Bianca
I made my way downtown. Stopping by different stores, restaurants, shops, etc. People traced everywhere I looked. From packing the sidewalks with busy clients, dog walking, and just getting a breath of the good outdoors, it was for sure a busy Sunday.
Things were a lot different in Ohio then in Indiana. People seemed a lot more, cleaner, I could say. Lots of white people I must say..
The more I walked, the more I realized I didn't fit in at all.
How could Jackson possibly have grown up here? His home town? Things just didn't seem to add up. I told myself.
I turned towards a corner, welcoming a new landscape of colors, and--
"Bingo," I whisper to myself, spotting the witch shop that sat in front of me.
Walking in, I made sure to hide myself as much as possible, trying not to reveal anything. Just some safety repercussions. As soon as I walked in, I was hit with the scent of sage, strong sage. It burned my nostrils passionately.
I didn't bother to talk to the woman, for some reason my mind told me to just get my ingredients, and get the hell out. But for some reason, my stomach turned at the feeling.
What is was with wrong? I was totally fine a second ago. I thought.
I shrugged the feeling off, peeling my eyes towards the numerous sorts of bottle top jars filled with many herbs. Glancing at them, the shiny clear jar that contained such ingredients reminded me of many memories. Primarily the ones of the witch shop on the other side, Carrie's.
Witch Carrie's shop on the other side. Where we got the pendulum to find the wood hive, the weapon to kill Luna. It was crazy that over a year ago my mind was in a whole different mindset. Now, I'm practically friends with Luna, talking around her, being around her.
But there's part of me that will never forgive her, I can't.
Why am I thinking of all of this now? In a different state, in a witch shop, filled with a stranger I don't even know. So why am I choosing to think so deeply into this?
I'm right, this did happen all a year ago--almost.
The things we had to do to get that pendulum...
The back room with Hazel and Drew.
Drew.
Shit.
That's a name I haven't heard--seen since the funeral--since what seemed like forever.
I grabbed the jar full of clear quartz, to help draw more attention to the person or object I'm attracting. I need a crystal ball--do they even sell those at witch shops?
My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden voice, coming from the register. It startles me, making me jump. "Do you need any help-- oh sorry." She then erupts into a series of loud laughter--
Wait. That laugh.
I spin around to face the woman, her face looking too familiar. What is it about this lady--
"I didn't mean to scare you dear." She says, her laughter quickly fading away. I continue to stare at her, for a split second, I got lost in her eyes, why can't I map her out? Suddenly, I feel the jar placed in my hands, losen, and I hear glass shatter onto the floor.
"Oh my!" she yells, her voice squeaking.
The glass splattering into my hand, like ice piercing me, I realize that I'm alive, and I zone back into reality, some sort of strange one.
What the hell is happening to me?
"Hold on! Don't move, there's so much glass." I tried to move my mouth, talk, get some noise or signal out, but then I realized I can't move either.
Nothing.
Suddenly, some words spill out of my mouth, almost like I was programmed to say it. "I'm sorry," it comes out gentle, barely a whisper. My vision is blurry, and the only thing I can see is light. A bright flashing light that was bright enough to blind me.
I thought she couldn't hear me, but I discerned that she did hear me, with the simple, "it's ok. Mistakes happen dear."
Dear.
The last word I heard, made out before I went cold, my body going numb, and my mind losing track of time.
-
"Hello?" the voice whispers.
I blink my eyes open, regaining my vision, though my body felt weak.
"Hi." I was able to make out.
"Oh, I'm so glad you're up. I thought I lost you there."
Lost?
I'm not dead, what the hell.
"What happened?" I mutter out.
I could see the lady clearly now. She had what seemed almost black hair, and her shoulders were broad, pretty solid. She had a good tint of tan on her, and she looked rather hispanic-
"I wanted to ask the same thing. You were just standing there, staring at me. Hell, I thought I had something in my teeth." she jokes, laughter escaping her mouth. I narrowed my eyes at her. I noticed she jokes a lot, and laughs a lot.
"Oh," I simply say. "Sorry. I don't mean to. I just felt fine one moment and then dizzy the next. It seemed like my mind went blank, empty?" I spill out not confident, I wasn't.
She nods her head like she understands, like she was the one who just went through what I went through. For some reason, I felt protected by her. "My name is Jeanette. If you don't mind, I could take you to my coffee shop, not too far down the block, get some coffee. You look exhausted." She smiles reasurely.
Jeanette.
Pretty.
"How many shops do you own?" I joke, and I didn't realize the words slipped out of my mouth until Jeanette broke out into more laughter. Her voice was calm, soothing.
I wanted to say no. Instead just buy another jar or quartz, pay for the one I broke, carry myself away to the hotel room and not look at anyone. Disgusted with myself for really doing that. But for some reason before I could make a final decision, the words "yes" blurted out of my mouth.
-
It was around three pm by the time we arrived at this coffee shop. I had realized I passed out for a solid two hours before I woke up, and requested to go on a coffee run and chat with some random middle aged woman I didn't know.
We walked in the coffee shop. The atmosphere was cold, freezing. My mind spiraled in loops at the emptiness. My mind wandered to Eli, how the hell am I going to explain my day to him?
Jeanette and I took a seat opposite of each other, getting comfortable.
"By the way, I don't own the witch shop, I work there. This cafe I actually own." She ensures me. "Not gonna lie, owning two stores is pretty cool." I tell her. She smiles and looks down at my hands, which were dripped with rings, and purple nail polish. I don't usually wear purple, but the color just popped to me.
"Your hands are very interesting." she tells me softly. "They remind me of my daughters. She is also a witch. She's only fifteen though." I smile slightly at the compliment. "You have a young witch. What type is she?" "Green. She loves nature, she'll practically choose to live outside if she had the choice." She laughs thoughtfully at herself. Jeanette, this stranger I knew seemed to be looking back at memories.
I frown.
My mom had ruined my childhood. It was good to see that she was treating her right, properly. Her daughter didn't have to live in fear.
"What's your daughter's name?" I suddenly ask, eager to know for some reason. She blushed at the question. She seemed so proud to talk about her daughter, which made me frown even more. "Joyce. God, I love that name. My husband didn't really like it. Sounded too much like joy or joyous. But like, why?" She continued to rant to me, and I sucked the information all in one.
I listened to her interesting, jaw dropping stories, getting lost in time as I felt attached to this woman. This lady I didn't even know, but yet it seemed like I trusted this lady more than my own mother.
-
An hour had nearly gone by, as our intention to order drinks or some desert completely swiped right over our heads, losing any sense of reality. I didn't mind it though.
"Would you like to see it? The photo of my Joyce?" She suddenly asks me. We were still on the topic of witches. I nod my head softly. "Sure,"
She smiles at me, getting up. "I have a photo in the backroom. I'll be right back. I'm sure my son is back here too."
Son.
She never mentioned a son.
I hear whispering coming from the backroom. I listened closely to try to make out the words. They were nothing bad. "Just stay at the register to make sure she doesn't get lonely." She tells him.
A door closes, and I stare driftly out the window. Watching as the cars flow by, one by one. And the lights on them flare up eagerly. "Okay. Got it."
That voice.
Oh, how that voice was so familiar.
Too familiar.
I tried to shake the feeling off. I'd been thinking everyone I encountered was just familiar. I'm having one of those days. But then pine randomly filled my nostrils, alarming me.
Pine.
The voice, the scent.
No. I thought.
It couldn't be. That's not possible.
But it was, because stood in front me was the one and only,
"Jackson."