by Harper Lin
I nodded.
“Now don’t you worry. I’ll take good care of you. When we’re done, you’ll feel like a brand-new person.” I looked up a good six inches to meet her eyes. They were a deep brown, and when she smiled, her cheeks pushing them into crescents, they reminded me of chocolate chip cookies with a bite taken out of them.
The thought of being a brand-new person was appealing. A new person who didn’t talk to animals, who didn’t know binding spells, and who had no clue about those things that lurk under beds and in shadows.
I scratched my head, trying to get the negative thoughts out of there.
Olga led me down a short hallway and opened the door to reveal a room I hadn’t expected. When Bea had mentioned a massage and pedicure, I’d envisioned the massage would take place in a dimly lit room with scented candles, maybe a desktop water fountain, some New Age music floating through the air. I did hear soothing music, but this looked more like an examination room.
The walls were a pale blue. A small desk held a few nondescript oils in plain, medicinal-looking jars, and an iPod with tiny speakers provided the tunes. In the middle was the massage table.
“Okay, I find that most of my guests like to start on their stomachs. It helps if you’re not used to massages, and from the worry wrinkles in your brow, I can tell you might be a little apprehensive.” She laid one of her giant paws against my arm, but it was soft and quite reassuring.
“I’ll do that,” I said.
“That’s fine. Climb on up. I’m just going to turn my back to give you a moment’s privacy, and then we can begin.”
I nodded, hung my robe on the nearby hook, climbed up onto the table, and lay down on my stomach. Before I knew it, Olga had a crisp white sheet draped over me and was expertly rubbing the backs of my legs. I hadn’t even known they were tired.
“So, how long have you been doing this?” I inquired, hoping that speaking during the session wasn’t prohibited or discouraged. For the first time in a while, I wanted to talk.
“I’ve been a masseuse for over twenty years,” she said quietly.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Let’s see. Going on about seven years now. Yeah. Seven years.”
My muscles tingled with joy. Olga worked on my legs and arms and started on my back.
“So what do you say about the stories of ghosts in your spa?”
I felt a slight hesitation in her hands, but then she continued kneading and twisting my muscles.
“Well, what the owners have reported is on the website,” she said calmly.
I thought she was holding back, so I prodded a little further. “Have you ever experienced anything?”
“I’m not sure I’m supposed to repeat anything I’ve seen or heard,” she said.
“I heard the clerk at the front desk talking about it. She told me people had seen a few things but that she couldn’t say for sure because she hadn’t seen anything.”
“That sounds like Mia. Was she serious? Hair pulled back?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, well, she wouldn’t tell anyone anything. That is the owner’s niece. She’s nice. Professional. But the fact that she’s been here since she could walk yet says she’s never seen anything is a pretty big stretch. Inhale and exhale slowly.”
I did as I was told, letting my thoughts just sort of linger. What was I doing probing into all this? In two more nights, we were leaving, and who knew when we’d be back, if ever? What did I care if goblins or ghosties roamed this place? I was tired of the paranormal lifestyle, wasn’t I? Hadn’t it caused me more grief than anything else, even Darla Castellano? And what good was any of it if I couldn’t use it for myself? Why couldn’t I use it to get some winning lottery tickets or be able to cook better than Bea or right a few wrongs, level a few playing fields, or punish someone who had done me wrong?
“Boy, you must have a lot on your mind,” Olga said. “It feels like I barely touched you, your muscles are so tight. Inhale again and exhale. There we are.”
“So what did you see?” Maybe Olga’s story would distract me from my own scary thoughts.
“If I tell you and you repeat it, I’ll deny I ever said it. Just so we’re clear.” She began to rub my shoulders. “But I had one experience that I won’t soon forget.”
I heard Olga take a deep breath and begin her story.
When she’d first started working at the spa, she worked from six in the evening until midnight. She didn’t have many clients, but she would get a few who were late check-ins or preferred evening hours.
“That way, management figured in case I caused anyone severe nerve damage or turned out to be a less-than-qualified masseuse, I wouldn’t interfere with the busy hours. I didn’t mind getting my feet wet that way working with the night owls. The night owls, that was what I called them.”
On this particular evening, she had just finished with a young man who had been suffering from a migraine. He had come in at ten fifteen p.m. By eleven o’clock, he was feeling better and heading back to his room, but not before stopping at the Ambrosia Café for an iced green tea.
“It was beautiful warm weather outside. And one thing that I can’t get over in this place is the scenery. At night there are lights throughout the grounds for anyone who wants to take a walk so they don’t get lost or turned around. Most evenings until well past midnight, you can hear the voices of the late-night adventurers echo out along the trails. Boy, you’ve got one heck of a knot here.”
I felt Olga dig into the middle of my back with her fist. I tried to relax, hoping she’d continue with her story.
“So, I went outside just for a little fresh air and to kill some time before I punched out. I walked out back, past the hot springs and just to the edge where the natural border of trees starts. There are beautiful solar lights scattered all around in addition to the electrically powered lights along the path, and…” She let out a chuckle. “I saw a woman running like the devil was chasing her. She was wearing a dress that looked like it was dirty, maybe torn up a little. She was barefoot and ran past the hot springs to the back entrance that should have been locked already. Okay, I think I’m getting this now. Take a deep breath and let it out.”
I did as I was told and felt the pressure from her thick hands as she rolled my muscles under her fingers.
“Well. The woman didn’t come around the building, so I went to check if she had gotten inside, if a door was left unlocked. I thought maybe she was hurt or needed help. The back patio was empty.”
“Do you think she might have gone around the other side of the patio opposite where you were standing?”
“You might think that, but the patio has an absolutely stunning decorative fence with ceramic tiles that would prevent anyone from going around. Especially from where this woman was.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I’d be willing to chalk that up to a trick of the eye, the lights playing tricks on me. Fatigue can make you think you see things you didn’t. That wasn’t what scared me. What scared me was the laughing.”
“Laughing?”
“Have you ever heard a person who lives on the streets laugh?” she asked, her hands moving slowly and rhythmically. “It’s an unsettling sound that makes you think they see something you’re missing. It sounds hollow, you know.”
I gripped the donut rest that my face was stuck in.
“Well, naturally I was worried that the woman had maybe been attacked or bitten by a snake or who knows. So, despite every fiber of my being telling me to just run away, I walked around the building.” She stopped rubbing.
I turned over a little and leaned on my elbow, pulling the sheet modestly around me. Olga’s friendly smile was still there, but I could see a shadow behind her eyes.
“I saw a girl there. Young woman, I should say, by the mosaic wall, crouched down. I cleared my throat, not wanting to scare her. But before I could say anything, the laughing started, and I froze. It wasn’t a girl laughi
ng. I couldn’t even say it was a man laughing, but something thought me being glued to the sidewalk with sticky terror was pretty humorous. I don’t know how long I stood there. But when I finally felt in control enough to take a step, the woman snapped her head up, smiled at me and…as God is my witness…she climbed right up that wall like a spider.”
Red
“What?” I said, breathless. The image of the daddy longlegs with the human head came instantly to mind.
“She did, and when she got to the top, she just vanished or melted into the tile like a chameleon or something.” Now it was time for Olga’s laugh to be unsettling. “Why don’t you roll onto your back and we’ll get the rest of you fixed up.”
I wanted to tell her what I had seen, but something wouldn’t let me. If I was going to separate myself from this nonsense, there was no better time than the present.
“I don’t believe that,” I said, my words sounding harsher than I meant them to. “I mean, disappear? That is impossible.”
“Sure it is. It’s downright crazy. Loco. But it’s what I saw.”
“Well, our brains can convince us of almost anything. Voodoo priests in Haiti can kill people without ever laying a hand on them just by putting the idea in their victim’s head.”
“I’ve never been to Haiti.” Olga chuckled.
“I’m sorry. It’s just a wild story is all.”
“Yeah.” Olga seemed to be sorry she’d told me, and I should have been sorry for the way I was acting, but my insides felt like they were being torn in two directions. One part wanted to know more and see if there was something to all this. Another part wanted to laugh in Olga’s face and tell her she was crazy.
We were quiet for a while, and then Olga spoke as if thinking out loud, like I wasn’t even there.
“You know, the Wyandot Indians were at one time very prevalent in this area. Like all American Indians, they believed in shape-shifters, skin-walkers. Part of me thinks that has something to do with what I saw.”
I couldn’t really argue Native American folklore. What she was saying was true. But I had heard of humans changing into wolves or eagles or crows. Not some gross spider-human hybrid.
“Well, who knows?” Olga finally said. “Will you be enjoying the springs on your stay? I’d highly recommend it, especially for you. I’ve been working here, and you seem to be just as tense if not more so than when you stepped in. Are you doing okay?”
“Actually, it feels wonderful. You’re doing fine.” The massage did feel good, but I had to agree with her that I wasn’t relaxed. I was far from being relaxed. I felt like I was teetering on the edge of something.
After the massage, I wrapped back up in my robe and went out into the waiting area, where my aunt and cousin were already sitting, sipping ice water and eating orange slices, rolling their heads and arching their backs with relief. I was ready for the performance of a lifetime.
“There you are. How do you feel?” Bea asked, scooting over so I could sit down next to her.
“I feel a lot better. I needed that.” I was like a crinkled piece of cellophane that someone had crumpled up tightly, but it slowly snapped and twisted back into its original form, except now it had new crinkles in it. But when I looked into Bea’s eyes, all I could see was that hopefulness, like she was waiting for the green light to not walk on eggshells anymore. “What’s next?”
“Pedicures. Then I was thinking a walk along the grounds.”
“I’d love a nice long walk,” Aunt Astrid said, nodding.
“Then a late lunch. Is that okay with you?” Bea said, taking my hand and squeezing it.
“I’ll be starving by then. Yes, sounds good.” I managed a smile, blinking and hoping she wasn’t picking up on anything when she held my hand.
“Great!” She squealed like a schoolgirl.
I sat through the pedicure just smiling and nodding as my aunt told stories about when she and Bea’s father, my uncle, had been dating. How she had gone ice skating with him because he suggested it, unaware he was a hockey player while she could barely stand up straight.
“It wasn’t all bad. It was the only way he could keep his arms around me without looking like a masher.” And now she giggled like a schoolgirl.
My thoughts were dark. I couldn’t help it. I used to love hearing about my family. I loved the lifestyles and histories and even the scandals, of which, because we had so many witches, we had an ample supply. But today, right now, I thought I was going to scream. My bones and muscles felt like they wanted to tear out of my skin and run. I just wanted to be alone.
“Hey, Cath. Remember that time you and Min and I were going to lunch and he mentioned that comic strip he saw about Al Capone?” Bea said, starting to laugh.
“Oh, yeah. It was like a hush had fallen over the restaurant just as he said Al Capone wasn’t a bad guy. He was just misunderstood,” I said, forcing a smile that made my cheeks ache. What was wrong with me?
I managed to get through the pedicure. When we went for the walk along the grounds, it was much easier to be quiet and not be noticed. I looked around at all the pretty plants whose foliage gave its most brilliant efforts in the fall. Bright-red bushes seemed to pop right out of the scenery.
I looked at the little plaque stuck in the ground in front of one that read Fire Bush. Then it gave some hard-to-read scientific name I didn’t even try to repeat. But I didn’t think I’d ever seen such a beautiful plant in my life. It stood out proudly against the grays and browns of the season as if to say, “Here I am! I made it! I’ll only be here for a little while, but look at me! I’m gorgeous!”
I wished that I could just shrink down and hide among those tall red stalks or maybe just be a rock snuggled in the dirt close by. I wanted to exist but to be something else. Something without cares. Something without family constantly asking if I was all right when it was obvious I wasn’t, something that didn’t feel loneliness or helplessness like I was feeling.
We made our way back to the spa, and I saw the mosaic tile wall Olga had talked about. It was beautiful. It was really big, too. No way could a person climb it.
But she didn’t say it was a person. She said it was a person that turned into some kind of spider. Like the one you saw on the tree. A shape-shifter.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to hear that voice. The one I had been listening to for all these years. It accepted that unseen world of demons and angels and dimensions where Bigfoot and the chupacabra lived. The overwhelming urge to run settled into my bones, but I couldn’t make a move while my aunt and Bea walked next to me. Thankfully their chatter had died down.
Just lunch, Cath. Just lunch and then you can get to your room, lock the door, and try and rest. I tried to tell myself that was all I needed, but I knew it wasn’t true. If I slept for ten days, it wouldn’t change the fact that I didn’t want to be me anymore. I didn’t want to be anyone.
Swallowing hard, I bit my tongue until the feeling of blubbering like a baby passed.
Lunch came with beautifully arranged plates of healthy green stuff as the feng shui of the room and strategically hung crystals optimized the good mojo and flow of energy.
With monumental effort, I managed to contribute to the conversation. I tossed in a crack here and there, gave an opinion now and again, and mostly tried to just shovel the food into my mouth so the talk could weave around me instead of pulling me into it. By the time we stood up to go, the sun was starting to set.
“Your toes look so pretty,” Aunt Astrid said, slipping her arm through mine as we walked to the elevator while Bea chit-chatted with the hostess for a moment. “You should wear red more often.”
I shook my head. I’d only picked red because I didn’t want to stand around for hours trying to make a meaningless decision on the color of my toenails. I certainly didn’t want to draw attention to myself like those bright-red bushes out there on the grounds.
Before I could get too deep in thought, I felt as if I was being watched. I looked up an
d caught Aunt Astrid studying me.
“There’s something there,” she mumbled more to herself than to me. “Something…” Her eyes floated around me as if I was giving off vapors.
“What are you talking about?” I barked, causing Bea, the hostess, a couple of patrons, and Aunt Astrid to look at me in surprise. I cleared my throat.
Aunt Astrid’s gaze became focused and serious.
“There’s no need to take that tone with me, Cath. I was just thinking out loud.”
Tell her, that inner voice hissed. Tell her you hate being here and you’re tired of the whole witch thing! Tell her you want your own life!
“I…I didn’t mean anything. I guess I am really more tired than I thought. Maybe I’m coming down with something.” I rubbed my forehead and averted my eyes from my aunt’s, looking down at the floor, down the hallway, and up at the ceiling.
“It’s all right, honey,” she said.
“What’s going on?” Bea asked, looking concerned and serious. Those two were like a tag team. I’d never have a chance with those two against my one.
“I’m sorry. I just belted out louder than I expected, that’s all. My bad.” I patted my aunt on the shoulder and quickly walked to the elevator bank, pressing the UP button and praying the wait wouldn’t be long.
No one spoke. We just stood there awkwardly. Finally the ping of the elevator and the sliding doors broke it up.
“Maybe we should skip dinner tonight,” Bea said sadly.
“I’m stuffed. I can’t even think of eating another bite,” Aunt Astrid added.
Inside, a wave of relief washed over me, but I didn’t say a word. Before the doors had even slid completely open, I had squeezed through and was heading toward my room, pulling the little plastic key from my pocket. I was almost running and didn’t dare look back to see my aunt and cousin talking, conspiring, and gossiping about me. I didn’t need it. I just wanted to be alone. To rest.
