1 Dewitched

by E. L. Sarnoff

“You agreed to come here.”

  “It was all a bunch of lies! I was tricked! I thought I was being sent to a spa! I want to go back that dungeon!”

  “It’s too late. You can’t go back.”

  What! I’m stuck here? Rage crescendos inside me.

  “Here’s the deal,” she says to my face. “Everyday at this time for the next three weeks, you are going to talk to me about your life. I will listen with a third ear and find the underlying cause of your addiction. Then I will share this discovery with you, and we will work together toward a complete recovery.”

  I’m about to explode. There’s no way I’m going to spend three weeks opening up to this flying bug of a woman who has some invisible third ear.

  “You can’t keep me here!” I shout. “I’ll run away. Escape! In fact, I’m going to say good-bye to this dump right now.”

  I bolt off the chaise and head straight for the door.

  “Good luck,” says Shrink. “But may I remind you of the high stone wall, the locked gate, and the armed guardsman. And I almost forgot, there’s a moat.”

  I stop dead in my tracks. Why did she have to remind me? Rage becomes despair. I’m stuck in this madhouse!

  The chime sounds.

  “Time’s up for today, Jane. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

  Leaving a blinding trail of fairy dust, she zips out the door.

  I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to! Before that insidious bug of a woman who calls herself a therapist makes me completely insane. That also rhymes with Jane. I tremble as I put them together. Insane Jane.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Group, I’d like you to meet our newest Faraway resident,” Dr. Grimm says as we file in for our afternoon session.

  The last thing I want to do is meet another nutter.

  Standing--or should I say posing--next to him is a tall, buff man in an open blousy shirt, shiny black boots and tight white britches. In one hand, he holds a feathered felt hat; the other is hidden behind his back.

  He’s definitely an improvement in the man-department over What’s-His-Name. His deep-set eyes are gray-blue like the sea, and a shadow of a beard lines his tan, weathered skin. Plus, he has the most fabulous hair I’ve ever seen--at least, on a man. Thick, black, glossy hair that grazes his shoulders and makes me miss mine. He catches me staring at him and winks. I pretend not to see it.

  “This is James Hook,” says Grimm.

  “Captain James Hook,” the man corrects with an air of arrogance. “King of the Pirates.”

  “Are you sure you’re a king? You don’t look like one to me,” says Sasperilla, eying him from head to toe. Elzmerelda, flushed, also stares at him.

  “Yo, Ho, Ho!” cackles the pirate. “I’m a legend. Ask anyone.”

  Yeah, a legend in his own mind. He’s so full of himself.

  “Group, today we are going to join hands to connect with one and other,” says Grimm.

  Another waste-of-time activity.

  “Who would like to hold Hook’s hand?”

  Our eyes dart from one to another. Elzmerelda takes a step forward, then hesitates.

  “Fine. I’ll do it,” says Sasperilla as if she’s doing us all a big favor.

  “The pleasure is mine.” Holding out his hat, Hook bows graciously and offers the skinny bitch his hand. The one he’s kept hidden behind his back.

  “Aagh!” Sasperilla jumps back. “I’m not holding that!”

  My mouth drops. Hook’s hand is not a hand. It’s an iron claw!

  “You poor thing! What happened to your hand?” asks Winnie.

  Hook ignores her. His eyes linger on places of my body he has no right staring at. I want to take that hook and hang him by his eyeballs.

  Grimm repeats, “Who would like to hold Hook’s hand?”

  Again, there’s silence. No one volunteers. Hook keeps leering at me. Forget it! I’m not going near him. Finally, What’s-His-Name teeters over to him. Except he takes the swine’s good hand.

  “I’ll hold his other hand,” says Elzmerelda bravely. She blushes as she wraps her long, spidery fingers around the pirate’s grotesque hook.

  “Thank you, Elzmerelda,” says Grimm, stepping away. “Now, I’d like the rest of you to join in please and form a circle.”

  I move next to Elzmerelda, and Winifred next to me. That leaves Sasperilla who’s forced to stand between Winifred and What’s-His-Name.

  “Why do I always get stuck next to him?” Skinny Bitch grumbles.

  What’s-His-Name squeezes her bony hand so hard she winces. He’s growing on me. I can’t say the same about Hook.

  Standing diagonally across from me, he shoots me a smirk. I give him my signature scornful stare, the one I perfected in my magic mirror--cold, distant, and belittling. Instead of getting my message, he purses his lips and blows me a kiss.

  The boar! He reminds me of the creeps my mother would bring home. The thought sends a shiver to the base of my spine. He had better stay away from me. Far away!

  “Who would like to share today?” asks Grimm, standing in the middle of our circle.

  Elzmerelda, breaking loose of my grip, raises her hand halfway. “I’ve always wanted to meet a real pirate.” She gazes dreamily at Hook.

  “Why is that?” asks Grimm.

  “To go on an adventure and sail the high seas.” She takes hold of my hand again.

  “That’s really brave,” interjects Winifred.

  “Winifred, you seem to admire bravery,” says Grimm. “Often, the qualities we admire in others are the very traits we lack and covet in ourselves.”

  Bravery is sure not my problem. If that pirate doesn’t stop ogling me, I swear I’m going to yank off his hook and whack him with it. And I know exactly where.

  Dr. Grimm presses on. “So, Elzmerelda, why do you want to go on a high seas adventure?”

  “I’ve always wanted to get away.” Her palm is suddenly cold and clammy.

  “From whom?” asks Grimm.

  Silence. Elzmerelda’s bravery has melted into fear.

  Sasperilla folds her arms across her concave chest. “You’re wasting everyone’s time. Tell him already.”

  “Mother!” her sister blurts out at last.

  Sasperilla’s eyes narrow into knife-like slits.

  “Why your mother?” asks Grimm.

  I shudder. He’d better never ask me why I dreamt of escaping my mother!

  “B-b-because I want to live my own life!” splutters Elzmerelda. “I’m tired of her telling me what to do, what to wear, and whom to marry!”

  Sasperilla gasps. “You indignant ingrate! I’m telling Mother on you when I see her!”

  “Tell on me; I don’t care.” Elzmerelda’s voice shakes. “And besides, you’ve always told on me. You’ve always wanted to get me into trouble with Mother.”

  “My children are always telling on each other,” comments Winifred. “They just want attention.”

  “That’s an excellent observation, Winifred,” says Grimm. “Sasperilla, does your mother give you enough attention?”

  “Never! She always dotes on Elzmerelda because she thinks she’s the pretty one.”

  “That is so not true!” protests Elzmerelda.

  An “is so/ is not” battle erupts and lasts until What’s-His-Name let out a startling roar that stops both sisters in their tracks.

  With the slightest trace of a smile, Grimm thanks the troll. His eyes shift from one sister to the other. “Fighting is not an acceptable way to resolve conflicts. I want the two of you to work on alternative means.”

  Despite Grimm’s ultimatum, Sasperilla won’t give up. She manages to get in the last word.

  “Guess what! I hope you sail away and get eaten by a whale, you little twit!”

  Her hurtful words bring tears to Elzmerelda’s eyes. An unexpected wave of sadness sweeps over me. I know how it feels to be abandoned. To feel unloved. Elzmerelda’s quiet sobs tug at my heart. If Hook’s back to leering at me, I’m oblivious.

/>   ***

  After group, Elzmerelda begs me to go to Arts and Crafts with her.

  “I’m sure if we’re in class together Sasperilla won’t come,” she says. “I don’t think she likes you.”

  That’s an understatement. The skinny bitch hates me. Though I was looking forward to cooking again with Winifred, I cave in to Elzmerelda’s plea. Unfortunately, Sasperilla’s already in the classroom when we get there. What’s-His-Name is there too.

  Fairweather announces that today’s theme is jewelry. The only piece of jewelry I want to make is a lucky charm--the key to Faraway’s front gate to free myself from this prison. Instead, I opt to make a paper chain necklace. When it comes to art, I have little talent.

  At a long metal table, Elzmerelda works as far away as possible from her sister. “What are you making?” I ask.

  “Jewelry for feet--shoes!” she says proudly.

  I examine her project. She’s constructed a pair of high-heeled shoes out of papier-mâché, painted them gold, and encrusted them with multi-color sequins. You know what, she’s actually talented.

  At the back of the room, What’s-His-Name sits at a spinning wheel. He’s making something out of straw.

  He limps over to me, holding his creation. “F-for you,” he stutters.

  It’s a delicate golden bracelet with my name woven into it. “QUEEN.” Nice! Finally, someone respects me around this joint.

  “Wonderful!” says Fairweather. “This is the first time he’s connected with someone at Faraway.”

  I take the bracelet from him and slip it over my hand. It falls apart. What’s-His-Name looks crestfallen.

  “It’s the thought that counts,” Fairweather tells him. “Next time, think of incorporating your name.”

  Sasperilla saunters over to her sister. “Watch’ya making?” she asks nosily.

  Elzmerelda ignores her.

  Sasperilla snatches the shoes and tosses them onto the floor. “Let me be the first to try them on.”

  “No!” cries Elzmerelda. But it’s too late. Sasperilla squeezes her long, bony feet into the sparkly shoes and completely destroys them. They’re nothing but a bunch of cardboard scraps.

  Elzmerelda bursts into tears. “I worked so hard on them!”

  “Such a pity!” tisks Sasperilla. “Because they went so nicely with what I’m wearing.”

  I want to strangle the skinny bitch with the chain I’ve made. Too bad it’s only made of paper.

  ***

  Elzmerelda will not get out of bed for dinner. She’s bundled under her covers, still sobbing.

  “Come on, Elz, you’ve got to eat something.” It’s the first time I’ve called her Elz for short.

  “I’m not hungry,” she sniffles.

  There’s a loud knock at the door. It swings open. Winifred.

  “I brought you something,” she says, plopping down on Elz’s bed. She digs into a pocket and plucks out a huge bar of chocolate.

  Elz sits up as Winifred brushes away her tears. “Winnie, they’ll punish you if they catch you with that.”

  “Let them.” The chubster shrugs. “They can take everything else away from me, but they can’t take away my chocolate. I have a secret stash in my room, so eat your heart out.”

  Elz breaks off a chunk and savors it. “I feel so much better. You’re the best, Winnie!”

  Winnie devours a large piece as well and sighs. There’s still a small piece left.

  “You know, you’re going to get pimples from eating so much chocolate,” I tell them.

  “That is such an old wives’ tale,” laughs Winnie.

  I have to admit she does have gorgeous skin if you don’t count the freckles. Maybe she’s right.

  “Have a piece,” she offers.

  Hesitantly, I take the last piece of chocolate. As it melts in my mouth…euphoria! I want more.

  Winnie must be a mind reader. She whips out three more bars and lays them on the bed. Like vultures, we dive in and devour them. With every bite, we moan with ecstasy. The chocolate must have magical powers.

  “Come on, girlfriends,” grins Elz after licking the last bit of chocolate off her fingers. “Let’s not be late for dinner.”

  ***

  The three of us band together at one table while Sasperilla sits by herself picking at her food at another. She makes a face at us. We ignore her.

  “Isn’t Hook adorable?” asks Elz giddily.

  “Not my type,” says Winnie, cutting into a hunk of cheese. “And besides, I’m married.”

  He’s a total jerk, I say to myself, not wanting to offend Elz.

  As if on cue, Mr. Total Jerk strides up to us. He straddles the empty chair next to mine.

  “You don’t mind if I join you lovely ladies?” he asks, jabbing his hook into a slice of bread.

  Elz flushes. “Is it okay with you girls?”

  “Sure,” shrugs Winnie.

  “No problem,” I say coolly. Liar! I don’t want him anywhere near me.

  “Why are you here at Faraway?” Winnie asks him.

  “I’m searching for my inner princess.”

  The mockery in his voice makes me want to barf.

  “That’s so beautiful,” coos Elz.

  “I wish my husband would find his,” says Winnie.

  I think she truly means it.

  “What’s it like to be a pirate?” asks Elz with wide-eyed infatuation.

  Hook recites the sordid details of his exploits as though he’s rehearsed them for days. Winnie and I roll our eyes. Elz, unlike us, hangs on to every word.

  “Have you ever made someone walk the plank?” she asks in awe.

  “Countless times,” boasts Hook.

  “Wow!” exclaims Elz. The more dangerous he seems, the more attracted to him she becomes. Why can’t she see that this guy’s a creep?

  A certified creep! To my utter disgust, the swashbuckler rubs his good hand up and down my thigh under the table. I jerk away. Who the hell does he think he is?

  Winnie shoots me a perplexed look. Elz, immersed in Hook’s storytelling, doesn’t notice a thing.

  “So, how did you lose your hand?” she asks.

  A dark, sinister cloud falls over the swine. “Some faggot named Peter Pan cut if off and fed it to a crocodile.” His eyes become two steel blades. “Trust me, he’ll pay one day.”

  The name Peter Pan sounds familiar to me. Where have I heard it before? I know. Shrink mentioned it during our first session. Something about a Peter Pan complex and her sister Tinkerbell.

  I can’t help myself. “Do you know a Tinkerbell?”

  Hook reddens with rage. “She’s the real reason I’m here! That two-timing imp! I should have never trusted her to lead me to Peter Pan.”

  I would almost give my hand to sit in on a session between Shrink and Hook. It could get personal. Maybe, he’ll smoosh her.

  Hook seethes. “Man, could I use a bottle of rum!”

  “Let me pour you some tea,” says Elz sweetly.

  “Real men don’t drink tea.” He storms off but doesn’t get far.

  “Where do you think you’re going, mister?” asks Fanta, yanking him back by a handful of his gorgeous hair.

  “You’re on clean-up duty tonight,” smiles Flossie. “Remember?”

  “Move it,” snaps Fairweather.

  Ha! You deserve clean-up duty, you pig.

  ***

  Just my luck. I’m on clean-up duty with Hook. So is Sasperilla.

  Hook scrapes the dishes with his handy iron claw, then passes them to me to scrub. I’m careful not to let him get too close. Sasperilla, meanwhile, sits idly on a counter, twirling her corkscrew curls. I bet, before Faraway, she never lifted a wannabe royal finger in her life.

  “So, Hook, if you’re really King of the Pirates, you’ve probably found lots of buried treasure,” she says sheepishly.

  “Yo, Ho, Ho!” laughs Hook. “Babe, I’m worth millions!”

  Babe? He'd better not try that one on me. And I’m so
not falling for his filthy rich act. I know his type. How many times did my mother fall for the same bullshit? The same asshole!

  Sasperilla’s face lights up. She hops off the counter and heads our way. “Why don’t you let me give those dirty dishes to Jane after you’ve scraped them?”

  She worms her emaciated body between us. As much as I despise the skinny bitch, I’m glad swineface is no longer breathing in my face.

  “So, Hook, what exactly are you going to do with all that money?” she purrs, brushing up against him.

  “I’m going to sail away with some babe to some romantic island and build myself a castle.”

  Sasperilla’s eyes flutter.

  “So, babe, do you want to go out on the town for a drink with me one night?”

  Sasperilla is positively drooling. As her lips part to say “yes,” Hook leans over her and leers at me.

  “So, babe, we’re on?”

  Sasperilla cringes.

  So do I. I want to throw a plate at the swine. There is no town. And there is no babe. Take that back. I want to throw the entire sink full of plates at him. Instead, I croon seductively. And convincingly.

  “Sure. As long as you can get past the crocodile in the moat.”

  Crash! When I say “crocodile,” Hook drops the stack of dishes he’s holding.

  “OW!” screeches Sasperilla. “That was my foot!”

  Clean-up has suddenly become fun.

  ***

  Exhausted, I retreat to my room. It’s pitch-black. I tread lightly so I don’t wake up Elz.

  As I slip on my nightgown, Elz’s voice filters through the darkness. “Jane, can I tell you a secret?”

  “Sure.” To be honest, it’s the last thing I want to hear. I’ve heard way too much crap for one day.

  “I think I’m in love with Hook.”

  I don’t know what to say. After all she’s been through today, I can’t bring myself to tell her what I think of him.

  “Great.” I crawl into bed. “Good night.”

  “Sweet dreams, Jane.”

  “Sweet dreams to you too, Elz.” I only hope Hook’s not in them.

  CHAPTER 9