He took a deep breath.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” he said, blowing the words through his clenched teeth.
And then he jumped as high as he could.
Instead of feeling the pull of gravity that would have cut his leap short, he felt something akin to invisible hands or a firm burst of wind pushing on his hips, his shoulders, the backs of his legs. He thought he might lose his balance and fall into the stream, but instead he soared right over the water. The pushing sensation continued as air blew against his face, just like it did when he rode his bike on a windy day.
His legs, slow to the fact that he was being swept along in a witch’s embrace, pumped hard in midair as if to help.
“Unnnhhh!” he grunted, his voice straining to express the shock, the delight, the sheer miracle of such a launch.
And then, before he knew it, he landed with a soft thump as if he had just jumped from a low ledge. He wobbled for a moment before catching his balance.
Beverly was looking at him from where she stood four feet away, her eyes wide, a huge smile on her face.
“Whoa. That was like, totally, whoa!” He yelled, unable to find other words to capture the thrill. Before he could stop himself, he threw his arms around his aunt, and together they jumped up and down, laughing and yelling, “Whoa!” not caring in that moment if anyone could hear them, while Amos encircled them in leaps and wiggles, barking and wagging his wet tail, their collective noise rising all the way up to the September sky, like an exaltation, like a prayer.
CHAPTER 30
A Storm Is Coming
THAT EVENING, CHARLIE AND RANDALL drove to Costco to buy Charlie a printer for school. The windshield wipers kept up a steady rhythm against the drizzle as they drove down the long stretch of Admiral Way that would lead to the West Seattle Bridge.
“Your aunt told me that you two talked a lot about the legacy,” Randall said, before looking out Charlie’s passenger-side window at a woman in an SUV trying to merge into their lane. “Come on, princess, come on. Take your own sweet time. There you go.” He winked at Charlie. “Sorry. Beverly says I have a bad habit of talking to drivers who can’t hear me. She always reminds me that I’m the pilot, not the air traffic controller. Really, I’m just trying to help people.
“Anyway, do you have any questions for your old uncle here? About all of this stuff? I’m certainly not one of them, but I do have an outsider’s perspective, which might help.”
Charlie looked out the window as they drove over the bridge. It was hard to believe that it had only been a week since he and his mother had driven over this same bridge in the opposite direction as they arrived in West Seattle for the first time. It seemed like months.
“Well,” Charlie dove in, his curiosity winning out over his shyness, “what about getting popped? Do you know about that?”
“A little, yes. I’ve never seen it happen. They don’t exactly sell tickets to their events. But I’ve heard people say things about it. What do you want to know?”
“Beverly said it doesn’t hurt, but that it’s weird, like getting to see for the first time, or hearing things after you’ve been deaf.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right. To me it seems like a combination of losing your virginity and having a bar mitzvah all at the same time. The adult community is proud of you, but you’re pretty shocked and surprised by it all.
“Maybe,” he added, flipping on the turn indicator and taking the Fourth Avenue exit, “it’s like all of that and a really weird drug trip too. Uh, I shouldn’t be talking to you about sex and drugs. Maybe I’m supposed to. Don’t do drugs, okay? And as for sex … I’m not ready to talk to you about that.” He smiled.
Charlie’s ears and the back of his neck grew hot. He wanted to learn whatever he could from his non-witch uncle but knew that if the man talked any more about sex, he might just open up the passenger side door and jump out.
“Awkward silence,” Randall said, and they both laughed.
“Anyway,” he went on, “I’ve seen kids after they’ve been popped. They’re very spacey, like you are after you’ve had surgery and are still goofy from the anesthesia. Have you ever had surgery?”
Charlie shook his head.
“They’re silly for a while and can’t quite figure regular things out. So they’re watched, and eventually everything goes back to normal. Well, not exactly normal. They’re popped and can learn to do some really amazing stuff. But their minds go back to being mostly like they were before.”
“How long does that part take?”
“The spaced out feeling and coming back to normal? Seems to be anywhere from a few days to a week.”
“No, I mean the popping part. How long does that take?”
“Well,” he said, pondering the question. “Here’s what’s strange, Charlie. The witches aren’t very big on ceremony. You know all those stories about the hocus-pocus and the big cauldrons? All that witch crap from the movies? It’s hogwash. They just seem to sit down and mumble their words, which you can never hear anyway, and then they’re done. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. You should see some of the ceremonies at a Jewish temple. They can go on forever. But not our witch friends. They’re an efficient people.”
Randall turned into the massive Costco parking lot. “It’s always a hassle to find parking here. Let’s see. Okay, Mr. Volkswagen, you coming or going? Okay, you’re staying put, aren’t you there, little buddy, okay, hmm … ah, there’s a spot, yep, let’s just … hey! Looks like Missy Ford Focus just stole from us. Ah …” he said and then found a place to park between two large trucks. He turned off the car and faced Charlie.
“Beverly thinks I come here only for the hot dogs. I tell her she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. But she might be right. Don’t you think the drive and the hassle of parking are worth it? Tell me you’ve had a Costco hot dog before.”
Charlie shook his head.
“You’re kidding me! Boy, you are in for a treat. But I warn you, those witchy foodie people will give you grief if you try to extol the virtues of the Costco dog. Confess to them at your own peril.”
Randall grew serious. “Remember the other night, when I got mad at your mom and your aunt? And I mentioned how hard it was for me to accept Beverly’s true identity?”
Charlie nodded.
“I thought that maybe if I told you the whole story, it might help you some.”
“Yeah, sure,” Charlie said, excited to learn more.
Randall looked out the window at the shoppers running into the store to avoid the rain.
“I met your aunt when I was just starting out as a pilot. My shift was over, so I flew as a passenger from Seattle to San Diego, where I was living at the time. She told me later that she was headed down for some sort of witch conference. As it happened, I was lucky enough to sit next to her.
“Holy schmokies, I fell head over heels the first five minutes we started talking. We didn’t shut up the whole flight. When we landed and she got ready to leave, I asked for her phone number. I called her that night and we had our first official date.”
He smiled as he stared ahead out the windshield as if seeing that first plane ride, not the gentle rain, the mass of cars parked in the lot, or the people wheeling large flatbed carts loaded with bulk toilet paper and guacamole.
“We dated long distance for a while, and then when things got more serious, I moved to Seattle. Her family and friends didn’t like me very much. I thought it was because I was a new pilot and didn’t have much money. Little did I know the real reason, that the community frowns on witches and non-witches being together. Of course, she didn’t tell me any of that at the time. But she kept insisting that she wanted to be with me, so I just said, ‘F-.’ Oops. I said, ‘Screw you all. We’ll date if we want to.’
“We decided to get married. I didn’t know how much pressure she was under to let go of the relationship. But eventually she persuaded her community to let her marry me. I found out much later t
hat she had to go through a formal process where she promised that the safety and security of the witches would always trump anything else. That if our marriage ever threatened the secrecy of her community, she would choose them over us.”
“How could your marriage threaten them?” Charlie asked.
“If I found out who Beverly was and divulged the secret to non-witches, they could all be exposed. So Beverly had to agree that if her non-witch husband ever spilled the beans, they’d make sure I never talked again.” Randall’s forced laugh bounced off the car’s interior.
“Oh,” Charlie said, the realization sending a small shiver down his back. He couldn’t imagine the Lostiches silencing someone. Maybe Daniel Burman, but not Jeremy and Rita. Was it like the stories he had heard of Mafia killings? Or was it some spell the witches would cast to keep his uncle from talking?
“Yeah, right. Creepy. But like I said, I didn’t know any of that at the time, and you know what they say—ignorance is bliss. So, we got married and lived for a while in a house over in Madison Park, like we told you the other night. Technically it’s not that far away, but it can feel pretty removed from West Seattle. She was going back and forth a lot, and I was working long shifts and irregular hours as a pilot, because I didn’t have seniority at the time, so I had to take any flight I could get.”
He paused, running a hand over his mustache as if to flatten it, as if all this storytelling caused the hairs to stand on end. He turned his head and looked out the window at the truck next to them. Then he faced Charlie.
“I’m not proud to tell you this, but I began to get suspicious. Beverly kept strange hours. Stranger than mine. I knew there was something going on that she wasn’t telling me. And look at her. She’s a beautiful, talented, brilliant woman. Rich too. Deep down, I guess I couldn’t believe that someone like her really wanted to be with an average Joe like me.
“So, I did the typical guy thing and began to worry that she was having an affair. I didn’t confront her at first. But the longer we lived together, and the more she kept her weird hours and her secrets, the more I was sure that’s what it was.
“‘You’re kidding, right? You can’t be serious,’ she kept saying when I told her what I suspected.
“But I didn’t buy it. I begged her to tell me his name, where he lived, how many times a week they got together, if she had known him before she met me.
“She kept telling me that I was crazy, that there was no one else. She said she loved me and only me.
“But I kept at her. I’d say, ‘Then what the hell is going on? What am I supposed to think? All these “family meetings” you go to’” Randall said, making air quotes with his fingers. “‘Why don’t you ever bring me? Why do you keep so many secrets from me?’
“She finally confessed that there were things she hadn’t told me, but they didn’t have anything to do with having an affair. Furthermore, she said they didn’t threaten our relationship and hoped that I’d just forget about it. But I wouldn’t let it go.
“‘What is it?’ I kept asking. ‘Are you in trouble? Are people after you? Do you need money to pay them off? You could take our savings if you need it.’
“As you can see, I was just shooting in the dark.
“After days of this, she finally said, ‘No, it’s nothing like that, Rand. Believe me. Look, give me a few days, okay? Then I’ll fill you in a bit. I just need some time to figure things out first.’
“Later that week she took me down to one of our favorite spots, just a little picnic table on the beach where no one else ever came. We bought fish and chips at a local shop like we had a million times before. It was raining much harder than it is right now, but like usual we had our trusty rain gear on.
“I was nervous. All I could imagine was that she was some sort of drug smuggler, or was plotting to take over the government or something. Or maybe she was a jewel thief,” Randall said, shaking his head. “I know it sounds ridiculous. But I had no clue what she was going to disclose. Witchcraft isn’t exactly the first thing that comes to mind.
“Anyway, after we’d eaten for a while in silence, she finally spoke.
“‘Rand, do you love me?’ she asked me, looking right at me with those big beautiful eyes of hers.
“I told her that I did.
“‘Do you trust me?’
“I told her that I trusted her.
“She then proceeded to tell me right then and there about her family, about the legacy, about who she was and what she could do. I don’t remember most of what she said though a few things do stand out: broomsticks, not bad people, but good, good people, spells and incantations, for the benefit of humanity and whatnot.”
He paused, looking out the window again. The sudden silence seemed strange to Charlie. There had been so many words for the past twenty minutes, and now nothing. He caught himself holding his breath. He had to know what Randall had said in response. It seemed important, not just for his aunt and uncle, but for himself and his own future.
Finally, when he could handle the tension no longer, Charlie spoke. “What did you say? What did you say when she told you all that stuff?”
Even in the semidarkness of the car, Charlie could see the lines on his uncle’s forehead deepen, could see the crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes grow longer.
“Well, it wasn’t my best moment. Not by a long shot. At first I laughed. Then I told her she was crazy, not only for saying what she was saying, but for expecting me to believe it. I asked her if she needed professional help. I talked about medication.
“She told me later that as she sat there, listening to me accusing her of being a nutcase, she got angrier and angrier. I guess it had been a relief to let the cat out of the bag. She thought she could just tell me and everything would be right as rain. I was the first non-witch she’d ever talked to about all of it. It hadn’t occurred to her that I’d laugh at her. That I wouldn’t believe her.
“I know now how much I hurt her. Can you imagine? Finally telling the person you love most in the world who you really are only to have him behave like a complete jackass?
“Like I said, I know all of this now. But let’s just say at the time I wasn’t looking at the situation through her eyes. I was busy wondering how I could convince her to see a psychiatrist.
“Anyway, you’ve seen her get angry, Charlie. You know what she’s like,” Randall said, crossing his arms and looking at his nephew.
Charlie nodded, swallowing.
“You know how she goes very still, like the quiet before a storm?”
He nodded again, riveted to every word Randall was saying.
“After a long silence, she stood up from the picnic table. She put her hands on her hips, and even though she was wearing a raincoat, she looked scary. Intense. In that focused way she can get.
“She said, ‘You want me to show you, Rand? You want me to show you I’m not the crackpot you think I am?’
“‘Yeah, Beverly, go on. Show me some of this hoo-ha you’re trying to convince me is real,’” said Randall, his voice mocking.
“You said that?” asked Charlie in disbelief.
“You bet I did. What would you have done? Your wife, whom you thought was having an affair, but now you think is nuts, wants to show you that she isn’t?”
“Yeah, okay. Good point.”
“She looks up for a minute, like she’s listening for something, then makes this big sweeping movement with her hand,” Randall said, demonstrating for Charlie, “and I swear to God, all the food on the table, all the little bits of fish and chips, the coleslaw, even the gobs of ketchup and tartar sauce, they shoot up into the sky like pebbles, and they just hover there, above her head, while she has this wild look in her eyes, staring at me. Before I can even register what’s going on, a huge flock of seagulls swarms above us and eats it all up.”
“Whoa! What did you do?” Charlie asked excitedly.
“At first I just sat there, blinking my eyes, with all that seagull sq
uawking going on above us. I couldn’t make sense of what I saw. I tried to convince myself that it hadn’t happened. Maybe I’d missed something, maybe her arm actually hit the food, you know, and swept it up in the air. Maybe it hadn’t really floated. Or a huge gust of wind did it. It’s amazing what you tell yourself when you don’t believe what’s right in front of your nose.
“‘You still don’t believe me, is that it? You still think I’m crazy?’ She started yelling at me, her hood back, her hair getting soaked. I gotta tell you, I did get a little afraid then. Or at least really really confused. Like maybe I didn’t know which end was up anymore.
“Before I knew it, Beverly’s hands came smashing down on the picnic table. The entire thing cracked down the middle lengthwise and collapsed in on itself. I fell back off the bench, but my feet got tangled up in the base of the table and I couldn’t get away.
“‘Do you think I’m crazy now?’ she yelled at me. ‘How ’bout now? How ’bout now?’
“She started doing things, Charlie. Her body changed shape, or color, I can’t remember. Things flew at me. A small section of beach near us turned liquid, like a tar pit. I heard voices, I saw images of people I knew, floating in the tide pools nearby.
“What did you do? Were you still stuck under the table?”
“No, I managed to untangle myself and sort of crab-walk away from her, but she kept coming after me, yelling, asking if I still thought she was crazy.
“I’m not proud of what I did next, Charlie. All I can say is that I completely and utterly lost my shit. I just lost it.”
Charlie waited, eagerly watching his uncle’s face staring out the window, his brow furrowed, his large hands formed into fists and tapping on the steering wheel, his mouth opening then closing slightly as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to bite into something. Minutes passed. So many, in fact, that he wasn’t sure Randall was going to finish his story.
Finally he looked at his nephew.
“I left. I got up, ran across the street, got in my car, and drove away as fast as I could. And I didn’t come back for a year.”
The Boy Who Couldn't Fly Straight: A Gay Teen Coming of Age Paranormal Adventure about Witches, Murder, and Gay Teen Love (Book 1, The Broom Closet Stories) Page 17
