by ERIN BEDFORD
“Yes, let’s go.” I pumped a fist in the air. “I’m ready to drink some hot chocolate and look at some Christmas lights.”
We all trailed out of the house toward the car. Once piled in, my dad turned the radio on to the station playing Christmas music. “Jingle Bells” filled the car, and we all sang along as we drove down the street. Our first stop was to get our hot chocolate through the local Starbucks, then it was onto the richer neighborhoods that always went all out for Christmas decorations.
After we had our hot chocolates in hand, we drove around at a snail’s pace through the neighborhood. A feeling of warmth filled me that had nothing to do with the temperature of the drink in my hand and everything to do with the love I felt of being with my parents.
“Look at that one.” My mom pointed out a dancing bear made out of twinkling lights. I smiled and laughed as he hopped from one foot to the other across the owner’s lawn.
“What about that one?” I gestured to the next house where a mechanical ballerina turned on her music box the cheerful melody filled the car.
The next house had us all laughing until our sides hurt. This person had a sense of humor and no sense of decency. The Santa Claus projection on their house did a little jig and then proceeded to moon us all, his cartoon butt covering half the house’s wall.
“Well, that was fun,” my dad confirmed as we left the neighborhood and headed back home. “Did you have fun?”
I nodded and then realized he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, it was great.”
“Maybe next year you could bring your boyfriend with us?” My mom not-so-sneakily grinned at me.
“Boyfriend?” Dad glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “You found one already?”
“No,” I muttered, ducking my head as my face heated. “Well, not really.”
“Is that so? You sure looked cozy with that Broomstein boy,” my mom insisted as my face burned even more. Damn her for prying out the details from me and damn me for giving in.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I insisted, taking a drink of my now-cool hot chocolate. Whatever, it was still chocolate. I’d take it in any form I could get it.
“Then do you have one?” My dad quirked a brow in the mirror as he tried to keep his eyes on the road.
“Not really.” I lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “I mean, there are a few that talk to me, and I even like them but nothing official.”
“A few!” The car jerked to the side as my dad avoided hitting the curb.
“Geez, watch it, Wesley,” my mom smacked him on the arm as he straightened us out. “Don’t kill us all, and I don’t know how you are surprised. She is our daughter. It only makes sense she’d have more than a few admirers.”
Snorting, my dad pulled us into the driveway thankfully with no other potential collisions. “Of course, she would, but I didn’t expect her to like them back.”
“I’m weighing my options,” I muttered as I got out of the car. “It’s hard to choose just one.”
“Why choose at all?” My mom grinned at me in the dim beam of the garage light.
“Peggy!” my dad gasped, making us laugh.
“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t play the field before you married me, Mister Archeologist of the year.” She saddled up next to him as she batted her eyelashes as he tried to unlock the front door. “You had all kinds of college students and colleagues throwing themselves at you.”
“That is beside the point,” my dad tried to argue, walking into the living room.
“Then what is?” I asked, flopping down on the couch my amusement at an all-time high. I loved watching my dad get so flustered when he was trying to be fair but also a protective father. I didn’t have that many chances to see it so when I did it was quite a spectacle.
“She’s my daughter,” dad tried to remind us with a serious expression. “Of course, I want her to do whatever she feels is right, but I also don’t want her to be taken advantage of.”
I couldn’t help but lean forward and grin. “What if I’m the one taking advantage of them?”
My dad groaned and shook his head, kneeling by the Christmas tree. “Please don’t put images like that in my head.” He dug around for a moment and handed me a small package. “Here, I can see when I’m not going to win, so let’s change the subject. Happy Christmas Eve.”
Grinning from ear to ear, only half of my excitement was from the present the rest of it from hearing him admit defeat. It was the little things in life really that made everything worth it.
I tore open the wrapper and found a box about as big as my hand. I glanced at it briefly and then gave my parents a curious look before popping the top off. Inside, laying in a pillow of cotton material, sat a necklace. It had a silver chain and matching setting for a green and blue oval stone. The center of it sparkled in the light and had a sort of swirling glow coming from the center of the stone.
“What is this?” I lifted the stone necklace from the box and held it up to the light. As it twirled in the air, the center of it glowed even brighter. It had to be magical or at least electronically controlled.
“It’s a talisman.” My dad moved closer to me, his hand held out. I gave it to him and watched as he unhooked the clasp and stood to put it around my neck. “I found it while we were in Cairo. They’re really rare and usually very expensive, but I struck the guy a deal he couldn’t refuse.”
“I took him to a store I’d visited there before.” My mom smiled and rubbed my father’s arm. “You should have seen his face when the guy tried to sell him a still-moving chicken foot.”
I giggled at the thought and touched the stone as the metal setting pressed against my skin. “What does it do?” I didn’t question how he had gotten it, my dad was always coming home from digs with some new artifact or bauble. The fact that he had brought home something of magical origin? Now that was new.
Dad pulled a paper out of his pocket and read off of it in a salesman's voice. “All of your wildest dreams can come true with this limited edition wishing gem. Made of the tears of a fairy and forged by the fire of the Himalayan dragons. All your wishes can be yours if you act now. Limited to ten wishes per user. Must pay an additional fee to recharge. Wishes of minor origin only, it cannot create something out of nothing, and any wishes for death or other bodily harm to a person will be reported directly to the magical council. Use at your own peril.” My father snorted. “Well, they sure do take the fun right out of wishing, huh?”
My lips tugged up slightly. Ten wishes, huh? That didn’t sound so bad. Though, I wasn’t sure what minor origins meant. Maybe I could only wish for things like a good hair day? Or a chocolate milkshake? Wait, would that constitute as something out of nothing? Well, there went my dreams of being a millionaire. Restrictions or not, it may prove to be useful.
“What are you going to wish for first?” My mom leaned over my dad’s shoulder and watched me with growing interest. “Maybe for one of those boys to text you back?”
My dad did not look the least bit enthused at my mom’s suggestion. I fingered the necklace, my mind rapidly processing all the possibilities and coming up with nothing. There just didn’t seem to be anything I wanted right this very second. No magic in the world would ever replace this moment right here with my family.
“I think I’ll save it,” I finally said, making my mom frown in disappointment and my dad to sag in relief. “You never know when I might need it, especially with you-know-who coming tomorrow. Might need a quick getaway.” I grinned and winked at mom, who groaned.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” She threw her head back in a dramatic pose before standing to her feet. “And on that note, I need to finish prepping for tomorrow.”
“Want some help?” I asked, following her toward the kitchen.
“No, I’m good. Why don’t you head to bed? You’ll need your energy tomorrow more than me. I’m already the failure child, they still think they have a chance with you.”
I wrapped my arm around her
waist in a hug. “You might be a failure to them, but you are an enormous success to me.”
“Ah thanks, honey,” she hugged me back and then gave me a little shove toward the stairs. “Remember that tomorrow when they start in on you.”
I laughed and hollered goodnight to dad before heading to my room. Having already done my stretches, I went to the bathroom and got ready for bed. It was a bit earlier than my usual time, but like my mom said, I had plenty waiting for me tomorrow, and I wanted to be well rested for the battle ahead.
As I laid down on my bed, my phone buzzed. When I saw who had texted me, my lips curled up in a secret smile.
Dale: How was your day?
Me: Good. Heading to bed now.
Dale: So soon?
Me: Big day tomorrow. The grandparents are coming.
Dale: Mancaster?
Me: Unfortunately. What about you?
Dale: Jewish. No Christmas for me. My dad didn’t get drunk until after nine so already looking like a Hanukkah Miracle.
I giggled to myself. Sounds fun.
Dale: I’ll talk to you tomorrow?
Me: Definitely :) Spin a dreidel for me.
Dale: There are many things I’d do for you. Night.
Me: Night.
I set my phone down and collapsed on my bed. My cheeks ached from smiling so much. I felt like a corny school girl with a crush. Well, I guess I was a corny school girl with a crush. Dale was so sweet though grumpy at times, but he always knew what to say to make me blush and squeal, not that I’d do it in front of him. I saved those for behind closed doors.
If I didn’t calm down, I’d never get to sleep, I closed my eyes and took deep calming breaths. Gingerbread. Christmas ornaments. Dale’s lips on mine. No, no. Bad Max. Think of calming things, not arousing things. But of course, the more I tried not to think of Dale, the more I did.
Ugh. This was going to be a long night.
Chapter 3
The day started off on a bad foot. First, I had forgotten to take the necklace off before going to bed and had a dream of myself being choked by my grandmother when I told her to shove her prissy wand up her butt, only to wake up to my own necklace trying to cut off the air to my lungs.
Next was my morning stretches. I tried to get into my zone, to let all my worries fall away, but the more I tried to focus, the more the ball of energy in my mind’s eye went haywire. Something was definitely off, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I took an extra-long shower, washing my hair twice because I couldn’t remember if I did I the first time, lost in my daydreaming about sexy wizards taking their morning shower. Then as I got out, I slipped on the floor mat and landed on my ass, no doubt leaving a wonderful bruise to show up later today.
“You okay?” my mom’s voice called from the other side of the bathroom door. Thankfully, I had the foresight to lock it, or she’d get to see my legs up in the air. Never a position anyone other than a gyno or boyfriend should see you in ever.
“I’m fine,” I groaned out, rubbing my backside as I slowly stood up. “Just trying to kill myself today it seems.”
“Well, don’t die just yet. You’ll have plenty of reason to later today, believe me.” She chuckled dryly through the door, reminding me of what waited for me today. No wonder I had a dream of my grandmother, my subconscious was trying to warn me to step lightly, and I was heeding that warning. No fighting from this girl today.
“Is there coffee?” I asked before I popped my toothbrush into my mouth. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”
“And pancakes.”
I groaned again, but this time in pleasure. Pancakes. Now that was what I needed to turn this day right around. I finished brushing my teeth and then pulled on the clothes I had sat on the toilet seat on, wincing when my pants scrapped against my bruised butt. That was going to sting for a while.
Opening the door, I found my mom waiting for me in my room a pensive look on her face. “Mom?”
She looked up from where she was staring at a photo of her and me I had on my dresser. Her eyes were slightly watery and made me frown.
“Are you okay?” I came over next to her and placed my hand on her shoulder.
“You were so innocent back then,” she murmured. The image in her hand was of me at the age of ten, a grin on my face as we played in the fall leaves. It was one of my favorite memories of us. I was thankful to have a picture to remember it by.
“I’m still innocent,” I reminded her with a weak smile. “I haven’t committed any murders. At least, that I know of.” She gave a small laugh and clutched my hand in hers.
“But you also didn’t know heartache like you know now.” She sighed briefly before sitting the picture back on the dresser. “I wish I could protect you from the dangers of the world, most of all those that come with being a witch.”
I wasn’t sure where this was all coming from, but I knew I couldn’t let her take all the responsibility for my safety on herself. “Don’t worry, mom. I can take care of myself. Plus there’s nothing you could have done to protect me from getting my heart broken. It’s part of growing up.”
“I know.” Mom turned to hold both of my arms but didn’t pull me into a hug. “I just want you to know that no matter what your grandparents say or do, you will always be welcomed in this house. Never think that if you don’t please them that I won’t love you anymore. I won’t ever do to you what they did to me.” Her voice broke, and this time, it was my turn to reassure her.
“Of course not, mom. I would never think that.” I pulled her close to me and held her tight. Rubbing her back and making shushing noises, my voice came out muffled against her shoulder. “Besides, they haven’t done anything but show up and make demands from day one. You didn’t raise a doormat.”
Laughing as she pulled back, mom wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “No, I certainly didn’t do that.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” I lifted my chin and made a dramatic pose. “I’m a strong, confident woman. No old fuddy-duddy is going to tell me how to live my life.”
“That’s right.” Mom laughed once more and looped her arm with mine. “Come on, let’s go before your dad eats all the pancakes.”
We walked down the stairs arm-in-arm to the smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen. Christmas music played in the background giving the house a real holiday feeling. My mom and I stopped in the kitchen doorway to watch my dad dance around the kitchen singing under his breath.
He had the handle of a pan in one hand and was flipping pancakes into the air while doing a little jig. When he caught us staring at him, he paused mid-jig and the pancake he had flipped landed on the floor with a splat. Mom and I couldn’t hold back our laughter anymore and fell all over ourselves.
“Alright, alright. It’s not that funny,” dad grumbled as he proceeded to clean up the pancake from the tile floor. Mom was nice enough to take the pan from him and finish up the pancakes while I searched for coffee.
Taking a cup down from the cabinet, I proceeded to fill my cup with two-thirds coffee, and the rest sweetened creamer. Who said you had to like the taste of coffee to benefit from its life-giving force?
“You’re not wearing your necklace?” dad asked right after I’d taken my first delicious sip.
My hand went down to my neck and found it bare as I sat down at the kitchen table. “Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot. I wore it to bed last night and almost killed myself mid-dream.”
“Oh yeah?” My mom laughed taking a seat at the table with me. She placed a plate of pancakes in the middle of the table which I then quickly began to fill mine with. “What was it? That mean girl at school or a talking panda?”
I rolled my eyes and cut into my pancakes. “You admit to having a fear of pandas one time, just one time, and you are forever known as the panda girl.” I shoved a wad of pancakes into my mouth and chewed them viciously. Freaking pandas and their inability to pick a color. Really, who are they fooling? Black bear or pol
ar bear, pick a freaking side.
“So, what was it then?” Dad sat down on the other chair between mom and me, pouring half the bottle of syrup on his plate. Man was looking to get diabetes.
I slowed my chewing down but didn’t look up from my plate. They continued to stare at me, so I took even longer by taking a long drink of my coffee before finally spilling the beans. “Grandmother.”
Dad didn’t get it at first, his face pinching together as he asked, “Why would you dream of Mame?”
My mom, on the other hand, caught on right away. She placed her hand on my dad’s and gave him a look that made him quiet right away. “She means my mother, not yours, dear.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” I repeated, stabbing my pancakes with my fork. I could feel their eyes on me like they wanted to say something that they had already said before, but I didn’t want to hear it. “Look, it’s not like I’m afraid of the woman. It’s just she’s a lot to take in.”
Dad snorted. “That she is.”
“Wesley!” mom smacked him on the arm though she smiled.
“What? She is. Don’t even try to defend her.” He pointed his fork in mom’s direction. “Remember how she made you cut your hair because Witches Monthly had declared long hair dead?”
“She really did that?” I gaped at mom, not seeing how she would have let my grandmother or anyone tell her how to look.
She pulled her long braid around her neck, stroking it with a secret smile. “Yes, well apparently, short hair meant you were powerful and assertive. Long hair meant you were subservient to males. They didn’t want anyone seeing their one and only heir as being below anyone, let alone a potential husband.”
“So, did you do it?” I leaned forward, lazily taking a sip of my coffee.
Mom shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “At the time, I hadn’t met your father, so I didn’t have as much of a backbone.”
“Meaning yes,” I inputted for her with a grin and then tut-tutted at her. “My mother, the always-be-yourself woman, letting society dictate her own hair length? I am so ashamed.”
