Wish Club

by Kim Strickland

  “We?”

  “Claudia called me. She and Mara think it’s a good idea.”

  “Well, I don’t think Jill’s going to appreciate you guys ganging up on her at her opening.”

  “We’re not going to gang up on her. We just want to talk to her—get her to let us help her.”

  “Help her? How? By cleaning her apartment?”

  “No, not that. Did you know she can’t paint anymore? We can reverse her spell, too, when we reverse ours.”

  “If we can reverse ours.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re all working on that. Anyway, she needs to know we’re still her friends.”

  “It sounds like she really likes this Marc guy and doesn’t want any help. I think it’s pretty normal when you first start seeing someone, to ignore all your friends for a while.”

  “You should have seen her, is all I can say. Plus,” Lindsay continued, “Mara and Claudia think she might be the one who started the rumors.”

  “The rumors?”

  “They suspect Jill’s the one who told the Women’s Foundation.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would she do that?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Mara and Claudia think maybe she did. I guess I don’t know why she would. She’d end up incriminating herself, too. But she really does want us to stop the wishing.” Lindsay paused, then said, “So, anyway, will you be there?”

  “Believe me, nothing sounds better than a girls’ night out at a gallery opening; but I just can’t now. I’ve already got Ellen working all day so I can get this MRI taken care of and John’s flight doesn’t get in until like nine or something.”

  “Isn’t there anyone who can watch the kids?”

  “Lindsay!”

  “Well, I think this is important. I want to show a united front.”

  “I’m sorry, Linds, but you’ll have to show your united front without me.”

  “I’ll have the Pad Thai and a Thai iced coffee,” Lindsay said.

  “What?”

  “I stopped into Penny’s Noodle Shop. I’m having lunch.”

  “And you couldn’t wait until we were off the phone? Are you being one of those irritating restaurant cell phone people?”

  “I’m starving and I’m going to eat a huge bowl of fat-and carb-laden rice noodles. Those prissy Foundation bitches didn’t want to be my friend when I was fat, so I—”

  “Lindsay, you were never fat.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I wasn’t very happy either way. Now that I’m thin, I don’t want to be their friend, either. But I do want to be happy. And today, right now, that means Pad Thai.”

  Claudia stood outside of the nursery window on Friday afternoon after school, trying to find Elliot in his bassinette. Maybe it was feeding time or something. She walked to the nurses’ station to ask, but the nurse looked mortified when she saw Claudia. It was the same nurse who’d helped Claudia hold and feed Elliot the first time. She dashed out of the room before Claudia could speak, saying, “Wait here, hon. I’ll get Nurse Galt.”

  Oh my God. Something terrible has happened to Elliot. Why else would she be going to get the supervisor? Claudia felt panicked.

  Elliot had been in the hospital now for a little over three weeks, but he was out of the NICU now. His weight had been building. His lungs, and the rest of him for that matter, were growing stronger. He’d been doing very well, especially lately, and Claudia had a hard time believing that all of a sudden—

  “Claudia?” Nurse Galt had entered the reception area behind her. “I thought that was you. Why don’t we come sit down over here?” Her voice was warm and sympathetic. She pointed at three molded plastic chairs that lined the wall near the door.

  Sit down? Claudia eyed the chairs with fear. “Sit down” is never good.

  “I’m okay. I don’t need to sit.”

  Nurse Galt’s eyes were full of compassion. She managed a gentle smile.

  “What’s happened?” Claudia said. It wasn’t right that Nurse Galt was oozing warmth. “What’s the matter with Elliot?”

  “I’m so sorry to be the one to have to tell you this,” she paused, “but Elliot is gone.”

  It felt to Claudia as if the earth were tilting off its axis. He’s gone? She hadn’t even said good-bye. She didn’t even get the chance. She’d wasted all that time at a coffee shop and a bookstore and now Elliot was gone and all the time she should have been spending with him was gone, too. She could never get it back. Claudia felt weak, as if the floor were angling up toward her. Nurse Galt reached out a hand to steady her.

  “I am so sorry, I know how much he meant to you, honey. But we just couldn’t keep him here any longer. DCFS came this morning and took him home, to his foster family.”

  They took—“They took him?” He’s gone, not gone. Claudia’s relief slowly turned to sorrow. But no. Wait. I’m his foster family. Me and Dan. He’s not home. I’m his home. Claudia looked up at the ceiling, rolled her lips under her teeth and closed her eyes, but the tears started falling anyway. All the nurses at the station had made themselves scarce and the room was unusually dead for this time of the afternoon. Claudia looked off in the direction of the nursery, where Elliot used to be. Gone.

  “Why don’t you sit for a while, give yourself a minute or two.”

  Claudia shook her head, slid a finger underneath her glasses to wipe away her tears. She pressed the back of her hand to her nose. “No. It’s okay.” She sniffed. “I’m okay. I’m just going to go home, too.”

  The water was eerily calm today, not a ripple, and a light fog was settling in right at the shore. This is perfect, Claudia thought; I’m in a fog, too. She hadn’t gone home; she’d gone down to the lake instead.

  There were days when she could walk along the lakefront and the fresh air and beauty of it, rain or snow or shine, would reenergize her and melt away anything that might be troubling her. Today wasn’t one of those days.

  She sat on a bench facing Belmont Harbor, staring at the reflections of the floating docks like inverted photographs on the surface. No boats in the water yet—too early in the season. The fog was growing so thick now it obscured the position lights out on the peninsulas, where the harbor opened out onto the lake beyond.

  Elliot is gone, I can’t write, my boss thinks I’m a witch, I can’t get pregnant, my husband is irritated with me and doesn’t want a baby anyway, all my friends are in trouble in a creepy supernatural way and I can’t help them. Oh, and did I mention I’m clumsy and far-sighted, too?

  Damn, her life was a mess. She’d lost Elliot, she might lose her job—and for what? Because she’d wanted to make her wishes come true? What kind of world was this, anyway? Maybe it was a big steaming pile of shit, where rich assholes chase ambulances and others flip you off just because you’re not leaving your parking space. Where trying to get what you wish for makes your whole life turn into a mess, with everything upside down.

  Claudia’s thoughts were as dark and black as the lake. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the blackness envelope her, taking her deeper and deeper, farther and farther down. She wanted to curl up on the bench and sleep.

  She hugged herself instead. The air had turned cold with the setting sun. Claudia sat frozen to the bench, watching her breath unfurl out of her nostrils when she exhaled. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She’d always had a plan and now, nothing in her life was going according to her plans. What the hell was she supposed to do?

  The lights in the park flicked on, one at a time, taking a long time to brighten. Claudia stared at the darkening lakefront before she finally stood up, her butt and legs aching with cold, and started walking back to her apartment in the gloom.

  It was dark by the time she turned onto her street, and she was still lost in her miserable thoughts when a man appeared in front of her, stepping out from the alley.

  Claudia cried out in alarm, thinking at first he was going to rob her, but he didn’t threaten her. He looked homeless.

  �
�I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to…you surprised me, that’s all.”

  He didn’t seem surprised at her response; he seemed used to startling people. He asked her for change. Claudia was about to refuse, but then she reached into her wallet and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. He stared at it in disbelief.

  “Are you serious?” he said. He didn’t smile. He looked at it as if he was curious, holding it out in two fingers of each filthy hand.

  “Take it.” She almost started to tell him she was having a bad day, that it would make her feel better to do something nice, but instead she said, “Just take it. Please. It’ll make me feel better.”

  And it did.

  Good grief, she thought as she was walking away; she’d come close to telling someone who slept under viaducts that she was having a bad day. Nothing like having a little perspective dropped on your head like an anvil. She looked down her street. It was a nice street. Maybe they didn’t own a condo or a house—but they had a nice place. Her life wasn’t so bad.

  She had Dan. She had her friends. And so far, she still had her job. Who knows why things with Elliot hadn’t worked out? Maybe there was a bigger reason behind it that she couldn’t see yet. Maybe it could still work out. All the wishes could end up resolving themselves even if they never found a witch to help them.

  By the time Claudia got to her front door, she was feeling better, about life, the universe, and everything.

  But it wasn’t long after Claudia got home, that this new-found optimism shattered around her.

  “He didn’t say what he wanted,” Dan repeated. “He just said he would talk to you on Monday.” Dan sounded frustrated. He’d already explained it to her twice.

  “Peterson called here.” Claudia was thinking out loud. “Charles Peterson, Headmaster at the Arthur G. Strawn Academy of Arts and Sciences calls here, to talk to me, in my home, and then doesn’t leave a message?”

  “Right.”

  “Oh, God, no. I just know it’s the witchcraft thing. Or the Elliot thing. Oh God, whatever it is, it’s not good.” Claudia started to whine, “Oh man oh man oh man, I just know this is bad.”

  “Maybe it’s not.” Dan sounded hopeful, as if he was trying to sound like her. “Maybe you’re getting a promotion.”

  Claudia laughed. “Peterson doesn’t hand out promotions over the phone. He likes to make big productions out of them at staff meetings. Besides, what is he going to promote me to? Assistant Assistant Head of the English Department? C’mon. This is not good. He has never called here before.”

  “What happened to my Claudia? The girl for whom the glass is always half full?”

  For the first time in her marriage, Claudia wanted to slug him. Her emotions had been wobbling on the edge between anger and melancholy ever since she’d left the hospital. And now this. This was how he was going to make her feel better? By poking fun at her? Next thing she knew, he was gonna snort.

  What could Peterson want that is so important he’s calling me at home? Was it the witchcraft thing? Was Jill going around—? “Shit.” Claudia looked at her watch. “Shit. Jill. I’m supposed to—”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you he called. There’s nothing you can do about it till Monday, and he didn’t leave a number for you to reach him—”

  “I have his number. It’s not that, it’s Jill. I’m supposed to be at the gallery. I’m supposed to be with Lindsay and Mara; we were going to talk to Jill.” Claudia started to get up off the couch.

  Dan grabbed her hand. “I know you’re upset about Elliot. I’m disappointed, too.” He squeezed her hand. When she looked into his eyes, she could have sworn he looked as if he meant it. She put her weight back down onto the couch.

  “He was…I don’t know, a cute kid.” Dan shrugged, then continued. “It would have been fun for us to be a family. And now you’ve got this thing with Peterson, and you promised your friends about the opening…but why don’t you take a break for one night? You’ve been completely stressed out lately. Maybe you should take a night off this once, forget about everyone else and what you should be doing and just stay here with me. We’ve hardly seen each other all week. We could order in some food. I could go rent a movie…or, hey, maybe you’d rather go out instead?”

  Claudia sighed. It really did sound great. Better than some uptight gallery opening anyway.

  “I’m sure we can find something to do that’ll make you feel better.” Dan smiled a wicked smile.

  Claudia sniffed, looked up at the ceiling, the beginnings of a smile on her lips. How was he always able to do that? “So, you’re saying I should stay home? Just forget about my friends?”

  He inhaled a deep breath through his teeth and held it in while he said, “That would be my advice.” He exhaled after the last word, his tone full of a fake bravado that suggested she’d be a fool not to take it.

  “Really? And there’s nothing in it for you?”

  “In it for me?” Dan smiled, innocent and boyish. A fake Indian accent now, “No, no. All my advice is purely selfless.” He scooched over closer to her on the couch.

  “Is that right? And what else does The Great Wise One advise?”

  Dan put his hands into prayer position and closed his eyes. After a brief pause, he said, “For you, I think sex. Tantric sex—all weekend long.”

  “Hmm. I don’t know, seems a little self-serving to me…maybe I should go to the next mountain over, seek out different counsel…”

  “Hey.” Dan grabbed her around the waist.

  “—although this guru’s pretty cute.” Claudia let herself dissolve into his arms. She really couldn’t think of a better escape from the tensions of the week.

  “All right, Great Wise One,” she said. “I’ll take your advice.” She tilted her head up, threw her arms around his neck and her legs over his. “Let’s order some Indian food and then see what this guru knows about the Kama Sutra.”

  And with an uncharacteristic lack of guilt, Claudia blew off her friends.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The washing machine started its spin cycle with a click, and Mara checked her watch. She knew Jill’s opening lasted until eight, but they’d agreed to meet there at five-thirty. It was almost five, but if the washer finished her pants in the next ten minutes, allowing twenty minutes to dry, she would be less than twenty minutes late—which, if you were an airline, was practically on time.

  She knew she really should have planned her outfit earlier, but she couldn’t possibly have predicted that she wouldn’t have anything to wear. And this was not the standard pre-social-engagement, female predicament of I don’t have a thing to wear. It was the more unusual, yet more prevalent, predicament for her lately, the I don’t have a thing to wear that fits over my new thighs. She truly didn’t have a thing she could wear.

  Mara’s bed and dresser were strewn with cast-off clothes, pants, skirts, and dresses that didn’t fit. There’d been one other pair of pants she had thought she might be able to get away with, if she didn’t button the top button and wore a long sweater over them, but the zipper wouldn’t stay up and they kept falling down. Which left her with the pants she’d worn at work all day, but they had two ketchup spots on the right knee, from the cheeseburger she’d eaten in the car on the way home.

  In a moment of hopeless desperation, she’d walked over to Henry’s closet for a look. That’s when she’d started crying. What is happening to me? I’m so fat.

  It was horrible, horrible, the way she felt, the way people stared at her now. She could feel them whispering behind her back, their words sinking into her flesh the way sound penetrates through water, the way whales communicated. Every time she passed a mirror she felt disgusted and swore she would never eat another bite of food as long as she lived. But every time she passed the refrigerator, she did.

  And poor Henry. His whole back and chest were covered with hair. His bald spot had filled in and he was shaving so many times in a day she’d lost track. The hair on his arms and leg
s was thickening more and more. Dr. Bernstein had been little help. He’d run some hormone tests but they were still waiting for the results. Henry had joked at dinner last night that the boys on the baseball team were teasing him, saying they were worried Coach O’Connor was going to leave his coaching position to take the mascot job for the Strawn Academy Wolverines. He’d rubbed the top of his head when he told her the story and she could tell he loved the feel of hair up there; it was the hair everywhere else that was getting to him.

  The washing machine started to wobble out of balance and she had to reach in and even out the load. She checked her watch again. It was after five now; the spin cycle was taking longer than she’d thought. But what was she supposed to do? By the time she’d realized she only had one pair of pants she could wear, it was already too late. She’d put them into the washing machine and watched them disappear under the suds.

  Now her slacks spun around and around. I should call them—but I’ll only be a little bit late, and besides it’s Lindsay and Claudia. They won’t mind if I get there at six. Mara walked upstairs to the kitchen, to get the phone. I should call, really. It’s only polite. But when she got upstairs, she passed up the phone on the counter and headed for the refrigerator instead.

  Everyone was talking, their voices loud and animated. Now and then laughter rose up from a group. Jill’s paintings lined the raw brick walls and several display walls on the interior of the gallery. The track lights beamed down from the ceiling with perfect intensity, illuminating the art and the people and casting a nice glow on the hardwood floors. With wineglasses and canapés in hand, all the guests were mingling happily, and Lindsay had to wonder if she would be tormented forever by the sights and sounds of a successful party.

  Her husband, James, had found someone to talk real estate with, and they’d been going on and on about all the loft conversions in the neighborhood while Lindsay sipped her wine and tried to look interested.