by Isobel Bird
“I suppose this is her,” he said, looking at Jane.
Jane glanced up. When she saw Cooper, she closed her eyes, as if trying to block out the sight. “No,” she said. “That’s not her.”
“Then who are you?” the man asked, turning around to face Cooper.
Cooper didn’t like the way he was speaking to her, and she felt anger rising up through her worry. Now that she saw that Jane seemed to be okay, she was able to think about other things. She looked the man in the eye and said, “I’m her friend, Cooper. Who are you?”
The man seemed taken aback. He blinked once or twice before answering, “I’m her father.”
It was Cooper’s turn to blink. She’d never met Jane’s parents. She looked at Mr. Goldstein, then at the woman in the chair, who she guessed was Mrs. Goldstein. The woman smiled faintly, then looked away. She’s pretty, Cooper thought distractedly. Jane looks a lot like her.
“Are you one of the people she met at that place?” Mr. Goldstein demanded.
“What place?” Cooper asked, not understanding.
“Cooper doesn’t go to the center,” Jane said weakly.
Suddenly, Cooper understood what Mr. Goldstein was asking her. But she still didn’t understand what was going on.
“Are you okay?” she asked, addressing her question to Jane.
“No, she’s not okay,” said Mr. Goldstein. “She tried to kill herself.”
“What?” Cooper said, alarmed.
Jane looked away.
“Tell her,” Mr. Goldstein said. “Tell your friend what you did.” He turned back to Cooper, his eyes flashing angrily. “My daughter took some of her grandfather’s sedatives,” he said, as if he were a news anchor announcing a breaking story.
“David,” Mrs. Goldstein said quietly.
“What?” said Jane’s father. “Ruth, our daughter tried to kill herself.”
Mrs. Goldstein looked at Cooper helplessly.
“I think I should go,” Cooper said. Then she looked at Jane. “Call me when you can,” she said, not sure what else she could say.
Jane looked at her. She didn’t say anything, but she nodded slightly. Cooper smiled at her friend. “Blessed be,” she said, knowing Jane would understand.
She turned and walked out of the room without saying anything to Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein. She’d gotten halfway to the elevators when she heard someone following her. A moment later Mrs. Goldstein appeared at her side.
“I’m sorry about my husband,” she said. “He’s upset, as you can imagine.”
“I imagine Jane is more upset,” said Cooper coolly.
Mrs. Goldstein closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Cooper saw tears. “It’s like we don’t even know who she is,” she said. “We’re gone so much and—” She stopped, breathing deeply, as if to keep from sobbing.
“What happened?” Cooper asked her.
“We came home late Tuesday night,” Mrs. Goldstein said. “When I knocked on her door there was no answer, so I went in. She was on the bed. I thought she was asleep. Then I realized that she was still dressed. And when I tried to wake her, she wouldn’t open her eyes.”
Jane’s mother put her hand to her head. “Then I saw the note,” she said.
“Note?” asked Cooper.
Mrs. Goldstein reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. She handed it to Cooper, who smoothed it out and read it.
Mom and Dad:
I know you won’t understand this, so I just want to tell you that it isn’t your fault. I just don’t know what else to do. Everything hurts right now, and I just want it to stop. I’m sorry if I’m disappointing you. I love you very much.
Jane
“She had taken a handful of her grandfather’s pills,” Mrs. Goldstein said, looking as if she was remembering the scene in her head. “When I felt her chest and realized she was still alive, I was so relieved I thought maybe she was playing a joke on us. But she just wouldn’t wake up. We called the paramedics, and they brought her here.”
Cooper kept looking at Jane’s note. She couldn’t believe that her friend had tried to kill herself. Was it because of what I did? she wondered. She couldn’t help but ask herself that question. After all, Jane had been really upset with her.
“Are you and my daughter close?” asked Mrs. Goldstein.
Cooper nodded. “We play music together,” she said. “But we sort of had a falling out recently. I betrayed her trust,” she explained, not sure why she was confessing her indiscretion to Jane’s mother. “I called tonight to apologize, and that’s when I found out she was here.”
Mrs. Goldstein nodded. “She told us that she’s—” she said, unable to finish the sentence.
“A lesbian?” said Cooper. “I know. She told me, too. I guess that’s what this is all about.”
“My husband is so angry,” said Jane’s mother. “I know it’s more that he’s scared, that he thought we might really lose her. But he can’t admit that.”
“Is there anything I can do?” asked Cooper. She had no idea how she might be able to help, or even if the Goldsteins wanted her around their daughter—but it seemed the right thing to say.
“Jane doesn’t have a lot of friends,” answered Mrs. Goldstein. “She needs the ones she’s got.”
Cooper smiled. “I think I can do that,” she said.
Mrs. Goldstein smiled back, looking a little more relaxed. “Thank you,” she said.
Cooper nodded. “Do you mind if I come see her?” she asked.
“I think she’ll be home on Friday,” answered Jane’s mother. “Why don’t you stop by then? I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
I don’t know about that, Cooper thought, but what she said was, “I’ll stop by after school.”
CHAPTER 9
“Hey, sis.”
Annie laughed at Becka’s greeting when she answered the phone. “I was just thinking about you,” she said.
“Nothing bad, I hope,” said Becka.
“No,” Annie replied. “Nothing bad. I was just thinking about what it will be like to have someone my own age around all the time. I think Meg is getting worried that we’re going to gang up on her or something.”
“I’m the one who should be worried,” said Becka. “I’ve never had sisters before.”
“Well, technically we won’t be sisters,” Annie said thoughtfully. “Sarah’s my aunt, so that makes us more like stepcousins.”
“I like sisters better,” said Becka.
“Me, too,” said Annie. “But either way, it will be cool.”
“Can you believe this is really happening?” Becka said more seriously. “I mean, it was what—less than three months ago that I found you outside our house?”
“The two of them move fast,” Annie agreed. “I guess when you know, you know.”
“My dad has been impossible ever since he got back,” said Becka. “It’s like he’s sixteen again or something. He can’t concentrate on anything, and he’s always smiling.”
“Aunt Sarah is the same way,” said Annie. “Yesterday she left a bagel in the toaster so long it burned and the smoke detector went off.”
Annie hesitated. There was something she had been wondering about, and she wasn’t sure if she should bring it up. But she thought she knew Becka well enough, so she said, “Does it bother you at all? I mean the fact that your dad is getting remarried?”
She could hear Becka breathe in on the other end. “I was a baby when my mother died,” she said. “I never really knew her. But I’ve grown up with pictures of her all over the house, and with hearing the stories my dad told me about her. I feel like I really did know her. And yeah, it’s kind of weird to think of him feeling the way about someone else that I know he felt about her. But your aunt is great, and I know she makes my dad really happy. That’s what matters.”
“Sometimes I forget that Aunt Sarah isn’t my mom,” said Annie. “I think Meg probably really does feel like Sarah’s her mother, becau
se Meg was just a baby when our parents died. Sometimes when I think about her marrying your dad, I wonder if I’ll feel like I have a father again.”
“It’s like we’re each getting the part that we lost when we were little,” Becka said.
Annie thought back to Samhain, when she’d had a chance to say good-bye to her parents’ ghosts. She’d known then that she was letting go of a part of her that she’d been hanging on to, a part that needed to be set free. Now she was getting another part back. She was going to be part of a larger family, one that had been brought together, in a way, by her parents’ deaths. Would they approve? she wondered. Would they be happy for Aunt Sarah, and for her and Meg?
“Has your father talked to you about the whole moving thing?” Annie asked Becka.
“Not really,” she answered. “He said that they haven’t decided anything.” She paused. “What do you hope they do?”
This was another topic Annie had been reluctant to bring up, but now that Becka had, she figured she might as well tell the truth. “I hope we stay here,” she said. “I really love this house and my friends.”
Becka sighed. “I know,” she said. “I love this house, too, and my friends here. No matter what happens, it’s going to be hard on one of us.”
“How about this?” Annie said. “Whoever has to move gets control of the television viewing choices for three months.”
“Nice idea,” Becka said. “But neither one of us watches television. How about whoever moves gets first bathroom usage in the mornings for six months?”
“You mean there might be bathroom sharing?” Annie said, pretending to be horrified. “No one mentioned that!”
“Now things don’t look so great, do they?” said Becka.
Annie laughed. “I think sharing a bathroom is worth getting a cool new sister,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Becka. “You’re right. But the first time you leave the top off the toothpaste, it’s over.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Annie said.
They talked for another few minutes and then Annie hung up. After she put the phone down, she lay on her bed, thinking about the conversation she’d just had. What would it be like living with Becka? she wondered. It had always been just her and Meg. What would happen when Becka became part of the family? She really liked Becka, but would they still get along when they had to spend every day together? She liked Cooper and Kate, too, but she had a hard time imagining what it would be like having one of them around all the time.
Where will we put everyone if they move here? she thought suddenly. Grayson, obviously, would sleep in Aunt Sarah’s room. But what about Becka? There was another bedroom next to Meg’s, but it was filled with a lot of things they didn’t really have places for anywhere else. Besides, Annie thought, Grayson will need a room to write in.
That meant that the only other room was on the third floor, across from hers. Would she and Becka share the floor? She looked around. She loved her room. She loved being on the third floor. She particularly liked that she had it all to herself. It was the one place she could go where no one else was allowed unless she invited them there. The thought that she might have to share it with someone else really upset her.
She felt guilty about that. She liked Becka. But she didn’t want to share a floor with her. Was Becka worried about the same thing? Annie thought about the house in San Francisco. It was smaller than this one. If they moved there, she would definitely be sharing a room with Becka, or even Meg. She was certain that the thought had crossed Becka’s mind as well. How could it not? And if Becka felt like she did, then Annie felt terrible about maybe being the one to move in and force her to share her space.
She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She was sure everything would be fine, and worrying wasn’t going to help. She needed something to distract herself with. But what? For once, she didn’t feel like reading. She glanced out the window and saw that it was still raining, as it had been since the day before. So much for taking a walk, she thought.
Why don’t you do a ritual? The question popped into her mind unbidden. But once it was there, it made perfect sense. She hadn’t done a ritual in quite a while, and she realized that she missed doing them. But what kind should she do? She didn’t feel like doing a plain old meditation exercise, nor did she want to do something like work with Tarot cards or anything like that. She wanted to do something different.
She thought for a while, running through the different kinds of rituals she could think of. Think of something you want to achieve, she told herself. After all, the whole point of doing a ritual was to make something happen. What did she want to have happen? She thought some more, but she was feeling totally uninspired. The grayness of the weather, and the coldness of the time of year, had left her feeling tired and totally uncreative.
That’s it! she thought. She could do a ritual to inspire herself. She’d never done one before. It would be fun, and it would be a great way to practice some of her ritual-creating skills.
She got up, filled with a new sense of purpose, and started gathering things together. She looked around her room, trying to decide what would work in the ritual she wanted to do. She immediately thought of candles. Luckily, she had just bought some at Crones’ Circle. They were small red ones. She’d liked the color, so bright and cheerful amidst the coldness of winter, and she’d bought twelve of them without knowing exactly what she was going to do with them. Now she got the bag containing them from her closet and placed it on the floor.
What else? It occurred to her that she wanted to invoke a goddess of some kind, someone to help inspire her. Who would be good? She considered and rejected several candidates before the name of Brigid came to her. That was perfect. Brigid was the Celtic goddess of inspiration. And Annie had just the thing to use in a ritual involving Brigid, a small three-legged cauldron like the kind Brigid was supposed to have possessed. She got it and placed it beside the candles.
Now that she had the tools, she had to decide what to do with them. She took the cauldron and put it in the center of what was going to be her magic circle. Then she placed the red candles all around it, marking the perimeter of the circle. After that she gathered some things from her altar, and it was time to begin the ritual. While there were things she was still unsure of, she decided that she would make them up as she went along. One thing she’d learned during her nine months of studying Wicca was that sometimes the best rituals weren’t totally thought out ahead of time. Besides, she told herself, this is supposed to be a ritual to inspire creativity. So be creative!
She began by turning off the lights, so that the room was shrouded in rainy gray light. Then she slipped out of her clothes and pulled on a white robe that she had made to use in her rituals. It was a simple thing, and Kate had helped her sew it. Annie liked the way it hung around her and made her feel like she was about to do something special. She only wore the robe for rituals, so that whenever she put it on it helped her get in the mood.
Next she lit the candles around the circle. When it was completed she stood back and looked at it. The tiny flames danced merrily, and she loved the red glow that the candles made. She sniffed the air and realized that they also gave off a faint scent, like cinnamon and roses. It perfumed the room and added to the sense of creativity that was growing with each part of the ritual.
It was time to cast the circle. Annie had been reading about different circle-casting rituals in a book that Archer had loaned her. One of the methods had interested her, and she decided to try it out.
First she picked up the small bowl of salt that she kept on her altar to represent the element of earth. Holding it in her hand, she walked clockwise around the circle of candles, sprinkling a little bit of salt on the floor as she invoked the powers of earth into the circle.
“Circle of earth,” she said. “Cleanse and protect this sacred space.”
She completed her journey around the circle and placed the bowl of salt on the floor. Then she picked
up a feather she’d collected on one of her walks in the woods over the summer. Holding that in her hand, she walked the circle again, this time calling on the element of air.
“Circle of air,” she said. “Sweep clean this sacred space.”
The third time around she picked up one of the candles from the circle and carried that with her, saying as she went, “Circle of fire, illuminate this sacred space.” And on her fourth trip she held in her hand a bowl of water, sprinkling it on the floor while calling out, “Circle of water, bind and close this sacred space.”
When she had invoked all four of the elements, she stepped into the circle of candles and stood in the center with her arms held up. It was time for her to call on Brigid and invite her into the circle as well. She paused a moment, grounding herself and letting the power of the circle surround her and fill her.
“Brigid,” she said when she felt ready. “Goddess of inspiration. I invite you into my circle tonight and ask you to bless me with your gifts of inspiration and creativity. Be with me now.”
She then knelt beside the cauldron that sat in the circle. She had placed a candle inside of it, and now she lit it. The cauldron seemed to be filled with fire, just as she imagined Brigid’s cauldron of inspiration would be. As she gazed at it, she imagined that the flames were the sparks of ideas, dancing wildly as they flew about inside the cauldron.
She wasn’t exactly sure what to do next. She’d only thought as far as casting the circle and invoking Brigid. That had all gone really well, but now she was unsure of herself. What was she supposed to do? For a moment she panicked, thinking that she had done something wrong.
She decided to just relax. She thought that if maybe she sat quietly then an idea would come to her. So she stayed where she was, staring into the depths of the cauldron at the flame. She watched it moving, the colors shifting against one another as it flickered. And soon she began to see an image in her mind.
She was walking on a path that led to a little cottage in a field. It was nighttime, and there were no lights except for the stars and a warm light that spilled out of the windows of the cottage. Annie stopped outside of it and peered inside. There she saw a woman standing in front of a cauldron. She had long auburn hair, and she wore a red dress. Annie knew instantly that it was Brigid.
