pink skin, and no wings, so if she knew me, then it could have been from stories told by other people.
“Yes! Aren’t you that girl who stole her sister’s boyfriend? That King dude? And then he cheated on her, and they broke up and she set his car on fire and pushed it into the lake when he was still in it?” Delilah’s eyes were wide.
I was holding my breath the entire time she spoke. She was right. That was who I was. Well, sort of.
“Oh shit, that’s it!” Philomena said. She popped her head up and everyone on the boat was staring at me. I didn’t know what to say, and there was no way I was going to turn around to see the look that Peter was giving me right now.
“Did you kill him?” Delilah asked. Her wide eyes were now joined by a half a smile.
“No! He didn’t die. That’s not how it happened,” I said. I jumped up, which rocked the boat quite a bit. There were so many different versions of the story, and I didn’t want people thinking I was completely insane.
“He did more than cheat on me. I was defending myself, and we were both in my car when that was happening. I lost control and the car wound up in the lake. I had my seatbelt on and he didn’t, so he hit his head really hard and passed out. I swam through my window before the car was submersed. It was hard for me to get to him because his window was still rolled up, so when I got air, I dived back down and I had to go through my own window to get to him. He was in a coma for a few days, but he would have died if not for me. And when he woke up, he told everyone an entirely different version of the story. He moved a while after that, and I couldn’t even…”
I stopped speaking. It must have looked like someone had stabbed me in the back because I jumped a bit and then stood pin straight as my eyes flickered in all directions. I was feeling that familiar sensation sweeping over me. To me, the boat was rocking, even though everything around me was perfectly still. I was feeling faint, and the water was swirling around us. I closed my eyes in the hopes that when I opened them the world would no longer be spinning and I would be fine.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the color orange. I looked around me, and I could see bright flames flickering. It was like a wall of flames surrounding me. I could hear the crackling and popping sounds of a fire, but wherever it was, it wasn’t at the lake. The lake was not where the fire was. How was I able to see a fire that was going to take place somewhere else?
Now I could feel the heat of the fire around me. I didn’t know it was possible for me to feel the hallucinations as well. Did that mean that I was able to burn if it lasted long enough? How could I turn this off or shut out the hallucinations? How could I stop this from ever happening to me again?
It was getting warmer around me, and I could barely see the faces of the people on the boat who were right next to me. I don’t know if I screamed, but I shielded my face when I could almost feel the flames getting closer to burning my flesh. I jerked back in surprise and tripped over the seat I was on. Before I could prevent myself from slipping, I fell backward and plunged right into the icy waters of the lake.
*****
When I came to, I was back on dry land. I opened my eyes to see heads floating above me. Everyone was looking down on me to see if I was still alive. I couldn’t remember anything from when I fell into the water to when I was awake now. I coughed, and there was some water that came up from the back of my throat. It made me choke, and I had to turn on my side to get the water out of my system. My throat was practically raw. My clothes and my hair clung to me as I let out the last of the water. I was still shaken up by what I just saw and felt.
I sat up and rested my weight on my elbows. No one said anything. I didn’t blame them. That display was baffling beyond all imagining. I was explaining myself, then I was screaming, and then I was in the water. I didn’t even need to guess I was the only one who saw the fire around us on the lake.
But who was it that saved me? I looked at each person, but I noticed Peter wasn’t there. Everyone was bone dry. That meant that…
I heard the crunching of feet on grass and turned to face the direction where the sound was coming from. Peter was walking toward us. He was sopping wet. His hair was no longer in a ponytail. It was now a jet-black stream sticking to his skin and resting just below his shoulders. His shirt was off and he was wringing it dry while he walked. I could see his tattoo did in fact go all the way up his arm, and I was sure a part of it snaked down his back as well.
“You saved me,” I said. My voice was raspy from all the liquid I had just spewed out and the incessant coughing. Peter looked up from the shirt he was wringing and looked at me. His expression was like everyone else’s. There was no relief about the fact that I had not drowned. Instead, there was more a slight fear behind his eyes and what I was also assuming was disappointment.
“I’m very sorry about that.” I lowered my gaze when I spoke again. The last thing I wanted to do was look into the accusing eyes of people who didn’t know me but had already made up their minds there was something off about me.
“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t hurt anyone. Are you okay, Samantha?”
Philomena was the first one to speak. I looked at her, and I could see now the concerned look on her face was genuine. Her brown skin appeared darker to me, but that was probably because she was facing away from the rays of the sun. Reginald was sitting next to her, and he looked more confused than anything. Delilah’s and Baylee’s faces were completely blank. In Baylee’s defense, I was going to guess that must have been her general demeanor.
“I’m fine. I thought I saw something is all.” I whispered my reply because I hadn’t yet decided how much I was going to reveal. I didn’t know these people, and I had to admit that even though we weren’t friends, I was worried of driving them away like I had driven my other friends away. None of them had believed me when it came to my ex. Everyone thought I was a monster capable of attempted murder just because I had stolen him from my sister. In truth, he was the one who had made the initial advances on me, and I was young and thought the feelings he had for me were real and deeper than wanting to manipulate and control me. I let a man come between me and my sister, and I found out quite early into the affair—and later the relationship—that he wasn’t the man any of us thought he was.
My friends and everyone else thought the bruises and swelling I had after the accident were self-inflicted so that I could tarnish his name, when really, he was an abusive phony. I had been the victim of mental, emotional, and—toward the end—physical abuse. The time in the car was the first time he laid a finger on me, and I vowed that would be the last time I was going to let anyone hurt me or make me feel so low about myself that I would drift away from my family and the people who were worthy enough for me to consider as my friends.
My sister never saw that abusive side of him. She only saw what appeared to be a loving and caring guy who had strayed because he had been enchanted by the wiles of her younger more fun-loving sister. We didn’t speak for a very long time. I still don’t know if she believes my side of the story about what happened. I was afraid to go into too much detail, and Isabelle’s too nice to bring up something that might hurt me or stir up negative memories.
I did what I had to do in order to protect myself, and everyone still thought I was a lunatic. The ones I hadn’t pushed away or drifted away from [because I became so dependent
on the love and affection of my ex] walked away later on. Some thought I lied about the whole thing and spread so many different versions of the story to other people they knew. After my ex did that damage, he left town, and left me to pick up all the broken pieces. I felt guilty because there was a part of me that missed him, or missed the attention that he had showed me. There was still a part of me that was heartbroken when I should have felt nothing beyond anger and betrayal. I don’t know what would have happened if he had stayed in town or if Isabelle had not wanted to reconnect with me.
“What is it you think you saw?” Reginald asked. I had been too busy thinking about what I had said that I had almost forgotten about the fire only I had seen. I wondered if the ones who were with me on the boat had time to fill in Baylee and Reginald about what I told them had happened to me before I came to by the edge of the lake.
“I could have sworn I saw a rare fish. You know the gold and blue one no one has claimed to have seen for years?” I said. It wasn’t my best lie, but it was better than telling them I saw a fire that wasn’t there just like I had seen them before I had even met them.
“The fish of Cesar?” That was the most emotion I had seen from Baylee the whole afternoon. She perked up a bit and her eyes widened. “I thought that was a myth.”
“The what fish?” Philomena asked. She was stuffing grapes into her mouth.
“It’s that legendary fish that’s said to have all these mystical powers, babe. It transformed into a shark, and then it swam all the way from the canals in Italy so it could escape some emperor who wanted to use its abilities to gain absolute world power,” Reginald said.
“If it’s Italian, why isn’t it called the fish of Caesar?” Delilah asked. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. I wondered why Peter didn’t fancy her; she seemed great.
“I don’t know. I just know that it can shapeshift into any water creature from salt or fresh water, and if it’s caught and you answer three of its riddles, it’ll grant you like five wishes or something. And they’re five bullshit free wishes,” Reginald said. He plucked a grape and put it in his mouth. I didn’t see him chew it at all, but in a second, the grape was gone. He must have swallowed it whole.
