Pomegranate Seeds

2. Hell of a Broom Closet

Fifteen minutes after closing time, Cecilia was still struggling to get through the open door. It was fun to watch. I had never seen someone fight the spell with such determination before, and she was making progress. At one point she managed to line her nose up with the door frame before bouncing back.

I observed her as I got the cash register in order, cheering her on in my mind. How cool would it be, I thought, if she broke out with sheer willpower? I knew it wouldn't happen, of course. Contrary to what fairy tales say, sentimental ideas like the human spirit and the power of love aren't very effective when it comes to breaking curses. Still, it was a novel thought, and I let her continue until the cold coming in from outside overpowered the entertainment value.

I pulled the store keys out of my pocket and waded through the sea of crumb-dusted tables and empty chairs to Cecilia. It took effort to keep my teeth from chattering. “Hey,” I called to her, not wanting to get too close. “Could you close the door?”

Cecilia shot me an accusatory glare, like I was the one keeping her there. “I have to leave!” she shouted back.

“No you don't.” I held up the keys. “I need to lock up. I'll explain everything in a minute.”

She turned and pushed with both hands against the door, as if it was trying to close on her. She was shaking, either from the cold, exertion, or both. “No, explain now!” Her voice cracked at the end, and for a split second her expression went from strained to despairing. She was going to cry. Shit.

I shuffled forward and held my hands up in the most comforting way I could manage, but it didn't do any good. She exploded, but instead of dissolving into tears, she flew into a bestial rage. She abandoned the door and slammed her hands on the nearest table. I suspected that if I had been any closer, she would have ripped out my trachea with her bare hands.

She bore her teeth and roared. “WHY CAN'T I—”

Cecilia fell into abrupt silence, choking on her own words. The only sound was the soft sucking noise of the door shutting behind her.

I wanted to tell her that the curse was keeping her from leaving, but I couldn't get words out either. While in the public part of the bakery, Rodi employees weren't supposed to say anything about the curse or the gods or anything else that could raise eyebrows, and if we tried, the curse would render us mute until we gave up. Even saying that we couldn't leave was censored, whether we mentioned the reason or not.

Cecilia suddenly launched into another sparring match against the curse. Every few seconds she would start up with a new way of phrasing “I can't leave” in hopes of finding a variation that wasn't off-limits, but she would always be cut of right before getting to the point. “I can't... For some reason I... Why is it that I seem unable to... This... I can't L-E... L-E... I can't, um, make like a... make like a T... T-R-...”

“I...” I meant to say that I couldn't either, but that was blocked. I motioned to the door. “Me too.”

She collapsed into the nearest chair, silent. I went to the door and locked it. “And things aren't going to change,” I said. “Not for a while. There's some stuff I have to do for clean up, but then I'll take you downstairs and explain everything.” I started pushing in chairs on my way back to the register. “In the meantime, you can sit there and cry it out if you want.”

She turned away from me. “I'm not going to cry.”

Typically, closing down and cleaning up takes about half an hour. First I had to take care of the leftovers. I pulled the trays out of the pastry displays, two at a time, and took them back to the kitchen for Ms. Persephone to do who-knows-what with later. I tried not to look at Cecilia as I marched in and out of the kitchen, but near the end I stole a glance. A tear sat on her cheek.