by Isobel Bird
“I don’t think I’m an alcoholic or anything,” said Brandon. “I mean, my dad was one, so I know what that’s about. But it’s so easy to drink when there’s pressure.” He looked around. “I guess I’m just wondering how people find ways not to drink,” he concluded.
Rhoda and some of the others nodded. Several people looked at Brandon, as if making sure he didn’t have anything else to say. Then a woman a few chairs away from Mrs. McAllister spoke.
“I’m Joan,” she said, “and I have a very clean house.”
The others laughed. When they were quiet again Joan resumed speaking. “I am an alcoholic,” she said. “I never needed an excuse to drink. But when I stopped, I needed to find other things to do instead of drinking. I tried eating, but when I had to buy new clothes every two months I figured that was probably just as bad as drinking. So I tried a lot of other things. Finally I settled on cleaning. I know, it’s just another kind of addiction, but at least my bathroom is shiny.”
Again people laughed. Joan gave a small smile. “It sounds funny,” she said. She looked at Brandon. “But it isn’t really funny when it’s happening to you. You feel like if you don’t find something else to do you’re going to go right for that drink. So I clean. Sometimes I run, or bike, or bake cookies—something fun. Drinking seems like fun, but for a lot of us it’s just a substitute for fun. Do something you enjoy.”
Brandon nodded at her. Cooper wondered how it felt for him, hearing Joan’s story. Did he relate to it? After all, his situation seemed different from hers. Was what she said helpful?
“I started drinking because everyone else was doing it,” said a man next to Brandon. He reminded Cooper of her father. “I was in the army,” he continued. “All my buddies drank, so I did, too. And it was fun,” he added, looking at Joan and smiling so that she laughed.
“But it wasn’t fun when I started passing out,” the man continued, sighing. “That’s when I needed to find a way to stop. But it was like my buddies didn’t want me to. They kept inviting me out to bars with them, kept offering me beers. Saying no was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But then I realized that they wanted me to drink with them because they felt lonely and scared. They wanted to feel better about what they were doing by getting me to do it, too. That’s when it got easy to say no.” He laughed to himself. “Well, easier,” he said.
For the next half hour various people told their stories. None of them directly offered Brandon any advice. None of them lectured him or tried to tell him what to do. They just shared their stories. Listening to them, Cooper realized that what they were doing was creating intention. Much as she and her friends raised energy by chanting, drumming, or singing, they were creating energy, energy that Brandon—or anyone—could use if he wanted to. They were putting the power of their stories into the circle so that they could become something else and create change.
Throughout the meeting, Cooper’s mother listened carefully. Sometimes she nodded. Other times she sat staring into space, as if she had tuned out what was being said, or maybe was thinking about it more deeply. From time to time Cooper thought she sensed her mother was about to speak, but she never did. When the meeting ended, she hadn’t said a word.
“That’s it for tonight,” Rhoda said when it was time to end. “Remember, what is said here stays here. Also remember that even when the group isn’t together, you still have people you can talk to if you need to. Contact lists are on the table. Feel free to take a copy and use it.”
She’s opening the circle, thought Cooper, thinking of the traditional Wiccan saying, “The circle is open, but unbroken.” She’d always liked that way of ending a ritual. It made her remember that what was created in a circle had a life of its own, that it didn’t end or fade away just because the physical circle wasn’t there. Once again she was struck by the fact that these people were also working a kind of magic of their own, a kind of magic that could potentially transform lives.
Everyone stood up and began mingling, talking to one another and heading for more coffee. Mrs. McAllister turned to Mrs. Rivers. “Not so bad, was it?” she said.
Mrs. Rivers shook her head. “No,” she said. “It wasn’t so bad.” She looked at Cooper. “Thanks,” she said. “For talking to Mary and for coming tonight.”
“Any time,” Cooper told her mother. She knew that saying thank-you was hard for her mother, just like it was often hard for her. She hoped that her mother really had gotten something from the meeting.
“So, will you come with me next week?” Mrs. McAllister asked.
Cooper held her breath. She knew how her mother felt about self-help groups. She knew, too, that Mrs. Rivers didn’t consider herself an alcoholic. Neither, really, did Cooper. But she was definitely going through something, and maybe coming back to the circle again would help her be able to talk about that.
After a long pause Mrs. Rivers nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll come back.”
Cooper gave a silent cheer upon hearing her mother’s words. She wanted to hug Mrs. McAllister. She wanted to hug her mother. Instead, she stood up and stretched. “I have some plans with some friends,” she said. “I’ve got to run.”
“Fine,” Mrs. McAllister teased, “leave us all alone on a Friday night.” She looked at Mrs. Rivers. “Ungrateful child. She’s probably running off to see a movie with my son.”
Cooper pretended to be offended. “For your information,” she said, “I am not running off to see your son. He and his band are playing tonight.”
Mrs. McAllister shook her head. “That’s okay,” she said. “If your mother is up to it, I have plans of my own. I thought we’d have a girls’ night out. Maybe dinner and a movie?”
Cooper saw a strange expression come over her mother’s face. She knew her mother didn’t have a lot of friends, and certainly she didn’t go out with them on Friday nights. She’d been married to Cooper’s father for so long that she hadn’t had the opportunity to do something like that in many years.
“Come on, Janet,” Mrs. McAllister coaxed. “There’s a new movie at the Omni.”
Mrs. Rivers smiled, looking, Cooper thought, like someone who had just been asked to sit at the popular table at lunch. “Okay,” she said. “Why not?”
Cooper looked at Mrs. McAllister over her mother’s head. Thanks, she mouthed silently. Then she said to her mother, “I should be back by ten. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay,” said her mother. Then she looked at Cooper. “But don’t wait up.”
Cooper gave a surprised look, earning laughs from her mother and Mrs. McAllister. Then she waved good-bye and left. As she walked down the street, heading for the restaurant where she’d arranged to meet her father, she couldn’t help but think about how the things she’d learned—and was still learning—in her study of witchcraft kept coming up over and over again in the larger world. Where once she’d thought of Wicca as this little secret that only a few people shared, now she saw it as something much larger. It had become a way of thinking for her, a way of looking at things and seeing their interconnectedness.
She realized, to her surprise, that for the first time in her life she felt as if she was part of a group. But not a group like a clique of popular kids or a member of an exclusive society that kept other people out. Now she felt like she belonged to a group made up of all kinds of people. Some of them she knew, some of them she had yet to meet, and some she might never know. But still they were all connected. It didn’t matter if some of them met in Wiccan circles and some of them met in church basements. They were all linked together.
“We are the weavers,” she sang as she walked, thinking of the words to a chant they had sung in class once, “we are the web. We are the spiders, we are the thread.”
She’d always liked that chant, with its images of spiders weaving beautiful webs connecting things to one another. Now it made even more sense to her. She was a maker of connections: between herself and her friends, between her mother and Mrs. McAllister,
between herself and the Goddess. Every friendship she made—like the one with Jane—and every relationship she had—like the one with T.J.—was another link in a big chain. Each was also another step on the journey she was taking.
Where will it take me next? she asked herself as she reached the restaurant and went inside.
CHAPTER 14
“I’m so glad you guys came,” said Annie as she hugged Becka good-bye on Saturday morning.
“And I’m so glad we’re going to be sisters,” Becka said.
“We’ll see if you feel the same way once you move in,” Annie joked, and they both laughed.
Grayson Dunning and Aunt Sarah were outside, standing beside the rental car that Grayson had just finished loading with his and Becka’s bags. They were kissing. Meg, watching them from the doorway, said, “Are they going to do that all the time when you guys move here?”
“Probably,” Becka replied. “So get used to it.”
They all went outside for their final farewells. Aunt Sarah gave Becka a hug while Grayson did the same with Meg and Annie. As Becka climbed into the front seat she said quietly to Annie, “Let me know how everything works out with Mallory.”
Annie nodded. “I’ll call you tonight,” she said.
After the car drove away, Annie, her aunt, and Meg went back inside. Aunt Sarah closed the door and stood in the entryway, looking around. “This place could use some paint,” she said thoughtfully.
Annie looked at Meg. “Uh-oh,” she said. “She’s redecorating. You know what that means.”
“I’m out of here,” Meg said, heading for her room.
“Hey!” Aunt Sarah said, pretending to be hurt. “I only changed my mind three times about the living room color. Give me a break.”
“Yeah,” Meg called back. “But we were the ones who had to repaint it every time.”
The phone rang, sparing Annie from having to get involved in the conversation. Secretly she was siding with Meg. Her aunt did have a habit of frequently changing her mind about things like paint colors, and Annie was in no hurry to wield a brush again. She went into the kitchen and picked up the ringing phone.
“Hi,” said Juliet. “How’s my little sister today?”
“Hey,” Annie said, happy to hear from her. “Great. Becka and Grayson were here for a few days. They just left, and now Aunt Sarah is playing Martha Stewart. You saved me from having to help her pick out paint colors.”
“I’m glad I could be of service,” Juliet replied. “So, how was the visit?”
“Well, it looks like our house is going to have two new occupants,” Annie told her. “Becka and Grayson are moving in. Hence the paint colors.”
“I get it,” Juliet said, laughing. “Aunt Sarah wants everything to be perfect.”
“You got it,” said Annie. It made her happy to hear Juliet call Sarah “aunt.”
“So, what else has been going on?” Juliet asked her.
Annie thought about where to start. She hadn’t talked to Juliet in a while, since before everything with Mallory had happened. Should she tell her about it? Juliet already felt like family to her, but the fact was, they didn’t know a whole lot about one another yet. Annie hadn’t even brought up the subject of her involvement in Wicca with her sister. Would Juliet be freaked out if Annie told her about what she and her friends had been going through during the past week?
“Not much,” she answered, deciding that certain things could wait until she and Juliet had spent more time together. “I’ve been busy with school and stuff. How about you?”
“It’s been crazy,” said Juliet. “The theater is launching a new production next week, and we’ve been working insane hours getting the costumes done. Plus, I volunteer making costumes for one of the Mardi Gras floats, and that takes up a lot of time, too. Hey, speaking of Mardi Gras, are you going to come?”
“I really hope so,” Annie said. “Aunt Sarah seemed okay with it, but she wanted to talk to you about it first.”
“Wow,” Juliet replied. “I can’t believe I’m about to talk to my aunt. I’m so excited. Put her on when we’re done. But first I wanted to ask if you got my card yet.”
“I don’t know,” said Annie. “I haven’t looked at the mail since Thursday. Let me check.”
The mail for the Crandall household was always stacked in a pile on the kitchen counter. Usually, Annie checked it religiously, but she’d been so busy with Becka’s visit and the situation with Mallory that she had completely forgotten to look at it and see if there was anything for her. Now she picked up the pile and sorted it. Mostly it was bills for her aunt, but toward the bottom of the pile she found an envelope addressed to her. It had Juliet’s return address in New Orleans.
“Here it is,” Annie told Juliet. “Should I open it?”
“I insist,” Juliet said.
Annie slid her finger underneath the envelope’s flap and opened it. She pulled out the card.
“It’s pretty,” she said, looking at the picture, which was of a New Orleans street.
“Look inside,” said Juliet.
Annie opened the card and a photograph slid out. She caught it before it fluttered to the floor, and held it up to look at it.
“Is this you?” she asked excitedly.
“No, it’s Madonna,” Juliet said. “Of course it’s me.”
Annie looked at the picture. The girl in it was beautiful. She had long blondish brown hair that hung down around her face in waves. Her brown eyes were wide and sparkling, and her nose turned up slightly at the end. She was wearing a costume, a dark red velvet dress with a crown of pink and red roses on her head.
“You look like me,” Annie said breathlessly. “I mean me if I was beautiful,” she added. She felt excited and sad at the same time. This was her sister.
“I thought you might like to see what I look like,” said Juliet. “So, is there a family resemblance?”
“Most definitely,” Annie answered. “You look a lot like Mom.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment, then Juliet said, “I wish I could have seen her.”
“So do I,” said Annie. “But I can send you pictures.”
“Thanks,” Juliet said. “Send me ones of you and Meg and Aunt Sarah, too.”
Aunt Sarah walked in at that moment and Annie motioned for her to come to the phone. “Speak of the devil,” she said to Juliet. “Here’s Aunt Sarah. I’m going to let you guys talk about you know what, okay?”
Juliet agreed and Annie handed the phone to her aunt. “It’s your niece,” she whispered, and smiled when Aunt Sarah’s face lit up.
Annie stepped back and listened as her older sister and their aunt had their first conversation. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Part of her thought maybe there would be some kind of dramatic movie-of-the-week weepfest happening. But in reality the conversation sounded pretty much like a conversation she might have with one of her own friends. After some initial awkwardness, Aunt Sarah seemed to relax. She asked Juliet some questions about herself and then—from the half of the conversation Annie could hear—answered some of Juliet’s.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Aunt Sarah said, “Annie tells me you’d like her to come visit for Mardi Gras.”
Annie felt herself tense up a little. She really wanted to visit Juliet, and soon. Plus, Mardi Gras would be a lot of fun. She hoped her aunt would say she could go.
“Mmm-hmm,” said Aunt Sarah in response to something Juliet was saying. “Okay. Right.”
Annie grew more and more anxious as the conversation went on. She hated that she was only getting one side of things. What was Juliet telling their aunt? Aunt Sarah asked some more questions, then looked at Annie. “Well,” she said, “that all sounds really interesting.”
Interesting, Annie thought. What a horrible word. It could mean anything. After all, people frequently said things were interesting when they really meant they sounded horrible. It was one of those vague words that people used when they didn�
�t want to say what they really meant. Did her aunt mean that the idea was interesting but there was no way it was going to happen? Or did she mean that it really did sound interesting and that Annie could go? Suddenly, Annie thought she would go crazy if she didn’t find out immediately.
“Well?” she said loudly, surprising herself with how anxious she sounded.
Aunt Sarah grinned. “Yes,” she said. “You can go.”
Annie surprised herself again by letting out a little squeal of joy. Oh, Goddess, she thought, embarrassed. I sound like one of those girls at an N’SYNC concert. But she didn’t care. She was going to get to meet her sister, and in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. She couldn’t believe it.
Aunt Sarah hung up the phone. “She said she’ll call you back later,” she told Annie. “She was shrieking more than you were, and I thought putting the two of you together would probably make the phone line short out.”
Annie hugged her aunt. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said. “I can’t tell you how cool this is.”
“I think you just did,” Aunt Sarah said, rubbing Annie’s back.
Annie let go of her. “I wish you and Meg could come with me,” she said.
Her aunt smiled. “I think the first time it should just be you two,” she said. “Besides, I think we’ll have Juliet come to the wedding in April. That would be a great time for her to meet everyone.”
Annie beamed. “That’s perfect!” she said. She couldn’t believe how everything was falling into place. “Oh,” she said, thinking of something, “I should make an album to take to Juliet. You know, pictures of Mom and Dad and us. See, she sent me one.”
She handed the photo of Juliet to Aunt Sarah. Her aunt stared at it for a long time, then handed it back to Annie. “You should show Meg,” she suggested.
“Good idea,” answered Annie. “And then I have to go meet the girls.” She kissed her aunt on the cheek. “Thank you again,” she said.
She went to Meg’s room. Her little sister was sitting at her desk, writing something in a notebook. Annie watched her from the doorway for a moment. Meg looked a lot like she had at that age, and Annie found herself thinking about what it would have been like for the three of them—her, Meg, and Juliet—to grow up together. They would never know, but at least they would get the chance to know one another now.
