Break-ups happen, and they suck.
After six years - five dancing around the topic and one actually dating - my boyfriend breaks it off with me. There's no emotion, no explanation, and no closure. He's in the middle of his missionary program, too, so...
"Mortar, pestle, mortar, pestle," I repeat under my breath. My eyes skim the names of each product until I find a thick length of stone with a little stone bowl. Cradling them, I go on to chant, "Small plate and jar." It's silly, but it's effective; I find them five seconds later. Now for the oil; I passed a small spice section on my way in.
The little bottles sparkle as I search through them. I pick up one with 'paprika' imprinted on the lid. Rarely, I make any food with paprika, even though I enjoy it. When was the last time I used it in—
...oh.
I play with the spice, remembering the few times I came to Nathanial's house and hung out with him. We just started the relationship bit, so it got awkward with the interaction for a good two hours. He got more comfortable around me when I mentioned how starved I was and proceeded to help me make lunch. Well, he made the food, and I watched him off to the side. Nathaniel didn't let me touch anything in the kitchen, preferring to get them for me. It was one of the displays of affection he rarely showed, and I'd fall harder for him every time it happened.
The food wasn't too complex or significant, but he had a signature that appeared in every dish he made for me, and it happens to be what's in my hand.
The paprika needs to be put back, but I can't bring myself to do it. Once I let go, I'll immediately pick it back up. I'll get strange looks from the other customers. I'm seriously contemplating whether I want to buy a souvenir to hold onto a random memory. How ridiculous am I, trying to move past an ex and I'm not ready to let go of him over a spice?
Was that why the break-up happened? Because Nathanial can't deal with the fact I'm pathetic? If that's the case, I don't blame him. I'd run so far away from myself if I was able to.
Nevie taps on my shoulder. "Come on, get your things and pay for them," she whispers. "The owner's eyeing us and guarding the register. We're taking too long to convince him we're actual customers."
I nod. The label is getting sticky from my sweaty hand.
"Meredith, are you okay? You're pale." She squeezes my shoulder. Out of reflex, I roll them back. Slowly, she gets the paprika out of my hand and puts it back for me. Out of concern, she rubs my back, even though she has no idea what's going on with me. I'll give her some credit; it's generous of her to make sure I'm okay. "Let's go."
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"So, Alexandria's done," Nevie says once we're back in the truck. The bag of items is carefully placed behind her seat. "At least, that's what I'm assuming. I'd hate to leave this city so soon. It's too pretty."
"Let me check real quick."
The guy who sold me the dishes had a brochure stand of maps, which I'm now poring over for any other stops I should make while I'm here. Restaurants, parks, and general stores are marked for sure, but there's nothing about a Wiccan shop or anything along that line. Humming, I triple-check before determining this city as complete.
This search is going faster than I expect. The drive across the country can probably take up some of the two weeks, but not all of it. I imagine once I'm on the other side of the US I need to camp out for days until the moon's full. With the Nathanial blip back at the store, I'm on edge about getting the ritual started. Who knows how many of these blips I'm going to have during this trip?
Besides, I need to learn how to move on from Nathanial. The ritual is a long way away; I don't see why I can't learn now.
The moment I look away from my thoughts, I jump out of my skin when I see Nevie, who is closer than I expect. The smell of maple syrup and car exhaust from the traffic hangs around her, but underneath is the musty, church-signature scent. The last time I went to church was for Nathaniel trying to teach me about his religion, and why it wasn't just Christianity. The biggest difference I noticed was that his church was massive. There was a kitchen, recording studio, sitting room, sermon room of course, and even a basketball court.
"We should find a place to stay the night," I say, racking my brain for any places we may have driven past. "Where do you want to—"
She cuts me off. "We have to stay here," she declares. "I can't get enough of it. This might be my only time to explore, too, even if it's just a little bit of the city."
Hmm. Nevie has a point. I'm sure as hell not coming back. If I do, it's to return the mortar and pestle because they broke within the thirty-day return.
Reopening the map, I check again for the hotels. "Fine. You can look up the names I give you. We're looking for price and then how many stars they have."
She's one step ahead of me. "Give me the first place to look up."
After an unnecessarily long debate between one hotel and two others, we settle for a generic bed and breakfast with the name Sweet & Cozy. It's the cheapest out of the others we looked at, in a decent location, and there's food for us in the morning. Near the end of the final decision, I make the mistake of mentioning how we killed several birds with one hunk of amethyst stone.
"Why are analogies always violent?" Nevie points out once I make the reservation. "Curiosity killed the cat, the early bird gets the worm but the second mouse gets the cheese... none of these animals deserves to die!"
A smile tugs at my mouth. What am I supposed to say other than, "You're right, it's fucked"?
She takes my silence as my answer. "I'm glad you agree. You chose the room with two beds, right?"
"Of course. What kind of monster do you take me for?"
It's a joke, but Nevie takes it too seriously. She ponders before responding, "The kind that needs to be saved."
Well, she's observant, I'll give her credit. "As long as I'm not saved by God or anything. I've heard enough about him for a while. I'd rather be saved by a white salamander, to be honest."
She pauses. "Why does it need to be white?"
"Because they're cuter."
Nevie snorts and stops herself immediately, forcing her face to slack in serenity. I squint at her, confused. Shaking her head, she waves for me to drive out of the Tools 4 Cookin' parking lot. "It's nothing," she dismisses.
"You sure?"
"Yep, now come on. I looked at the pictures of the place, and I'm bursting at the seams waiting to see it in real life."
